Reality Matrix Effect (9781310151330) by Laura Remson Mitchell Read Free Book Online

said Barnard, “my ol’ man, he went
through that retraining. Seven or eight years ago, I think it was.
He was a construction engineer, but he didn’t like it anymore.
Wanted ta do somethin’ completely different. So he went ta th’
employment service an’ found out they needed chemistry teachers at
a small college near here. He went back ta school an’ wound up
teachin’ there. He’s department head, now. I was aroun’ 18
then—maybe 19. Or was that the time my mother took the
training?  Can’t think real clear right now. Head’s startin’
ta hurt. Anyway, I remember we lived on trainin’ allotment checks
fer awhile.”
    “Your old man was lucky. Got himself a job
where he could order a bunch of students around. And now, some
other teachers, too. But what about the rest of us?  And how
about the job he left?  The construction engineer job? 
Some know-nothing spade or wetback takes the training and gets the
job. Suddenly, he’s respectable. He tells a bunch of robbies what
to do, same as I do.”
    “Come to think of it,” Barnard observed,
pursuing his earlier line of thought,” the creep that Aurora took
up with, I heard he used ta be with th’ Fleet. Navigator, I think.
He’s the one got Aurora ta quit and go learn how ta paint flowers
with ’im!”
    “Listen,” Wraggon resumed fervently, “don’t
you understand?  It all started because of the robots! 
The retraining program, screwing up the natural order of things—all
that stuff!  When you make a robot do what you say, it doesn’t
mean a thing. Robots don’t have a choice. The way they’re made,
they can’t disobey. I know that better than most. I run a plant
that makes those damn robbies!  But if you can get
another man to do what you say, then you have real power.
That means other people respect you, or they’re afraid of you.
    “Can’t you see?  If everybody’s a boss,
then nobody’s really a boss!  The robots have turned us all
into nobodies!”
    Barnard stifled a belch. The morning binge
was obviously catching up with him. He looked miserable and
probably felt worse.
    “Uh, I don’t feel so good. I think I
better....”
    Barnard’s effort to rise from the barstool
and head for the men’s room ended unsuccessfully as he stumbled
against Wraggon and landed hard on the barroom floor.
    “Hey!” yelled the bartender. “If your friend
can’t hold his liquor better’n that, he ought to do his drinking at
home!  I want him outta here!”
    “He’s not my friend,”  Wraggon responded
in irritation. “You know he was already here when I came in. I
never saw him before today.”
    “Fine. Then I’ll just call the cops. They’ll
figure out what to do with him.”
    From the floor, a barely conscious Barnard
moaned:  “Please, buddy, help me out. The cops’ll turn me over
ta Fleet...pull my furlough.”
    Barnard mumbled a few more unintelligible
syllables before finally passing out.
    “Well?” the bartender barked.
    Wraggon looked with distaste at the heap on
the floor. That’s all he needed. A drunken spacer to baby-sit. But
at least Barnard was a man , not a machine. Besides, he
seemed interested in what Wraggon had to say. It had been a long
time since anyone had paid attention to Charlie Wraggon. No one
since his grandfather died, come to think of it. His parents
certainly didn’t take him seriously. They listened to him with
polite tolerance, the same way they used to listen to his
grandfather. This Barnard, though, might just turn out to be a
pretty good guy once he sobered up. And he was human. It was nice
to be able to talk to a human being for a change.
    “Oh, crap. All right. Well, you don’t have a
Trans-Mat pod here, and the nearest public one’s at least a block
away. I can’t drag him clear over there. Better call a taxi. I’ll
take him to my place.” 
    Wraggon continued to study Barnard’s inert
form. Now all he had to do was figure out how a 170-pound man could
get a drunken 230-pounder up