Right on Time

Lewis only needs to get through a job interview. Unfortunately, his civic participation score has other ideas.

By R. D. Kerr

The Bee Network was running on time.

Lewis checked the board as the bus pulled into the interchange and discovered that it was, in fact, thirty seconds early. It was the first thing that had gone right that morning.

His interview shoes had started hurting somewhere around Pendleton. There was a stain on his tie he was reasonably certain hadn't been there when he left the house.

The CV wasn't doing much better. A crease ran straight through his name. He'd uploaded the bloody thing twice already, but his father had always insisted you took a paper copy to an interview.

Across the road, two Civic officers were arresting a Grey.

Lewis noticed because everybody else was trying not to.

The man had been sleeping beside the interchange for weeks. Lewis recognised the coat and the two carrier bags tucked against the wall. One officer brought the man’s wrists together behind his back while the other opened the rear doors of an unmarked van.

“I’ve done nothing. Ask them. I haven’t done anything.”

The pedestrian light remained red. Lewis watched it with everyone else, waiting for the little green figure to appear.

The man shouted again. The bag went over his head.

Nobody moved until the crossing changed.

The woman beside Lewis stepped into the road. “Cockroach.”

Lewis followed her without looking back.

Greys didn’t happen for nothing. You had to go quite a long way before the state actually revoked you.

That was what people said.

Above the interchange, a government poster showed a smiling family holding their phones towards the camera.

CITIZENSHIP MEANS SOMETHING.

Lewis checked his watch. Eleven minutes.

The bus, at least, had been bang on time.                                                                       *

“Code, please.”

Lewis opened the Government wallet on his phone and held up the QR code.

The security guard scanned it. The little screen between them changed colour. He looked down, then up.

“You’re Amber.”

“Apparently.”

The guard glanced at him. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

He waited, still holding the scanner.

Lewis sighed. “My participation dropped.”

“Ah.” He looked at the screen again. “You’ve not declared either.”

“No.”

“Anything?”

Lewis shook his head.

The guard scrolled further down the screen. “Why?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Election was six months ago.”

“I know.”

Lewis nodded towards the barrier. “Can I go through?”

“Amber's fine.” The guard released it. “Fourth floor.”

“Cheers, fella.”

Lewis headed towards the lifts.

“Wouldn’t leave it too long, though.”

He looked back, but the guard was already scanning the woman behind him.

Someone had taped a notice beside the lift buttons.

FRIDAY: MACMILLAN COFFEE MORNING

CAKES WELCOME.

Lewis pressed four.

                                                                      *

Helen was easy to talk to. That made things worse.

Lewis had prepared for someone from Human Resources to read questions from a screen and write down keywords whenever he said things like leadership or resilience. Instead, Helen asked him what had gone wrong at his previous warehouse.

“Everything.”

She laughed. “Anything more specific?”

“The software.”

“You worked in IT.”

“I know.”

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“They designed it without asking the warehouse staff how the warehouse worked.”

Helen stopped writing.

“Management said the staff were resistant to change. Staff said management were idiots. Both sides spent three months proving their case.”

Helen put her pen down. “So what did you do?”

“Asked the forklift drivers.”

“What did they say?”

“That management were idiots.”

Helen laughed again. For the first time that morning, Lewis forgot about his shoes.

Behind her, a television ran silently on the office wall.

HOUSING BILL RETURNED TO COMMITTEE AFTER ENGAGEMENT FALLS BELOW REQUIRED THRESHOLD.

The picture showed Parliament. Beneath it, yesterday’s public-support figure had been replaced by today’s.

MINISTER: “THE PUBLIC HAVE SPOKEN.”

Lewis remembered yesterday’s figure.

Apparently the public had changed its mind.

For thirty-eight minutes, the interview went extremely well.

Then Helen turned another page.

“Oh.”

Lewis knew.

“Amber?”

She looked up. “Yes.”

“It’s recent.”

“Eighteen per cent participation?”

“I don’t use social media much.”

“You don’t need to post.”

“I know.”

“Likes count.”

“I know.”

“Verified petitions?”

“I know.”

She scrolled. “And you’re Undeclared.”

“Yes.”

Helen sat back. “That’s going to be difficult.”

“I thought political discrimination was illegal.”

“It is.”

“Right.”

“We can’t refuse employment because of your political alignment.”

“Good.”

“You haven’t declared one.”

Lewis looked at her.

“That can’t seriously be different.”

“Legally?”

“Yes.”

“Apparently it is.”

A chant rose from the street below.

Helen glanced towards the window, and Lewis followed her gaze.

They came around the corner in rows, dressed alike despite the weather: black shirts tucked into black shorts, flags held upright above them. Police walked along either side.

“National Renewal?” Lewis asked.

Helen nodded.

“Thought they were marching Saturday.”

“Engagement vote changed it.”

The procession reached the junction as the lights changed.

They stopped.

