Chapter 2: Truu Finds the Time
The station was utterly state-of-the-art. A plush, ergonomic chair that locked into place in both the work and recreational settings. Finger keys built into the armrests, allowing seamless input without the dated nuisance of a keyboard. Large, high-resolution screens on both walls, bookended by crisp speakers. A mini-fridge perpetually stocked with Truu’s favorite seltzer.
All this luxury and technology masked the cell-like coziness of the room, a mere ten by ten cell, where the majority of Truu’s waking hours passed.
And Truu knew that the newness of the equipment was but one side of the coin. Young programmers were expected to pull very long hours- three and a half days per week, in Truu’s case- but as their stations were newly designed, they tended to be filled with the most newly-improved furniture and electronics. It was the height of comfort, but also the height of labor.
It was a Thursday morning, the last day of Truu’s grueling week, and the chair faced the work station. A triptych of screens displayed statistics, raw code, and the waste department’s visualization map. Truu was not typing, but thinking.
Over the past month, Truu had been on fire. Thanks to deft programming and creative problem solving, the sector had reduced man hours by seven per week. Three more were needed, and then Truu would reap the rewards: a reduction to a three-day workweek. Wednesdays, the day of half-employment, would be liberated. Truu would be one step closer to freedom.
Those last three hours of reduction were proving stubborn. Truu looked over the data again, started typing, and then deleted it; another false start. A clear mind would be better suited. That thought taking hold, Truu depressed a small lever protruding from the side of the chair, and the seat rotated 180 degrees, facing the recreation wall.
One large rectangular screen, flanked on each side by two smaller square screens, hummed to life. A few finger taps initiated a video call, and within seconds, Truu’s main screen was filled with the larger-than-life image of Eefoh.
“Truu! Thought you were working this time of day.”
“I am, or, at least, I was. Kinda got stuck,” Truu said.
“Trying to clear your noggin for the next push?” said Eefoh.
“Something like that.”
“You’re up for promotion soon, aren’t you? How many hours do you have left?”
“Just three. It’s a pain in the ass, though. So I thought I’d call, take my mind off it for a few.”
“Hey, anytime buddy. Honestly, I’m glad to hear from you. I thought we might be on the outs after last weekend.”
“Oh, c’mon Eef, I’m not gonna hold that against you. It’s a fucking sim, it isn’t real.”
“Hey, you were pretty pissed afterwards. You wouldn’t even take my calls.”
“That was just during the adjustment period,” said Truu. “You know how it is, takes a little bit to get centered again. I mean, you DID kill me, after all.”
“No, my character killed your character. It’s different.”
“…which is why I’m not mad at you.”
“Well, thanks for that,” said Eefoh. “So, you wanna tell me about the problem? Not like I know a damn thing about waste management.”
“Yeah, why not. I’m beginning to think it won’t be solved until we change the vehicles, though, and that could take a year.”
“Oh, come on, there’s gotta be a better way. Lay it on me.”
“Alright, so, there’s this sector- it’s about three full blocks in size- where they process farmed fish into food and other stuff. It’s classed pretty high, a pretty valuable industry, almost completely automated, so there aren’t any idle work-hours I can claim.”
“That was gonna be my first question,” said Eefoh, “Damn.”
“So the problem is, the containers they receive the fish in are too big for the class-four vehicles, but the way they designed the roads, class-three vehicles can’t get through them.”
“Too narrow?”
“Too narrow,” Truu nodded.
“Could you maybe switch the drop-off point to one of the larger streets?”
“Yeah, I tried that. Control shut it down, said it was too messy and resource-intensive. Something about the bots. I honestly only understood about twenty percent of it, but that twenty percent was that it was too complicated, and impossible to solve.”
“So could you modify the vehicles just a little bit, so the class-four will hold them?”
“No, tried that. It would be expensive, and it would create a ripple of problems for the other routes they use these vehicles to service,” Truu said.
“Huh, you’re right, that’s a stumper. It’s a shame they have to use such problematic containers. Maybe you should put in a complaint to food procurement, tell them they’re causing a bottleneck.”
“Sure, but that won’t help me, at least not for the three years those folks take to make any changes to their precious system.”
