Tempus Fugitives

In his comments on my story 'A View from the Bottom' 'Oldmarriedtar' stated that there is no cure for depression, and I tend to agree with him. My personal experience with depression is that there are three avenues open, the first is the chemical approach and this may be necessary to stabilise the condition, but it is not a cure. The second and third can be used individually or together to minimise the effects, that is to recognise the cause of the depression, and take steps to combat that cause. The reason that I mention this is, that this story is the first time that I used writing as part of the process of minimising the effects of depression.

This story, my first by the way, was first written in 1986 following the breakdown of my first marriage. What my main character went through in 'A View from the Bottom' was close to my personal experience, unfortunately I did not find a good woman at that time to help me. The story took my mind off my problems for a short time, the original draft of 60,000 plus words taking just 10 days to write on a clapped out old typewriter, no mean feat when you consider my digital dyslexia. I have since then used writing to prevent myself from sinking into depression, not always successfully, but I get by.

As to the story, it is a reflection of attitudes existing at the time that it was written, so situations as presented may no longer apply to the present. In the past I have posted my longer stories in stages and been criticised for that, so this time you get the whole bleeding lot in one hit, so you can read it at your leisure.

BTW, my change from 'single' status is a work in progress, but I have to admit that there seems to be little likelihood of success in the short term. CM

1

I was awake. I was instructed to assume an alert mental state by the sensors attached to either side of my head. It was not an unpleasant procedure, at least not as long as I obeyed the instruction, it was more like a gentle nudge in my brain that said to me 'Leandara it is time that you were awake'.

If I ignored the first message the stimulus becomes much more insistent, and painful, until I eventually react to it and rise. Somewhere in Central Monitoring a demerit is recorded against my performance record.

I was not usually awake before the first instruction entered my brain but so far I had managed to wake before the second message and thus far avoided demerits.

Turning to face the new day I saw the same boring walls of my same boring apartment. The very fact that it was called an apartment owed more to the imagination of the constructors and less to reality. Of course I wasn't aware at the time that the walls were boring because boring was not an emotion that I was programmed to have. It was one of many emotions that I was not programmed to have because I was not programmed to have any emotions at all But I wasn't to know that, yet.

I removed the sensor pads from my temples and they retracted into the wall above me in my Passive Energy Replenishment Chamber or PERC. As soon as this action was completed the cubicle came alive. The illuminators rose from nocturnal to diurnal; the transparent panel that enclosed me shished out of sight into the wall, a set of audio-sensory modulators rose from slumber mode to fill the room with pleasant sounds that I had been reliably informed were music.

Getting out of PERC I strolled, if walking two metres could be considered strolling, to the scenic view panels that took up all of three of the four walls of my apartment and looked out over the world as seen from what would have been my window if I had one.

A silver flash caught my eye as one of the early morning shuttles swooped out of the sun and hovered briefly before coming to rest out of sight but, as I knew, adjacent to the terminal building at Adelaide Airport. There were several of these about to arrive and they constituted all of the visible human life forms, not that I could see the passengers in the shuttles but I knew that they were there.

The green expanse of parklands was devoid of human form. Only the birds and animals doing busily what birds and animals busily do, and the trees bending and swaying in the dying remnants of the overnight gully winds, gave any indication that this scene could have been real and not some static display.

It was all an illusion. My apartment was on level 23 of the apartment building that meant that I was twenty-three levels beneath the ground. There was no outward sign that my building actually existed, no doorways or windows opening to the outside world, all that could be seen from above were the trees and grass.

This was because all apartments were built underground, and the view out of my view screen, like all other view screens, was via computer generated imagery beamed onto the large flat screens from a series of video cameras mounted on a slender tower high above the ground.

The absence of human life from the scene was no illusion. As all urban transport was by means of the Teleport Transfer Link or TTL, there was no need for any surface transport of people over short distances. The system instantaneously relocated people from source to destination by means of a molecular refraction process.

As all such journeys were monitored by Central Monitoring, there was no need for police because every person in the city was constantly tracked and their location recorded. If in the unlikely situation where a crime was committed, and the opportunity for this was in the billion to one category, then Central Monitoring was instantly aware of the perpetrator and the necessary actions were taken. Such summary punishment was seldom publicised and the population as a whole remained blissfully ignorant of any transgressions.

That there were no people to be seen on the surface didn't mean that there was never anyone there. There were such Environmental Maintenance Personnel as was necessary to maintain the general appearance of natural bushland. The only outward sign that there could conceivably be an underground city was the presence of a tall communications tower in the centre of the lush bush. This tower controlled all View Screen Imagery, monitored all personal monitoring systems and controlled all communication between the City of Adelaide and the outside world.

A voice entered the room through the sound system, "Good morning, I hope that you are sufficiently rested for the day ahead. The external ambient temperature is presently 15 degrees Celsius with an anticipated maximum temperature of 40 degrees late in the afternoon before a cool South Easterly breeze moves in overnight. The programmed workplace temperature has been set at 22 degrees Celsius, well within the Comfort Zone as specified in the Occupational Health and Safety parameters. Aren't you pleased to be working in such a pleasant climate?"

