The subway platform was quiet which isn’t good. It makes you a target for thieves. Cardy remembered being mugged at least once a week and he always had a blackjack on hand. That’s changed from the new laws. Now there’s not much crime anymore. The punishments were too severe.
Cardy paced back and forth as it was too cold to stand still even if it was warmer than HH Foods. He’s going to have to explain why he’s home early. At least he’s got a full pay coming this period. Cardy scratched his hand, fingers running over the band aid.
The three train riders nearby paid him no mind. They had their own troubles to worry about and certainly don’t care if a man just got fired. They were frozen in place, eyes fixed on their phones. They were waiting for a machine to take them somewhere. Anywhere but here, just like the Waiting Place from Dr. Seuss.
Cardy remembered how his parents talked about the country before Wilcox. Politicians came and went based on the winds or the trends. They ran on keeping jobs in America with strong borders. Abortion rights too. And the usual efforts to lower taxes for the middle class. There were so many opinions on the best way to do things. Now the American experiment entered a new phase. People were scared. Crime and unemployment were high. They didn’t feel safe.
Businessman, Francis Dean Wilcox, made his fortune in IT. He leaned into the concerns of Americans and was elected president in 2020 and again in 2024. His anti-crime, anti-immigrant, and anti-poverty programs were popular. He followed through on his promises.
At the presidential podium in front of the Rose Garden, Wilcox gave a speech and surprised everyone when he said:
I must continue to serve America. To serve the people and to uphold my duty to protect you all. To fulfill this mission, I am declaring my candidacy for a third term.
After that, it wasn’t really understood how, especially with the 22nd Amendment, but Wilcox was elected again and again, every four years. Everyone knew who would win. People stopped following politics like it was some blow out football game where the fans made an exit at halftime.
Crime, immigration, and unemployment went down. Prison populations went up, and the borders were shut down. Judges handed out maximum sentences without consideration of mitigating circumstances. The banks lobbied to pass Debtor’s Prison or DP laws. This allowed debt holders to pursue legal action against delinquents. Now those who defaulted can be arrested, tried, convicted, and sentenced. Assets were seized and auctioned off. If there was nothing left, convicts were forced to work. They were paid subsistence wages that made them into modern indentured servants.
The debtors eked out just enough to support their families.
Everything else they had was gone.
The train’s lights came into view. If it wasn’t for them, they wouldn’t hear it. It slowed to a stop on its frictionless rails.
“30 seconds until departure,” the train’s voice said.
Cardy passed through the automatic doors and sat by the window. He saw a bum enter the train car. His brown hair and bushy beard were peppered grey. He was wearing a stained shirt showing a robot inside a red prohibition sign. It was the character Bender from the old cartoon Futurama. Cardy tried to ignore him, but he approached anyway. The man started juggling three dirty tennis balls but failed to keep them all up. Cardy got tired of his stench and shoved a dollar at him. The bum gave a rotted toothy smile and plucked the bill away. He headed down the car asking another rider if they want to see a trick.
The train announced, River Bend, and slowed to a stop. Cardy exited and trudged on to his apartment a few blocks away. The sky-high apartment buildings looked the same, making it hard to get a frame of reference. The old homes and businesses were long ago demolished to make way for the grey, monolithic towers. Their character was the plain cross windows and iron balconies. The focus was efficiency, not beauty and distinction. They were built because of Wilcox’s emphasis on efficiency like ancient Sparta, he would say.
Cardy turns onto his street, C2 Drive. All streets had numbers and letters, so no one got lost. No more unique street names like Squeezepenny Lane or Frying Pan Road, like they had before. He sees his building with a big black B, featured on all four sides. The building’s front door was loosely held together by one mighty hinge. It couldn’t close flush anymore. There’s really no use complaining about it either, as it took even a week to get the heater fixed. The addicts and the homeless come and go in the lobby looking for warmth or something to pawn. There wasn’t much to steal from the tenants anyway.
As Cardy scaled the steel steps, he wondered what’s for dinner. Mom makes a great pasta. Maybe there will be some meat. Red sauce is great with the canned parmesan, but meat would be great. Rice, beans, and pasta go a long way at keeping a family full. The hallway smelled of urine and body odor. The rotting cat was still where it was, kicked to the side of the stairwell landing. It’s body slowly being eaten by maggots and flies. One of its eyes was half closed, peering at him as he passed. Its cycle of life is complete, now rendered a meal for those with the right appetite.
The hot water was spotty and limited. The toilets back up so frequently that flushing is done once a day. The hallway lights were burnt out. The building is the playground of the rats and cockroaches. The rent better be paid though. Landlords are quick to respond with fines and evictions. The back rent is tacked on to the debt owed. It’s paid back one way or another. Through blood, labor, or property. No bankruptcies like the old days. Everyone tries to help each other out even though they’re struggling themselves. Most are just happy to have a cold bed to sleep in at night.
