Hi guys, this is the first chapter of a new story/ novella I'm writing.
Let me know whether it makes you want to read more.
Thanks for your feedback.
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One of Our Finest
Chapter 1
“Can’t I bribe them?” Thomas asked.
There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line.
“Thomas, do you realize what you’ve just said there?” answered the lawyer. “I know you are desperate, but you know perfectly well that bribing the government is the only exception to the Flow of Services Act. I’m so shocked, I don’t know what to say.”
“I’m sorry, Arthur. I just can’t face five years in prison.” Thomas said. He felt panic rising in his stomach. Arthur Whelpdale of Whelpdale & Smythe Solicitors was his last chance, he had exhausted all other means. He slumped into his leather armchair and glanced around the office, looking for inspiration in the mahogany furniture.
“Thomas … I have to report this in accordance with Article 18 of the Flow of Services Act: Any attempt whatsoever by any natural person, whether by direct means or through an intermediary, to bribe the government of the Amereuropean Union in furtherance of any personal agenda is punishable by banishment.”
“I’m sorry. Could you just forget what I said?”
“Well… there is a loophole. Obviously, this article only applies to natural persons, if you get my drift?” Arthur Whelpdale’s said in an amused tone.
“Oh! I wasn’t trying to bribe you as a natural person! Of course, the donation would be transferred from an AmNet Media Technologies Inc. account.”
“That sounds a lot better. But it doesn’t solve the original problem: the government do not actually want you to go to prison. They simply cannot afford the scandal of the CEO of one of the leading corporations in all of Ameuropa going to prison. If your Social Obligations Score was revealed, that would send a shockwave through our whole society. Thomas this isn’t just about you. You’re not a private individual, you’re not a Worker, you’re a symbol of Social Cohesion.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Arthur I don’t know what to do anymore. I have a choice between going to prison and banishment, but I don’t even have that choice.” Thomas reached for the bottle of whiskey on his desk and poured a glass.
“Of course you have a choice. It’s obvious. All you have to do is get your Social Obligation Scores up.”
“I’ve tried for six months and it’s just not working.” He took a sip of the whiskey.
“Are you drinking?” asked Arthur. “That’s the first step towards improvement.”
“My Consumption of Narcotic Substances scores are fine. I don’t know what it is. There must be something wrong with my genetic make-up.” said Thomas.
“Listen, I’ll put you in touch with a psychiatrist, Walter Dinsdale. He’s top-notch. I’ve worked with him before. He can get you a three months’ extension sub rosa and he’ll sort you out. He can give you a Social DNA test as well, if you’re really worried about it.”
“OK. Thank you, Arthur.”
“No problem. Have you got a print-out of your scores there? You’ll have to look over them before you speak to Walter to make sure you’re committed and on the same page as him.”
“Yes, I’ve got them. I’ll look at them now. Thank you again, Arthur.”
“I’ll ring you tomorrow about the appointment. My fee can come out of the corporation’s account, the usual rate.”
“Will do.” said Thomas and pressed a button on the display-desk to end the call.
Thomas picked up the print-out of his scores, got up and made his way to the ceiling-to-floor window. He leant his forehead against the cool glass and looked out over the city. At least, his office faced the Men’s Half. He’d hate to be on the other side of the building, like Harry, with nothing but the Women’s Half to look at. Harry was brave.
Up here on the 100th floor, he could see almost all the way out to the river. He was surrounded by the gleaming towers of the Men’s Business district, bustling with activity. Further out were the squat, drab buildings of the Male Workers’ Ring. Thomas shuddered. He felt choked, as if the Workers’ Ring surrounding the city centre had coiled around his throat, oozing grime into the sunlit, steel-and-glass haven that felt like an extension of his own body.
I am not a Worker. They cannot affect me. They cannot … I am Thomas Chancellor, CEO of AmNet Media Technologies. All I have to do is look at my scores and get sorted.
He tried to lift his arm to look at the scores, but he felt heavy. His eyes lost focus of the city and all he could see was his own reflection in the mirror: a middle-aged man, average in all respects, average height, average weight, brownish hair. His only distinguishing feature were his dark-blue eyes, which were rather round and large. I am not a Worker.
There was a bleep. His wrist tickled. The subdermal chip in his left wrist was flashing green. He tapped his wrist lightly with his right index finger and the familiar voice announced: “It is time for a conversation with your colleagues. Please make your way to a social area of your choice within the next five minutes or you will be penalized by a 10 point score deduction.”
Thomas shuffled back to the desk and pressed a button. “Hello there, is anyone down there in Social Area 3?”
“Hi Thomas, we are all here. Come down and tell us about your weekend.”