Free World-Mart by Leigh Lane Page A

Edgar’s family moved to District 89148.  “Go figure,” George said, breathing a nostalgic sigh.
    Back when George and Edgar were friends, adults were still allowed to drive fuel-efficient cars, public schools all taught the same curriculum, there w ere no such thing s as deviants.  People were more relaxed, and the world seemed to have just a little more color to it.  The weather could still be forecasted, even if it was already changing all over the globe.
    George gave Edgar a weak smile.  “How have you been?”
     Edgar shrugged.  “I think Police-Corp owns about half of my assets, and I’m about to be charged with a third offense, but other than that, life has been good and boring.”
    George nodded, not wanting to know any further details.  He felt bad, but Edgar just didn’t belong to his social group.  Mart employees worked where they did because of their intelligence level and social standing.  Like deviants, many of them didn’t go to church or even pay their tithing.  They wore their clothes several times before washing them, and most couldn’t afford to clean their water recyclers more than once or twice a year.  As a result, they often smelled less than desirable.  George wondered if he was in any danger of catching some type of louse.
    “I work for Law-Corp,” George said, hoping Edgar might get the hint.
    “You and your wife should come over for dinner sometime,” Edgar said with a smile, misconstruing George’s message to be nothing more than a pretentious boast.  “My wife makes the most amazing no-cook faux apple pie.”
    George looked down.  “My wife just died.”
    “Oh . . . I’m sorry.”
    George didn’t respond.  He moved to the bars as two officers appeared from the far end of the corridor.  “Number sixty-three,” one of them called.
    Edgar perked up as if he had just won a raffle.  “Right here!”
    The officers unlocked the cell and escorted him away.
    “Excuse me!” George called after them.  “Is there any way anyone could check up on my case?  George Irwin?  I should have been processed by now, I think, and—”
    “We’ll look into it,” one of the officers yelled back right before they disappeared into the brightly lit hall.
    George began to pace, feeling impatient.  He was glad to have the entire cell to himself, although Edgar’s absence did nothing for the nauseating smell of the place.  After only a few minutes, George returned to the bars and looked as far as he could down the corridor.  “Hello?” he called.
    “What the hell are you trying to do?” hissed a young deviant in the cell across the way.  “If you agitate them, they’ll only keep you here longer!”
    “And you know this from personal experience?” George asked.
    The deviant shrugged.  “Whatever, man.  Scream like an idiot and see where it gets you.  We all could use the entertainment.”
    A few others snickered as George retreated to the back of the cell, face flush ed , and he returned to his seat without another word.  He knew there was a process that every case had to go through, and paperwork could only be pushed so fast through the many desks it had to clear.  He wondered what his file looked like.  There were likely statements from both William and Judith, as well as from any of the neighbors who might possibly have seen or heard something worth mentioning.  There would be a printout of the pictures he was shown as well as his signed confession.  He wondered what his computer questionnaire would look like, and he pictured it in his mind’s eye:
          
    Did the Defendant confess to his/her crime(s)?
(Research associate #02007-841 said “Yes.”)
Click HERE to agree. 
Click HERE to disagree.
     
Does the paperwork indicate that the Defendant showed remorse for said crime(s)?
(Research associate #02007-841 said “Yes.”)
Click HERE to agree. 
Click HERE to disagree.
 
Does the paperwork indicate that the Defendant could have made a profit by