Cardy reaches 3F and heard voices behind the door. He lets himself in. A sweet doughy scent filled the air. Frank was seated at a desk nestled into the living room’s corner. His hair was white and short on the shores of his bald scalp. The desk was sound enough to hold his computer and keyboard. Anything more was pushing it. He was typing and talking. Talking and typing. Clickety-Clack. Clickety-Clack. Frank sat as close as possible without his round belly shifting the keyboard.
“Give me a moment to review your notes Mr. Platter,” Frank says to the invisible man on the other end of his headset. “OK…This particular issue requires me to go through the diagnostic process—” He cutoff mid-sentence and appeared to be listening intently.
“If you’ll just bear with me, Mr. Platter,” Frank said. “We’ll try and get to the bottom of this. I promise.”
Frank was good with the customers. Never losing his cool. The technical part of work was easy. The people part required patience and finesse. He was navigating and typing in the dialogue prompts that popped up. The Juniper Technologies watermark was always stamped in the upper left corner, as if to remind an employee where he worked.
Frank as a technical support agent was the last line in customer service. Customers got their problems resolved 95% of the time through AI chat and voice protocols. The system pulls from stores of customer service data collected over decades that resolves most issues quickly.
The other 5% get routed to an agent who tries to handle it in five minutes or less. If it can’t be resolved in that time frame or at all, a refund or discount is offered. It’s cheaper to pay off the customer instead of keeping the agent on the line. A shut-up customer is a satisfied customer, Juniper often says in trainings.
Frank stopped what he was doing and looked in Cardy’s direction. “Cardy?” He said with surprise.
“Yes Dad.” Cardy muttered.
“I know that tone. Wait a minute.” Frank went back to his computer and typed something out. “I told them I’m taking a bathroom break.” He took off his headset and stood up, walking toward Cardy. “What’s going on?”
“I got fired.”
Cardy was used to Frank’s gaze but someone else would sense something was off. He wasn’t looking exactly at Cardy but instead was looking in his direction. Frank knew his son was there, but he couldn’t make out any of his features that a sighted man could. Someone would always ask how he did it. He would say shadows and sounds. Everyone has a sound and shape.
Cardy looked down the hallway at a closed white door. The kids were laughing. Probably playing that video game, Halo X. Soldiers shooting other soldiers and aliens in multiplayer deathmatches.
The games bring a little joy to their lives.
Takes their mind away from the rotting apartment if only for a little while.
Millie was seated at the small kitchen table. The little two-year-old smiled at her father.
She waves and says. “Hi Daddy. Got cakes.” She holds up a pancake with her hand, and a glob of syrup slides off to the plate.
“That’s great honey. Glad you’re eating.” He pulls out a chair to sit by her.
Frank made a face with a grunt that Cardy knew the conversation wasn’t over. He turned and went back to his computer.
“Billy?” Barb said in an amazement. “What are you doing home so early?”
“We’ll talk about it later Mom.” Cardy said, straining to stay calm.
“What’s wrong?”
“Later!” Cardy forced before dropping his voice. “Not the time.”
Barb shook her head and went down the hall by the closed door.
“Boys!” Barb said. “We’re having breakfast for dinner.” There was no movement. “Put that darn game down. You’ve been playing for an hour.” She walked a few steps away and turned around. She put her mouth up to the door. “And I’m not warming it up.”
Cardy saw Barb was tired. Taking care of little ones is no joke. Hardest work there is that goes unrecognized and unpaid. They didn’t have much, but they made it a home. The kids came out a moment later, not wanting to push their luck.
“So how was school today?” Cardy asked as the boys sat down.
“Fine,” said Jason.
“We learned about dinosaurs!” Declan said. He raised his syrup dipped hands to his face, fingers outstretched. “Roarr!”
“Oooh! Scary!” Cardy said.
“How come your home, Daddy?”
“Um. Work let us out early today. There was a problem with the electric.”
Before Declan could respond, he turns to Jason. “So, what’s up with you? Couldn’t have been that bad of a day.”
Jason sighed as he slid his pancakes around the plate.
“Use your words,” Barb said as she sat down.
“Kevin called me a ‘destute,” he said after a pause. “It sounded mean, so I shoved him. Got detention for it. Stupid tattle tale.”
Barb and Cardy stared in disbelief. Jason doesn’t hit. He’s always a good boy. Declan couldn’t care less as he was happily chomping on his pancakes. He got chocolate chips in his.
“Now, now Jason. We don’t use our hands when we’re upset. We use our words. Or maybe silence. Silence is good too.” Frank said. He had come over after logging off.
“What’s ‘destute’ mean anyway, Grandpa? It can’t be good. Kevin’s a ‘destute. That’s what.”
“It sounds like you mean, destitute?” Frank said, lips smacking on eggs. Jason nodded.
