Incoming Transmission
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It was a stormy day when I got the transmission, not that it was really different from any other day since few people were old enough to remember what the sky looked like without the haze of pollution we have now, but I digress. The sky was most definitely stormy with clouds that day; it alternated raining and sleeting on the dreary city below.
The weather may have been bad, but my day was worse. I was low on food, credits, and sleep; needless to say my health was running on low as well as my mood. The heating unit in my place finally kicked the bucket after several months of sputtering, and it really didn’t help that I got a transmission from my boss on my home vidphone that day either.
The telecompany was convinced I no longer held that “spark” that was necessary to sell their products over vidphone but instead of demoting me to working in the old-fashioned telephone system department, they simply fired me. I don’t think they really cared much about a certain “spark” of mine; most likely it was the dark circles under my eyes or the miserable aura that always seemed to surround me that made me a less appealing seller.
No, I didn’t have “attitude issues” or anything like that; I guess my employer wanted me to be “happier” with what I was doing. Yeah, I just love working 10-plus hour shifts in my paper-strewn, puketan-colored cubicle with matching chair, breathing in the filtered air of the lowerlevels. Nothing against those levels of course, I’ve lived here my whole life, but it was just when I finally fell hard enough to not be able to get back up… that’s when I met him.
It had been a day much like this one, go figure, that my father cut off the stream of credits my mother had left for me. She’d passed on a few months prior and had left me with a small sum that would be filtered to me on a monthly basis for paying rent and such, but good ol’ dad and his love for the bottle (among other things) decided he’d have a better use for those creds. The moment I got that crackled audio transmission saying that I had no more funds and telling me who they’d been extracted by I swear I could’ve cried. I would’ve too, if I hadn’t given up crying years ago.
After her death, I continued living in mother’s home, using her money to take care of the basic necessities and using the small amount my job was paying to keep her home in order. It was a beautiful home in the first lower level of the city with a balcony out of the living quarters that overlooked most of the industrial district, but it was getting old and the piping and electrical needed replacing.
So when I was left with only my own money to support myself I had to stop spending money on mother’s house and start using it to keep the place heated, watered, and myself fed. Needless to say, it took everything I had just to stay afloat, but at least I had something.
That all changed the day I came home to find my home blackened from flames. I’d known the wiring in the bathroom was faulty but I didn’t expect it to actually cause a fire, maybe it was because most of the wiring in the place was just as old and worn, I don’t know, but it had burned the whole place.
Everything was gone, burnt, and made into rubble that not even the densest scrapman would want. The furniture, the appliances, all of mother’s porcelain “valuables”; gone. I couldn’t stay in that place then; it was blackened hole in my mind with all the memories burnt out from it. I shakily locked the door and left, ready to get away as soon as possible—to forget, if I was lucky enough.
To make a long story short, I relied on the city, intending on still going to work but living on the streets until I could get enough money to buy my own place. It’s not like I had to look very well to trudge into the mechanical dump everyday to do my job; pick up a part, put it on the conveyor belt, pick up another part, put it on the conveyor belt, pick up another part… No, it wasn’t hard even for a scrawny scratch of skin and bones like me, and I know I wasn’t the only one who worked there to live on the street.
Yeah, life was looking pretty low when I met him. It had snowed the day before and I was warming some snow in my hands to wash a gash on my cheek I’d gotten from misjudging the hold on a rusted coil the day before when I noticed another reflection in the icy water.
The guy was just standing behind me, watching silently. I started to wash my face, ignoring him. He was obviously from the upperlevels of the city and wasn’t any bigger threat than what company I scrounged for food with daily. The thing that made me start was when he actually talked to me.
“That needs medical attention,” He said, stepping in front of where I sat on a stair. “Do you have a way of accessing any?” He asked, eyeing my face with a ‘genuine’ expression in his eyes.