I felt that I should hate the saccharine tones of the voice but hate was another of those emotions that I was programmed not to have.

The news at 7:00 am appeared on a monitor set into the wall and was read by a particularly mono-dimensional newsreader who gave the impression that a major global catastrophe would have the same impact as the image of a person rescuing a cat from a tree. "The President of Australia has met with a delegation from the North Americas and has agreed that the reconstruction works could be speeded up if the peoples of those countries could find sufficient unaffected personnel who had the minimum intelligence necessary for training in the basic construction skills. She has insisted that all management and supervisory personnel should continue to be sourced from Australia."

"In local news the Australian Sporting Federation has agreed to teach the basics of Australian Football to some of the more developed countries in Europe. In a statement made by the Chairperson of the Federation it was pointed out that of the four football codes, Soccer, Rugby Union, Rugby League and Australian Football, the latter required significantly fewer skills than two of the other three codes and was therefore within their limited intellectual capacity."

"Adelaide Security Service Chief, in a statement issued at 6.00 am has announced the infraction figures for the previous 24 hours, they are as follows: Murder, nil; Forcible Sexual Relations, nil; Anti-social Behaviour, nil; Larceny, one, perpetrator has been apprehended and as he has been given three previous, and unsuccessful, opportunities for rehabilitation he will be terminated, I'm sorry that should read, has been terminated. That is the news for the moment, further bulletins will be broadcast as the information is released. Now doesn't that make you feel proud to be living in this wonderful country we call Australia."

"By the way Leandara, today is Wednesday and that means that your new Assistant will be reporting for duty so you must not be late."

Today was Wednesday. Today I would be getting my new Assistant to replace the one that had provided me with good and faithful service for the last ten years. She had in fact been in the job for ten years already when I started and had helped me over the first day or two until I had assimilated myself with the intricacies of the work environment of my office in the Department of Compulsory Leisure.

We had maintained a polite and I suppose friendly relationship at work but that was as far as it went because the commencement and maintenance of any relationship outside the workplace was illegal, impossible and inconceivable.

On Monday I had felt an emotion, at least that is what I was later told it was, of sadness when my Supervisor's face appeared on the office view screen. "Leandara, on Tuesday you will lose Panderana because she has reached the mandatory retiring age and will no longer be able to work for this Department. Today you will assist her to choose her retirement destination and prepare for the arrival on Wednesday of your new Assistant."

"Can you tell me, why it is that Panderana has to retire now, she has many good years ahead of her?"

"Precisely. That is why she is to retire now so that she will have many good years to enjoy the rest of her life."

"Can you tell me something about her replacement?"

"Of course, she was programmed twenty years ago to take this role and her preparation has been rather spectacular. She has exceeded all expected academic scores throughout her formative years. You will find her most stimulating."

Today is Wednesday and the emotion of sadness passed quickly to be replaced by one of anticipation to meet this 'most stimulating' person.

Thirty seconds in the Decontam Chamber and my epidermis had been scrubbed clean of all dead cells and sprayed with a sweet smelling deodorant before being inserted into my garb of office. I wore the red skin tight suit with the four white chevron insignia of an Administrative Service Officer Grade 4 in the Public Service, the role in life for which I had been cloned from a long line of Public Servant genetic elements some thirty years ago.

I sat at the Energy Intake Centre and partook of the prescribed nutrients, a cereal capsule that magically changed into a bowl of grain derived flakes on the application of reconstituted lactomilk. This was followed by a container of a brown liquid that contained caffeine and several other stimulants.

Having consumed this repast I was ready for the day ahead. I stepped into the Teleport tube and instantly found myself seated at my work station. There was a knock on the door and, on my invitation, my new assistant entered.

I concentrated on her dossier for a minute or two before looking directly at her. "Please won't you be seated. My name is Leandara and I am your Supervisor. I don't know how much you have been told about this organisation but I will assume that you have a basic knowledge of Public Service protocol and move on from there."

I took the time to look more closely at her. She was considerably different from Panderana in that her Garb of Office didn't have to strain to hold her body in place, even her frontal appendages seemed to stand straight out rather than droop like Panderana's.

Her face was unlined and her hair that was cut short in what I assumed was the modern style was gleaming black as opposed to Panderana's grey. I wondered if Panderana looked like this when she first started work or if the newly cloned replacement would look like her in twenty years.

This examination must not have taken more than a minute but by the time I had finished I could tell that she was not comfortable with it.

"My name is Jadixna. I have been fully briefed on my duties in this place and I will probably be able to tell you more about the running of this department than you can tell me. For instance I know that the Department of Compulsory Leisure was formed from the remnants of the Department of Employment following the introduction of the WPC system. WPC stands for Workforce Projection Cloning. What this achieved was the cloning of personnel for specific tasks eliminating the hit and miss approach to careers that existed prior to that system."

