Choose Wisely

William Sharpe handed the completed forms to the trooper outside the door. He fell in step behind the man. At least, he assumed it was a man. These days it was damn near impossible to tell with those full body suits and wraparound lasersights. Will was careful to remember the exact route they took through the long, painfully clean corridors – he had gotten this far through the screening process and an almost picture perfect memory was a big part of that. After passing three security checkpoints – the last staffed by an actual Gamesman – Will found himself in a sparsely furnished waiting room. He sat in the one chair against the wall. It faced a door across from the one he had entered. He wasn’t fooled by the meager seating options. The man outside had been a Gamesman, although of low rank, but it was still a big fucking deal. Some people never saw a Gamesman their entire lives, except on the vids - but everyone watched the vids.


OR


Henry moved to New York City to escape the incessant screaming as soon as he could scrap together enough money. He moved into a dingy one room flat with roaches and an overhead fluorescent that buzzed and flickered constantly. He couldn’t have been happier. Henry rarely left his flat and when he did it was only to go down to the factory where he worked packing sawdust and turning it into plywood. The job paid well enough and for some reason he always felt good among the stacks of wood that just sat there and made no sound at all – as wood should. He only occasionally heard the faintest of cries whispered when the wind blew just right. And Henry could live with that.