“Yeah, I know a few of the fish folks. They’re pretty snooty about their operation. You know how many labor hours fish procurement costs these days?”
“No, that’s not the sort of statistic I keep at the ready.”
“Zero,” said Eefoh. “Not a single one. Outside coordination, of course. That’s why they’re so proud of it. A sub-sector at peak efficiency.”
“And yet causing problems for all the rest of us,” Truu said. “Anyway, how are you enjoying your day off?”
“I won’t lie, it’s pretty great. I’m doing a v-hike in a few hours, then I’ll probably hit the match and have some dinner.”
“Ugh,” said Truu, “three more hours and I’ll have an extra day off, too.”
“Half day, though, right?”
“You know how it is Eef, might as well be a full day if you gotta work at all.”
“I hear that. You doing a sim this weekend?”
“Yeah, I think so. Might try something new, like a Victorian age or something.”
“You wanna go sibs? Promise I won’t kill you this time.”
“As though you can make that promise.” said Truu. “You know, I think I’m gonna do this one solo. Just to clear my mind, you know?”
“Truu, you sure you’re not holding a grudge?”
“It’s fine. Let’s just take a few weeks off from sibling sims, okay? Like, it’s not a big deal, but my most recent experience in the sim is of you stabbing me with a knife.”
“It was a letter opener, but I understand.”
“Let me ask you one thing, though: did they ever catch you?”
Eefoh smiled. “Nope. Just don’t ask what I did to your body afterwards.”
Truu chuckled mirthlessly. “Whatever. I’ll catch you soon.”
“Later.”
The line disconnected, and a pull of the lever sent the chair rotating in the opposite direction, back to the work wall.
Okay, focus, thought Truu. Can’t work the vehicle angle, can’t work the location. That just leaves the containers. But that would mean working with fish. Ah, what the hell, worst thing they can say is no.
A few finger-strokes pulled up a directory, then patched into a coordinator at fish procurement.
“Hey, got a problem in waste management, need your help,” said Truu. No wasted words; they were both working and efficiency was next to godliness.
“Hope I can,” said the voice on the other line. A note on the auxiliary screen identified them as Meero, a class-2 Junior Coordinator.
“Do your facilities in E-7 use any shipping packaging smaller than the six by four ALs?”
“Hang on a sec,” said Meero. “Yeah, but low quant. For mid- and long-distance aerial.”
“What size are they?” said Truu.
“Two by two.”
That would be perfect!
“Okay, we’ve got a bunch of the six-by-fours coming to E-5, about six hundred per day. Any chance I can get those swapped for the two by twos?”
“It’s possible. For how long?”
“Permanent,” said Truu.
There was a pause on the other side of the line.
“We’d have to readjust our procurement from metals. And swap a few of the delivery bots, but that part’s easy. It’ll be expensive, and adds net to the energy reqs. What would it save you?”
“Three and a half hours per week.”
“Hang on, let me run it,” said Meero. The line was silent for a full minute, though Truu could see Meero’s face looking intently at the screen, fingers tapping inputs. “Okay…it’s gonna take us about nine hours of lead time. it’s right on the gray line for the guidelines. I can run it up the chain, it might get approved.”
“So here’s the thing,” Truu said. “If this is approved, I meet quota and lose a half-day, personally.”
“Whoa!” Meero was visibly impressed by this.
“…so, if there’s anything you can do on your end…”
“Hmm…well, the way I see it, if you add in the time you’ll earn that makes it seven and a half net hours per week saved, right?”
“I mean, not exactly, I’m not sure we’re supposed to count that way.”
“An honest mistake, then. I make them all the time.” Meero smiled. “With that, it’s well within my discretionary parameters. We’ll make the change. Give it a week and a half, maybe two. I’ll have implementation details sent to you by Saturday.”
Truu looked at the side monitor to make more careful note of this coordinator’s name.
“Thanks, Meero. I owe you one.”
“Hey, pay it forward. And congrats!”
“Thanks again.”
The call terminated. Truu sat silently for a few seconds, and then let out an involuntary yell. It was done- within two weeks, Wednesdays would be another day of freedom.
Just three days per week left, Truu thought, and then I can enjoy my retirement!
(1602 words)