"Good, when we have some time maybe you can explain more about it to me. For the moment we will just have to confine ourselves to doing our jobs as best we can. How much do you know of the Retirement side of the business?"

"Just about everything that there is to know. All retirement choices are entered into the Master Computer. As each is allocated, statistics are kept on the transaction keeping track of who goes where, and when they eventually move on to their just reward, records a vacancy against that destination on the Computer thereby allowing that place to be re-allocated."

"I can see that you don't need me."

"Hey, C'mon boss, don't get your knickers in a twist. I guess that I came across as a real smartarse, but I don't like being looked over like I was some exhibit in a zoo and I most certainly object to being grilled on my first day on the job as to how much I know or don't know about a job that I haven't even started."

"From the tone of your voice I get the impression that you are offended in some way by my actions and for this I must plead lack of experience, but the language that you are using is one with which I am definitely not familiar. 'I mean to say, knickers in a twist', 'smartarse', what do they mean?"

"Oh it's just something that I picked up while studying at the University. My Doctoral Thesis was on twentieth century Australia. As for the meanings, 'knickers in a twist' means upset and 'smartarse' means someone who acts clever."

"That is interesting but I don't think that it would be such a good idea if you were to use that sort of language at work, certainly not while there are members of the public present."

"Hey bend a little will you. Don't be so hostile until you have tried it for yourself."

"I am, I will have you know, as flexible as the next person when it comes to dealing with the public, we and this includes you, must project the right image, and I'm afraid that means using the right language, not some ancient gibberish."

"Okay, you're the boss, but doesn't being so bloody stuffy get boring?"

"If by being, as you so colourfully put it, bloody stuffy means what I think it means then I haven't given it a great deal of thought, in fact I have given it absolutely no thought whatever."

"And do you know why you have given it no thought?"

"No."

"It's because you are programmed not to think about anything other than what is needed for your job."

I didn't much like the way that this conversation was heading, but, on reflection I was at a loss to understand why. My discomfort was rescued by the arrival of the first customer of the day.

As part of her training Jadixna was to sit in on the allocation interviews for at least the first week before she was let loose on the general public.

Each interview cubicle consisted of comfortable, ergonomic, adjustable chairs, a view screen, a computer terminal linked to the central Database and a palm print scanner.

The client entered the cubicle and following the introductions we all settled into our chairs. He placed his hand on the palm print scanner that read the surface of his palm and immediately accessed his record, a copy of which was displayed on the view screen. A synthesised voice emerged from the speaker set into the wall above the desk. "Welcome to the office of Compulsory Leisure Frazniac. You are to follow the instructions as they appear on the view screen. You will be given several preferences as we work our way through the process. You will indicate your preferences in descending order by touching the screen in descending order of priority. I hope that you will enjoy the rest of your life. Have a nice day."

The screen in front of me and out of line of sight of the client lit up with the details of the client's life from clonebirth to the present. He had been a construction engineer on the new parliament building and had reached retiring age at around the same time as the project had reached its much overdue completion. The Vidnews releases during the construction phase of the operation had explained that the initial delay was caused by strategic considerations in the site selection process. Significant discussion had taken place between the representatives of both Sydney and Melbourne as to which of those cities should be the site of the nation's capitol.

The government of the day had decided in its wisdom, if one can use both of those words in the same breath, chose Adelaide for the simple reason that, if any hostile nation decided to attack this seat of government, they would have to run the gauntlet of not only the four hundred kilometre coastal exclusion zone, but would have to go past just about every major city to reach Adelaide. An example of where isolation had its advantages.

The site chosen was accessed by a side tunnel from the South Eastern freeway tunnel that passed under the Mt Lofty ranges to emerge on the eastern side of Stirling. The official reason for the side tunnel was that it was as a result of a surveying error. The fact that we all accepted that explanation was a testament to the powers of persuasion of the subliminal messages that we received each night as we slept. The reason that all of this had become necessary was that the nations of the Northern Hemisphere, following the disintegration of the Soviet Union and others, each obtained through dubious and not particularly ethical means, a nuclear strike capability. When the ethnic differences between some of these countries reached the point where they could not possibly co-exist, all hell, as they say in the classics, broke loose leaving the entire Northern Hemisphere blanketed by a fall-out cloud of disastrous proportions. The ensuing nuclear winter had lasted for the last fifty years without giving any indications of significant improvement.

This scenario had left Australia, as the dominant power in the Southern Hemisphere, with the task of slowly, as the radiation was absorbed or dissipated, rebuilding the nations of the world.

The screen in front of me indicated that Frazniac had selected North East as his first preference of retirement destination. This part of the country had once been called Queensland in honour of some obscure British monarch but this name had been dropped when Australia assumed ascendancy over its former colonial master. The states had all been reclassified by geographical locations; thus Queensland became North East Australia while the former Victoria, also previously named after the same obscure monarch, became South East, New South Wales, East, South Australia, South Central, Tasmania became, much to the chagrin of its inhabitants, annexed to South East, the Northern Territory became North Central while Western Australia kept its original name.