Chapter Thirteen
When Dex awoke, the world seemed brighter and generally less horrible than it had for some time. It was amazing what not being critically hung over can do for a man. While he didn’t exactly leap from the bed, there was no doubt that he would be out of the apartment and en route to his work station at B&B in the usual amount of time. He might even be a little early, which would hopefully offset the lateness of the previous day.
However, when he arrived at the CSR’s room, his messenger immediately went off with an urgent notice to see his manager, Marian. “Aw, fuck,” Dex thought. This is going to be annoying and unpleasant. He wasn’t sure if he would have to do some serious groveling or if he was just going to get shit-canned right off the bat. It wouldn’t be the first time and thanks to some connections within the Cubicle Men, he knew he could get another job without too much hassle. Still, he’d have to change apartments and he’d just gotten used to his current one. He really wasn’t excited about the inevitable months of banging into doors in the dark.
Dex dropped his overcoat off at his work station before heading down the hall to the management suite. Why they made him actually physically go to their offices, he’d never understand. It was bad enough that people had to physically be on the premises to do work that only ever occurred over the ’nets anyway. But, that was part of the fun of having a low end job — you got to perform menial tasks and, as a bonus, be used a prop for massaging your boss’s ego.
He got to the antechamber of the managers’ suite and pinged his boss. The automatic response popped up and told him to wait. As usual. There were no chairs and Dex was left cooling his heels for a good five minutes. If he was going to catch hell for being five minutes late, you’d think they would be less inclined to waste even more of his time. But you’d think a lot of things that only occurred in a fantasy world. Finally, his messenger went off and Dex was summoned into the office.
It wasn’t really a suite, as such. Sure, the managers had offices with walls and doors and they had their own private break room and lav. But the offices themselves were tiny. They had room for a couple of chairs facing each other over a small table. And there was, inexplicably, a coat rack. The managers each had their own tiny rooms, so why would they need space for more than one coat? It was one of those mysteries of life in a firm that Dex expected he would never solve.
Marian signaled for Dex to sit and he followed the order. They sat in silence for a few minutes and Dex studied his boss. He hadn’t had much interaction with Marian, really; most of their communication had been one way — top down — and in the form of the firm’s internal feed. Dex didn’t really know what to expect, so he figured the best tactic was to shut the hell up and wait for his supervisor to make the first move. Eventually, Marian did just that.
“Andersson,” his boss began, trying for an air of parental disappointment, “some troubling blips have shown up on my radar lately from your area.”
“Oh,” Dex said noncommittally, trying to keep things in his boss’s court.
“First, there was the cancellation call the other day.” Marian’s voice was starting to take on that tone that Dex thought of as ‘have you tried turning it off and on’- the one you use when you thoroughly believe that the person you’re talking to is as bright as a food brick, but you’re trying really hard to hide it. “I know you’re aware of the policy — no cancellations unless the call is over ten minutes long and no cancellations without a call. That call was three minutes and forty-two seconds long and the recording shows you didn’t even try to retain the customer.”
Marian paused and Dex knew that he was expected to make some excuse here. He stayed mum and waited. Marian looked at him and shifted slightly while waiting for an answer, then, finally, after the silence had gone on too long, continued. “Yes, well, that was definitely not acceptable and then the very next morning, six minutes late for your shift.” Marian shifted closer to the table between them, leaning in toward Dex. “Six minutes! You know that those are both serious infractions. I don’t understand. Up until now your work has always been in compliance with the standards — you’ve been one of my better employees. Do you have any explanation for this?”
Dex looked his supervisor straight in the eyes and said, “No. No excuses, no explanations. I did cancel the customer’s account before the required call time and I was late yesterday. I accept responsibility.”
Marian looked even more confused than when Dex was giving the silent treatment. Obviously, most people who got called on the carpet tried to weasel their way out of the consequences. Dex couldn’t be bothered; this was all a waste of his time and he just wanted it over with.
“Well,” Marian said, trying to gain control back, “the regulations are fairly clear that a combination of errors like these should result in dismissal.”
“That’s my understanding,” Dex said, calmly. Dex thought it looked like Marian had stopped breathing. His boss’s face had taken on a slightly purple tint and Dex was wondering if he would have to call one of the in-house medical staff. Obviously his boss was not used to firing people who don’t argue.
Marian eventually took a breath. “But, ah, under the circumstances,” Dex tried not to smirk, “and given your excellent history with the firm, I think we can deal with the call only and let the six minutes go. You’ll be required to make up the time, of course.”
“Of course,” Dex said, somehow managing to keep the building laugh out of his voice.
“Now, the call.” Marian’s face took on a stern look. “I can’t let you get off scot-free there. The rules are specific here; I’m sorry. My hands are tied. You’ll be put on three-quarters time at three-quarters pay for six months.” Marian waited for a gasp of shock or an attempt to negotiate, but all Dex could think was that this was ideal. He’d be keeping his apartment and he just wouldn’t have to go into B&B as often. He didn’t care about the money, so the outcome couldn’t have suited him better. He’d just have to figure out how to extend it beyond the six months. Time to bone up on the disciplinary regulations.
“Fine,” Dex said, as he stood to leave. “Is that all?”
Marian stood as well, scrambling to understand Dex’s reaction. “Yes, Andersson, that’s all. Now, today I’ll need you to make up the six minutes for yesterday and as of tomorrow you’ll have a new schedule. Make sure you check your messages before leaving tonight.”
“Will do,” Dex said and deciding to throw his boss a bone, added, “thanks,” as he walked out of the office.