“Well, that’s interesting for a 7-year-old to use. I wonder if Kevin’s Dad reads to him…Anyway. Destitute is a fancy word for poor. It means not having much.”
“Guess Kevin’s right.” Jason said, looking down into his plate.
“Nonsense. We have everything that you see around you.” He gestured with his arms in a circular motion. “We got tables, chairs, beds, kitchen appliances, plates, silverware, video games, and…”
Frank hears the famous Barb sigh that translates to: Get to the point, dear.
“You get the idea. It takes money to get things, and we own lots of things. You understand? It’s ours, my boy! We’re not destitute, we’re rich in stuff. And stuff is just stuff anyway…More importantly, we’re rich in family and love AND crazy questions!” Frank grabs Jason and gives him a bear hug to squeeze all the grumpiness out.
***
“Billy…” Barb said in the kitchen opening. She ran her hand through her greying hair.
Cardy looked up from the pile of dishes. “Yes Ma?” He tensed as he was familiar with this tone.
“Your father told me what happened.” She had her arms folded and he felt like a child again. Cardy turned back toward the dishes and picked up where he left off.
“We have to talk about this.” Barb’s voice was beginning to break.
“What’s to talk about?” He said with his back still to her. She came closer and put a hand on his shoulder. Cardy shuddered and a glass slipped from his hand. It hit the lip of a plate and it’s mouth cracked.
“Fuck!” Cardy shouted, looking at the shards in the sink. He turned and saw the frightened look in his mother’s eye. He closed his eyes. This was exactly how he lost his job and he started to giggle.
“You’re scaring me honey,” Barb took a step back.
“Mom.” He said still chuckling. “This is how it happened. I had an accident and then I got angry. I was out of warnings.”
“Oh geesh,” Barb sighed. “This is on top of what’s been going on.” She paused and looked at the dusty wall. “You haven’t said anything since we got the letter.”
“Because there’s nothing to say. They wouldn’t give me more shifts. Fucking cheap asses!”
“Don’t talk to me with that tone!” Her voice raised. “We need to do something, you know? We’re falling behind. Especially now. Our efforts just aren’t eno—”
“Goddamn it!” He slammed his fist onto the counter and the plates clattered. “Don’t you think I know that?”
Barb came and massaged his arms gently. “Try and calm down dear.” She had on her reassuring smile, trying to make it seem like all was well. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
Cardy pulled away and grabbed his temples. “I…I just don’t understand. I thought the EA was supposed to fucking last for a year…I won’t. I won’t do it. We’re not going to the DP. We can’t. We worked too hard for us to be slaves to those vultures. We’ll get the money. We have to.”
“I know you’re hard on yourself because of what happened to Wendy,” Barb said. “The Cold vaccine…”, she chokes up. “Could’ve…”
“Stop. Just stop it Ma.” Cardy raised his hand like a crossing guard, fighting back tears. “It didn’t matter how much overtime I worked. We still couldn’t afford it…Vultures. They create a wonder drug to stop the spread. Ten thousand dollars? For what? A shot? And then they rape you again to get a second one three months later.
“We shouldn’t have to choose between baby Millie and my sweet wife. They killed her!”
“I’ll have to go back to work. Take a night shift when the kids are asleep,” Barb said. “That’s what’ll have to happen.”
“No. That’s too much for you. The Cold drained your energy. You need the nights to rest.” He grabs Barb by the arms and kissed her on the cheek. Barb was pretty, even as she was getting on in years. Not a head turner but she had kind brown eyes and beautiful teeth. And dimples that made her smile all the better.
Frank came in from his evening walk. He felt for the plastic holder mounted by the door and snaps his cane into place. He follows the voices.
“You OK, babe?” He said.
“Yes dear.” Barb said with a sigh.
Cardy cuts in before Frank could speak. “I’ll get a new job. Like I’ve always done.”
“I know you will son,” Frank said with his gruff warmth.
“Ma you’re not getting a job. You need all the stamina you can save for the kids and us. We’re not going to the DP. No more loans. We’ll find a way.”
The Pill
The Story’s Story - Author’s Note
Chapter 2 - Shadows and Sounds
The Pill is a dystopian horror novel inspired by Jurassic Park, The Running Man, and Fight Club.
Coming Soon.
What would you pay to find meaning in your life? In a world increasingly numbed by distraction and disconnection, many would pay anything. Cardy wants to make a living. Cassie wants to live. At the Pill, both are offered the opportunity of a lifetime. But everything comes with a cost.
What I liked the most is how you build the dystopia through small things: the numbered streets so no one gets lost, the rotting cat. So when you open the apartment door and it smells like pancakes and a two-year-old says "Hi Daddy, got cakes," that cut from decay to warmth really lands. Strong, humane, angry work.
Really enjoying this so far!