“’Don’t sell that stuff,” I told at him, jumping up and edging away. “’Don’t do that stuff neither.” I didn’t want any of his “medical attention”; no needles were going in my arms. That stuff was for the huddles of people in the alleyways. The other kind of “medical attention” never crossed my mind, I was probably too hunger dazed to try and remember the last time I’d seen a real doctor back when I was a little kid. He just looked at me strange before he said anything else.
“I wasn’t referring to illegal drugs.” He said seriously. “The cut on your face will need stitches. I was asking if you had a way of accessing a doctor.” After I shook my head ‘no’ he came closer, where only I could hear.
“If you will allow me, I can see to it that your medical needs are met.”
He sounded so serious but I was sure he was joking, playing some ‘funny’ prank on a random homeless nobody or after something even though I didn’t have anything of value. Maybe he just wanted to rid the city of another piece of stinking homeless scum making nice people like him look bad.
“How?” I asked, narrowing my eyes and studying his face carefully.
“Come with me.” He nodded with a small smile, glad I was thinking about his offer, but that’s not how my hunger-addled brain registered it.
“’Not going nowhere with you, ‘don’t deal skin.” I snapped, backing up to the stairs and falling backwards on them. He looked so tall from where I was in his expensive slacks and his woolen and leather coat, his face saddened by what—my answer?
“I don’t require that kind of company,” He said softly, bending down to my level. “But I do know a doctor that works out of their home and would stitch that up for you.”
We stared at each other for a moment, I was scanning his features for any deception, any ulterior motive, but I found none. He must have found whatever he was searching for in me because he gave me a small smile and asked, “Do you have a home?”
I ducked my head down, ashamed and unable to meet his eyes. How could this—this stranger—be able to get under my skin so well?
“I see.” He murmured as I still studied the split seams on my tattered sneaker. “I can guarantee you a home as well, if you allow me.”
I looked up at that, shocked. “No catch.” He added smilingly after seeing my face. I then did the only thing I could do, I nodded numbly. Then he stood and held out his hand to me with a big smile saying, “My name is Daniel.”
“I’m Pat.” I said as I gave him a shaky smile.
He helped me up and my memory from then was one huge blur.
He took me to a tram that ran to the upper levels and bought me a ticket. Once I began to leave the lower levels for the first time I realized the air got cleaner. Daniel chatted to me idly during the four hour long trip while I ducked my head to avert the gazes of the upper class citizens who sniffed disapprovingly in my direction.
Daniel talked about everything it seemed in that hour. I couldn’t remember the last time I had an actual conversation with someone, let alone a whole hour of conversing. He’d lived in the upperlevels and middlelevels during his life and was only a few years older than me. He was the director of an organization that took “needy people” and found homes for them in shelters or family homes. He usually worked with people from the middlelevels but had a meeting in the lowerlevels that morning. His organization was evidently a big hit in the middlelevels and would soon expand to people of the lowerlevels like me.
I listened to him talk; it was almost soothing to my lonely self. He was “fortunate” to be “gifted” with a good life and he never sounded condescending. If anything, he made me feel less, less dirty I guess, like I wasn’t a lower life form, just an “unfortunate” person. After around the second hour on the tram we were still talking while the people around us had all fallen asleep. I was telling him about myself, something I’d never done before. Somehow I just trusted him like I’d never trusted anyone except my mother. I told him about her and her home, about my father and the fire, about living on the street and my low-paying job. I told him everything and he just listened, watching me sympathetically.
We arrived in the upperlevels a few hours later and he took me to his home. I’d never seen so much of the sky before and kept on running into people as I stared up at it. The sky could be seen from the lowerlevels but only between buildings and the internal framework of the city. The buildings here were marble, brick, and stone. There was no rotten garbage lining the streets; I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Daniel laughed, grinning wholeheartedly as he steered me around the light crowds to his house as I continued to stare at everything. It was just so clean—so beautiful.
His house was protected in high brick walls and was modeled after a family home from centuries ago, standing on real, live grass. It had a porch, roof, chimney and everything; it was nothing like the stacked rooms of metal that I used to call a home.
He unlocked the door using the touchpad on its frame and ushered me into the warmth. He used his vidphone to talk to the promised doctor as I was instructed to “clean up” in the bathroom.
