Pink Slip Prophet (3 page)

“Hey, little man!” Ian whispered to Jack. He put his arm around the boy’s thin frame and pulled him into him. “Why so glum?”

Jack tapped something on his screen, then turned away from Ian with a jerk of his shoulder. “No, nothing.” He added in a mumble that was barely perceptible over the din of Candy and Larry’s laughing, “…even remembers…”

Ian smiled. “What’s that game we’re going to play tonight? What’s the name again?”

Jack whipped around, his face a study in joy. “Star Invaders. I thought you forgot!”

“Why don’t you get it ready?”

“So, Ian,” Larry said in a projected voice from the kitchen, “what are your plans now that, you know, you lost your job?”

Ian closed his eyes, mortified.
Here comes the inevitable Candy overreaction.

“What!” Candy screamed, her voice reverberating off the cement walls.

Ian saw in his mind’s eye the familiar look of outraged shock on her face: the open mouth, the bulging eyes, the selfish attitude of entitlement.

“What does he mean, you lost your job?”

Jack trotted back into the living room, the virtual reality goggles and gaming controllers piled against his chest. A look of worry distorted his face. “Can we still play?” he whispered.

“Of course,” Ian said with a certainty he didn’t feel. His stomach clenched up.
I hate this. And I wish Jack didn’t have to see it.
“Let’s play in your room. I’ll be along in a minute.” He stood up and faced Candy across the breakfast bar.

“You lost,” Candy said with exaggerated facial movements, “your job?” She turned to Larry. “Really?” She stood too close to him and her arm was around his lower back.

“Larry fired me,” Ian said.

“Well, I’m sure he had a good reason,” Candy said, still looking at Larry.

“I saved that baby girl today,” Ian said.

Candy stared at him open-mouthed.

“Larry fired me and apparently took the credit himself. Yeah, he’s a great guy, that Uncle Larry.”

Ian stared at Larry. Larry stared back at him, his eyes narrow slits of hurt, envy and defiance.

“Larry saved that baby,” Stacy said from Larry’s other side. “It was on the news.”

Larry laughed. “You know good old Ian and his delusions of grandeur.” He stared straight at Ian. “Just like when we were back in college, Candy, you remember? He thought he could be a robotics scientist.” Larry guffawed. “Ian. A scientist! And then, of course, you got pregnant and he did the right thing. Reality bashed those delusions of grandeur.”

He turned to Stacy and put his arm around her, his hand resting on the top of her exposed butt cheek. “I like your dad, darling. I hated to have to let him go. But between the damages and the automation—”

“I just rerouted the train,” Ian said.

“What are we going to do?” Candy asked.

“Oh, I can lend you some money until you get on the basic income,” Larry said.

“Oh, right, I heard about that at school,” Stacy said. “Great idea, Uncle Larry.” She patted his hand and smiled up at him.

Ian raged. He stood up and faced Larry, eye to eye. “Get your hand off my daughter’s ass. Now.”

Larry eyes seemed to recede deeper into his head but he didn’t break their eye contact.

“Daddy, it’s no big deal, it’s just Uncle Larry. He doesn’t—”

Ian turned to Stacy. “Get to your room! And put some clothes on already. You’re sixteen!”

Larry pulled Stacy tighter into his side and she giggled.

“What’s this basic income?” Candy asked Larry in a whisper.

Jack came around the corner of the hallway and into the living room. He carried the gaming goggles and controllers. “Dad, can we play now?” The look of expectant hurt on the boy’s face crushed Ian’s heart.

Ian closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t want to let the boy down again. The only one with any hope of turning out right. The one who most took after him. But the frustration, the betrayal, the sense of worthlessness overcame him. “I can’t right now. I have to get some air.” Ian stormed out of the apartment over the sounds of Candy and Stacy giggling.

Ian pushed through the door to his apartment and opened the fridge. It was short, with a small freezer on top so he had to bend way down in order to see into it. A cockroach popped out of a half-open Chinese food container. Ian jumped back and slammed the door.

There are four of them. I work all day. She doesn’t even work. Why? Why can’t one of them keep decent house? If not for me then at least for Jack.

He thought about Jack and that hurt face of his.
I really screwed up.

