Chapter 6 : Step By Step

It had been a bad day. James had been to the Opportunity Centre. There had been about twenty of them standing around in the big room where they handed out appointments. The two appointment windows that opened through the security screens remained closed.

On the far side James could see half a dozen Opportunity Centre staff doing something. It wasn't terribly clear what it might be and they didn't seem to be in any hurry to open the appointment windows.

James took the time to look at the cards on the displays around the room. "Opportunities" was the word but he wasn't eligible for most of them. "Only privately sponsored applicants considered," or "No Sponsor? Don't Even Ask!" most of them said.

The ones that he could apply for either sounded like they were beyond his physical abilities (most of the manual jobs involved harder work than he had ever had to do — there were a few cards for "Farm Workers" and James knew that would mean hard work in the fields and sleeping in a barn) or needed skills that he didn't possess. He couldn't see anything that looked like office or clerical work that didn't involve him needing a sponsor.

The clatter of a grille being raised announced that someone at least had deigned to open one of the appointment windows. James joined the line and shuffled forward as one after the other of the waiting group made their way to the window.

As he reached the front of the queue the girl on the other side of the window, looked up. She was barely twenty years old looked up but she looked as though she had already inherited the jaded and misanthropic manner of long serving OC staff. "Ident Card," she said without blinking.

"Oh, yes, of course," said James, fumbling in his coat pocket for the plastic card. The girl sighed with impatience. He pushed it into the slot in front of him.

The girl's attention went to her computer screen. James realised he was staring at her, noticing how the white of her bra straps showed through her crisp white blouse and how the wisps of hair at the nape of her neck escaped over her collar. She turned round suddenly. He almost fell over backwards. "Police interview last night, eh?" she said. "Anything we should know about?"

"No, no," said James. "It was some sort of mistake. They just interviewed me." James shouldn't have been surprised. It was routine knowledge that all state departments shared their computer files these days.

"No smoke, I say," the girl responded. "Still it doesn't make much difference. You aren't sponsored. I don't have anything for an unsponsored applicant."

"Could I get an interview for a sponsorship?"

"Dunno," the girl said. "Police investigation won't help. Neither will you staring at my tits."

"I didn't, I wasn't," James protested but the girl just laughed.

"Come back tomorrow," the girl said. "Who knows, you might get lucky."

James nodded. He wasn't getting his hopes up. He knew she was only talking about an interview at the very best and he wasn't expecting much to come of that.

Outside the OC, he turned back towards his flat. It was late and starting to get dark. There was a black and white across the road. There seemed to be a lot them about these days. Or maybe he was just attracting attention in some way. A group of four women, arm in arm, talking animatedly were heading towards him, taking up most of the pavement. He had to step into the road to let them pass. There was a blast from the horn of the black and white as it swerved around him. The girls turned to look as if it had all been his fault.

The walk back was dogged by one instance after another of those things that demonstrated the things that had changed since New Order came to power. There were the "No Males" signs on the subway that meant he had to cross the road, edging his way through the traffic and the same signs on some of the footways forcing him to walk on one side of the road or the other. There were posters promoting the latest campaign by the Ministry of Justice to suppress dissident groups; encouraging the public to denounce (although that wasn't the word they used) suspected members of subversive groups.

Each of his steps back towards the apartment were like the little steps that had chipped away at his freedoms until, suddenly, he saw he had few, if any, left. Sponsorship had been the main way that the State had done its work. If you weren't sponsored you couldn't do that, then you couldn't do this, and then, and then ... Needing a sponsor to counter sign a passport application had been one of the first things. Then his passport had expired and he couldn't renew it and now he couldn't leave the country even if he wanted to. Needing a sponsor for a private bank account had been the next thing, so he'd ended up with an account with the state bank. That had been a hangover from the financial crisis but now New Order used it to make sure that those without sponsors had 'help' in managing the little money they had left after their taxes. They didn't offer credit cards of course and although he'd heard there were such things as overdrafts and loans available he didn't know anyone that had one.

James's route took him around the edge of the main shopping district. Even if he had money to spend he'd be hard pushed to spend it here. The shops catered, as shop always do, to those with money. And that didn't include him. Or anyone like him. This street was all clothes shops; clothes and shoes and they weren't for him. The red signs took him to the far side of the road as he watched the girls across the street, clustered around the brightly lit windows of D&G and Jimmy Choo. He tripped, stubbing his toe on the raised edge of a paving stone. He suddenly realised that this side of the road wasn't maintained. He'd never thought about it before. The street lamp over his head flickered and he saw that the next one was out. A pool of gloom shadowed the doorways in this side of the street. Nothing had been done to make things any easier on the men's side of the street.

He got to the end of the road. There was a short cut that he sometimes took past the food shops. He crossed over but then saw he couldn't go that way any more. Another sign had appeared; a red circle, at the top, the inverted Venus sign, beneath it the Mars and inverted Venus signs with a plus sign between them in a red circle. Only women or accompanied men, it meant; no way though for someone without a sponsor. He passed the end of the road. In the lights of the stores women were emerging, their men following close behind laden with their choices. At least he didn't have to follow a sponsor, around, James told himself as he turned down yet another badly lit, ill maintained road, heading for home.

Barry Haste followed his wife out of the store. The bags were weighing him down already and they still had a way to go to where the car was parked. Valerie stood chatting to friends it gave Barry a chance to catch up. As he struggled with the bags he saw a solitary figure walking between the patches of gloom on the far side of the street. There was only one reason why someone would be walking over there. "Lucky bastard," Barry thought to himself. "fancy being able to stay without a sponsor this long."

Barry watched the figure shuffle away. It was only as he turned back that he saw his wife was standing, waiting for him with arms folded. "Oh," she said, "decided to join me, have you?"

He knew where this was leading. "Sorry," he said, "I..."

"Never mind. We'll deal with it later."

Barry edged past Valerie's friends. The remarks as he passed only confirmed that they thought he was in for what he already feared. Their accompanying laughs, he could tell, were annoying his wife even more.

"Oh, dear, trouser's down!" "I think someone's going to an unhappy bunny later." "Off to bed with no tea, or worse!" "Much worse!"

They got back to the car. Fuming, Valerie climbed in to the rear passenger seat leaving Barry to pack the shopping away before climbing in to drive.

"I'm sorry," he began almost as soon as the car was moving.

"Don't!" she cut him off. "Just don't! I will not be humiliated like that. Ever!" She sat back in her seat and relapsed into a silence that filled the car like a thick wad of impending doom as Barry drove home.

By the end of the evening Valerie was enjoying the comforting of her lover, Margery. The two of them slept, curled around each other beneath the warm flowered quilt that covered the double bed. Margery sighed quietly as she slept, her lips still most with the taste of her lover. Valerie slept with arms curled protectively around the younger woman, her own state of relaxation brought on by the combination of Margery's attentions and the satisfaction of correcting Barry's mistake.