• • •
Dex spent the remainder of the work day taking calls and chatting with Annabelle about the code that she’d taken off the bot that tried to shoot him. Dex put off contacting her, not knowing what her reaction would be after their terrible date and frankly the thought of talking to her made his stomach knot a little. He eventually had to bit the bullet, though; he wasn’t willing to have to slog through the code himself. Dex was no programmer — there was a reason why his day jobs topped out as a CSR.
He pinged Annabelle and feeling his face flush hot when he heard her voice said, “Hi. It’s me. Er, it’s Dex.”
“Well, hello,” Annabelle said, her voice taking on the happy tinkle Dex realized he’d come to enjoy when talking to her. “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised to hear from you.”
“Yes, well,” Dex said, glad that none of his near co-workers was looking his way.
“You haven’t changed your mind already,” Annabelle said, that tinkle getting even more playful now. Before Dex could stammer out some response, she continued, “Now, that was unfair of me, I know. I just can’t help it. Old habits die hard and all that. Now what can I do for you? It’s about the multi case, right?”
Dex sighed and admitted that it was, indeed, a business call. He reminded himself how lucky he was to have such an understanding person for an admirer. Once they started talking about the work, he found almost all traces of the awkwardness and embarrassment
he’d felt disappear. Unfortunately, Annabelle hadn’t really gotten anywhere terribly useful in her analysis of the code. She was now certain that there was no tracing the author of the code based on any information she had at the time. All she did have was the impression that the programmer was pretty sophisticated.
“That bot wasn’t executed as elegantly as Ivy’s code for the multis,” she told Dex, “but the principle is the same and that’s not easy to do at all. Hell, there’s a reason that Ivy was getting all the avatar work. It’s a niche skill, let me tell you.”
“So, I should be looking for a competitor of hers, then?” Dex asked.
“If there is one, yeah,” Annabelle answered, “and you’re definitely looking for someone with a similar skill set. But that’s about all I’ve got for you. Sorry I couldn’t help you out more.”
“You’ve been great,” Dex said, meaning it. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
“I’d be happier hearing that if you were actually with me,” Annabelle said, then quickly said, “I’m sorry. I don’t need a harassment charge laid against me. I’ll knock it off.”
Dex laughed. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” he said, “I could use a little harassment every now and again. Reminds me of what I’m missing.”
“Aw jeez, Dex,” Annabelle said, “now you’ve made me all depressed again.”
“Don’t be,” he said, “I’m fine. You worry about finding yourself a better object of harassment than this pathetic old man, okay?”
“All right,” Annabelle said, “you call me if you need me, yeah?
“Sure thing.”
• • •
Dex made up his six minutes and ensured he checked his updated schedule for the next day. They had him starting an hour and a half later, which couldn’t have been more ideal if he’d made the change himself. He updated his personal system then and there — personal alarm, apartment temperature control and window shades all got moved ahead by ninety minutes. Dex started to wonder if his day could possibly get any better. He headed out of the CSRs room and out of the B&B building.
The rain had stopped in the night and so far it had stayed away. He walked to the train stop and caught the first nearly empty car that came by. As he was en route back to his apartment, the sky began to darken and his stomach began to growl. It might be a two brick night he thought, mentally planning his evening. He wanted to talk to Stella Bish again, feel her out about some of the other people she knew in the underground marketplace. Maybe she had a line on another programmer in Ivy’s league. Dex pinged her as he stepped off the train and headed to his building. He was just about to open the main door, when he heard the sounds of shouting around the corner. He pulled up the Cubicle Men’s street squad schedule and saw that he was the closest to the scene. Nothing wrong with a bit of off duty action, he thought and began walking toward the sound.
He rounded the corner of his building and heard the shouts again. He picked up the pace and came upon a small streeter cowering behind a dumpster. A pair of larger men were throwing rotting garbage on the whimpering creature and occasionally kicking the prone form. Dex fell back on old lessons learned in the goon squad and made directly for the larger of the two assailants. He kicked the man squarely between the legs, then brought his clasped hands up on the man’s nose as he doubled over.
He sidestepped to avoid the man’s inevitable fall into a crumpled heap and threw his full weight into a roundhouse punch at the other man. This time the connection was less solid, but seeing his compadre retching in the gutter as blood and snot bubbled from his broken nose seemed to be enough to convince the other guy to take off, which he did. Dex walked over to the stinking, beaten person behind the dumpster, offering his hand. The figure looked up at him and Dex saw that it was an older looking woman. Most people never looked over thirty-five, regardless of their chronological age, so her lined face stood out.
She was sobbing and muttering softly to herself. Dex had to lean in close to hear what she said and the smell of her was enough to wake the dead. “They called me old meat,” she said, between her tears, “old meat that belongs in the trash.”
“It’s okay,” Dex said, helping her clean off the garbage from her filthy clothes. “You’ll be okay now. Do you have a gang, anyone you stay with out here?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, sniffling, “but we got separated. I think I can find them again.” She wiped her eyes with the backs of her grimy sleeves and allowed Dex to help her to her feet.
“I’ll have some people come walk with you,” Dex said, having already pinged the local goon squad. “They’ll be here soon and they’ll help you find your people.”
“Thank you,” she said, a new set of tears forming in her one clear eye.
“No problem, ma’am,” he said, as a couple of the local squad arrived in the alley. Dex gave them a brief rundown of the situation and the man lying in the alley began to moan. “They’ll take care of you,” he said, as the woman began walking out of the alley with her escort. Dex walked back to his apartment building and as he spiraled his way up to his room, wondered if that’s what his problem was. That he was just old meat.