《Obsolete》 Chapter 1 - One-to-one ¡°Thank you for calling AR-Prom. Have a great rest of your day.¡± Ben ended the call with a satisfied nod. He pulled his headset off and laid it down gently over his keyboard. With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself to his feet and rubbed his dry eyes. ¡°Brew time, me thinks.¡± He looked over the dining room table which doubled as his work desk. It was scattered with a smorgasbord of brown envelopes and furious red-banded letters. The kitchen was gloomy as he hadn¡¯t bothered to open the curtains; it was easier to roll out of bed onto his computer to start his shift. Perks of working from home; an hour to lie in. Plus he can work in the comfort of his dressing gown. He filled the kettle and prepared a teabag in a fat, round mug. ¡°Ugh.¡± Ben caught his reflection in the microwave glass. ¡°I need a haircut.¡± The kettle whistled enthusiastically and he poured his tea. He sipped it while reading a letter he had left on the kitchen counter. Electric bill. ¡°Fuck sake, they¡¯ll have my blood next. I barely use anything but the kettle and my fuckin¡¯ computer.¡± He tossed the bill into the sink and meandered back to the dining room. The tea mug took its rightful place atop the ring stains on the left-hand side of his keyboard. He clicked open his calendar and narrowed his eyes. A surprise one-to-one had been put in right after his break. His heart sped up and he reached for the comfort of his tea mug. His emails offered no insight into the meeting being brought forward. Emails had trickled to a standstill over the past month. Basic company-wide comms and confirmation of meeting invites were all he had. Ben tried to think of any tricky customers he had dealt with, perhaps one of them had made some vexatious complaint. Their feedback could be considerably vicious at times and it was an irritating moment of his day when he had to defend himself from clearly nonsense claims by the customers. Yet the company he worked for had this pathetic ¡°customer is always right¡± philosophy and the management had to make a show of every issue for the higher-ups. The clock ticked to half ten and his manager instantly joined the meeting. He raised his eyebrows. ¡°Someone¡¯s keen.¡± Ben sipped his tea once more and spent a minute glancing through emails. His cursor hovered over the join button, he took a deep breath and clicked. ¡°Good morning, Ben.¡± ¡°Morning, Pete.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a minute late.¡± Ben chuckled, Pete had that dry sense of humour. ¡°It¡¯s important to demonstrate punctuality, you were on a break running up to this session.¡± Ben frowned, he didn¡¯t have his camera on so his confusion wasn¡¯t on display. ¡°Right, yeah.¡± Something about the exchange sent a plunging feeling down in his gut. ¡°Thank you, Ben. Welcome to your one-to-one.¡± ¡°Cheers, why the earlier time? Didn¡¯t expect it to be brought forward by a week. Has some arsehole made a complaint?¡± Pete hesitated before responding, it seemed like petty amateur dramatics. ¡°Please don¡¯t speak about our customers that way, I¡¯ll let this infraction slide, but keep your language pleasant and your attitude positive when we discuss things.¡± Ben¡¯s eyes widened. Pete often used the gamut of put-downs to refer to their beloved customers. ¡°Alright, sorry.¡± Ben cleared his throat and pulled up the direct messages to his boss: Are we being recorded or something? Pete showed as typing back: Personal one-to-one meetings are not recorded, but minutes are taken for feedback purposes. Ben sneered at the monitor. ¡°Let¡¯s get to your performance, Ben.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Ben folded his arms tightly across his chest to keep his heart from pushing out. ¡°As this is the second quarter, the outcome of this meeting will include your bonus pay.¡± He looked over the scattered bills on the dining room table. Ben found himself working from bonus to bonus to keep on top of them. It had motivated him to push a lot harder than what he had been used to, though he¡¯d always been a decent performer. ¡°What am I in for, Pete?¡± ¡°As you are aware bonuses can go up to three thousand pounds per quarter.¡± Ben smiled at that, three thousand was never possible, but last quarter he pulled in a cool two grand and this quarter he¡¯d been pushing a lot harder. Not even a single complaint. ¡°Sounds good to me!¡± Pete didn¡¯t share the enthusiasm. ¡°So your call time has improved and you have taken three thousand one hundred and twelve calls this quarter.¡± Ben did a mini fist pump. That was two hundred more than last quarter. ¡°No complaints, no sick days, and two hundred and eight sales.¡± Pete was rather neutral about the whole performance thing. Normally he¡¯d be encouraging, after all, Ben''s success was also his. ¡°Seems like I¡¯ll be pulling in bank!¡± Ben clapped and leaned forward. ¡°Congratulations, Ben.¡± ¡°Thank you, so what¡¯s the payout?¡± ¡°Three hundred and fifteen pounds.¡± ¡°Ha! Come on Pete, you big joker.¡± There came that pause. Ben had a wide smirk painted on his face. ¡°Joking about pay rises and bonuses is against company policy, Ben. Your pay is Three hundred and fifteen pounds.¡± Ben looked at his littered table. ¡°What the fuck, Pete?¡± ¡°You have been warned once about your language, I will upload an infraction to your performance chart for next quarter¨C¡± ¡°What are you talkin¡¯ about, Pete?¡± Pete finished the sentence with raised volume, ¡°For next quarter, if you accumulate further behavioural infractions you will be subject to disciplinary action.¡± Ben shook his head. ¡°So this is why you invited me early to the meeting? To tell me you¡¯re screwing me? How the hell can I do better than last quarter and make over fifteen hundred less?¡± ¡°Performance bonuses are aggregated against other employees and you¡¯re placed in a leaderboard. Your position on the leaderboard was in the bottom quadrant.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°So everyone else magically got better than me?¡± ¡°There is no magic in improvement, only hard work, Ben.¡± ¡°F-¡± Ben bit his tongue and closed his eyes. ¡°Pete, I need this bonus, am up to my eyeballs in bills.¡± ¡°I understand you¡¯re disappointed, Ben. Times are hard with the increased cost of living. However, we do offer a competitive basic wage.¡± ¡°You offered a competitive basic wage six years ago, now it barely fills my cupboards. I have been getting over a grand every quarter for the past two years, all of a sudden I can¡¯t get five hundred quid?¡± ¡°Ben¨C¡± ¡°No way Pete, show me the leaderboard, I want to see.¡± Pete paused. ¡°I shall share my screen.¡± Ben enlarged the window as the leaderboard popped into view. He sat in the bottom ten employees, the zone was highlighted in red. ¡°Scroll up, Pete.¡± The leaderboard moved down to reveal the top performers. Ben¡¯s eyes bulged. Roger was sitting at the top. A lot of the poor performers from last month were all at the top on similar performance levels. Ben knew Roger from the office before it was closed down for the permanent working-from-home option. ¡°Roger, top?¡± ¡°He¡¯s worked hard and will be rewarded.¡± ¡°What¡¯s his sales like?¡± ¡°I am not at liberty to divulge those details.¡± ¡°It says he took over five thousand calls, Pete. That¡¯s not even possible, he¡¯d have to work twelve hours a day with no bloody breaks or lunches!¡± ¡°Please refrain from raising your voice at me.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s clear they are cheating. They went from near bottom of the board to right at the top with all these calls, it¡¯s ridiculous, how can you not tell they are cheating?¡± ¡°All calls are recorded and the performances on this leaderboard are legitimate.¡± Ben ran his hands through his greasy mop. ¡°It¡¯s not possible, no way. I am being robbed here.¡± ¡°The bonus scheme was introduced as a way for the company to pay forward hard work. This scheme is not under obligation, so you are not being stolen from, you are getting more than your usual pay.¡± ¡°I need that extra pay!¡± Pete paused. ¡°Perhaps you should manage your accounts better.¡± Ben hit the leave button, wrenched his headset off and threw it across the room. The wire disconnected from his laptop after almost pulling it off the edge of the desk. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ prick stain!¡± He kicked his chair over and made to upend his dining room table. He saw Pete calling. ¡°Prick! Cunt!¡± Ben gathered himself, picked up his headset, plugged it in and leaned over his laptop. The call did not stop ringing and Ben relented by answering. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°You disconnected during our meeting.¡± ¡°So sorry, Mr Lennon, sir, I had technical issues.¡± ¡°Call me Pete.¡± ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t feel comfortable as your subordinate calling you Pete, Mr Lennon is your name.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± Pete paused. ¡°You seem distressed.¡± ¡°You think?¡± ¡°I shall refer you to a stress assessment so that you may take advantage of our support mechanisms.¡± ¡°Will they give me the rest of my bonus?¡± ¡°Your bonus has been paid in full, Ben.¡± ¡°Call me Benjamin please, that¡¯s my name.¡± ¡°Of course. Your health is important to us and we want to ensure you¡¯re fully supported.¡± Ben started to chuckle. ¡°Alright, Pete, stop now. You¡¯ve made me mad, you got me, well played. I hope you recorded this to send out to the rest of the lads, but can you get real with me now? What¡¯s my bonus?¡± ¡°Three hundred and fifteen pounds.¡± ¡°Pete, very funny, but now I am not joking. I will report you, I don¡¯t care anymore this isn¡¯t something I am enjoying. What¡¯s the bonus?¡± ¡°I am not joking, Benjamin.¡± Ben cupped his face and leaned on his desk. He shook his head. ¡°Benjamin?¡± He picked his chair back up slowly and tentatively lowered himself. ¡°Benjamin, are you there?¡± ¡°I am here.¡± ¡°Excellent. Well, on behalf of the company I want to thank you for your efforts this quarter. However, we do have a tough conversation to have.¡± ¡°Tougher than the one where you told me you¡¯re screwing me out of a grand?¡± ¡°Benjamin, I will not discuss the amount any further, if you wish to raise issue please do this through our HR department''s open box.¡± ¡°Sure. So what¡¯s the tough conversation.¡± ¡°Your performance is currently not meeting our standards and we will need to see considerable improvement by next quarter.¡± ¡°Considerable improvement? How?¡± ¡°You¡¯ll need to contribute more calls.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t do much more, Pete.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not the right attitude, you must take responsibility for your performance levels, Benjamin.¡± Ben narrowed his eyes. Each time Pete called him Benjamin it felt like a stab, even though he asked him to call him that. It was such nonchalance and spiteful. ¡°I have improved since last quarter,¡± he said through gritted teeth. ¡°Not enough it seems.¡± Ben felt his blood boil and his veins cook. ¡°I have been in the top half of the charts since the scheme began, that many calls isn¡¯t possible, I told you, they cheated.¡± ¡°Nobody has cheated, and we do not appreciate vexatious claims against fellow employees, let us keep this about you.¡± Ben gave the monitor a taste of his middle finger. ¡°I expect to see an increase of one thousand calls.¡± ¡°I¡¯d need to do overtime for that.¡± ¡°Overtime is not available, however, you can work as long as you please to reach your target.¡± Ben shook his head and reached for his tea, it had gone cold. ¡°So this is the trick, eh? Get me to work more time so I don¡¯t get put on improvement?¡± Pete¡¯s pauses were beginning to aggravate Ben. ¡°It¡¯s not a trick. You have until next quarter to achieve.¡± ¡°If I don¡¯t?¡± ¡°You will be assigned an improvement plan.¡± ¡°Then?¡± ¡°If you fail to make the improvements we may have to conclude your time here at the company.¡± ¡°My fourteen years, you mean?¡± ¡°We appreciate your length of service, but the company needs to remain competitive and there is only a certain amount of openings available, they need to be filled by employees that can meet our standards.¡± ¡°You¡¯re talking like some sort of jobsworth from up high, Pete. Have they given you a dressing down or something?¡± ¡°I have to meet these new standards too, Benjamin. As the new CEO has stated in his messages: ¡°Mediocrity has no place in our future.¡± Ben gulped the rest of his cold tea and wiped his mouth. ¡°Ah, so they bollocked you and told you to behave like this else you¡¯d get the sack as well.¡± ¡°They retrained me, Benjamin.¡± ¡°Right, and just like that, you¡¯re a company man. A few months ago you¡¯d have been fighting in my corner if the company tried to rip me off like this.¡± ¡°We need to adapt, Benjamin. Our competitors are not slowing down and neither can we.¡± ¡°I need to take calls, Pete. About five thousand of them.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll conclude this meeting, I¡¯ll send you a copy of your performance, please read it carefully.¡± ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll take it to bed with me tonight.¡± Ben ended the call and slumped in his chair. The reality of the situation dawned and he had never felt so alone. Pete had his back for years and now he was being sacrificed. ¡°There¡¯s no way Roger handled that many calls, cheating fuckers.¡± Ben looked at the clock. The meeting had finished five minutes early but he didn¡¯t feel like joining the line again to take more calls. The thought of his next quarterly review was already making him feel sick. He looked over at the bills and then at his screen before calling Pete once more. He answered instantly. ¡°Hello, Benjamin.¡± ¡°I¡¯m callin¡¯ a sick, I have a massive migraine.¡± ¡°This will have an impact on your performance review, Benjamin. Are you sure you can¡¯t push through?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°In light of recent news, are you being honest or is this an emotional reaction to your circumstances?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have to explain myself to you, Pete, I¡¯m sick, and you have to accept it, got that?¡± Pete paused. ¡°Get well soon, Benjamin, for headaches I recom¨C¡± ¡°You¡¯re not a doctor, Pete. You''re a low-level call centre manager, and that¡¯s all.¡± Ben closed the call and went to make himself a fresh cup of tea and think about what he needed to do next. At least it was Friday. Chapter 2 - Support sections? Ben spent the rest of his free afternoon wallowing in a pathetic pool of self-pity. He bounced between fits of deterministic flurry to crippling anxiety. One minute he¡¯d convince himself that he¡¯d smash the quarterly targets or find a new job with better pay, the next he¡¯d envision himself losing his house and living on the streets. The elastic nature of his temperament had stunned him into inaction. He lifted his cup of tea, hand shaking as he tentatively sipped at the sweet brew. ¡°I know.¡± he launched off the couch to fetch his phone beside the computer. The company screensaver made him nauseous. AR-Prom - A brighter future. Ben thought the irony of the company tagline was some sort of cosmic insult. A brighter future? Maybe for their scummy investors. Ben scrolled through his contact list to find Wayne. He felt a tad guilty, he hadn¡¯t spoken to Wayne since he quit AR-Prom even though they had both made that faux promise one always would make to colleagues when they leave. We¡¯ll keep in touch, let¡¯s meet up, blah blah. The phone rang for about thirty seconds. Ben would have given up but his desperation had taken over. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Hi, Wayne.¡± ¡°Hi, who¡¯s this?¡± Ben frowned, Wayne must have deleted his number, or never put it in his contact list when he left. ¡°It¡¯s Ben.¡± ¡°Ben?¡± ¡°Yeah, from AR-Prom.¡± Ben¡¯s heart sank. ¡°Ahhh right yeah, Ben, how are you, mate?¡± ¡°Oh, you know me, plodding along as usual, you?¡± ¡°Fine, yeah.¡± Ben rubbed his forehead, he could tell by Wayne''s tone that this call was not something he wanted. ¡°Sorry to call you out of the blue and all, I just wanted to ask about that new company you work for, feeling like a change of scenery.¡± Wayne paused a moment. ¡°Ah, I¡¯m not employed there anymore.¡± ¡°You got another new job?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t work out.¡± Ben frowned. ¡°Did you not try to come back to AR-Prom?¡± Wayne cleared his throat. ¡°Look, Ben, I lost my job at AR-Prom.¡± ¡°Seriously?¡± ¡°Yeah, they gave me a week''s notice.¡± ¡°How did you find a job so quickly?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t did I, Ben?¡± Ben sighed. ¡°Sorry, Wayne.¡± ¡°Is that all you called for me for?¡± Ben brushed aside the formalities, ¡°What did they sack you for?¡± ¡°Performance,¡± Wayne spoke with stiff lips. ¡°You were good though.¡± ¡°Pretty sure you¡¯re not the umpire on that.¡± Ben raised an eyebrow in agreeance. ¡°So¡­where are you working now?¡± ¡°Working? I¡¯m at support section six.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± ¡°Do you live under a rock or something?¡± ¡°I will be soon¡­¡± ¡°Look, Ben, nice to catch up and all, I gotta go.¡± ¡°What¡¯s sec¨C¡± Wayne hung up. Ben frantically hit the redial button. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Wayne, I just wanted to ask¨C¡± ¡°You¡¯ve reached my voice mail, leave a message after the beep.¡± Ben growled and hung up before tossing his phone at the armchair across from him. He caught his head in his hands and rubbed his face. ¡°I need to eat.¡± The kitchen was bare but for a tin of beans, half a pint of milk and some cereal. He poured himself a bowl and sloshed some milk over it before slumping down in his armchair. ¡°Abi, switch the tele on.¡± -SWITCHING THE TELEVISION ON- His little automated pet had become his company over the last year or so. Ben didn¡¯t have much in the way of family. His mother died, his dad was never there and although he wasn¡¯t a pug, he never had luck with women. Apart from Abi, though, she was just a stupid robot. The afternoon news theme blurred out. It was dark and serious, filled with ominous synths. The well-groomed presenter shuffled his papers and looked at the cameras, going through the list of headlines, all of them bleak. One caught Ben¡¯s attention. ¡°A riot in support section eleven has raised concern over the security of the surrounding neighbourhoods and those within the facility.¡± Ben leaned forward with a mouth full of cheerios. He hadn¡¯t heard of these support sections. He didn¡¯t watch the news, or anything, just old movies and the occasional re-run of his favourite comedy show on the catch-up Golden Oldie channel. The rioters on video were grey and pale, much like their surroundings. The buildings were made of cheap breeze blocks painted a dull orange. Everything had an angular brutalism to it. There was a large building behind the riots that seemed to claw at the clouds as the camera panned up to it. A few of the inhabitants got to speak on camera, and it was the only insight he got into the facility. Seemed like some sort of correctional facility. But Wayne said he was in support section six, and this was eleven, how many were there? The news moved on to something about a panda finally having a baby. ¡°Abi, turn this shit television off.¡± -TURNING TELEVISION OFF- Ben finished his cereal before daring to ask: ¡°Abi, what are support sections in the UK?¡± -SUPPORT SECTIONS ARE GOVERNMENT LIVING FACILITIES DESIGNED TO PROMOTE A HEALTHY WORK ETHIC AMONGST THE UNEMPLOYED POPULACE.- ¡°Are they working?¡± Abi paused, -THE HOME OFFICE REPORT STATES A POSITIVE RESPONSE TO THE INITIATIVE.- ¡°I bet it fuckin¡¯ does.¡± Ben set his bowl to the side and fetched his laptop. He decided to look into these sections a little closer. His local section was nine and was only a couple miles out. ¡°Christ, how many unemployed do we have in our town?¡± He went through the pictures on the section''s website. Everything looked clean and the people had big smiles. The website borders were filled with pictures of residents with some sickly quote imposed over them; ¡°I got my new start and I¡¯m ready to start building my career again.¡± ¡°A safety net that became my family.¡± ¡°Meaningful labour and a great sense of belonging.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Ben looked disgusted, ¡°Sounds like a fuckin¡¯ cult.¡± At the bottom of the site was a number that said: ¡°We are ready to listen.¡± He smirked, ¡°Yeah, listen to this: blow it out your arse.¡± The phone rang. Ben almost jumped out of his skin. ¡°Jesus.¡± He set the laptop to one side and walked over to his buzzing phone as it danced on the armchair cushion. He picked it up and turned it over. Unknown number. Ben hated unknown numbers. He sighed and answered. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Is this Mr Yeoman?¡± ¡°Who¡¯s speaking?¡± ¡°My name is Mark, I¡¯m calling from Worthington and Hamlets Building Society.¡± ¡°Right.¡± ¡°Is this Mr Ben Yeoman?¡± ¡°It is.¡± ¡°Thank you, I need to go through a few security questions before I can continue.¡± ¡°You called me, pal.¡± Spat Ben. ¡°I understand sir, however, the nature of this call requires I verify your identity.¡± Ben felt like hanging up, but the sternness of the message and the anticipation of what his mortgage lender had to say was too much for him to resist. ¡°Fine, go ahead.¡± The man on the phone went through a series of simple questions which Ben went through begrudgingly. ¡°So what¡¯s this call about?¡± ¡°Your last payment three mortgage payments have not come through, sir.¡± ¡°Well, I had them reduced.¡± ¡°Correct I can see you sold equity to reduce payments, however, you¡¯re still not making the payments.¡± ¡°I am struggling right now.¡± ¡°I understand, sir.¡± ¡°Do you?¡± ¡°I do sir, however, if you fail to keep up with your payments your home may be repossessed. We will need you to complete the back-dated payments within a two-month period or we shall begin the legal process of repossession on behalf of your lender.¡± ¡°Mate, I am on minimum wage, and my bonuses¡¯ have been melted, I can¡¯t afford these payments.¡± ¡°I understand, sir.¡± ¡°Yeah, you keep saying that.¡± ¡°I have the outstanding payment calculation here, sir.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the damage?¡± ¡°You owe three thousand eight hundred and ninety-five pounds and fifty-three pence.¡± Mark enunciated each word with a slimy gleeful undertone. ¡°I don¡¯t have that, I don¡¯t even have milk.¡± ¡°I understand, sir.¡± ¡°Say that one more time you little shit.¡± ¡°Sir, I will terminate this call if you continue to speak to me like that.¡± Ben rubbed his forehead, empathising with his own customers now. ¡°Yeah, sorry am just stressed.¡± ¡°I understand, sir.¡± Ben gritted his teeth. ¡°Look I cannot pay, so we need to work something out.¡± ¡°Have you contacted your local support section community advisor? They have a raft of information and support lines for people in your position.¡± ¡°You mean citizens advice?¡± ¡°Citizens advise is no longer an active service, it has been redirected to your local support section.¡± ¡°Ok, look, Mark was it?¡± Ben stood up, now energised. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°I need some sort of lax, right now I am looking for a new job, and when I get it, I can make all the payments back.¡± ¡°Sir, the time frame for the payment is two months.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not enough time, I need more time!¡± ¡°I understand, sir.¡± Ben clenched his fist and made to punch the wall. ¡°Look, give me a bit of time.¡± ¡°You have two months, sir.¡± ¡°Two months isn¡¯t enough.¡± ¡°I understand, sir.¡± ¡°I swear I am going to ram that phone up your fuckin¡¯ arse if you say¨C¡± The phone went dead and Ben was treated to an automated message with uplifting plingy music accompanying: ¡°Worthington and Hamlets building society values our customers and our employees, your behaviour on the call has been deemed abusive and the call has been terminated. It is an offence under the Communications Act to make threats over the phone and this call has been recorded. ¡°Oh, now am getting grassed on by my lenders, twats.¡± He closed the call and tossed it to one side before falling back onto the couch in a heap. Ben rubbed his chin and thought wicked ideas, ones that cheered him up. ¡°Hah, hey Abi, I should blow up that lender''s office, how do I make a bomb?¡± he chuckled. -I AM RESTRICTED AND UNABLE TO PROVIDE INFORMATION ON: [HOME MADE EXPLOSIVES] ACTS OF TERRORISM ARE PUNISHABLE UNDER THE ANTI TERRORISM ACT- ¡°I was kidding, you stupid robot, that¡¯s the problem with AI, can¡¯t take a joke.¡± Ben had a shower and got dressed, it was half two and he thought he should make some sort of effort. He needed to head to the shop for some food too. He gathered up a stray twenty quids worth of change and hopped in his beat-up Nissan. The drive was quiet. He was about to turn into his local supermarket but decided to go a little further. He wanted to see section nine. The road signs were marked SS9, he hadn¡¯t noticed that before but it all made sense now. They had been doing building and road work for ages a year or so ago, this was probably why. The support section came into view. Tall, imposing orange cubes tore out of the ground like monoliths. ¡°Even uglier in person,¡± Ben muttered. He parked his car at the front beside the huge black gates and thought about the call he had with his mortgage lender earlier. He was advised to speak to some support sector centre something or other. Maybe he would feel better if he handled this issue head-on and took some initiative. The carpark was freshly laid. The drizzle made the white lines pop brightly. Ben had no clue where he was going so figured the big black gate was a good start. There was an intercom button on a panel against the wall which he made no delay in pressing. It rang out with a croaky buzz. ¡°SS9, how can I help?¡± The whir of a camera above Ben¡¯s head made him glance up, right into its lens. ¡°Ehm, I want to speak to the Support centre advisor?¡± ¡°Support section community advisor?¡± The voice was feminine and she sounded like she wanted to go to bed. ¡°That¡¯s the one!¡± Ben smiled at the camera, trying to inject a modicum of pleasantness into the exchange. ¡°Please head east and around, there is a blue building marked with a red band.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Ben headed off. ¡°East is the other way.¡± ¡°Of course!¡± Ben chuckled and waved at the camera. It followed him down the path around the outside of the wall. The small cabin was easy to spot with its bright blue paint job. It wasn¡¯t a welcoming office Ben thought. He knocked on the door and a speaker buzzed. ¡°Come in.¡± He went inside. In the middle of a cabin was a flat grey table, one of those brown plastic chairs they used in high school and a monitor across from it. There wasn¡¯t even a window, so this was essentially a box. Not the kind of place fit for a man to be working. The monitor flickered and a puffy face appeared. The man was smiley and looked jovial, his eyes were big and bright and filled with hope. ¡°Good afternoon!¡± Ben half smiled and sat down. ¡°Afternoon.¡± ¡°My name is David Blakely, I¡¯m SS9¡¯s community support advisor.¡± His voice bounced happily around Ben. ¡°Nice to meet you, I¡¯m Ben.¡± ¡°Ben! Well met, lad. So, what brings you to my office?¡± Ben looked around. ¡°Not much of an office, hope they don¡¯t make you work in here.¡± ¡°Oh no no, I am on facility currently, this is a remote access unit, very handy to be fair.¡± ¡°It could do with a plant.¡± ¡°Agreed, Ben!¡± David chuckled heartily. ¡°So what can I do for you, Ben?¡± Ben felt at ease now and he almost melted in his chair. ¡°Well, things aren¡¯t going great.¡± David frowned and his bottom lip eased out. ¡°No? What¡¯s happening.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to get into detai¨C¡± ¡°Nonsense, lad. I am here to help, you tell me what¡¯s happening and I¡¯ll be on it right away, we need to get you in good spirits.¡± Ben nodded. He was intoxicated by the positivity and willingly spilt everything onto the table. His job, house and money situation, even the lack of food. ¡°My, Ben. This is the problem with this country, hard-working folk like you are taken advantage of by these big corporations. It¡¯s why these sections were set up.¡± Ben remembered where he was. ¡°I saw there were riots today.¡± ¡°Oh yes, section eleven. Those people will be kicked out for sure, some people want to ruin a good initiative for everyone.¡± Ben nodded, ¡°I spose.¡± ¡°I know!¡± David chortled. ¡°Right then. Here¡¯s the thing. I want you to get back at that job and perform the best you can. In the meantime I am going to have a care package sent to you weekly, from SS9, it¡¯ll have food, bathing products everything you need.¡± Ben¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Wow¡­thank you.¡± ¡°No problem. I¡¯ll compile a list of potential jobs for you to apply to and help you build a CV.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Ben nodded enthusiastically, he was elated at his decision to come here. ¡°I¡¯ll also speak to your mortgage lender and see what we can do.¡± Ben felt as if he was floating now. ¡°Amazing, David, you¡¯re incredible, no one has helped me like this before. I felt so alone.¡± ¡°I understand, Ben.¡± Ben cleared his throat. He remembered the conversation he had with Mark from the mortgage lender and he felt just awful, the advice he was given was actually incredible and he responded with rage. He¡¯d make a point of calling them back. ¡°Right, Ben, I¡¯ll need to take your personals, so I can have everything sent and such. You can email me documentation later and I¡¯ll be on with it for you.¡± Ben offered up his details and left the cabin feeling incredible. He looked back at the blue building as he walked towards his car. He stopped at the gate and pressed the buzzer again. The lady answered. ¡°SS9 how can I help?¡± ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°My name is Claudia.¡± She said flatly. ¡°You¡¯re doing an amazing job.¡± ¡°Thank you. How can I help?¡± ¡°Just wanted to say that.¡± Ben smiled and blew a kiss into the camera before heading to his car. ¡°A new day, a new Ben.¡± He said, before switching on the radio and singing along all the way home. Chapter 3 - Watch your mouth The grey dawn would peer through Ben¡¯s curtains and weakly brighten his cluttered room. He grunted and reached out to grab his clock, checking the time. ¡°Ugh, seven¡­oh it¡¯s weekend.¡± He tossed the clock down the back of the bedside table and rolled over to have a lie in. Yesterday¡¯s events danced through his mind and he found himself restless to the point of an early weekend rise. He had replenished some of his basics while on his way back from SS9 yesterday. He prepared himself a cup of instant coffee and a bowl of cereal. ¡°Crunchy squares¡­hm, wouldn¡¯t mind some bacon, eh Abi?