I showered in nearly hot water, letting the steam build as I basked in the luxury. I combed out my hair afterwards and wore some of his leisurely clothes he was giving to me. It was all so surreal.
The doctor arrived soon after I was finished cleaning myself up and I was told to “just sit still” while he did whatever he was doing. I won’t lie, I was nervous. No, I was nearly a wreck. The moment I saw that needle I started shaking like some little kid. The old doc looked at me sympathetically but continued to prep his needle. I squeezed my eyes shut; fisting my sweaty hands in the flawless sweats I wore. After a moment of waiting I felt a warm palm slide over my knuckles and gently grip my hand. Upon opening my eyes I found Daniel smiling encouragingly at me. After that, for some reason, I was really neutral to the whole “medical procedure”.
I think it was just his presence, the fact I wasn’t alone. Someone was with me. Someone was taking care of me. I wasn’t alone…
That night made a meal and had me eat my fill then he let me sleep in “the guest room”, like I was an equal in his house. I just didn’t get it, how we could possibly be equal.
The bed was plush and had several blankets despite the house’s lack of drafts. The room was a sunny light yellow color with paintings of country scenes and flowers lining the walls as well as a few bookshelves. He asked me if I knew how to read when he caught me looking at the books. I told him I knew only what my mother had time to teach me before she died. He said I could begin learning the next day, if I wanted, then laughed when he saw my expression. I couldn’t help but laugh with him. After he said his goodnights I sat on the edge of the fluffy bed and stared out the window into the starry night sky with the sliver moon. I fell asleep that night thinking that things really were going to be alright.
The next day set the pattern of how days were going to be for a long time. I fell into the habit of waking up, making breakfast and eating with Daniel. Then he’d go to work at his organization and I would work on my studies from the books of his and make supper for him when he came home. After that he would help me with my studies, play games, or just talk. Sometimes he would take me shopping and to see the glories of the city, he even established an account that he put money in just for me. He always cut me off and never let me ask how I was going to repay it.
When Daniel asked me when I would like to find a place to live I could only stare at my feet, just like the first time I had met him. I didn’t want to be with anyone else, I didn’t trust anyone else, I wanted to stay with him. He was the only person I could function like a “normal” person around, everyone else would make me nervous and withdrawn, but how could I tell him that? He was always trying so hard to make me more at ease with people, how could I tell him that he was the only one I’d ever trust…I just couldn’t. But somehow he figured it out anyway. He was quiet for a long time as I crossed my arms tightly and stared at my shoes then he came up and gave me a hug.
I was surprised to say the least because he’d always been mindful of the personal space that I was always used to having, but the simple gesture gave me strength in ways I’d forgotten I could feel strong in. My mother had hugged me as a child, but no one after that; I’d never trusted anyone after her…until now. I returned the hug, clamping onto him as if he was going to drift away. I still don’t know why I needed that hug so bad, I just did.
When he pulled away we were both smiling and I realized that he had made me his equal. I wasn’t a homeless nobody with a bad past and no future, I had someone to live for, someone who cared.
He told me I could stay with him as long as I liked and I grinned at him, saying I might be sticking around a long time and that he should be careful to not make a habit of taking in strays. He laughed then; it had always been my goal to make him laugh from then on just because I liked making him that happy.
One day he mentioned that his organization was having a party and he wanted me to come. Although I hated any social interaction with anyone but him I said yes. I couldn’t refuse; I owed him everything it seemed.
When that night came I was very nervous. Daniel helped me choose a really expensive outfit with shoes that shone like mirrors. He even helped me tame my long and usually messy hair. Even though he was doing his best to make me feel at ease I was still terrified of meeting the people he worked with. What if they didn’t like me, what if they saw me as something inferior, what if—Daniel gave my shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze before ushering me inside the large, marble building with heavy doors.
