USERS A Novel by Larry Thomas

Larry has been working on this novel for a few years now, however, he found himself immersed in one project or another, and devoted time to his writings only sporadically.

He is now continuing with the writing process, and wanted to share a few excerpts from his novel with you. Each and every month, a new part will be submitted here for your reading enjoyment. Take a look!

I poured myself a gin on the rocks, Gordon's. I prefer Bombay Sapphire but I wouldn't pour it over ice. That would dilute it. I drink Gordon's when I can't afford Bombay Sapphire, this month it was Gordon's. I climbed in to bed, pulled the nice cool sheets up over my legs and took the first sip.

Looking around for the TV remote I took the second sip. Just then I was startled back in to reality by the sound of the phone ringing. It was then that I truly realized the dilemma I was in. Should I take the third sip or answer the phone. In between rings I weighed my options. What if it was an immediate job? It usually was. What is the point of no return? Is it the third sip? I had already taken two and didn't really feel anything. I knew if I chose to take the call I would have to abort my gin-induced reverie before it even started.

I put down the gin and answered the phone. The voice on the other end was mechanical, of course, so cursing at it would have been futile. "Screw you!" I said. It felt good anyway. The programmers like their sleep. When a user's terminal goes on the fritz it triggers an automatic mechanism and the call goes out to a technician. That's where I come in. I'm a technician. The programmers want those computers fixed immediately. God forbid a user wouldn't have his terminal working and he'd get an original thought. That would be too dangerous. The programmers created the system so that the users could never think for themselves. That was the whole point. It works out well for me I guess, job security. I mean Let's face it, those damn greedy programmers will always need technicians.

So like my father and his father before him I jump in my car whenever those bastards call and fix the problem. We don't make much money but at least we can think for ourselves. I wouldn't want to be under their mind control like the users. Lately I've been pondering the world my grandfather once told me about, when, before the programmers, everyone had the ability to think their own thoughts.

"Even then," he would say, "most people didn't." But it was physically possible, that's what gets to me...well...lately anyway. I never used to think about such things. I mean, who cares about the loser users. But lately I've been thinking about them quite often. Must have been a pretty lively place, all those bodies walking around with minds that could think anything anytime. I guess that's what made it so dangerous. Nowadays the users just come and go as their terminals tell them, indirectly by the programmers of course. It keeps society pretty safe, I guess. And that's the whole point.

I drove along Mulholland drive and stopped, for some odd reason, at a point over looking the valley. Why couldn't I get my mind off the past? I kept thinking about all those people with minds just clicking away, thinking whatever the hell they pleased. Then one of those fleeting breezes went through my noggin': "Get back to work or you'll get docked and the system will skip you next time around!"

I knocked on the door and she opened it. God, was she beautiful. Hair so red I could swear it was gonna burst into flame. Dark, yet bright green eyes, like a forest, the one you can't see for the trees. Red lips, real red (not like the color of the hair) like cherry red. What a shame it was all attached to just another user. I said, "Hi, I'm Ben Thomas,

I'm the technician." I don't know why I bothered with the pleasantries. She already knew why I was here and didn't have that instinct of fear which would make her question if I was who I said I was. And yet if I didn't know better I would swear I saw some kind of recognition, some kind of response behind those eyes, those beautiful green eyes.

Of course it was just wishful thinking 'cause of that face. I guess some men are just born to appreciate beautiful women in a special way. So that you never get used to them. So that it always amazes you just a little. But not users of course. That's the shame. This gorgeous creature is wasted on her own kind. We walked to the terminal and she sat and stared blankly in my direction as I opened it up. It was simple enough to diagnose. The fan stopped working. Some of the other components burned up and needed replacing. Suddenly I got the feeling I was being watched, not a feeling you get when you are alone with a user. I turned back quickly and for split second I could swear she was watching what I was doing. Not just staring in my direction but actually watching me, with some purpose in her eyes, those electric green eyes. I looked at the blank stare that was there now trying to decide whether or not I saw what I thought I saw. Is it just wishful thinking?

Wanting this perfect face to show interest in me and what I'm doing for her? Some gratitude maybe? Truth be told it's been a while. Is it my libido running my senses? It wouldn't be the first time that's happened, and I wouldn't be the first man that's happened to, at least not the first non-user man. I wondered how the programmers deal with their urges. Are they satisfied immediately in their world? I thought again about the world of the past. All those people running around, libidos raging, must have been a mess at times, must have been one heck of a party. What leader was it that first had the idea to control the masses through their computer terminals? My grandfather told me about crime in those days. There was a lot of it he said.

Imagine the incredible fear that all the crime would instill in people. Now the only crime is in the fact that the users don't get to think. Whoa! Why did that run through my mind? I've never really thought it was wrong that they couldn't think. For some reason something down deep in my conscience just flared up at that one. Why should they have the right to think for themselves? Maybe they should, I don't really know. How often am I grateful that I can think what I want when I want? I'm also grateful to have the right to get drunk enough to shut off that thinking. Well, the users are fed and housed and provided for. They do all the work for the programmers. My grandfather said they once called the ones that were like the programmers, nerds.

They'd actually get pushed around by the physically stronger ones. Now the physically strong users get to entertain the programmers by fighting each other or by playing ball (whichever sport they're programmed to play). I understand they used to have live people entertain by acting out stories. Now they just create computer images to do that. They used to have computer images play the sports as well but the programmers got bored. They wanted to see live creatures getting hurt and feeling pain. I guess I've got no reason to have animosity against the programmers. They pay me. I have it pretty good. Maybe it's that they're so damn secretive. You figure they must be up to something. But they run the users pretty smoothly. I'm grateful for that.

After all, the users are a bunch of idiots. Always clogging up traffic on the roads and the lines in stores. In fact I suspect that every time I want to do something or need to be somewhere there's always a pack of users in my way. I think that might be the only instinct that they have: To know when Ben Thomas needs to do something or be somewhere so they can all crowd in and get in my way. But the programmers keep them from causing any major trouble (aside from getting in my way). Although I do sometimes wonder if it's right (don't tell my friends) to control the minds of a whole race of people. What would the users be like if they weren't under mind control? Is it right? Society runs nicely and peacefully but is it right? What if they controlled our minds? There aren't many of us (technicians) and we have a pretty good time. Controlling the users keeps them in line but they represent eighty percent of
society. So who's around to enjoy it. Us? Truth be told, and I think I can speak for most techs, we could use a little excitement. Of course my friends think I'm crazy to question things.

Yeah, who cares. I have to watch what I say out loud. You don't want to get in trouble with the programmers. They don't like questions. Again I think: Why the secrecy? Makes it seem like they think they're doing something wrong. Good thing most users don't look like this one. I'll bet then that all the techs would start thinking more about them. Damn! She was giving me that look again. Like she cares in some way what I'm thinking. How could she even know what thinking is. I'm telling you there was a question there...a spark. I looked deeply into her eyes...it was gone. Did I drink more gin than I thought?