¡± He glanced over at the little cube on the counter. He had a few of them dotted around the house. Everyone had an Abi these days and he got his free from work, back when they used to value employees. -I AM NOT SURE, PLEASE REPHRASE THE QUESTION- ¡°I said I want bacon.¡± -HERE¡¯S A LIST OF LOCAL STOR¨C ¡°Shut up, dumb robot.¡± -GOING QUIET- Ben tucked into his crunchy squares and pulled a face. They were bland and cardboardy, but they were cheap. He strolled into the living room and perched carefully before asking Abi to turn the TV on. The news, which seemed to play all day on a loop, blurred out. It spoke about how the riots in SS11 had been quietened and had people offering apologies for their involvement. Several were arrested and would be looking at a tough sentence. ¡°Hm, serves ¡®em right, freeloaders complaining, see how they¡¯d do in my shoes, working all day and still not being able to afford food.¡± Ben slurped milk off his spoon and dropped it into his bowl, it rattled as he set it down on the side table along with yesterday''s bowl. He cleaned the inside of his teeth with his tongue as he watched the rest of the news, bleary as usual. Ben was overcome with an urge to call David from SS9. He wanted to know if there was any progress, but it was the weekend and way too early, he¡¯d feel guilty if he answered. He picked his phone up and scrolled through the contacts, pausing over David, ¡°Maybe later.¡± He continued scrolling and stopped at Wayne, then called. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Wayne?¡± ¡°Yes, is this Ben?¡± ¡°Yeah, sorry to call¨C¡± ¡°It¡¯s eight in the morning, pal, what do you want?¡± ¡°I just wanted to ask about that support section you¡¯re at.¡± There was a considerable pause, ¡°Go on then.¡± Ben adjusted himself, ¡°What¡¯s it like? I saw riots on TV is all, got a bit concerned.¡± ¡°It¡¯s great.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Yeah, a real marshmallow roast.¡± Ben frowned. ¡°Right.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t really talk, I have duties.¡± ¡°Duties?¡± Ben held back a chuckle. ¡°Yeah, they don¡¯t let you live here free of charge. It¡¯s meaningful work and worth the effort though.¡± ¡°Ok¡­¡± ¡°Listen, don¡¯t call again, ok?¡± ¡°Sorry?¡± ¡°You¡¯re a nice enough guy, but I¡¯m not interested in talking to you. You get me?¡± ¡°I get¨C¡± ¡°Delete my number.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Wayne had hung up before he finished. Ben checked the details of Wayne''s contact report. ¡°Hm. Odd.¡± He pursed his lips. The sound of tyres on gravel pulled his gaze to the living room window. Probably for the neighbours, they always park in front of my house, ignorant pricks. Ben was caught off guard when his door rattled with a few thumping knocks. ¡°One minute!¡± Ben darted into the bedroom to change into something decent and thundered back downstairs. The door thumped once more as he pulled it open, ¡°Hold your horses, I said one¨C¡± Ben frowned at seeing two police officers in yellow high vis standing outside. ¡°Good morning, are you Ben Yeoman.¡± ¡°Er, yeah, why?¡± He looked between the two men. They were like twins in their uniform, with straight faces and sharp noses. ¡°I¡¯m PC Forsythe, and this is my partner PC Hemsworth.¡± Ben nodded, mouth half open. ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s this about?¡± ¡°You are under arrest for an alleged breach of the Terrorism Act and a breach of the Communications Act.¡± ¡°Wha¨C¡± The officer raised his hand to cut Ben short and read out the caution: ¡°You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court.¡± ¡°For what? What did I do?¡± ¡°I just told you, sir, I need you to come with me.¡± ¡°Come with you where? I haven¡¯t done anything!¡± The other officer pushed past Ben to enter his home. ¡°Oi!¡± Ben turned to stop the policeman but was yanked out of the house from behind, forced against the wall and cuffed. A few of his neighbours had come out to watch from their doorstep, which added a sprinkle of embarrassment. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything!¡± Ben tried to anchor his foot, but it was no use, the large officer wrenched him away from the wall and shoved him into the back of the police car. ¡°Argh, I hit my head, what¡¯s going on?¡± The car door slammed and his breath puffed up the window as he watched the arresting officer enter his house to join the other. They were in there for about forty minutes, leaving Ben to stew in a mixture of anxiety and fury. He resigned himself to his fate when the first officer came out holding a bag. The second officer followed with several plastic bags. ¡°What are you taking from my house?¡± ¡°Evidence.¡± The officer said as he slid into the driving seat. ¡°Evidence of what. I want a solicitor.¡± ¡°No problem.¡± ¡°I want my call.¡± ¡°When we get to the station your rights will be applied, Mr Yeoman, right now you¡¯re under arrest and due for processing.¡± Ben huffed and wiggled in the seat to get comfy. ¡°Ridiculous, you¡¯ll have egg on your face you know.¡± The police car''s electric motor whirred into life and they zipped off towards the station. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Processing was a drag. Ben had to give all of his details to a screen with an officer standing behind him. They strip-searched him, shoved him around and led him to a cold room. It had a barred window and the interior was painted a sickly green. There was a blue, plastic chair, reminiscent of the one which the SS9 community advisor office had. An officer entered the cell after about an hour, giving Ben a flash of hope that the monotony was about to come to an end. ¡°Mr Yeoman, I¡¯ve come to remove your cuffs.¡± ¡°Perfect.¡± Ben smiled, figuring this was his moment of freedom. Surely they would have realised their mistake by now. He stood up and faced the wall to present his linked wrists. The policewoman uncuffed him and left, closing the door behind her before he could say a word. ¡°Hello?¡± Ben walked up to the door and tried it, locked. ¡°For fuck sake!¡± Ben kicked the chair and sent it skittering away till it bumped against the wall. ¡°How long am I sposed to be in here? And where is my call?¡± Another hour, or maybe two passed, Ben wasn¡¯t to know as there wasn¡¯t a clock to keep track. The clanking of the door lock rustled and Ben stood up quickly, hands on hips. In came the arresting officer and he nodded. ¡°We shall take you for questioning, sir.¡± ¡°I want a phone call first.¡± The officer frowned and clenched his jaw. ¡°No problem.¡± Ben was led down the corridor to another small room. It had a phone in it, one of those old landline ones. ¡°I need my phone, it¡¯s got my numbers in it.¡± The officer sniffed, ¡°I¡¯ll fetch it for you.¡± Ben heard the door lock and was left staring at the dull grey phone for what felt like another hour. He tried to keep as calm as possible but it was taking a lot of energy not to smash the handset against the wall. The door unlocked again. ¡°About time, for god¡¯s sake, how long are you going to leave me waiting in these rooms?¡± Ben¡¯s face was painted with a beet-coloured rage. ¡°Calm down, Mr Yeoman, do you often lose your temper like this?¡± Ben raised his eyebrows and sat down slowly, realising what the officers were up to. Stressing him out, getting him frazzled, very clever. ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s been a morning, don¡¯t you think?¡± He caught the officer''s gaze with his. ¡°I understand, sir.¡± Ben sneered, ¡°Is that my phone then.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Alright, leave it there I¡¯ll make my call.¡± The officer placed a small piece of paper and a pencil in front of Ben alongside his mobile phone. ¡°Take the number down you wish to ring, I cannot leave you with your device.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± ¡°Do not try to use your phone to call any number.¡± Ben looked up as the officer leaned over, both his hands placed on the table. Tentatively he searched through his contacts. They were all people he never spoke to anymore. Folks from his past that he¡¯d once had a fleeting acquaintance with that amounted to nothing more than a few trips to the pub, most from work¡­what a sad rolodex this was. He stopped on the one person who might give him a glimmer of hope. David. Ben scratched the number on the notepad with the blunt pencil and nodded to the officer. The officer pushed a key into the back of the phone unit and turned it. ¡°Unlocked for one call, one call only, if they don¡¯t answer, ring the bell up there and we¡¯ll be back with your phone if you need another number.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll be another hour will it?¡± Muttered, Ben. ¡°Sorry, sir?¡± ¡°Nothing.¡± The officer walked out and locked Ben in the room with the phone. ¡°Right, David, let¡¯s see if you can help me out here.¡± Ben punched the numbers in, the heavy dial pad was quite satisfying to use. Ben nibbled at his thumbnail while the line connected and the phone rang. It rang about five times before the sound of the call connecting rustled. ¡°Good afternoon, SS9 switchboard.¡± ¡°Oh, hello, please could I speak to David Blakely?¡± ¡°One moment.¡± ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°May I take your name?¡± ¡°Ben Yeoman, I spoke to David¨C¡± ¡°Connecting you.¡± ¡°Thanks¡­¡± ¡°Afternoon, Ben!¡± David¡¯s jolly call opening sent a warming swirl up through Ben¡¯s body. ¡°Oh thank, God.¡± Ben smiled. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry to bother you, David.¡± ¡°No bother at all, hey, call me Dave!¡± Ben nodded, ¡°Thanks, Dave. I¡¯ve been arrested¡­¡± Dave chuckled. Ben was set back a moment by his response. ¡°Oh my, Ben. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?¡± ¡°They haven¡¯t told me, something about terrorism, I haven¡¯t done anything of that sort, it¡¯s madness!¡± ¡°Calm down, Ben.¡± David¡¯s voice was cosy and warm. Ben took a deep breath. ¡°I¡¯ll have an associate of mine come down, he¡¯s a legal advisor.¡± ¡°Oh thank you, honestly I didn¡¯t expect there would be anything you could do.¡± ¡°Hey, this is the Support Section, the clue is in the name, we deal with all sorts of issues, I¡¯ll inform the station, I imagine they¡¯ll want to ask you some questions before our legal advisor arrives, have them wait, Ben.¡± ¡°Thanks, Dave!¡± ¡°Bye, Ben.¡± Ben dropped the receiver and smiled smugly. As predicted by David, the police, once given word of his legal aid took Ben into the interrogation room. Ben sat across from the two officers with arms folded. ¡°Hi, Ben.¡± ¡°Howdy.¡± Ben nodded. ¡°Do you know why you¡¯re here?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°You were told about a breach of the terrorism act.¡± Ben shrugged. ¡°Nothing about that rings any bells?¡± Ben shook his head. ¡°For the record, Mr Yeoman shook his head.¡± Ben frowned, ¡°I am not answering questions until I get my legal advisor.¡± ¡°We understand, it¡¯s just a few preliminary questions, to make sure we aren¡¯t wasting your time.¡± ¡°Wasting my time? I¡¯ve been here for hours sitting in a square room.¡± The officers looked at each other before the lead interrogator reached under the desk and dropped a clear plastic bag with a black box inside, upon the table. ¡°Do you recognise this?¡± Ben shook his head. ¡°You should, it came from your house.¡± Ben leaned over and inspected it. ¡°It¡¯s Abi.¡± The officer nodded. ¡°You like to talk to, Abi?¡± Ben sneered, ¡°You¡¯re supposed to, it links with your smart devices, has nothing to do with liking.¡± The officer shrugged. ¡°You had a conversation with it yesterday.¡± ¡°No. I asked it to turn the TV on.¡± ¡°How are you getting on financially, Mr Yeoman?¡± ¡°Nothing to do with you, where is my fuckin¡¯ legal aid?¡± The officer raised his hands, ¡°Calm down Mr Yeoman, please.¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to see you be calm after being squashed in a room for hours for no reason.¡± ¡°Are you struggling with your bills, Mr Yeoman?¡± The shorter, pudgy officer asked. Ben swept his gaze over to him, ¡°I don¡¯t see what this has to do with you slapping cuffs on me.¡± The officer leaned back and folded his arms, allowing the lead interrogator to chime in with a follow-up. ¡°Do you often get aggressive, or violent, Mr Yeoman?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°So you had a lapse or something? Perhaps due to your circumstances?¡± Ben tutted and shook his head, ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talkin¡¯ about.¡± ¡°Well Mr Yeo¨C¡± ¡°I won¡¯t answer any more of your stupid questions until my legal aid is here.¡± ¡°Could be hours, sir, we might have you out of here in the next ten minutes if there are no issues, we just want to ask questions.¡± Ben was tempted to give in and answer away, get out of here and back home. He glanced at the thin window at the top of the room. He bit his bottom lip, remembering David¡¯s advice. ¡°I¡¯ll wait.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± The officer sighed and they both stood to leave. ¡°If you want to speak just say so and we¡¯ll be right in.¡± Ben looked down at his feet as the officers left and locked the door behind them. It took another hour but Ben¡¯s legal aid arrived and joined him in the room. ¡°Hi, Benjamin, I¡¯m Sebastian.¡± ¡°Are you from SS9?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Sebastian wore a brown suit. He was tall, slender and bald but for the broken halo of grey hair around his head. ¡°I¡¯ve had a chance to look at the evidence for your case.¡± Ben shuffled in his chair and sat up, looking hopeful. ¡°Great.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not great, Ben, ok, did you say something about making a bomb to blow up your mortgage lender''s office?¡± Ben¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Ehm¡­¡± he remembered asking Abi how to make a bomb. ¡°Just be honest with me, Benjamin, if I know the truth I can defend it, tell me what happened.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t get it, how could they know?¡± ¡°Right now that doesn¡¯t matter, they know. Did you do it?¡± ¡°Alright, yes, I said it, as a joke!¡± ¡°I understand, Ben. But you also have a complaint lodged against you for threatening behaviour over the phone.¡± Ben shook his head. ¡°Oh my god, this is crazy¡± He started to sniff and cry into his palms. ¡°It¡¯s ok. We can get you through this.¡± ¡°I did tell the guy I¡¯d ram the phone up his arse, then he disconnected the call.¡± ¡°Right, then you asked Abi about making a bomb, yes?¡± ¡°Yes, as a joke!¡± ¡°They will ask why anyone would joke with a robot, Ben, you understand this.¡± ¡°Yes¡­but¨C¡± ¡°We shall tell the officers the truth, and the predicament of your situation, Mr Blakely will be able to help as well.¡± ¡°Oh thank you, really I didn¡¯t want to do it, it was a joke.¡± ¡°I understand, Ben.¡± Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. ¡°In the meantime, watch your mouth.¡± Chapter 4 - On a list With the support of his legal aid, Ben explained what had happened yesterday. He poured his heart over the table. His pleading hands shook with each admission of guilt and his eyes welled. Sebastian nodded along and whispered how an answer should be phrased and the officers seemingly acknowledged the carefully crafted yet honest responses. ¡°We shall be back in a moment, Mr Yeoman.¡± The officers left Ben and Sebastian in the interrogation room. ¡°What do you think, Sebastian?¡± Ben spook in weary, hushed tones. The solicitor inclined his head to the side and toward Ben to reply, ¡°Well they have an admission of guilt, Mr Blakely will have also contacted them I imagine.