Alone Again Or | Page 3

economy was in bad shape when Syd had been born; his parents didn't become middle class until Syd was seventeen.
Syd's brother and mother had been in a separate car as was customary; they were biologically related to the grandmother.?
"How does a car move?" Syd had said. He knew cars were machines, but they never needed to be plugged in, and this confused him.
"This car uses gasoline."
Syd ran his fingers along the metal strip under the glass of the passenger window.
"What's gasoline?"
"Gasoline is a chemical they make in factories. Your uncle Tommy worked in one for a while until his lungs burned out on him."
"How do they make gasoline?"
"From different dead things. The city garbage, food that goes bad and isn't recycled into other things, dead pets, and dead people whose families can't afford a real funeral."
"Not Grandma though, right Dad?" Syd had said, confident in that his father would say the right words. He sat back in the car's roomy seat which he imagined must be similar to the seats on the airplanes that streaked through the sky over the city sometimes.
"You know we don't have much money," his father had said, "after the funeral showing she'll go to the factory."
Syd had puked all over the floor of the car, and his father had to give the rental agency one hundred extra dollars when he returned it.?
Syd hoped he wouldn't have to buy a car.?
Not because of that early memory, he thought, but because I don't have anywhere to park cars.
On his breastbone above the dark blue oxford shirt sat a blank circle necklace. It signified that he believed in The Circular Faith; that all religions were true and led to spiritual enlightenment.?
Syd didn't believe this to be true, but showing up anywhere public without a necklace on had caused him to be constantly lectured by missionaries from all faiths. It was easier for him in Steeple City to wear a necklace, even if it was a lie. He wondered what religion his wife would have.?
The sidewalk was experimental, a yellow plastic based sidewalk, instead of the ceramic type in use over most of the city. Syd kicked a dandelion that had managed to grow in-between a building and the sidewalk. As it skidded into the road he saw that it had yellow plastic in its roots and he laughed.?
I don't think you're going to get past the proto-type phase at all, he thought.?
I like the color yellow for the sidewalk though, he thought to himself. The roads are boring and black. When the spaires-machine dust is expelled its green powder would undulate and circle over the yellow and black.?
He watched it every time he was awake late enough for the expulsion.?
Which lately, he thought, has been pretty fucking often.
The agency was a short train ride closer to the center of the city. Far enough away from anyplace dangerous to need many guards, but not so close to the center of the city that The Mayor had to pay much in land tax.?
The man sat Syd down in a small office on the twelfth floor. The air had the stale smell of a Spaires Machine, and the furniture was brown and designed to look like fabric. When Syd sat down heavily in the chair across from the man's desk he discovered the chair was ceramic. The desk was nothing but metal, shiny, buffed, and intimidating.
Behind the desk the man wore no necklace of faith. His eyes were brown, and his teeth were yellowed. He wore black glasses with thick rims, which Syd noticed were crooked.?
But Syd like the man's smile from across the desk. It's a trusting sort of smile, Syd thought.?
His stomach had not been well since he entered The Agency building. Everyone knew what a straight would go to The Agency for, and he felt all of the secretaries stared at him.?
"So what kind of appearance are you going for?" the man said, still smiling with his hands folded on the desk.
Syd tapped his fingers on the desk. He hadn't given that much thought.?
"I want a smart girl, one with taste in the arts and that can form her own opinion."
The man behind the desk leaned back in his chair and put his wingtip shoes up on the desk. He raised his folded hand pyramid under his chin and looked at Syd in mock matronly pride.
"Oh, you want a smart, nice girl. She can look like anything, right? Yeah, you guys all say that. Especially the ones that come in at this time in the morning."
Syd did not say anything. The night hours were for recreation in the home, with families or friends. They were not for roaming the streets or for work, unless you were poor.?
"Come on friend, don't you know anything about The Agency? We spend