Michael came out of his room off the kitchen and stopped short when he saw Ian blocking his only way out.

“You get a job yet, Dad?” Michael asked. His hands fidgeted below his waist and a nervous smile crossed his face. “Never thought I’d be asking you that question, huh?”

Ian narrowed his eyes. He studied the boy. Nineteen, his first-born son, and still at home. No job prospects, never excelled at education. Not even a girlfriend.
I know he’s doing drugs. What do I do with this kid?
“Nothing yet, what—”

“See, Dad? It’s not that easy to get a job today! You had a good job so you could judge me, but not anymore!” Michael sniffed.

I should have been home more often. I should have given him more of my time. Is this my fault? No, it can’t be. I did my job. I brought home the money. I worked. I paid for everything. I let Candy take charge of— Maybe that was my mistake.
“Nothing worth doing is easy, son.”

“Fuck you and your psalms, or whatever those are,” Michael said. “I’m going out.” He took a step towards Ian.

Ian stepped into his path. This was his chance, maybe his last chance, to get Michael onto the right track, to start fixing their relationship. To whip the lazy whiner into shape. “You’re not going out, not until we figure this out.”

“Forget it, Dad, there’s nothing to figure out. You’re an asshole and I’m a lazy whiner, right? I know that’s what you think of me. You can’t deny it!”

A door opened behind him and Ian heard undersized, traipsing footsteps headed in his direction. “Dad,” Jack yelled, “can we play now?”

Ian crossed his arms. “Michael, tell me, what do you do around the house? Do you cook? Clean? Do you help pay for groceries? What exactly do you contribute to this household?”

Michael’s face contorted into an expression of hurt and outrage. “How dare you? I’m your child. I’m your responsibility. You have to take care of me. You…”

Ian smiled thinly. “You’re not a child anymore, Michael. You’re—”

“Anyway, I’m getting the basic income now. I guess now that you lost your job you’ll want to mooch some of that off of me, huh? Well it’s only two-thousand a month. And I need that for my car and my gaming career and other basics. So—”

Great. I produced a parasite.
Ian swallowed as he carefully selected his words.
Screw it.
“You can’t live in my house and be on welfare. It’s that simple. We’re Blakes. We work for a living.”

Michael’s face visibly relaxed. “I signed up last night. I was the first one in our neighborhood. Starting next week, I’ll get two-thousand dollars per month, every month, for the rest of my life. If you’re smart, you’ll do the same thing.” He pushed past Ian and strode out the door.

***

“I win! You lose!” Jack yelled at his father and then collapsed into giggling. “Why did you do that?”

Ian shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I… just have my mind somewhere else, I guess.”

Jack jammed his hand into Ian’s ribs and started scratching around with a smile on his face.

“I’m really not in the mood for tickling, buddy,” Ian said.
I’m about in the mood to jump off a bridge.

Jack sat back, crestfallen. He was silent for a moment, then spoke up, “Dad, there’s this new game—”

Ian studied his youngest son’s gorgeous face. Out of all of them, he was the only one who looked like his dad: a pleasantly-rounded face, brown hair, blue eyes.
If only I could buy him everything he ever wanted, I would. Over and over again
. “I can’t do it, not right now. I just lost my job.”

Jack looked down. “It’s only three dollars. I mean, if you get a chance.”

“After I get a new job, okay? It shouldn’t be long.”

The boy’s face darkened. “It’s okay, Dad. I can wait.” He got up and walked towards his room.

Ian’s heart sank. He leaned back into the overworn couch, the mid-morning sun warming his shoulders. He sighed, then sighed again, this time more violently.
It won’t hurt to look at it, to just investigate it.
He closed his eyes, laid his head back and allowed the top of his head to be warmed. His thoughts drifted to college. Everything was better then - before he knew Candy. His mind reeled at the idea.
My family is everything I have. I have to stick this through
. He yawned.
There is something I am missing. I feel like I am asleep and I need to wake up.
He slapped his cheek, gently at first, then hard. But it made no difference.

Ian pulled his mobile screen out of his back pocket and unfolded it until it was the size of a legal pad. He typed in ‘basic income’ and a video instantly played.

“With forty percent employment and the growing robotization of industry—”

Ian skipped ahead with a jerk of his finger.

