Chapter 7 : Opportunity & Anniversary

The trouble with her job, thought Becky White, was that most of the staff didn't want to be there and most of the clients didn't either. Placing sponsorship opportunities had been interesting once upon a time. There had been more sponsors than clients and the sponsors had been keen to get the right placements. There had been bonuses for finding the right clients, they'd been paid well.

Now though? Well, there were more clients than sponsors and the clients were there because they had run out of other options. Becky spent most of her time telling clients at the OC that no, there was nothing today. Occasionally, one of them would try to bribe her. One of them had even tried to offer her some prick-sex! As if she looked like the sort of girl that would want that! Mostly though they knew they had nothing to offer her or anyone else here.

Sometimes though there was something she could do for clients. Like today. A new batch of opportunities had come through. And placing clients meant she had some chance of meeting her targets for the month. Sure, these were government placements and they weren't the most popular, but if you didn't have a sponsor then at least this solved that problem. Becky was explaining the possibilities to the new client that was sitting in front of her.

"James Leonard", it said on his ident card. She hadn't seen him before. In fact his application said this was his first approach for a sponsor. He must be stubborn to have held out so long. That might count against him with the sponsors but it wouldn't stop her putting him on a short list if he looked like he'd fit the bill.

"It's the Government Facilities Service," she said, "domestic and building services. Sponsored employment and government location placement."

James was wary. On the face of it, this would seem ideal, solving all his problems at once, job, sponsor, and a flat. He'd heard things though, about Government placements. They'd sounded like they were only one step up from the camps but right now he could see himself ending up in one of those if he was unlucky. Or even if he wasn't unlucky. It didn't take much imagination to think that the police wouldn't be happy until he was in the care of the judicial system.

Becky pushed a printed sheet towards him. He'd have to move up north, but that was hardly a problem and this would carry the new locality permit that he would need ... He'd have preferred a private sponsor but no, Becky had said, there weren't any private placements on their books right now. Perhaps in a few months? James wasn't willing to wait. The experience with the police and the repeated harassment of the last few days had been the last straw. He looked again at the printed sheet. A five year contract seemed like a long time. "It's your choice," said Becky. She scowled at James. "Do you want a sponsor or not? If not, can we bring this to a close? I've got quite few interviews to go through this morning and there will be plenty of people interested in this even if you aren't."

James gritted his teeth. He was imagining what it was going to be like assigned to domestic duties for some government official or shifting garbage from one of the vast administrative offices that New Order seemed to have spawned on the edge of every city. And then there were the supervisors. Hard bitten, ex-military types mainly. Vicious, petty, sexually voracious. At least those were the rumours. On the other hand, what choice did he have, really? "Sorry. Yes, I'd like to apply. Can you put my details forward or do I need to fill anything in?"

"Don't worry we've got access to all your details. If you just put your ident card in there and key your PIN. That will let the application go through."

James sucked his lip and hesitated for one moment before pushing his card into the slot. The system seemed as though it was thinking. James's fingers hovered over the key pad waiting for it to asking him to enter his PIN. The prompt never came. "REFERRED" the display over the key pad said.

"Oh," said Becky, looking at her own screen. There was a pause. "Ah. I'm sorry. It seems, ah, these opportunities have closed."

"All of them?"

"So it, ah, seems. Sorry. I don't have anything else either."

James didn't believe it. It was something about him. He was certain. He thought about asking the woman what the system had told her. It would be a waste of time, though. Defeated he got to his feet and turned to go.

Becky watched him leave with relief. She would never have guessed. Looking at him he appeared so ordinary but "Potential Subversive" the system had said, "Not Eligible for Sponsorship" and "Refer to Security But Do Not Attempt To Detain" She had pressed the button that would alert the security people to watch out for him as he left the building.

James was half expecting to be stopped by the two burly women that sat by the entrance to the building but their system had only told them to make sure that he left the building. He wasn't stopped. In a few moments he was out on the street again, still with no job and with no sponsor either.

Barry Haste had got back home on time. There would be the usual housework to do, of course, but at least he didn't have so much to worry about at work these days. It wasn't too much of a hard day in the office and he didn't have the responsibilities that he once had. Neither Margery nor Valerie would be back yet. At least that meant he would have a clear run at getting the house tidy and getting thing sorted for the evening meal.

It was a special evening, Valerie had told him; their anniversary. Barry hadn't known but they'd been lovers for two years even before New Order had been elected although it had been another eighteen months before his wife had taken advantage of the changes in marital law.

Anyway, "special dinner" Valerie had declared and so it would have to be.

Barry got to work clearing up from breakfast. Margery had left early, then he had gone to work leaving Valerie scowling at him across a cup of coffee as she eased herself into the day. He'd wanted to clear it up before he left but Valerie had told him not to. "Sod off," she had said, "last thing I need now is you clattering around in the kitchen."

Now there was an envelope addressed to Margery on the hall table; an anniversary card, Barry assumed.

It took Barry about an hour to clear the kitchen, tidy up the dining room and lay the table. Valerie had told him what they wanted prepared last night and he'd had a bottle of sparkling wine chilling in the fridge. He had just about finished when he heard Margery coming in.

It had been a lot of effort to get things ready but he was actually quite pleased with the result the table looked attractive, the food was in the oven and he'd even got some flowers from the garden. The girls would like that.

His satisfied thoughts were soon interrupted. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" Margery swore from the hall. Barry wasn't sure if it was a good idea to find out what was going on but he didn't have go to find out. She came stalking into the dining room, pulling off her uniform tie and hurling her cap down on one of the seats. "You can clear all this up," she barked waving to the carefully laid dining table, "she's had to go on duty. More bloody subversives! The trouble you lot cause!"

She slammed out of the room.

Barry knew there was no point in trying to argue that all men weren't the same. So, that was what the envelope for Margery had been, not a card at all. Why couldn't she have left him a note and saved him all this effort?

He looked across the table with its carefully laid places, polished cutlery and shining glassware. There was nothing else except to clear it away, he supposed.

By the time he had finished, Margery still had not reappeared. When Barry emerged from the dining room the only sign of her were the shoes she had kicked off and her uniform blouse, discarded and laying crumpled on the stairs where she had dropped as she pulled it off going upstairs. He gathered it up. It would have to be laundered before she went back in tomorrow.