¡± ¡°What will he say? Can he do anything?¡± Sebastian smiled, ¡°He will re-enforce the story surrounding your predicament. He can do more than you might think.¡± ¡°Wow, how does he have so much time, he must be helping so many people.¡± Sebastian paused thoughtfully, ¡°He¡¯s quite inspirational, never met a man with that kind of work ethic.¡± Ben nodded quickly. ¡°Am I getting home tonight?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the goal.¡± Sebastian left after twenty minutes to fetch some food and drinks, leaving Ben with his thoughts again. It felt good to have gotten through the interrogation, though he was furious at the circumstances. Joking into some voice-activated search engine was enough to have him dragged out in cuffs. Sebastian returned with some pre-packed sandwiches and a bottle of apple juice. Ben showed his gratitude by devouring the prawn-mayo triangles. ¡°They can be a little lax with their hospitality here.¡± ¡°You¡¯re telling me.¡± The police continued to proceed at their own pace. Ben raised in his seat every time a shadow crossed the small square window at the top of the door, hopeful they would come in and say everything¡¯s cleared up and he was free to go. It had gone dark outside, Ben¡¯s day had been stolen from him. He didn¡¯t speak to Sebastian while they waited. He¡¯d had enough of talking, the emotional stress had dragged him into a catatonic state. He was too anxious to sleep but too tired to engage with anything, even his thoughts. The door clicked open. Ben sat up straight. ¡°Sorry for the wait there Mr Yeoman.¡± Ben nodded at the officer, only one had returned. He placed a small stack of papers on the table and sat across the table from them. ¡°Been through the wringer haven¡¯t you?¡± Ben¡¯s voice had crumbled to a croak. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯d say.¡± Ben nodded and sighed. Sebastian smiled at Ben. The officer smirked. ¡°Well, I have an outcome for us here, one that¡¯d avoid any further court proceedings.¡± Ben smiled wide as the officer''s words energised him. ¡°Your actions have raised concern. We have here an admittance of low-level intent and a plead of guilty under a breach of the communications act.¡± Ben looked at Sebastian who had placed a hand on his forearm. He gave an approving look. ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡± ¡°If you sign this, Mr Yeoman, you¡¯ll be placed on a watch list for five years and you¡¯ll also be fined two thousand pounds, payable by way of payment plan.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t afford that for fuck¡¯s sake¡­¡± Sebastian calmed Ben with a few soft pats. ¡°Mr Yeoman, I¡¯m not here to discuss your finances. If you sign these documents you¡¯ll be on your way. If not we can bring it before a judge and you¡¯ll risk imprisonment.¡± ¡°But¨C¡± ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to decide.¡± The officer stood up. He seemed rather irked at the whole thing as if the deal was not something he¡¯d normally offer. He left Ben in the room with Sebastian once more. ¡°I should fight this in court.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll lose, Ben.¡± Ben¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°One hundred per cent?¡± ¡°Close enough. This is a good deal.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t afford the fine, and what does being on this list mean?¡± ¡°It means you¡¯ll be under surveillance and if you breach the order you¡¯ll be straight to prison.¡± ¡°Over a joke.¡± ¡°That little outburst over the phone was a perfect set-up, unfortunately, Benjamin.¡± Ben nodded and looked at the declarations. The stapled stack had little yellow tabs denoting where he¡¯d need to put his autograph. ¡°Right, I¡¯d better sign it¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s for the best, Benjamin.¡± Ben shook his head as he went through the pages one by one, glossing over the text and signing away. He didn¡¯t care at this point, he just wanted to go home and forget everything. Once signed the release process was rapid. They couldn¡¯t wait to shuffle him out the door. Sebastian shook Ben¡¯s hand and left sharpish. Ben was left outside in the cool evening air with his phone and Abi unit in a bag. He had no car or money for a taxi. This didn¡¯t bother him so much as he could do getting aired out. As he trotted home his phone buzzed. It was David. ¡°Hi, Dave.¡± ¡°Evening, Benjamin.¡± David¡¯s voice never wavered from that bubbly happiness. ¡°Sebastian updated me, all free to go and such.¡± ¡°Yeah, with more money to pay out.¡± Ben sighed. ¡°At this rate, I may as well go to prison.¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯re out for now.¡± Ben nodded, ¡°Sorry I didn¡¯t want to sound ungrateful there. Thank you for your help.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a problem, Ben.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just so frustrating, you know? Over a little bloody joke.¡± ¡°You need to take responsibility, Benjamin.¡± Dave¡¯s tone had become earnest and his voice gave way to a business side he¡¯d not demonstrated before. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°I know¨C¡± ¡°Your actions have consequences, Benjamin. We shall speak soon regarding your financial circumstances.¡± ¡°Right, yeah¡­¡± Ben scratched the back of his neck. ¡°I just¨C¡± Dave hung up. This was the first Ben was left with a sense of unease after speaking to Dave, he¡¯d only spoken a couple of times prior but there was something different this time. Ben thought about what Dave said, but it was impossible to overcome the violation of the secret recording and tale-telling his personal robot assistant had conducted. He was sent into a swirling vortex of paranoia; what other things had the assistant recorded? Did they have access to them all? Dave didn¡¯t see anyone on his way home, not even a dog walker or a crackhead. It reminded him of one of those apocalypse-type movies where everyone was dead. ¡°I¡¯M THE OMEGA MAN!¡± Benjamin chuckled as he listened to his voice echo through the street. He was pleased he¡¯d set a dog barking at least. Ben was pleased to see his house. He was ready for bed. He made for his door but kicked something and fell over on his palms. ¡°Ahhh, fucking hell!¡± Ben struggled as he was lying on something square and heavy. ¡°What kind of fuckin¡¯ arse bandit, twat, cunt leaves a fuckin¡¯¡± He rolled off the box and got to his knees. His door light flicked on and revealed the plasticated tub. On the top was a piece of paper taped on, it said: For care of Benjamin Yeoman. ¡°Oh¡­what is this?¡± Ben carried the box into his house and set it on the kitchen table. ¡°Abi, turn the lights on.¡± Nothing happened. ¡°Oh yeah.¡± He lifted the plastic bag containing his Abi unit. Gently, he set the bag down on top of the mystery box and manually switched his lights on. He¡¯d almost forgotten where the switches were. The house lit up room by room, revealing the horror. The police officers had turned his belongings upside down. His drawers were open and their contents were scattered on the floor. ¡°Bastards.¡± He kicked at the packet of unopened candles by the small drawer in his living room. ¡°I should light one of these, I bet candles don¡¯t spy on me.¡± He returned to the kitchen and took the bag containing Abi, he placed it on the glass chopping board before fetching his hammer from the toolbox in the pantry, which had been conveniently emptied on the floor. ¡°Abi, die you double-crossing whore.¡± Ben did a fake maniacal laugh as she struck the bag and smashed the unit into pieces. His frustrations became untameable and his hammer blows strengthened. The shattering of the chopping board snapped him out of his rage. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ robot bitch.¡± Ben turned his attention to the plastic box. ¡°See what Santa brought.¡± He took the box into the living room and placed it between his feet as he sat on the couch. He prised the lid off and tossed it to one side. ¡°Merry Christmas me.¡± The box contained an assortment of goods, name-branded food and cleaning products. There was at least two hundred pounds worth of shopping in here. ¡°Nice¡­¡± Ben lifted out a cooler block from the bottom and his breath caught short at what was underneath. Between the cartons of milk and assorted vegetables was a packet of eight bacon rashers. ¡°Bacon.¡± He looked at the kitchen where Abi¡¯s corpse lay shattered. ¡°Did you tell them I wanted, Bacon?¡± Ben walked into the kitchen and leaned over the broken mess. ¡°Well?¡± he roared. ¡°Did you fucking tell them?¡± He picked the hammer up and went into a flurry of rage, smashing Abi, the table and one of his cabinet doors. He stumbled back and slumped against the kitchen cabinet with his head in his hands. Ben wallowed for ten minutes. He wanted to go to sleep but something drove him to tidy up the mess he¡¯d made. He scraped the remains of the chopping board and Abi with the inside of his forearm into a bin bag. He traipsed through his backyard toward his wheelie bin. ¡°Alright, Ben¡­¡± Ben looked around, seeing Steve¡¯s fluster of ginger curls bouncing above his wall. ¡°Hi, Ste.¡± ¡°You alright? Heard a bunch of bashing.¡± ¡°Fine, just dropped something.¡± ¡°Dropped it twenty times did you?¡± Ste let out a chuckle. Ben dropped the bag in the wheelie bin, causing a loud clatter before letting the lid slam shut. ¡°So eh, big kerfuffle this morning with the police, eh?¡± Ben made his way towards his back door. ¡°Didn¡¯t know if you would be back.¡± Ben stopped, turned and marched towards the wall. ¡°Back from where?¡± ¡°Well¡­wherever the police took you.¡± ¡°Ah, do you wanna know why they took me in?¡± Ste¡¯s eyes darted left and right, ¡°Hah, oh, I don¡¯t mind.¡± ¡°Sure you do.¡± ¡°Nah, just wanted to make sure you were ok.¡± Ste cleared his throat. ¡°Oh, yeah? That¡¯d be a first.¡± ¡°Well¨C¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you mind your own fuckin¡¯ business? You silly ginger twat.¡± Ste¡¯s head lowered. Ben sneered as he walked back into his house, he made a show of slamming the door behind him. He felt a pang of guilt for speaking to Ste like that, he remembered how he helped him fix his gutters last summer. Overcome with fatigue, Ben crawled up the stairs and into his upturned bed. He passed out and awoke the next morning at around nine. He felt for his alarm clock but it wasn¡¯t there. ¡°Ugh.¡± Ben was dreading work tomorrow, having to deal with customers and that smarmy bastard, Pete. He wondered how he could stop himself from lashing out. Part of him wanted to throw in the towel. Quit work, go on the social and spend the rest of his life in a one-bedroom flat with his curtains drawn until he dies. The neighbours wouldn¡¯t know until he started to stink out the block. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the way to go.¡± Ben chuckled to himself. He made himself a cup of tea and a sandwich with his consolation bacon from the SS9 care box. ¡°Eating like a king.¡± Ben smiled and wandered into his messy living room. ¡°Abi turn on the Tele.¡± The TV didn¡¯t respond. ¡°Oh yeah.¡± He looked around for the remote, something which he hadn¡¯t seen since he bought the thing. ¡°Fuck it.¡± Giving up he opted to eat his bacon in the natural ambience. ¡°Maybe Dave can find the fuckin¡¯ remote.¡± He said between bites. ¡°Maybe Dave can turn the tele on as well.¡± he smiled and wiped sauce from his chin. The TV turned on. Ben dropped his sandwich. ¡°What the¡­¡± The news blurred out its familiar tune. Ben set his plate to one side and stood up quickly to check he hadn¡¯t sat on his remote and accidentally turned it on. ¡°Ok, where are you, fucker?¡± Ben spent the next hour in a deranged panic. He pulled the doors off cabinets, ripped out fixtures, tipped his couch over, and flipped his tables. ¡°I¡¯ll find you, son of a bitch.¡± He picked up a small stone carving he had been gifted by someone from the office, some local crap from the tat shop. ¡°Let¡¯s see you turn on my TV now.¡± He threw it at the screen and smashed it. ¡°Abi, turn the tele on.¡± Ben waited. ¡°Ha! Not so fuckin¡¯ smart are you eh?¡± Ben was dripping with sweat and his eyes bulged madly. He picked up his phone and brought up Wayne, pressing the call button. He didn¡¯t care about Wayne''s instruction not to call him. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Wayne, it¡¯s Ben.¡± ¡°I thought I told you¨C¡± ¡°Just shut up a second, what the fuck is going on?¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡°Did they listen to you?¡± ¡°Did who?¡± ¡°The support sector.¡± ¡°Listen, I lost my house and they gave me board that¡¯s it. I told you not to call me again.¡± ¡°Why? Because you¡¯re not allowed? Are they listening to you?¡± ¡°You¡¯re mental, mate. Get your head checked.¡± ¡°Piss off, Wayne. I¡¯m losing it here and no one is speaking a lick of sense, I¡¯m just really alone and pretty scared right now.¡± ¡°I understand¨C¡± ¡°Everyone understands but me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m blocking you.¡± ¡°Wayn¨C¡± The phone went dead. Ben tossed the phone to one side and ran his hands through his matted hair. Ben was driven to find out more about the Support Sectors, the website was generic claptrap and all the new articles had nothing but positive waffle. He tried a few procured searches but got nothing. His scouring was interrupted by a jingle on his phone. ¡°Text?¡± he picked up his phone, it was a message from an unknown number. A link to a website. The link was long and made no sense, it looked like a scam but it would be an odd thing to use as a scam attempt. Curiously he tapped the website address carefully into his browser and hit enter. The screen flickered a few times before displaying a simple website with a black background and white text links. They were just numbers. Everything told Ben not to click on them, but he couldn¡¯t help it. The first link was a video. He pressed play. The video was dark, too dark. He could hear deep breathing and light sobbing. Then a desperate woman''s voice. ¡°They categorised me as obsolete.¡± she cried, ¡°Stay out of the Support Sectors¡­stay out.¡± Ben¡¯s phone rang which scared the hell out of him. He quickly closed the video and picked up his phone. Dave. ¡°Hi?¡± ¡°Happy Sunday, Dave.¡± ¡°You too.¡± ¡°Up to anything productive this morning?¡± ¡°Oh, eh just browsing the internet.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be messing around on dodgy sites!¡± He chuckled. ¡°Kidding. I thought I¡¯d give you a quick ring. I¡¯ve pulled up some job searches for you and got you an interview.¡± ¡°Oh, nice one.¡± ¡°Yeah, should be perfect. I¡¯ll send you the details by email. Have a look, Ben, do a bit of research on the company.¡± ¡°Will do.¡± ¡°You ok Ben?¡± ¡°Fine.¡± ¡°Alright, I know you had a long day yesterday.¡± ¡°Yeah, am just tired.¡± ¡°Enjoy your bacon.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Ben glanced at his half-eaten sandwich. ¡°Bye, Ben.¡± ¡°Bye, Dave.