Part 6 (1/2)
”Now arriving, Department of Love! Please stand clear of the closing doors!”
Becker held on to the pole as the train started up again and continued on its loop around The Seems. Because of the late hour, most of the pa.s.sengers were already on their commute home, but Becker's day had just begun.
”Now arriving, the Olfactory! Please apply nose plugs and stand clear of the closing doors!”
”As if nose plugs would stop that smell . . .”
A rider next to him was gripping one of the hanging straps, eyes red and drooping from a long day on the job.
”How'd it go today?” asked Becker.
”Basic Reality Check, hit the W and make sure green is green, red is red, E still equals MC2.”
”That must be an awesome job.”
”Ahh, 'nother day, 'nother dollar. How 'bout you?”
Becker thought about telling him about his Mission, but he didn't want to b.u.m him out at the end of his s.h.i.+ft.
”Same ol', same ol'. World needs its goods and services.”
”They got it good over there, don't they?”
”Tell me about it.”
”Now arriving, the Jitney! Transfer for service to Here, There, Everywhere, Alphabet City, and Crestview.11 Please stand clear of the closing doors!” Please stand clear of the closing doors!”
”Catch you on the Flip Side,” said the Reality Checker, as he headed home for the evening.
”On the Flip Side.”
Becker peered out the window, trying to stop his hands from shaking. The Big Building was all lit up at the center of the loop, and he couldn't help but wonder what was being planned that very moment. For the sake of his Mission, he hoped it was something good.
”Now arriving, Department of Sleep! Please keep your voice down and stand clear of the closing doors!”
”Simly Alomonus Frye, Briefer #356, reporting for duty, sir!”
Before Becker had even stepped onto the platform, a tall, lanky Seemsian in his mid-twenties was standing at full salute.12 ”At ease, Simly,” said Becker to his Briefer. ”I know who you are.”
The two had been at the IFR together, and though they hung out in different circles, everyone knew Simly Frye. While most Candidates spent their off time chilling in the Game Room or on the Nature Trail, Simly was a staple at the Library, constantly studying up on some arcane Tool or following a poor Instructor around the halls, begging for details about this Mission or that. Truth be told, you might not want to hang out with him on a Sat.u.r.day night, but you couldn't ask for a more capable Briefer.
”What on earth are you wearing, dude?”
Becker wasn't referring to Simly's c.o.ke-bottle gla.s.ses- which made his eyes look like a bug's-but to the a.s.sortments of gadgets, devices, and other random tchotchkes that were strapped all over his body.
”The latest in Fixer technology, sir. And a few cla.s.sics from back in the Day. For example, check out this-”
Becker stopped him before he could start.
”Forget I asked.”
They hopped on the escalator and began ramping up to Sleep.
”Can you believe this, sir? You and me? A Glitch?” Simly was a bundle of nerves. ”There hasn't been a Glitch in The Seems since the Day That Time Stood Still and the Fixer who-”
”I know what happened.”
”Yes, sir. Of course you do.”
At the top of the escalator was a sprawling factory, with an elegant courtyard situated out front. Trees and benches were laid out geometrically, giant Night Lights cast a gentle glow, and in the middle, a granite sculpture celebrated the Department of Sleep's famed insignia: a single closed eye.
”Cool. I've never been to this department before,” admitted Simly.
”I've only been here a couple of times myself,” seconded Becker, ”but those were on Field Trips-never on a Mission.”
They stopped to read a quotation that was engraved beneath the sculpted eye:
Now, blessings light on him that first invented sleep! It covers a man all over, thoughts and all, like a cloak; it is meat for the hungry, drink for the thirsty, heat for the cold, and cold for the hot. It is the current coin that purchases all the pleasures of the world cheap, and the balance that sets the king and the shepherd, the fool and the wise man, even.
-Miguel de Cervantes, 1605 W.T.14 ”Who's that guy?” asked Simly, far more versed in Seemsian literature than that of The World.
”He's this dude from Spain who wrote a book called Don Quixote. Don Quixote. I read it in my Best Books Ever cla.s.s. Well, at least I read the I read it in my Best Books Ever cla.s.s. Well, at least I read the Cliff Cliff ' 's Notes.”
Simly was impressed.
Becker radioed in. ”Drane to Central Command, come in, over?”
His orange Receiver was back in working order, the short circuits repaired from the Portuguese rainstorm.
”We read you, Fixer Drane.”
”I have Briefer acquisition and we are ready to proceed.”
”Understood. Permission granted to enter department.”
Almost immediately a silent alarm sounded, and the industrial-sized doors to Sleep began to slide apart.
Central s.h.i.+pping, Department of Sleep, The Seems ”Thank the Plan you're here!”
From the observation deck above, a small man in a Department of Sleep hard hat came trundling down the stairs. He was the Foreman of Central s.h.i.+pping, and he'd been anxiously waiting for them.