Chapter 3: Residence

The smart taxi pulled up in front of a modest high rise at 111th and Addison; Simon Greene sighed with relief, his ride had been a frustrating and confusing one on a day meant for excitement and hope. He was ready to be done with the "Marks" of the world.

’Get out, Pal!’ The automated driver belted through its vocal processor as the door popped open just enough for Simon to slide out with a great deal of effort.

Standing on the curb Simon quickly patted himself down and checked for his belongings as the automatic door of the smart-taxi popped shut; at the same moment Simon came to the sudden realization his hands were empty.

The electromagnetic strip under the taxi began to whirr as the smart cab sparked and sizzled back into the steadily moving procession of traffic.

’My briefcase! You’ve got to be kidding me!’ Simon yelled as he shook his fist at the rapidly moving cab. He kicked and scuffed his feet against the grey cement pillars that guarded his loft entrance from the garishness of the commuter population. ’How unlucky’ a passerby mentioned, by her bouffant hairstyle Simon knew she was Mrs. Felicia Haust from 122B--a Sandy Shale fanatic.

’Still here? You must be devastated, you should be happy for Sandy!’ Simon scoffed after her, trying to collect himself ’Apologies! Apologies! Have a good night!’ Mrs. Haust grunted through her pig-snout and turned--probably to buy some new pet Simon thought to himself. The woman bought one any time she was upset, and recently, she had bought enough to fill a zoo. Maybe that was where Miss. Mallory was getting her meat!

Simon laughed and dismissed the thought as he remembered the loss of his briefcase and coat. ’Nothing I can do now’ Simon thought out loud, ’just report the cab number and find it in the morning’ Simon looked up and down the street-- a Fet-head couldn’t buy a cab, so it wouldn’t steal his things, he thought, an honorable member of society would turn it in and never look inside! Simon thoroughly convinced himself that all would be well with the case and sighed again, as he looked up at the building he called home, just tall enough to see over the smog, he thought to himself.

The automatic double doors slid open and Simon walked cautiously into the lobby of his apartment building, hoping none of the residents milling about the room would notice him. In a room to his immediate left three patrons sat huddled around a yellow envelope that had been fully opened, it’s contents emptied.

’Paper! Real paper, Mildred!’ One of them exclaimed.

’Dear me! How decadent!’ Another, Mildred, replied.

A third, said nothing.

In the hall Allen Rochester, a resident of the sixtieth floor, stood leaning against a small podium, behind which an android bellboy stood waiting to help.

’How’s it goin’ Greene? You get your mail yet? I got mine already’ Rochester said as he waived a yellow envelope around.

’No, just got in myself’ Simon said, trying to keep his cool, his anxiety beginning to get the better of him. ’I was just about to ask the clerk, if you don’t mind’ Simon’s voice rice commandingly as he spoke.

’Well excu-use me! I forgot it was a big secret between you and the android bellboy!’ Allen said as he shoved off the podium and walked towards the other yellow-letterers in the day-room. ’Afternoon Abbie. Got anything good?’ Simon said absentmindedly, his thoughts dwelling on all the yellow letters he had seen.

’I am not allowed to disclose that information today, your orders’ the android replied oddly jovially.

Simon sighed with relief, he didn’t want a robot to tell him he was stuck for at least another year. ’Good man’ Simon said,’ How about the mail’?

’Here you are!’ The android said cheerfully, handing Simon a wad of letters and daily flyers before it fluttered and carried on it’s sorting routine behind the podium as Simon left and walked towards the elevator.

’Good luck!’ The android called after Simon quietly.

Simon rounded the corner at the end of the hall and pressed his finger to the ID reader next to the direct electromagnetic lift door, which dinged and opened at his call. Simon stepped into the elevator car and rifled through the small pile of mail. Mostly useless junk mail that was required by law to be recycled into more useless junk mail but there, right there-- in the center, there it was. A Blue Envelope.

Simon’s heart pounded; the elevator door closed.

The electromagnetic pad rose quickly, making Simon feel a bit nauseous, his stomach already in his throat. The automated voice counted in tens up to floor one hundred and twenty one where the door chimed and opened in its usual compulsory manner, the abrupt stop did not help Simon’s stomach.

Simon stepped out into his apartment’s personal atrium and dropped the rest of the mail into the recycling bin just inside the room next to the elevator door. He looked around the room to see if any of his family was occupying the room but with the little luck he had left, the room was completely empty. He embraced the envelope tightly and danced around the room; lovingly looking at all the valuables he had collected--which he would soon have to part with. The classic leather bound collections of his favorites, Carroll, Doyle, Poe, and the like on their heavy mahogany bookcases that surrounded the room would soon have to be sold off as they wouldn’t fit into the tiny settlement pod they would be given for their trip to Proxima.

Proxima!

Another planet! Another world! With real clean crisp air, and he, in his chosen proficiency would be likely part of that undertaking! Simon was over joyed as he pranced and spun towards the switch panel that shut off the automatic lights in the atrium. He passed his hand over the switch panel several times to no effect.

Simon’s delight momentarily faded, the switch had been on the fritz for a week, and there had been a call in to maintenance but no response. It was time to take charge Simon thought, as he popped off the switch cover and fiddled with the spindle of wires behind it. After a series of small sparks and swears the lights shut off and Simon’s elation was allowed to continue. He gently pushed on the now repaired switch and the entry door to the apartment descended into the floor.

Next Chapter: Family