¡± Chapter 5 - Return to work Ben lost his Sunday through some kind of mental abyss. He had the urge to recheck the strange website. He kept opening his laptop and hovering over the link he saved. What if they are watching my searches? What if this is something they could arrest me for? Does SS9 know? These thoughts strangled his curiosity, but he knew it was something he couldn¡¯t satiate indefinitely. Ben did not rue the smashing of his TV, it was a welcoming change based on his most recent decisions. He thought about going next door to apologise to his neighbour for last night''s outburst, but the second-hand embarrassment was too much, hopefully, Ste will chalk it up to a stressful day and leave it at that. David had followed through with his promise and organised an interview for another job. The guy worked at a scary pace but who was Ben to complain? He had him out of the police''s hands in less than a day and sent him bacon. By about eight o''clock in the evening, Ben finally plucked up the desire to go through the interview and company. It was for an energy one much like the one he worked for now. Electric instead of gas. Phone work. Sales. Standard. Ben raised his eyebrows. ¡°Not bad money though, more than am on now for sure.¡± The interview was in-person which Ben wasn¡¯t too keen about. The office was a good twenty miles away as well. Driving made him nervous, he¡¯d never crashed but always had this sinking feeling that every time he got in his car, he¡¯d crash. It didn¡¯t help he¡¯d need to figure out directions too. ¡°I can do it, I can do it, do the interview get through that, new job, new money, pay off the lender, back to normal.¡± What was normal? Sitting in a lonely house, with a miserable job and a broken TV? Ben chuckled as he concluded all that was missing now was an alcohol problem. The interview would be in two days. Not much preparation and he¡¯d have to get the time off work. Pete would be waiting no doubt, ready to quote his newfound company handbook. Ben had learned quickly that work friends were no friends at all, and at the soonest moment, they¡¯d send you down the river without a paddle. He vowed to make no such error with his new job and keep himself much to himself. Ben tucked himself into bed early with a cup of tea and his laptop. He wanted to catch up on some of the football results. He hadn¡¯t been to a game in around twenty years, he used to go with his friend Donny, but he hadn¡¯t spoken in a while. He changed his number and they never traded. That link beckoned him once more. ¡°What could be the harm? Apart from some viruses¡­this old laptop ain¡¯t worth it anyway.¡± He shrugged and opened it back up. The list of white links on the black background was quite ominous. It reminded him of the old days of the internet where people would just make a website for everything in a most amateurish way. The second link wasn¡¯t a video, just a scroll of text so thick it made him tired to think about reading. The header said SS1. ¡°Hmm, first Support Sector. Love an origin story.¡± The text was written in diary form. The date of the first entry was 2003, twenty-five years ago. The first entries were sound enough. The fellow who wrote it had moved into the sector as part of the pilot scheme for the government. The family were poor and this was free living accommodation and food. The entries skipped along a couple of years. Some alarming additions had been made to his living conditions. They had a curfew and would be locked out if they didn¡¯t make it back by eight in the evening. ¡°Madness.¡± He wrote about how every application he made to a job was rejected, to test it he even applied to simple cleaning jobs and fast food restaurants. Nothing, not even an interview. Ben thought this was odd as his Support Sector advisor had provided him with a job opportunity in a day. The entries became briefer and more spaced out. He spoke about being referred to as ¡°obsolete,¡± and that his time in the facility was coming to an end. The date of the entries was now 2017, not far back. He wrote about having his regular duties removed from him and instead, he was told to speak to a monitor for hours on end. He¡¯d answer questions, solve riddles and give his opinion on subjects about morality. ¡°What a load of bullshit this is.¡± Ben chuckled. He scrolled down but the page was just black now. The last entry was almost gibberish, talking about digitalising and making people fake ¡°Digitalising?¡± Ben shook his head and yawned. ¡°Bollocks.¡± He set his laptop down gently and slipped off. Ben¡¯s alarm clock muffled out an irritating croak. ¡°Ugh!¡± He tried to find his clock but it wasn¡¯t in the normal place. He found the wire, hauled it up like a fisherman then slapped the silence button. ¡°Shut the fuck up!¡± Ben would wear his dressing gown for work today. He logged in and opened up his systems. Before he could get his calendar up a call came through and he scrambled to get his headset on. It was Pete. Bang on at seven-thirty. ¡°Heck, Pete give me a moment to switch on.¡± ¡°You¡¯re expected to be ready prior to your shift start.¡± ¡°I know, things were just taking a moment to load.¡± ¡°Are you feeling well enough to work today?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Ben said through a yawn. ¡°Did you get enough sleep?¡± ¡°Never.¡± ¡°Sleep is important.¡± ¡°Can we just get on with this?¡± ¡°How was your weekend?¡± ¡°I was recovering.¡± ¡°Did you get up to anything interesting?¡± ¡°No, I was recovering from my illness.¡± ¡°The headache?¡± Ben sneered, ¡°Yes THE headache.¡± ¡°Did you speak to a doctor?¡± ¡°Eh no, but if I needed emergency help I¡¯d speak to you first, Pete.¡± Ben chuckled. ¡°You should speak to a doctor first, I am not qualif¨C¡± ¡°Christ, Pete do you need to install a sarcasm chip? What¡¯s the deal with you?¡± Pete paused. ¡°There is no deal, I am completing your return to work.¡± Ben shook his head and mouthed an obscenity. ¡°Say again, Ben.¡± ¡°Say what again?¡± ¡°Did you say something?¡± ¡°No. Carry on.¡± Ben looked around his room for a moment and took a deep breath. Pete went through the remaining questions before re-opening the original wound. ¡°I¡¯d like to mention that this time you have had off work is time you could have spent increasing your call count. You¡¯ll have to work harder now to achieve your actions.¡± ¡°Right, the impossible targets.¡± ¡°The targets are well within doable ranges.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t argue with you, Pete. Anyway. I have a job interview with another company on Tuesday, tomorrow.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Will this be during work time?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll need to apply for the time.¡± ¡°Ok, Pete, can I have the day off for my interview.¡± Pete paused. ¡°This is short notice and doesn¡¯t fulfil the notice period requirement.¡± ¡°I only just found out about it on Sunday, I am telling you at the soonest moment possible,¡± Pete paused again. ¡°I can provide the day to you as unpaid.¡± ¡°I have leave remaining, Pete.¡± ¡°You can work the time back if you are unable to accommodate the expense.¡± ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll take it as unpaid.¡± ¡°Excellent. Good luck with your interview, Benjamin. I am sure you will be excellent.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Do you need anything else, Benjamin?¡± ¡°No.¡± Ben went through the day taking calls as fast and effectively as he could. He kept a running tally on a sheet. It came nowhere near the amount of calls he¡¯d need to meet his target. He kept thinking about how the hell Roger was able to meet so many until it drove him to make contact with him. He tried him by phone, but it said the number no longer existed. So he used the company''s internal chat feature: Hey Roggers how¡¯s it goin? Roger typed back: Great, you? Benjamin: Well done being top of the leaderboard. Roger: Thank you. I am sure you will improve. Benjamin: Thanks, how do you do it? Roger: Hard work! Benjamin: Come on, let''s go to the pub this weekend like old times. I tried to call you on your mobile but it said the number doesn¡¯t exist. Roger: I don¡¯t drink, the pub is not a place I will visit. I also have a new contact number. Benjamin: Alright let¡¯s meet up and maybe get some food. Roger: I have arrangements. Benjamin: Got it, how about you give me your new number, and we can plan something? Roger: I appreciate the offer. Ben got frustrated and called Roger on the system. ¡°Hello.¡± ¡°Hi Roger, you ok?¡± ¡°I am great, how are you, Ben?¡± ¡°Fantastic, so come on, mate. Spill the beans! How are you doin¡¯ so well?¡± Roger paused. ¡°Hard work as I said. Mate.¡± Ben grimaced. ¡°Alright. Well, give us your number then, Roger.¡± ¡°No thank you.¡± Ben¡¯s heart sank a little. ¡°Why? I haven¡¯t offended you have I?¡± ¡°I simply have moved on. I don¡¯t wish to speak to you outside of working hours.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a bit harsh, pal.¡± ¡°I understand.¡± Ben narrowed his eyes. ¡°What did you use to drink?¡± ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°When you went to the pub, what did you order?¡± Roger paused. ¡°I enjoyed cider.¡± ¡°What did I enjoy?¡± Roger¡¯s pause was considerably longer this time. ¡°I do not remember.¡± Ben folded his arms. ¡°Does the word digitalised mean anything to you?¡± ¡°I need to get back to work. Mate.¡± Roger ended the call and Ben was left dumbfounded. Sure, he and Roger were not best mates, but he was always up for a night at the pub. Truth be told Ben hadn¡¯t been in a while due to money constraints, but Roger must be flush if he¡¯s winning the top bonuses. Pete interrupted his trance with a call. ¡°Hello?¡± Ben answered. ¡°Hello, Benjamin.¡± ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± ¡°I have had a report from one of your co-workers that is concerning.¡± ¡°Concerning?¡± ¡°Yes, they explained how they felt harassed by you to give you their personal details?¡± Ben threw his arms into the air. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Ben, it¡¯s imperative that you remain on task while on the clock. The messaging system is not here for you to make personal enquiries or set up out-of-work dates.¡± ¡°I was on break.¡± ¡°Use your personal devices for this.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t have his number, so I called him to see how he was and I politely asked for his number!¡± ¡°He didn¡¯t feel that way.¡± ¡°Well¨C¡± Pete interrupted: ¡°I am applying this as a note to your report. It will have an effect on your bonus. If this happens again you will be invited to a disciplinary hearing.¡± ¡°This is madness, Pete. All I did was invite him to the pub and ask for his number. I didn¡¯t do anything¨C¡± ¡°Benjamin. Perhaps you should take time to evaluate yourself. How often do you find people wanting to break communications with you?¡± Ben was stunned. A point had been made. Everyone he spoke to, apart from Dave and maybe Sebastian had been irritated by his presence. As if his existence was a burden. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean anything by it. Tell Roger I am sorry.¡± ¡°Very well.¡± ¡°I also asked him how he is doing it,¡± Ben added, hoping it to be some sort of consolation. ¡°Doing what?¡± ¡°Getting through so many calls.¡± ¡°Roger is not here to coach you.¡± ¡°Perhaps you could show me some of the calls?¡± ¡°Please return to your work.¡± Ben shook his head and closed the call to go back to taking calls. The day finished on a low point. Miles away from his call-expected target and another note on his file for poor conduct. He was still hopeful about the new job if not a little anxious about the drive. Going to a new place, even if it was close by, always made him worry. He prepared himself for one of those nightmares where he hits a kid trying to cross the road. They always felt so real. ¡°Pasta with a bolognese sauce¡­hmm, alright.¡± Ben watched out the back door window while his pasta bubbled away in the pan. He noticed movement from Ste¡¯s side of the wall. With thoughts about what Pete had said to him today, he found himself rushing out into the evening air. ¡°Ste!¡± Steven looked around, ¡°Oh¡­hi.¡± he made to go back in. ¡°Wait.¡± Ste stopped and turned to face him. ¡°Listen, am sorry about last night, pal.¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s not, I had no right to speak to you like that. I was out of line.¡± Ben felt nodded solemnly as he spoke. ¡°No problem.¡± Ben felt his chest relaxing. ¡°Look, how about we go to the pub this weekend, drinks on me?¡± Ben couldn¡¯t afford that but he¡¯d be sure to find a way. ¡°Sorry, Ben. Busy and all.¡± ¡°Ah working on the house as usual?¡± Ste shook his head. ¡°Preparing for a move.¡± ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t see a for sale sign.¡± ¡°It¡¯s being bought by a private buyer.¡± ¡°Oh right¡­any intel on my new neighbour-to-be?¡± Ste shook his head again. ¡°Well, where you and the missus moving to?¡± ¡°We divorced last year, remember?¡± Ben sucked air through his teeth. ¡°Oh, fuck, sorry mate, yeah.¡± He shook his head. ¡°My mind¡¯s been totally frazzled recently.¡± Ste nodded. ¡°Well, I best be off.¡± ¡°Wait, where are you moving to?¡± The smallish ginger man shuffled uncomfortably. ¡°Well, at a support place, for whe¨C¡± ¡°Support sector nine?¡± Ben¡¯s eyes flashed. Ste nodded. Ben knew what that meant. ¡°Oh, mate¡­well not far we can still hang out.¡± ¡°Well, we¡¯ll see,¡± said Ste gingerly. ¡°Do you know, Dave?¡± ¡°Dave?¡± ¡°Eh, yeah Dave Blakely.¡± Ste shrugged, ¡°never heard.¡± ¡°Ah, he works there, he¡¯s been helping me with stuff, really good guy.¡± Ste¡¯s eyes glazed over as he gave a thoughtful look. ¡°I spoke to a guy called Andy. See you.¡± Ste walked in quickly with his head lowered. Ben took a deep breath and stuck out his bottom lip as he breathed out through his nose. ¡°Odd.¡± When he got back inside he had to rush to catch the pan that was over spilling. ¡°Bloody pasta!¡± Back in bed with his laptop and a hot bowl, he opened his laptop to check through the website again. The third link. Another video. It was a middle-aged man shaking his head and crying. ¡°No one¡¯s real anymore. Not even my mum. My mum¡¯s gone! My mum¡¯s gone! That¡¯s not her!¡± The uploader had attached some chilling music to accompany it as if it were a horror movie. ¡°Christ.¡± The fourth link was just a string of pictures. All of them were similar. A greenish room, sort of puke-green. Someone dressed in a grey tracksuit, crossed-legged on the floor in front of a microphone while looking up at something. Whatever it was, it was just off shot. The looks on their faces were gaumless, mouths open, eyes wide. Some looked more distressed and one of them was a girl crying into her hands. Ben felt he had seen enough. He was still uncertain how real all of this was. It was beginning to feel like some sort of self-indulgent fiction for entertainment purposes. He closed the laptop sheepishly and sat in the darkness for a moment. ¡°Tomorrow will be a better day,¡± he said to himself. ¡°It¡¯s got to be.¡± He set his laptop to one side and curled up under his duvet. Sleep wouldn¡¯t come easy tonight. Chapter 6 - Movement zones? ¡°Shit!¡± Ben yelped as he fell backwards while trying to pull his sock on. He clunked his head on his bedside table and knocked the lamp over. ¡°Ahh!¡± Ben had been cursing himself all morning for forgetting to iron his shirt and pants. It had been stuffed in his wardrobe on top of a cardboard box for about three years. Nothing a little spritz and a go-over with the iron couldn¡¯t fix. He fumbled with his tie in the bathroom mirror, his toothbrush hanging out of one side of his mouth. He found his jacket, dusted it off and tried it on. ¡°Still fits!¡± An old bottle of gel helped him tame his hair to a presentable level. He checked himself in the mirror once he¡¯d fashioned himself, ¡°It¡¯ll do. Not like am applying for prime minister.