“The national basic income guarantee is available to all United States residents, citizen or not, over the age of majority: fourteen. Every individual receives the same amount. No labor is required in exchange for your basic income, which is your right as a sovereign human being and American national.”

Ian rolled his eyes. A sense of deep shame erupted in him. Free money? Government money? It offended him at a root level. An image popped into his mind. His German grandfather, in suspenders and a beat-up old hat, plowing his land with a team of horses. The old man was ninety-three then.

The video continued. “You only need visit your local basic income office with proof of residency, valid voter registration card and submit to a toxicology screen. A DNA sample is also required.”

He clicked away. A video ad occupied his entire screen. A man in a top hat and monocle popped into existence. “It’s the First Annual Basic Income Robotics Challenge! All you budding robotics wantrepreneurs, here is your chance! Prepare a personal service robot prototype by June 1, demonstrate it for us here at the Basic Income Administration and the winner takes home one million dollars in startup funding! It’s that easy! Sponsored by the Basic Income Administration, we make dreams come true. Full details at basic income dot gov slash robotics. Government employees ineligible for prizes. Some conditions apply.”

Jack ran around the corner into the living room. “Dad, that’s perfect for you! That’s just what you need! Let’s do it, Dad! Come on!”

Ian smiled at his son’s enthusiasm. “I’m too old for such things. Better the prize money go to a young person. Maybe you’d like to do it.”

“I don’t know anything about robots! I’m only nine!” Jack yelled.

“I’m just too old to start something new. I had my chance. I chose to start a family and now I have to live with that decision,” Ian said.

***

Ian drifted up from a soft, lazy dream. A cool breeze wafted over him. He sat in the shade on a quiet beach. There was no one around, he was completely alone. He closed his eyes and smiled.

He opened his eyes. Jack’s grinning face greeted him. He lay on the couch, his mouth was dry and he had to go to the bathroom.

“It’s a family meeting, Dad,” Jack said. His face said it all: you’re in for it now.

Candy, Michael and Stacy stood behind the boy, their arms crossed and each with one foot tapping the floor.
Do they even realize?

“We found some jobs for you, Dad,” said Stacy. She was dressed this time, if that’s what you can call a bikini top and a mini pencil skirt.

“Yeah,” said Michael, “it’s time you shape up and take some responsibility.”

“We need money,” said Candy. “The kids have expenses: gaming, medication, trips, clothes, food, of course, and let’s not forget the rent!”

Ian rubbed his eyes and sat up.
It’s an ambush
. Deep within him, a sense of moral outrage grew.
You people only live because of my dedication, my intelligence.
But he quashed it.
They’re right. I have a responsibility to care for this family. She is my wife. These are my kids. I am the man. I have always provided. They need me.

Michael brought his screen out from behind his back. “Skyscraper window washer. It pays even more than you made before.” He regarded his father with a delicate smugness. It could be shattered at any moment.

Ian fought to clear the brain fog of an afternoon nap.
I should never sleep during the day.
He felt a panic to get up, to do something. But do what? “Skyscraper window washer. The outside of the windows or the inside?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “The outside, of course!”

“Even on the top floor?” Ian asked. He imagined himself hanging from the top of the Prudential building, the wind in his hair, the sun warming him above. It might not be too bad.

“All the floors,” Michael said.

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” Ian asked.

“But it pays well, Daddy,” Stacy said. “We need the money.”

“They’re going to throw us out on the street!” Candy screamed. She looked at the ceiling, then down to Ian, then back to the ceiling. “I mean, it’s money. What do we do without money? We have nothing!”

Michael touched her arm. “It’s okay, Mom. Dad will do the right thing. He always does.” He turned to Jack and punched him gently in the arm. “Isn’t that right, kiddo?”

Ian looked at Jack. He felt for him.
The youngest of this pack of wolves? And he has to actually spend time with them. What will he say?
Ian felt calm, cool, his mind empty for once. It felt good. It was all good, no matter what happened. As long as his Jack was okay.

Jack’s face darkened. “I’m not okay with it. Dad could die! What would we do without him? I need a dad more than I need new video games.” Jack looked at his siblings and mother. Their faces were blank. “You don’t even care!”