Polite instrumental music filled the hall delicately as well-dressed guests made their way around carrying dainty foods and colorful drinks. When a man in black and white held a tray of drinks out to me I could just stare. Daniel reached out and took a drink for us both and thanked the man who gave me a disapproving sniff before flitting away to a crowd of guests dripping with wealth. Smiling at me kindly, Daniel gave me my drink and took me through the crowd to introduce me to his coworkers and acquaintances. I kept telling myself as long as he was there with me I was going to be fine; he’d take care of me; I wasn’t alone.
That was, until a tall, beautiful lady in a green dress came up and asked him to dance. He politely accepted, giving me an apologetic smile before leading her to the dance floor.
I watched them for a while, my sense of unease building in my gut. They were so…perfect together. They were where they belonged, in their crystal world of beauty. I, on the other hand was merely part of the background, again a nameless nobody with nothing.
A couple came up to me and started talking to me; all I could do was stare and feel out of place. It only worsened when one asked me why I wasn’t talking and the other replied that I was “the one Daniel had found in the lowerlevels”. Their partner gasped and asked if Daniel had actually gone to the lowerlevels.
They both chatted at each other, completely forgetting me, which was fine. My vision was so watery I didn’t even see them move away; my mind was panicking. Why was I here? I didn’t belong. Daniel would be so much better off without me, a disgusting, out-of-place weed in his beautiful flowerbed.
Without a thought I found myself standing and dashing out of the marble building and into the cold night. I ran to the nearest tram station and immediately bought a pass to the lowerlevels using my account, completely ignoring the strange looks the people were giving me.
A few very long hours later I was back where I belonged, even though I was dressed as a sophisticate of the upperlevels. I kept my eyes low and pace quick as I made my way back to mother’s apartment. I unlocked the door and opened the balcony door to vent out the stale air. That night I slept in my formal clothes in the chair on the balcony, the only thing left of my life. The next day I spent cleaning up the rubble from my home and buying some necessities. The day after that I found my job at the telecompany. I wasn’t happy, but that’s just how my life always seemed to be. I didn’t deserve to be happy, that was something for the rich in the upperlevels like Daniel. I was still a filthy mongrel that lived in the filthy industrial and red light district where the homeless thrived as much as the pollution. I hated it but I lived with it; it was where I belonged…until that stormy day when I was fired and got that transmission.
I was sitting on the couch next to the vidphone, having just sat down from receiving the recorded transmission from my boss telling me I was no longer a part of their happy company when the light on the vidphone blinked.
‘Incoming Transmission’ flashed across the dingy screen as I stared lifelessly. Every time that thing blinked ‘Incoming Transmission’ at me it was always something bad. I’d lost my mother’s money, my job, what did I have to lose now?
I let it record the message as I listened to the audio. After the beep a familiar voice sounded.
“Hey Pat, it’s been a while. It’s me, Daniel. I…I guess I want to tell you I miss you and wish you’d never left. I, I feel incomplete with you not around. You were like my other half, everything I was lacking you had, but you deserve only what you want and I won’t push you. I just want you to know that you were—you still are the best friend I’ve ever had…and I just wish you were with me again—,”
Then I hit the vidphone’s ‘receive transmission’ button and blurted a clumsy apology at him with a watered vision creeping into my eyes once again. We started talking all at once
“Will you really—will you really give me a second chance?” I rushed then bit my lip.
“Yeah, of course I will. Open your door.” He replied, his voice sounding happy like I remembered it being, but I was perplexed. Open my door? I asked him what he meant and he just told me to trust him and to open my door. Feeling foolish, I went to the only door he could be talking about, the only door out, the front door.
There he was, standing there smiling at me with his portable headset clasped around his ear. He opened his arms wide and I hugged him tight, tighter than I would have ever thought possible from my scrawny arms.
“Do you know how hard it was for me to find you?” He asked, nearly breathless. “Yeah, I had a hard time finding myself too.” I replied, my voice just above a whisper.
When we finally pulled apart he asked me if I would like to start over again and I grinned back at him and nodded.
My day might have started poorly, but from that moment on nothing could have put a dent in my mood.
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