¡± In his flurry, Ben had readied himself with a little too much time to spare. He opted to check some resources online. ¡°Top ten interview tips.¡± Ben nodded and looked through the article, ¡°What a load of rubbish¡­ask them questions?¡± He shook his head, ¡°waste of time,¡± he muttered, ¡°Just give me the job.¡± Ben sighed and rubbed his chin. ¡°Fuck it.¡± He clicked on the odd link again. There were so many links to click on still. He felt apprehensive, the last video gave him the creeps and he was concerned about what he¡¯d be subjected to, but he couldn¡¯t stop himself. The next link was another video, all of them had a found footage quality to them. With modern-day filters, it would be impossible to determine the voracity of the content. Nonetheless Ben found it compelling. The video was definitely from a mobile phone and this one had more talking. It was outside and they were walking towards what looked to be the wall surrounding a Support Sector. The video never quite let Ben see past the wall which was frustrating as now he was desperate to find out what it¡¯s like in there. A man spoke over the top of the footage: ¡°Here it is, folks. The new mind control centre where they condition you, don¡¯t get captured¡­¡± He continued to walk around until a little blue cabin came into view, the same as the one he met Dave in. ¡°This building here is where they get you, people walk in here and come out brainwashed, I think they perform some sort of operation on you or something.¡± Ben shook his head. He knew this to be false, he knew what was inside these rooms. In his case, it was the best place he¡¯d visited for a while. Dave had been a God send. Not impressed with the author''s ramblings or the footage, he closed the video and moved on to the next link. The page was just black. ¡°Hm.¡± Ben clicked around randomly and managed to highlight hidden text that was the same colour as the background. ¡°Ah..¡± He grabbed as much as he could. It was all in capitals, repeated with no spaces: DON¡¯T LET THEM HELP. Ben found his nerves rattled and thought it best to close his laptop lest he shake himself silly before his big interview. Ben checked the clock. ¡°Time to go.¡± he had left himself an hour and a half to get there which was probably more than enough, but he hated finding new places. He started his car which chugged a few times before ticking over. ¡°Thank fuck.¡± His phone rang before he set off. Dave. ¡°Morning, David¡± Ben said in a bright tone. ¡°Good morning, sir! Ready for your interview?¡± ¡°Yes, got my suit on, dressed for court.¡± David reeled off a hearty chuckle. ¡°Good to hear you¡¯re in high spirits, Ben! Thought I¡¯d call to give a little check-in and such.¡± ¡°Appreciate it. By the way, any movement on my lender issue?¡± David paused. ¡°Ah, your payments are due. I have promised them that you¡¯ll be in for a new role that will satisfy the financial needs.¡± ¡°And?¡± Ben bit his lip. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t want to discuss this so as not to apply any extra pressure on you.¡± Ben frowned, ¡°I can handle pressure, Dave, I don¡¯t need to have things hidden for my benefit.¡± ¡°Of course, Ben.¡± Dave¡¯s bubbly voice made it impossible not to forgive him. ¡°If you get this job, they will complete a risk assessment based on your new income and if the numbers are accurate, which they are, they¡¯ll give you an extension and payment plan.¡± ¡°So that¡¯ll save me?¡± ¡°Well, it will keep you in your lovely home, Benjamin!¡± Dave chortled. ¡°Fantastic! You¡¯re a lifesaver, Dave.¡± ¡°Let me help, and you will be rewarded.¡± Dave¡¯s voice warmed further. Ben frowned, ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Well, good luck with your interview, Ben.¡± ¡°Maybe you could pull some strings for me at the company? Let them know I¡¯m good?¡± Dave paused. ¡°Now, Ben, you don¡¯t need that, you¡¯re good enough.¡± Ben smiled. ¡°Thanks, pal, bye.¡± ¡°Tata.¡± Ben set his phone in the middle compartment and was about to drive off but saw Ste leaving his house. ¡°Hey Ste!¡± he waved at him. Ste waved back and nodded, his mouth was flat. He locked up the door and set the keys on his doorstep. Ben watched curiously before lowering his car window. ¡°Are you leaving today, pal?¡± Ste looked at him and nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s all your stuff?¡± ¡°It¡¯s getting collected later apparently, they do all the hard lifting for you.¡± Ben¡¯s brow raised, ¡°Well, I guess this is goodbye.¡± He stuck his hand out towards Ste. Ste accepted the offer and shook his hand. ¡°See you around, Ben.¡± Ben noticed that he looked off like he was about to cry. ¡°Well, good luck!¡± He put himself in gear and drove out onto the main road. He felt a little guilty for just zipping off, but the situation was stumbling into the awkward zone, a place he didn¡¯t need to be before the biggest interview of his life. Dave¡¯s approach may have been the better choice. Now that he was aware of the stakes, everything got a little more frosty. His vision cleared up and he could hear his heartbeat. The droning of the radio just irritated him. Signs flashed by him, he read them but didn¡¯t process what they said, or maybe he processed them without reading, whatever the case he was going the right way, like a second nature had kicked in. Instinct guided him and by the thralls of the land it¡¯d lead him to folly or success. The drive was clear. Like always. Only a few cars on the road and the odd person wandering about. The motorway entrance was closed, but it wasn¡¯t much different on the back roads. He¡¯d be there in good time. He calmed his nerves a little through deep breaths and light humming. Ben wished he had spent longer checking out interview tips rather than scrolling through that stupid website. Conspiracy crap could be addictive, especially when some of it rang true. Ben huffed, ¡°What now? More fuckin¡¯ road works?¡± Ahead was a blockade with a few officers standing around. Cars had backed up, but they were going through. ¡°Looks like a police check.¡± He stopped behind the last car and checked his mirrors to re-adjust his tie. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Setting off early had proved beneficial and the queue of cars wasn¡¯t exactly flying through the barrier. Sometimes everyone had to back up a little to let out a car that wasn¡¯t permitted. This had Ben a little worried. The officer waved Ben towards him and he gently pulled his car between the two make-shift booths. ¡°Morning officers, something happening?¡± The officer bent over and looked into Ben¡¯s car, ¡°License.¡± Ben lifted his bum off the seat to fish out his wallet from his back pocket. ¡°Second.¡± He opened up the leather pouch and slid the card free, offering it to the hooked-nosed man. ¡°Moment, sir.¡± ¡°Cheers.¡± Ben watched the officer duck into the little booth. He could see through the window that he was checking his laptop for something. In a couple of minutes, the officer rose and headed out towards him again. ¡°You got your movement zone extension?¡± Ben frowned, ¡°My what?¡± ¡°Movement zone extension. Your license isn¡¯t updated with anything, but if you got the receipt I can check it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t even know what that is, look, I just want to go about half an hour down the road, I¡¯m going to Fairview Business Park.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t drive out of your movement zone if you haven¡¯t got the extension.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is! I have a driving license, I can drive where I please. This is my car and I pay my bloody road tax.¡± ¡°Sorry, sir, can¡¯t let you through.¡± ¡°Well am going through, you can ticket me.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be arrested, I wouldn¡¯t bother.¡± Ben clenched his steering wheel and twisted his palms around it until he could feel his skin burning. ¡°Just need to get to an interview, it¡¯s literally down the road, do me a favour.¡± ¡°No, sir.¡± ¡°Ok, where do I get this movement thing from?¡± ¡°Website, government one, or you can apply by mail.¡± ¡°How much? I¡¯ll buy one now.¡± ¡°For this gate, it¡¯s ¡ê50 for five days.¡± ¡°That¡¯s extortionate! Ten quid a day to drive through here? When was this set up?¡± ¡°Last year, sir.¡± Ben hadn¡¯t been this far out in some time. ¡°So you¡¯re just highway robbery men.¡± BEEP. The car behind Ben honked. Another officer moved around to speak to the impatient driver. ¡°Sir, you¡¯re holding everyone up. Move out of the line.¡± ¡°I want to go through.¡± ¡°Not happening, reverse out, go back. You can buy one online.¡± ¡°How long does it take?¡± ¡°A day.¡± ¡°My interview is in forty minutes!¡± ¡°Well, sir, you should have prepared shouldn¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Look if I don¡¯t get to this inter¨C¡± ¡°Sir, get out of the way, or I¡¯ll drag you out of the car myself, no extension, no pass, do you understand?¡± The car behind honked again. Ben leaned out of his window and looked behind, ¡°Fuck off!¡± ¡°Last warning, sir.¡± Ben punched his steering wheel before submitting to instruction and reversing out. He turned the car around and pulled up on the side of the road. ¡°Fucking twats!¡± He fumbled for his phone and with shaky hands called Dave¡¯s number. ¡°SS9, how can I help?¡± ¡°I need to speak to Dave Blakely, please.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Dave isn¡¯t available right now, can I leave a message?¡± ¡°It¡¯s an emergency, please.¡± ¡°If it¡¯s an emergency then we advise calling the police.¡± ¡°Not that kind of emergency, look I really need to speak to him, please.¡± ¡°Sorry, sir.¡± ¡°It¡¯s going to cost me my house, I¡¯m dying here, I need help.¡± ¡°I understand.¡± ¡°You understand?¡± ¡°Yes, sir. But he¡¯s not available.¡± ¡°Look¨C¡± ¡°Thank you for calling SS9, bye now.¡± The line went dead. ¡°Fuck!¡± Ben launched his phone into the back seat of his car. ¡°Alright Ben, time to take responsibility.¡± He took a few breaths, gathered his phone, and wallet then exited his car. ¡°Right, let¡¯s get runnin¡¯¡± Ben slammed his door shut and started running. He ran as fast as he could for the first couple of minutes but soon got tired and slowed to a jog and then to a fast walk. His feet ached and his chest burned. He sucked in the air and would try to speed up every few seconds. He checked the time on his phone. He hadn¡¯t a chance of getting there early. While pushing himself down the road he called the company he was due to have an interview with. ¡°Good morning EnderZel.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Ben gasped for air, ¡°Sorry, good morning, I¡¯m Ben Yeoman, am due for an interview this morning.¡± ¡°Ah lovely.¡± ¡°I got pulled up at the movement zone thing, I have to run here, I might be a bit later, can I get my interview moved back?¡± ¡°Sorry, sir, we have them all day, you need to get here at the allotted time.¡± ¡°No chance I could swap? It¡¯d really help me out.¡± ¡°I understand, but no, sorry.¡± Ben squeezed his eyes shut and contained a whimper. ¡°I was sent from SS9, by Dave Blakely, he recommends me highly.¡± ¡°Ok, sir.¡± Ben waited in anticipation. ¡°Hope to see you there.¡± Ben frowned as the line went dead. ¡°Bitch.¡± He stuffed his phone into his pocket and started a weak run towards the business park. It was tough running in a suit and he¡¯d soon be drenched in sweat. Looking like a total mess. He rounded the corner into the business park. His cheap slip-on shoes were scuffed to all hell and his hair had broken free of its gelatinous hold thanks to all the sweat. Hobbling now, Ben made it through the big glass double doors into a comfortable reception area. The long leather couches beckoned but he was too full of adrenalin to sit down. He walked right up to the counter and pushed the bell. A secretary arrived. She was short, pretty and well-dressed. Her blond hair was put up into a tight bun. Her green eyes flashed a moment when she caught sight of Ben¡¯s raggedy condition. ¡°Ah, hello?¡± ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Ben Yeoman, I think we spoke on the phone.¡± She pushed out her lower lip and shook her head. ¡°Are you here for a meeting?¡± ¡°Yeah, a job interview.¡± ¡°One moment. What did you say your name was?¡± ¡°Ben Yeoman.¡± ¡°A moment please.¡± Ben watched the cute lady wander off to the back of the reception area, she picked up a phone and began talking. He couldn¡¯t resist the allure of the couch and so went to sit down. His feet immediately stopped aching and he breathed out slowly. The receptionist glanced over at him. He smiled back. She made an unsettling face in return. Ben raised his chin when the receptionist had placed the receiver down tentatively. He stood and headed to the desk. ¡°Mr Yeoman, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re too late for your interview and they¡¯ve decided to not go ahead with the application. I am so very sorry.¡± ¡°What? Look at me. I had to run here because I had some car issues, I honestly busted myself for this, there is no one more driven than me. Please, please have a chat with them, let them know.¡± ¡°I understand.¡± She nodded. ¡°But they were very adamant that they can¡¯t continue with the application.¡± Ben backed up slowly and sat on the couch. He began to sob into his hands. ¡°Mr Yeoman.¡± He ignored the receptionist as he gave in to the flooding emotions. ¡°Mr Yeoman.¡± ¡°Yes?¡± He wiped his eyes. ¡°We¡¯d prefer it if you left now.¡± ¡°Can I not just have two minutes? I ran here to find out I¡¯m losing my house.¡± The receptionist''s face twisted. ¡°Sorry?¡± Before Ben could elaborate, two large security guards impeded his view of the desk. ¡°Time to go.¡± said one of the men. Ben stood up and sniffed. ¡°Right.¡± he hobbled out of the office slowly. He began the slow walk back to his car. Afternoon rolled over and the wind grew a sharp chill that cut through the fine linen of his shirt. His phone rang. Dave. ¡°Hi.¡± ¡°Ben, how did it go?¡± ¡°You¡¯d know if you were there to answer my call.¡± ¡°Oh? I did get a message you called. What happened?¡± ¡°The pigs, they said I couldn¡¯t drive past a movement zone.¡± ¡°Right, you did set up your movement pass right?¡± ¡°No. I didn¡¯t know.¡± ¡°I told you yesterday, in the email I sent.¡± Ben frowned. Suddenly it became his fault again. ¡°I didn¡¯t read that. I swear I read it three times to get the company details.¡± ¡°It¡¯s right there, Ben. In plain English.¡± ¡°Well it¡¯s all done, those shitheads wouldn¡¯t interview me.¡± ¡°Ben, this is the second time I have been let down by you. First your arrest, now your interview.¡± Dave¡¯s voice had taken that off-tone again, like a disappointed father. ¡°I didn¡¯t do it on purpose, I ran¨C¡± ¡°You sound like a child, Benjamin.¡± ¡°Why don¡¯t you go fuck yourself, Dave?¡± Dave hung up. Chapter 7 - Thats how they get you The walk back felt like a second. Ben was consumed with rage, sorrow, guilt and confusion. His car came into view and he started a light jog. He couldn¡¯t wait to get out of the cold. The policemen were eyeing him up as he approached. ¡°Thanks, checkpoint Charlie!¡± Ben waved, ¡°Missed my interview. Good work officer.