Chapter 2

Graduation day was pretty anticlimactic. A lot of marching around. From the assembly area outside to our seats. From our seats to the stage and podium. Then back to the assembly room. Spaced in between were speeches long, dull, boring speeches. I had asked Mom to be there, but she was still upset with my job choice. I had tried to make her happy by offering to send money to her, but even that wasn’t enough. She knew that I would have to send all of my pay just to cover the loss of the government check she got for my care.

“Gideon, you are an ungrateful brat. After all I’ve done for you, you can’t take the time to make sure your mother is cared for.”

“Mom, I’ve already told you, I’ll send you money. It won’t be as much as the government check, but it’s the best I can do. You know there isn’t anything here that will pay as much as an off-planet job. If I don’t get a job, the government is sure to send me to the middle east. Then where will you be?”

“Well, they’ll just send me another check, just like your dads.”

“It doesn’t work that way, mom. They don’t send checks to mothers. If I’m gone, they may make you go to work. You could follow me to a radioactive clean-up job.”

Mom had quickly run out of steam and stormed off to her favorite public house.

Finally, all the commotion was over. As we turned in our robes and caps, a bored looking district administrator checked our names off a list. “OK, People, be sure to check your accounts. If you owe any money to the district, it must be paid before your diplomas will be sent to you. Remember, those diplomas are sent registered mail. If you refuse or are unable to accept them, your graduation will not be valid. In which case, you will be listed as a dropout and your names sent to the labor assignment board.”

I was lucky; I had kept a relatively low balance on my account and had paid it off the previous month. That included the robe and cap rental. So I was able to collect my diploma before I left the building.

Meanwhile, the recruiters from the job fair were waiting in the parking lot. They confirmed IDs and either loaded their new hires into buses or gave them transport tickets. I found my recruiter and got a ticket for a transport ride to the old launch facility in California. My flight was scheduled at 06:00 in the morning.

That evening, Things were not the best they could be at home. Mom was still upset and refused to discuss the situation. I finally had to leave the house and take a walk. I ended up at the public house and decided to have a beer.

The following day, while I, and 20 others, were waiting for the shuttle, A team of security guards showed up. There was seven total. Four of them were holding their prisoner. The other two stood a good 4 feet from him and kept a very close eye on him. The 7th member of the team was the obvious leader. He approached the boarding clerk, and they had a whispered conversation.

Then they frog-marched their prisoner to a free corner of the room and placed him first into the wall. Half of the team kept an eye on him. The other half kept an eye on everybody else.

Half an hour later, the boarding clerk announced loading. As we filed past him, he checked our names off his list and had us step onto a set of scales. We were authorized 100 kilos. That was 100 kilos total body weight and baggage. As I stepped on the scales with my bugout bag, it showed a couple of kilos under the limit.

I was on the end of the lineup and had just cleared the weigh-in, just ahead of the prisoner. As the line moved forward, the prisoner stopped. This irritated the guards, who gave him a shove. I don’t know what they thought. I mean, the guy was wearing short chain leg irons. But that didn’t seem to matter. The lead guard growled, “Hurry it up, scum.” The shove pushed him into me, and we both tumbled over. In the confusion and turmoil of our recovery, I gave the guy a hand getting up. This apparently wasn’t proper and earned me a clout upside the head with the guard’s baton.