A yellow number 36 crossed in front of them, followed by another Bee Network bus travelling in the opposite direction. Both passed without interruption.

When the lights changed again, the march continued.

Lewis watched them disappear behind the next building.

“You have to admit,” he said, “the buses are better.”

Helen laughed despite herself.

His phone vibrated.

CIVIC CONFIDENCE UPDATE.

His score had fallen two points.

FAILURE TO PARTICIPATE IN TWO OR MORE VERIFIED DEMOCRATIC EVENTS.

STATUS: AMBER.

Lewis read it again.

“What comes after Amber?”

Helen stopped smiling.

“Review.”

“I know that. What comes after review?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“The review.”

Lewis put the phone on the table. “Helen.”

She glanced towards the glass door.

“Grey.”

“They don’t make people Grey for low participation.”

“No.”

“Right.”

“My brother went Grey.”

Lewis looked at her.

“He got points on his licence,” Helen said. “Then fines. He lost his job and couldn’t pay them. Lost the flat after that. Two Civic appointments went to his old address.”

“And?”

“They recorded the missed appointments as non-compliance. There were other things after that.”

“What things?”

Helen rubbed her thumb along the edge of the tablet.

“I don’t know all of them.”

Lewis thought of the man at the interchange.

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know.”

Lewis left it there.

The television changed to business news.

TECH FIRM AWARDED £843M CIVIC VERIFICATION CONTRACT.

The company’s chairman appeared outside a restaurant. The caption explained that he and the Civic Secretary denied any conflict of interest arising from their longstanding friendship. Their recent holiday together had been private, and neither man recalled discussing the contract.

Then came illegal working.

ILLEGAL EMPLOYMENT AMONG GREYS REACHES RECORD HIGH.

Footage showed police clearing tents from beneath a railway bridge. An officer dragged a sleeping bag across the wet pavement while its owner followed behind.

“They’re not allowed to work,” Lewis said.

“I know.”

The television moved on to the weather.

Helen turned the tablet towards him.

“There is something you can do.”

A government page occupied the screen.

IMPROVE YOUR CIVIC CONFIDENCE.

DECLARE CIVIC ALIGNMENT.

PARTICIPATE IN VERIFIED DEMOCRATIC DISCUSSION.

SUPPORT AN APPROVED CIVIC CAMPAIGN.

COMPLETE CITIZENSHIP ENGAGEMENT MODULE.

Lewis tapped the first option. Several coloured boxes appeared.

“No.”

“You haven’t opened them.”

“I’ve seen them before.”

“Pick the closest.”

“There isn’t one.”

“There must be.”

“I agree with different ones about different things.”

“So does everybody.”

“Then what’s the point?”

Helen hesitated. “Your score would start recovering immediately.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

“No.”

Lewis pushed the tablet back towards her.

“What if I don’t believe any of them?”

“You don’t have to.”

Lewis stared at her. “What?”

“You don’t have to agree with all of it.”

“I’m declaring that I do.”

“Not exactly.”

“It says DECLARE.”

Helen lowered her voice. “Lewis, I’m trying to get you through HR.”

“You want me just to pick something.”

“I would.”

“You have.”

Helen didn’t answer.

Beyond the window, the march had gone. People were crossing the street again, carrying shopping, looking at phones and waiting for buses.

“I can hold the vacancy until tomorrow,” Helen said.

“You’d do that?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to employ you.”

Helen stood and opened the door.

“Think about it.”

                                                                  *

The security guard scanned Lewis again on the way out.

Amber.

“Still there,” he said.

“Yeah.”

Outside, the street had already been cleaned after the march. A council worker was peeling a black leaflet from beneath a bench while another emptied the bin beside him.

Lewis walked towards the interchange.

The place where the Grey man had slept was empty. The carrier bags had gone.

For weeks Lewis had walked past him without knowing his name.

He’d known he was Grey.

Apparently that had been enough.

A yellow bus pulled into the interchange.

On time.

Lewis climbed upstairs and sat beside the window.

The Civic app was still open.

DECLARE CIVIC ALIGNMENT.

There were things in the first option he agreed with. The second had things he agreed with too. The third contained something he couldn’t imagine supporting, followed immediately by two things that seemed perfectly reasonable.

None of them was his.

DECLARING YOUR CIVIC ALIGNMENT MAY IMMEDIATELY IMPROVE YOUR CIVIC CONFIDENCE.

Lewis thought about the job. About Helen saying she wanted to employ him, about a brother she couldn’t find and a man whose name he’d never bothered to learn.

He opened Helen’s email.

Thanks again for today. I really hope we can make this work.

Lewis pressed Reply.

Which one’s safest?

He stared at the question, then sent it.

Three dots appeared, disappeared, then returned.

This week? Green.

Lewis returned to the Civic app.

The green option waited beneath his thumb.

He rested his thumb against the screen without pressing.

The bus reached the next stop.

Right on time.