¡± The policeman shrugged and turned away to speak to another driver as they pulled into the barrier gate. Ben got in his car and started the engine. It didn¡¯t complain this time. He turned on the heaters and closed his eyes. He wanted to calm his nerves before he started driving again but everything that had happened today, yesterday and the day before was beginning to drive him insane. He decided to flick through his phone, searching for information about the movement zones. The articles were almost impossible to find, buried beneath irrelevant news. The local news and updates for his town made no mention of the movement zone barriers and the online maps weren¡¯t updated with locations. As the officer said, there was a pass available on the government website when he searched for them. ¡°It¡¯s like they don¡¯t want you to fuckin¡¯ know about this shit.¡± Ben glanced looked at the barrier through his wing mirror. It was clear now. Both police officers were laughing and shaking their heads as they pointed at him. ¡°I¡¯d love to blow your heads clean off,¡± he muttered as he stared at the pair. Thoughts of running them down brought a small smile to his face. Bored with the mockery he decided to head off. He put the car in gear, raised the clutch to bite and then THUNK. The car shuddered a few times and stalled. ¡°Fuck sake.¡± The officers were laughing now. ¡°Oh, never seen someone stall before.¡± Ben tried again. THUNK, shudder, stall. ¡°What?¡± Ben was sure he was careful with the clutch this time. He got out, scratching his head. ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere in that car.¡± Shouted one of the officers, shaking his head. ¡°What are you talkin¡¯ about?¡± The policeman pointed. Ben followed his finger. His wheel was chained up. ¡°Double yellow lines, sir.¡± ¡°Was this you?¡± ¡°Had to, sir. The tow is on its way.¡± ¡°You¡¯re kidding me, take it off.¡± ¡°We can take it off, but you have to pay the fine.¡± Ben ran his hand through his hair. ¡°Lads, come on, you can see I¡¯ve had a terrible day, cut me a break.¡± Ben placed his hands on his hips and tapped his foot. The officer looked both ways before crossing the road to approach Ben. ¡°Your paperwork is on the passenger side window, sir. You can pay it online, or over the phone.¡± Ben sneered and ripped the sticky bag from the window. He ripped the notice out and read through it. ¡°Two hundred quid!¡± The officer shrugged and went back to his barrier. Ben didn¡¯t have that kind of money. He had about twelve pounds in his wallet. That was going to be for a takeout tonight after he got the job, a little celebration. Instead, it¡¯d become taxi fare. The taxi arrived just as the tow truck did. He was able to watch his car being pulled in the opposite direction as it turned off the main road. The taxi driver tried to make a little small talk, but Ben didn¡¯t acknowledge his existence. He dropped the free into the cup holder and let himself out without so much as a thank you. Ben crashed face-first on his couch and screamed into the pillow. A day''s wage and a car, the price of failure was steadily rising. He thought back to the conversation he had with Dave, he could have sworn there was no mention of the movement zones in the email. He sat up and reached for his laptop. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you sent.¡± He went through his most recent emails, but the one from Dave wasn¡¯t there. ¡°What the¡­¡± Ben checked his junk, deleted and archived folders, nothing. Finally, he looked for the email address. It would be easy to find as it contained his name. Nothing. He closed his laptop and picked up his phone. He decided to call Dave. One to apologise and two to ask for a copy of the email he had sent earlier. ¡°Good afternoon, SS9 reception.¡± ¡°Hi, may I speak with David Blakely?¡± ¡°Sorry?¡± ¡°David Blakely.¡± The lady paused. ¡°We have no David Blakely here.¡± ¡°Pull the other one, love. I have been speaking to him for the past three days.¡± ¡°What is his position?¡± ¡°He¡¯s a support advisor.¡± ¡°Ah, we only have one support advisor here, that¡¯s Andrew Hefton.¡± ¡°You know what? Put me through to Andrew.¡± Ben shook his head furiously. The phone clicked and rang again. ¡°Andrew Hefton speaking.¡± ¡°Hi, my name is Ben Yeoman, I¡¯d like to speak to my advisor, David.¡± Andrew paused. ¡°David Blakely?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Ben felt a flush of relief. ¡°Ah, David is no longer available to speak to.¡± ¡°Why?¡± ¡°He sent me your file.¡± ¡°My file?¡± ¡°Yes, it has everything I need to continue your support.¡± Andrew''s voice was grey and accent-free. He didn¡¯t chuckle or sound appetised by the thought of human interaction. ¡°I was rude to David, I want to apologise.¡± ¡°No need¨C¡± Ben interrupted, ¡°I think can decide if I need to apologise or not. I was rude and I¡¯d like to speak to him.¡± ¡°David is no longer available. I am your support advisor now.¡± Ben sighed. ¡°It¡¯s just, look¡­I told him to¨C¡± ¡°Go fuck himself. I know.¡± ¡°So if I could just apologise, I know he might not want to speak to me for what I said.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not why he doesn¡¯t wish to speak to you.¡± ¡°Then why doesn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°You let him down, he has served his purpose in this stage. I shall take over for him.¡± Ben felt uneasy, but keeping his house and life together was his main priority. ¡°So if you have my file you¡¯ll know my predicament?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not good, Benjamin.¡± ¡°I know. I need another job interview with the same kind of pay, also my car has¨C¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°I don¡¯t think an interview will help.¡± ¡°What? Why?¡± ¡°You have another care package on the way, Mr Yeoman. I¡¯ll include a brochure.¡± ¡°A brochure for what?¡± ¡°SS9 is a great place for people to start a new life, it will help you find and engage with meaningful work.¡± ¡°I already have a job and a house.¡± ¡°Those are not maintainable in your current situation, Benjamin. There¡¯s no shame in living in the support sector, it alleviates much of the burdens life offers.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want to live in some spastic estate, I want my house and a job at fair pay.¡± ¡°The thing is, Ben, for what you can offer, there is no sustainable wage.¡± ¡°So I¡¯m just fucked?¡± ¡°No, no as I said, SS9 is a great place. The facility is fresh and all of your financial worries will be gone. Meaningful labour and a roof over your head isn¡¯t much to sniff at.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll live on the street.¡± ¡°Hardly an alternative, Benjamin.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll find a new job.¡± ¡°With no car? On a list for terrorism? We must be realistic now, Benjamin.¡± ¡°Go fuck yourself as well, Andrew.¡± ¡°Enjoy your care package.¡± The line went dead. Ben was starving. He pinged a meal in the microwave and ate it at the kitchen counter. As he ate he could hear a continuous banging coming from outside. Once finished he took the rubbish in a bag to his bin outside and investigated the noise. It was coming from Ste¡¯s backyard. He pulled himself up the wall to get a good look in. It was the backdoor. It had been left open and the wind was continuously slamming it too. Ben figured there would be no harm in clambering over to shut it, didn¡¯t want it raining in. He landed and caught his balance on the side of a large planter. ¡°Bloody amateurs can¡¯t even lock up after they empty a house.¡± Ben was more curious about peeking inside than he was concerned about closing the door. He leaned in. ¡°Hello?¡± his voice echoed through the hall. He looked around before slipping inside. The house was immaculate. That made sense for a guy like Ste, he was very house-proud and was often working on, or fixing something. It smelt heavily sanitised. A low hum came from the living room, like television static. ¡°Hello?¡± He called again, half hoping for no answer. He¡¯d already played out what he¡¯d say if caught. Oh, was just checking as I saw the door was open, it¡¯s not like Ste. He switched the lights on in the kitchen. White. Everything was white. Oddly, there was no sink. Just countertops. ¡°Everything including the kitchen sink is it?¡± He couldn¡¯t believe Ste lived without a sink. He wandered through into the dining room. Or at least what he thought would be the dining room. He flicked the lights on. Everything was painted white just like the kitchen. There were no carpets, instead bare floorboards, all painted white. Ben felt a shiver tingle up his spine which caused him to shudder. The humming noise grew louder and seemed to be from the living room. The buzz of the noise rumbled through the floorboards beneath his feet. Ben glanced down at the white planks. ¡°No way Ste lived like this.¡± Tentatively he peered around the corner into the living room. The humming pulsed in a regular beat. He switched the light on. ¡°What the¡­¡± laid out in the living room was a bunch of white boxes with wires draping from them and linking to each other. It looked like a model city. They hummed loudly as he approached. ¡°Some sort of high-tech cleaning equipment.¡± Ben almost leapt from his pants when his phone rang. His pocket buzzed angrily. He pulled it out and checked who was calling. Dave. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Hello, Benjamin. This is Andrew.¡± ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°Please vacate your neighbour''s house.¡± Ben paused, ¡°I¡¯m not in my neighbour''s house.¡± He looked around while backing out slowly. ¡°Lying has no benefit.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not lying, my neighbour doesn¡¯t live here, the door was open and I was checking for burglars.¡± ¡°There are no burglars, Benjamin. Now, do as you¡¯re told.¡± Andrew hung up on him. Ben slipped through the kitchen and out into the backyard. Two men were there, dressed in red jumpsuits. ¡°Oh, hi, I saw the back door open. I was just checking everything is ok.¡± The two men looked at him with jewelled eyes and then at each other. ¡°I¡¯ll be going now.¡± Ben made to pass them but one grabbed his shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t come in here again.¡± ¡°Right, yeah, no problem.¡± He shrugged the man''s hand off then slid out the back door gate and climbed over into his yard. He scrambled to lock his kitchen door and caught his breath. ¡°What the fuck is going on?¡± Ben made himself a cup of tea and sat down on the couch. He opened his laptop but it failed to connect to the internet. ¡°Crying out loud.¡± he checked his phone, as he picked it up, it rang again. An unknown number. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡°Hello, is that Mr Ben Yeoman?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Hi, this is James calling from your internet service provider.¡± ¡°Ah right, yeah it¡¯s down.¡± ¡°Yes, your account has been terminated with us.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°We are making this call as a legal courtesy.¡± ¡°Why? I made my quarterly payment last month, I¡¯m good for a while.¡± ¡°We have had a report that you have used online devices that relate to illegal activities including terrorism. By law, I have to inform you that we can no longer do business with you as you¡¯re considered a threat.¡± ¡°I need it to work!¡± ¡°There¡¯s nothing I can do.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to lose my job, there¡¯s no office.¡± ¡°I understand, sir.¡± The line went dead. ¡°Bullshit!¡± Ben tried calling his ISP back but there was no dial tone. He called Andrew next, getting through to the receptionist and being put through. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not sorry. Since I spoke to you lot everything is going wrong. Just lost my internet. That means I can¡¯t work!¡± ¡°Benjamin, this is your doing, not ours.¡± ¡°My doing? They cancelled my internet because I said a joke to my Abi!¡± ¡°Was it a joke?¡± ¡°Yes!¡± ¡°What about the little quip about blowing those policemen¡¯s heads off?¡± Ben screwed his face up, ¡°What?¡± Andrew paused and spoke cleanly: ¡°I¡¯d love to blow your heads clean off.¡± ¡°Ah¨C¡± ¡°You said that about those policemen didn¡¯t you?¡± Ben shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t shake your head at me, Ben, you know it¡¯s true.¡± Ben stood up. ¡°Where are you?¡± The phone went dead. ¡°Where are you?¡± Ben roared as he started searching the house. ¡°If I find you, you¡¯re dead meat!¡± The house was empty. ¡°I¡¯ve been bugged¡­¡± he looked at his phone. He raised his hand to smash it on the ground but stopped. This was his only way to contact the outside world. Ben controlled himself. ¡°If I don¡¯t say anything, they won¡¯t know.¡± Ben looked at his phone. ¡°I bet they are tracking my movements.¡± Ben¡¯s conundrum was interrupted by his doorbell ringing. He breathed slowly and crept downstairs. The living room was a total tip by this point and it was hard to walk through it without almost breaking his neck. He couldn¡¯t see a silhouette through the frosted glass in his front door. Ben took his door handle and waited. After a moment he wrenched the door open quickly. Nobody was there. He looked down. Another care package had been left. He stepped out onto his drive and looked around. Ben brought the box inside and set it on the coffee table. The box contained the brochure that Andrew had promised him. It was glossy and well put together. It contained pictures of nice living quarters, public bath houses and people enjoying various amenities like tennis and chess. It reminded him of one of those spa centres. ¡°Meaningful labour.¡± He shook his head and tossed the brochure to one side. Inside was a plain green, cardboard box. Curiously he opened it. Inside was a small booklet and a black USB stick. The booklet contained information about the stick. It gave him one hour of internet a day. It made it clear this was a free one-week trial and that he¡¯d be granted this as part of his move to SS9. He shrugged and pushed the stick into his laptop. Lo and behold he was back online. ¡°Thank you boys.¡± He clicked on the website with all the videos about the support sectors. A message filled his screen: -UNAUTHORISED WEBSITE- Ben tried a few different sites, but all of them were unauthorised. He checked the booklet once more. A website address was provided so he tried that one. It led to an intranet of sorts. All of the information and links appeared procured. Ben fumbled through his care package and pulled out a can of pop. It was cheap cola but it¡¯d do. He sipped at it as he flicked through the tedious websites they offered. It was basic news, low IQ games and a social media-type website with other people on the intranet chatting. Surprisingly he already had an account. His name, a picture and details were all up to see. ¡°I didn¡¯t sign up for this¡­¡± he muttered. He clicked around a few profiles before trying to remember Wayne''s surname. Aldridge, that was it! He tapped it in and there he was. Wayne. His front page was filled with posts talking about how incredible his life was and how much it¡¯d turned around since joining SS6. There were a few bantering posts in his reply section from people in different support sectors. One said: Support sector 8 is going to beat you SS6 lot in tomorrow''s footy game! Ben clicked on a chat box with Wayne and typed: Hi Wayne. Wayne was online and he replied quickly: Hello Ben: It¡¯s me, Ben. Wayne: I can see that. You are in the support sector now? Ben: No. Wayne: How are you on here? Ben: Care package¡­ Wayne: It¡¯s how they get you Ben took a breath, Wayne was still typing. Wayne: to realise how amazing it is here. Ben wanted to ask if it was Wayne who sent him the link, but his system lost connection. ¡°It¡¯s how they get you¡­¡± He picked up his phone. ¡°You¡¯re not getting me, you pricks,¡± he said looking into the black screen. ¡°You hear that?