“Oh hi Dante. What’s happening?”
“Nothing much. I’m bored. Are you coming to see me tonight?”
“Sure thing girl. And I’m bringing something special.”
“Oooh. I can hardly wait. See you. Bye.”
“Love you too.”
As I put the phone down the doorbell rang. I walked over to the Sector. The life futuristic is a good thing. The sector is one of those things you just can’t do without nowadays, a voice and touch activated remote control to every part of the house. I wasn’t expecting anyone so I was a bit rattled. When I saw the thin smile on the smooth shaven face, the close cropped hair and very smart suit, I just knew it couldn’t be good. I flipped a switch and all my appliances were hidden from sight. My apartment looked like a regular student’s hostel with sparse furnishing and much clutter. Third year was not an easy task. I flipped another switch and the QSA (the government called them Quality and Standards Assessors, we called them Queer Snitching Assholes) could see me.
“Tosoye George?” he asked. I grunted.
“Tosoye Ethelbert George?” I winced at the middle name.
“Yeah, what do you want?”
“Oh just a routine check citizen.” I winced again at the term, but I let him in anyway. He frisked me.
“Hey hey hey,” I yelled “you ain’t harassing me in my own home man!”
“Very nice home if I may say.”
“Rather too nice, really.”
“Whaddya mean, too nice?” I wanted this guy out of my flat asap.
“Well you’re classified as a DC3 student (DC stands for dividend caste, by the way). You shouldn’t be able to afford a single resident’s flat. You should be in a six man apartment.”
“Is that why you’re checking me up?” I actually laughed while I told him a friend of mine who lived with his parents let me stay in his place. He frowned, so I offered to call my friend up.
“We know all about your friend. We also know you drive an H8M3 Overcraft. You couldn’t in eight years save up that much money. Your basic allowance only covers for public student’s transport.”
“Look,” I said, finally ticking over. “I honestly don’t have time for this. I’m meeting my girlfriend at eight, and I need to get spruced up.” I was really starting to hate this guy.
Silas Blake. That was the name on his lapel pin. I wished he would just leave. He just stood there watching me, the epitome of patience. I sighed and began to answer him.
“Okay see, I got the ride from my friend’s dad. He promised me one if I got direct admission into university. Then he told me to wait a couple years to see if my grades would hold up. They did, so first thing this year he called me and gave me the codes to my spunky new craft. Is that enough for you?”