¡± Chapter 8 - Living under a rock Ben had made himself a big meal with all the care package items. He had an idea. Once he¡¯d eaten he took a nap on the couch. It lasted longer than expected. He slept from eight in the evening till eight in the morning. Twelve hours of rest and he still felt like his body had run a gauntlet. Ben made the next preparations. He was under siege and he needed to clear his name. A plan was imperative and Ben had one. His anger had boiled over into action. He prepared a backpack of supplies from the care package sent from SS9. Ben inspected each item as he packed it, checking it for openings and broken seals. ¡°Not gonna poison me,¡± he muttered. He slid his laptop in and swung the backpack around his shoulder. Ben picked his phone up and considered taking it or leaving it. Benjamin was positive his phone had been compromised and it is what¡¯s being used to spy on him. ¡°Better leave it behind.¡± he placed the phone gently on the coffee table. He looked around his living room and huffed. It was a disaster what with all the upended furniture and broken things. Ben was determined to connect with someone who wasn¡¯t standoffish or weird. He had realised everyone had an odd way of speaking and would disengage. At first, he thought Pete had a point, but it didn¡¯t make sense. He had friends, sure, they all drifted away but that was because Ben hadn¡¯t made any effort with them. He let them go; he didn¡¯t scare them away. He decided his first port of call would be a neighbour. He had a good relationship with Ste but he was gone now. Ben thought perhaps he could have done something to help him when he saw him moving out of his home. The house across the road seemed to have people coming in and out a lot, so he stared there. The doorbell buzzed and Ben waited patiently. No answer. He buzzed again, nothing. Ben tried looking in through the windows, but the net curtains blocked his view. It took at least thirty houses before someone finally answered. It was a bungalow on the next street over. A man in his dressing gown and scruffy hair opened up. ¡°Yes?¡± Ben was suddenly overcome with shyness, he hadn¡¯t rehearsed what he¡¯d say if someone opened the door to him. ¡°Hi¡­¡± he tried to look past the man but he leaned over to block his view. ¡°I¡¯m at work, pal, what do you want?¡± Ben cleared his throat. ¡°Do you know where all our neighbours are?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°All our neighbours, where are they all?¡± ¡°I dunno, pal, probably at work or something, I don¡¯t talk to ¡®em.¡± Ben scratched his chin, ¡°Can I borrow your internet?¡± ¡°You what?¡± He narrowed his eyes and tightened his gown rope. ¡°I lost my internet connection, I need to log into work to let them know I am waiting for a repair.¡± The man eyed Ben up and down a few times. ¡°Which house are you from?¡± Number fifty-two on Victoria Street.¡± ¡°That¡¯s over on the other street, no one answered until me?¡± ¡°Yep¡­am Ben by the way.¡± ¡°Greg.¡± Greg sighed and waved him in. ¡°Come on then, make it quick.¡± Ben nodded. A random act of kindness was enough to flush his spirits with a momentary warmth. He walked into the house, it reminded him much of his own; cluttered and scattered with letters. The TV was on and running news about a war that had broken out in some far-flung place. ¡°Do you want to watch TV or check your computer?¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Ben jumped, realising he¡¯d been caught gawking. ¡°Sorry, just, the war thing.¡± ¡°Yeah, a real tragedy I¡¯m sure. You can use that coffee table there. I¡¯ll get you the WiFi password.¡± Ben peeled away a shirt from the backrest of the chair and set it down on the floor before sitting. He took out his computer and opened it up on his lap. Greg returned with a little piece of card. ¡°It¡¯s on here.¡± he reached over to hand it to him. ¡°Thanks.¡± Ben took the card. ¡°What do you think of those support sectors?¡± ¡°Support what?¡± Ben stopped himself from asking Greg if he¡¯d been living under a rock. ¡°Eh, we have a support sector in the local, just down the road, SS9 it¡¯s called.¡± Greg folded his arms. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s like a place where people who don¡¯t work go.¡± ¡°Oh yeah, the dosser house?¡± Greg chuckled nervously. Ben tapped in the WiFi password. ¡°Well, my neighbour ended up there and a friend.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Lost their job. I¡¯ll probably lose mine now.¡± Greg shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s getting tough, everyone in my place is working like a machine, I¡¯m struggling to keep up.¡± Ben looked up from his laptop screen. ¡°Can I ask what you work as?¡± ¡°Yeah, I do data entry, simple stuff.¡± ¡°Does it feel like everyone is cheating, like their numbers are just impossible?¡± Greg frowned and then looked away. ¡°Who the fuck are you, mate?¡± ¡°N-no one.¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯re asking me a load of dodgy questions. You seem to know about my work.¡± Greg moved around in front of Ben. Ben raised his hands. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about your work, all I know is what has happened to me, and it sounds like what¡¯s happening to you.¡± Greg sneered. ¡°Listen, I got smashed at work, everyone is working super fast like they never take a break. I got my bonus pulled. I¡¯ve had my life turned upside down and these Support Sector people screwing with me.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, just cos you can¡¯t do your job.¡± Ben pointed at all the letters on the table, ¡°keeping up with your bills are you?¡± Greg lunged forward and ripped the laptop from Ben¡¯s lap. ¡°Get the fuck out.¡± Ben stood quickly. ¡°Calm down, I¡¯ll go.¡± ¡°Now!¡± Ben took his laptop back and shuffled out. As he approached the open front door he turned back to Greg and said; ¡°I think they¡¯ll try to do to you what they did to me. I can show you¡­¡± ¡°Piss off you weirdo!¡± Greg slammed the door in Ben''s face. Ben didn¡¯t feel upset. He felt relieved. Greg seemed to be the most real person he¡¯d spoken to in forever. He looked down at the card in his hand, the one with Greg¡¯s wifi password details on it. He slumped down on the doorstep, quickly logged in, saved the details and posted the card back through the letter box. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Contact made. Ben thought. He went back home. Meeting Greg and learning of his situation sparked a keen desire to make contact again, but he knew the man wouldn¡¯t accept him or his stories until things turned. ¡°Am I going mad?¡± Ben looked at his backpack of supplies. ¡°What was I going to do? Sleep under a bridge with a bag full of crisps?¡± He rubbed his forehead. ¡°No, I¡¯m not mad.¡± His phone rang. He ignored it. Ben figured it would be work calling to find out why he hadn¡¯t logged in. He wasn¡¯t going to give Pete the satisfaction of listening to him provide an excuse. Ben scrawled his email and a note on a piece of paper. He kept it short and sweet: When things get bad, email me. Ben ran back to Greg¡¯s house and pushed the note along with the SS9 brochure through the letter box. Accessing his emails would be a chore, but he now had Greg¡¯s WiFi which he could use if he was close by, until Greg catches on and then changes the password. Without a car, Ben would have to boot it. He walked in the direction of the SS9 facility. He wanted to find that little blue cabin again and speak to Dave. He thought Dave might be just like him. Perhaps he¡¯d been removed and replaced. The walk would be at least an hour. Ben didn¡¯t mind, it gave him a chance to stretch his legs. He needed to work on his fitness levels too. Most of the high street shops were husks, remnants were left inside the bare buildings like all SALE signs and a few unopened letters. ¡°This town is sinking.¡± A small coffee shop invited him in. Perhaps it would have WiFi, he could check his email to see if Greg had mailed him. He pushed the glass door open and the little bell rang above his head. There were only three rickety wooden tables and a drinks cooler in the corner. The desk was wooden too and a small lady stood behind it. ¡°Hi,¡± Ben said. ¡°Good morning.¡± She nodded. ¡°Do you have WiFi?¡± ¡°Nah, sorry. They battered us with the license fee.¡± ¡°License fee?¡± ¡°Yep. All businesses providing WiFi need to pay for a broadcast license. It wasn¡¯t worth it for the amount of people using it. Would you like a coffee?¡± Ben shook his head, ¡°No, I¡¯ll have a cold drink.¡± He lifted a pop out of the fridge and paid. ¡°Say, what do you think of that Support Sector down the road.¡± The small, mousey lady blinked a few times. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not been much good for business.¡± Ben looked over his shoulder onto the main road, a car hadn¡¯t been by since he¡¯d entered. ¡°You know anything about it?¡± She shrugged. ¡°My sister lives there, she had some issues. Seems to have gotten her back on her feet.¡± ¡°Oh, you keep in contact?¡± ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I?¡± She narrowed her eyes. Ben wouldn¡¯t normally speak to anyone apart from a good morning, now he was asking personal questions to strangers like a detective. ¡°Does your sister seem odd now?¡± The woman looked slightly uncomfortable. ¡°Eh, why do you ask, do you know her or something?¡± Ben shook his head. ¡°No, I just had a friend move in there and ever since he¡¯s just not been the same.¡± The lady thought a moment. ¡°Well, she only ever speaks to me on video calls now. I tried meeting her at the facility and ended up having a conversation with her in that little blue cabin.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s a bit weird?¡± ¡°We are all busy and life is tough love.¡± She shrugged. Ben took a big gulp of his drink. ¡°Do you know why she went in there anyway?¡± ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t know you and I¡¯m not here to talk about my family, sorry.¡± Ben nodded and looked around. ¡°It¡¯s just weird, though, right?¡± She backed away from the counter. ¡°Yeah, and so is this conversation. If you don¡¯t mind.¡± She nodded to the door and raised her eyebrows. Ben took the hint. He didn¡¯t want randoms calling the police on him, he hadn¡¯t had much luck with them in recent days. The commanding orange building soon came into view. It felt bigger than when he last visited a few days ago. Was it two days ago? Ben thought, losing track of time and days. He trotted up to the gates and hit the buzzer. ¡°SS9 how can I help?¡± ¡°Is that you Claudia?¡± ¡°I am Claudia, how can I help?¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to speak to someone within your facility.¡± ¡°Do you have an appointment?¡± ¡°No, but he lives there and doesn¡¯t know I am here to visit.¡± There was a ten-second pause. ¡°What is the person''s name?¡± ¡°Steven Trotter.¡± Another pause. ¡°Steven is currently engaged.¡± ¡°I can wait.¡± The pauses grew longer each time. ¡°Steven will speak to you remotely. Please visit the cabin.¡± Ben was apprehensive about going back into the small blue cabin. It¡¯s where he met Dave and all this madness began. He had to speak to someone who was on the ¡°inside¡±. Wayne had offered no details. The blue cabin stood short and stocky, its red door welcoming him into its belly. He sat at the desk and the monitor hummed then flashed. There he was. Ste. He was dressed in a simple red tracksuit and his ginger hair bounced as he sat down. ¡°Ste!¡± ¡°Hello, Ben, great to see you!¡± Ben smirked, ¡°Ok, mate, no need to lie,¡± he winked. ¡°I don¡¯t lie, Ben.¡± ¡°I was kidding, mate. Look, what¡¯s happening inside there?¡± ¡°What do you mean, Ben?¡± ¡°Inside SS9, what¡¯s going on?¡± Ste shrugged. ¡°Well, I am enjoying myself so far.¡± ¡°What¡¯s it like?¡± ¡°It¡¯s fantastic. Before coming here I was under a world of stress. My finances were a disaster and I lost my job due to cutbacks.¡± Ben narrowed his eyes. He¡¯d never experienced Ste talking about his personal life so freely before. He was used to Ste¡¯s stoic one-liners. ¡°Right.¡± ¡°Why are you visiting me?¡± ¡°I wanted to check how my old neighbour was, we didn¡¯t get much of a chance to say goodbye.¡± Ste nodded. ¡°Understandable. As I said, I am doing fantastic. It¡¯s great to have meaningful work to do for sure.¡± ¡°Meaningful work? Wouldn¡¯t that be more in line with the things you were doing on your house?¡± Ste cocked his head. ¡°I don¡¯t need a house, too much stress. SS9 provides me with excellent ac-acco-accommodation.¡± ¡°You ok?¡± ¡°Looks like a connection issue.¡± Said Ste. ¡°Why don¡¯t you come out, we can pop to the pub or something.¡± ¡°I¡¯m much too busy, I have a date later.¡± ¡°Like, with a woman?¡± ¡°Yes with a woman.¡± Ste offered up the sourest of smiles. ¡°Surely you can come out for five minutes.¡± ¡°Why are you so intent on having me come out, Ben?¡± ¡°Are you allowed to leave, Ste?¡± ¡°What?¡± Ben leaned forward and spoke in a hushed voice, ¡°Just blink fast or something if they don¡¯t let you out.¡± Ste shook his head, ¡°You¡¯re making me feel uncomfortable here, Ben.¡± ¡°I am? You¡¯re the one who won¡¯t come out. Seems a bit fishy right?¡± ¡°A bit fishy that I am busy?¡± ¡°Everything. You loved that house, you worked on it all your life, right?¡± ¡°When I had a life, Ben. After the divorce, it was all for nothing. Now I am back to the way I used to be. Happy.¡± ¡°Happy in a prison?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a prison, Ben.¡± ¡°Then prove it, come out.¡± Ste shook his head. The screen went black. Then a new face appeared. One Ben did not recognise. ¡°Hello, Benjamin.¡± Ben recognised that grey voice though. ¡°Andrew?¡± ¡°In the flesh¡­so to speak.¡± He had thin wiry lips that resisted any kind of smile. His hair was jet back and slicked, while his eyes were as cold and grey as his voice. ¡°I was speaking to, Ste.¡± ¡°He pushed the disconnected button and reported the conversation as distressing, it¡¯s why I am here.¡± ¡°Seriously?¡± ¡°As serious as can be. It¡¯s a breach of the communication act to cause distress over the phone or video calls you know?¡± ¡°Oh, so I will be arrested for asking questions?¡± ¡°That isn¡¯t our goal here at SS9, Mr Yeoman.¡± ¡°What is your goal?¡± ¡°Did you not read your brochure?¡± ¡°Looked like a load of nonsense to me.¡± ¡°Are you enjoying the care packages?¡± Ben shook his head, ¡°You¡¯re dodging the questions, Andrew.¡± ¡°Ah. What we do here is provide a place for those who have become lost in the world. We are an excellent scheme and our success has prompted the construction of many facilities.¡± ¡°How many?¡± Ben met Andrew''s sharp gaze with his. ¡°Currently, two thousand four hundred.¡± Ben¡¯s heart sank, ¡°This is madness, how can that be needed? It¡¯s more than prisons! It¡¯s bonkers!¡± Andrew was motionless and bar his lips when he spoke. ¡°Ben, we cannot keep supplying you with care packages and free internet hours while you¡¯re outside of the facility. Why don¡¯t you come and join us?¡± ¡°Join you lot? In your prison? You spy on me!¡± ¡°We simply keep an eye out for you. We are here to help.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want your help.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a choice you¡¯ll regret. I¡¯ll always be here, waiting until the day you change your mind.¡± Ben opened his mouth to respond but the screen went black. He stood up quickly and walked around to the screen to fumble with the buttons. ¡°Come back!¡± he banged on the monitor screen, ¡°Come back!¡±