Free Medusa: A Tiger by the Tail by Jack L. Chalker Page A

assigned to the Guild. Now, don’t get your hopes up. You’re coming in rather awkwardly—considering your age and experience, or lack of it. You don’t quite fit. Nor do your tests really indicate a direction or focus. That means you’re in the right Guild for your ambitions, but at the lowest level. We can’t put you in school—you’re too old for the integrated program and too young for advanced training. Therefore, it has been decided that you will be given a position—we call them slots—at the lowest level of the Guild, as well as administered self-study computer courses in a number of areas to allow you some preparation for the future.”
    I nodded seriously. The rating wasn’t as good as it could have been, but it was more than enough to start.
    “The lowest levels require hard, unpleasant, boring work,” he warned. “But you will be observed and, if you do well both at work and in your courses, you will be advanced accordingly. Whether you are advanced to pilot or driver training, or to some other area, will depend on your work habits, diligence, your supervisor’s ratings, and how well you integrate yourself into our system. Understand?”
    “Ah, yes, sir. Um … how old do you have to be to enter pilot’s school?”
    He smiled. “The minimum age is sixteen, the average age eighteen. The program is “one year, then there’s an additional year of in-service apprentice work before you can be considered for full licensing.”
    I nodded. Still, while trying to convince the man that I was more than eager to work my way up and please everybody for the next two years, the back of my mind said “two years” in a far different tone. Two years was a long, long time….

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    Workin’ on the Railroad

     
    The next day I was given a small card that bore a number and a symbol on the front and had a series of dots of some magnetic material on the back. The symbol was a bolt of lightning flanked by two solid black lines—rails, it seemed. The symbol of the Transportation Guild. True to their word at the initial briefing, I also received a set of tailored uniforms in my size. They were in the satiny red color of the Guild and bore the same symbol on the pocket. A small suitcase contained some basic toiletries, including, I found, a razor, something I wouldn’t need for a while. Also included was a pair of red rubber-soled shoes, just to improve footing on the smooth floors and sidewalks of the city.
    The card contained my name, new address, Guild, work assignment, and various control numbers. It was even my bankbook. The Central Bank of Gray Basin held an account in my name. Every time I wanted to pay for something I had to stick my card in the appropriate slot and the amount would automatically be deducted from my account. I was impressed. Pretty much like home, although my bank stake was only a hundred units.
    The basic currency was the unit—work unit, I assumed—which was broken into a hundred smaller divisions called bits. A pretty standard decimal system. Things must be fairly cheap.
    Beyond that I received some insincere “good lucks” from Gorn and Sugra and some far more sincere ones from my eight comrades, now all turned, or acclimated, to the Warden organism. I picked up a bus-route map of the city that told me how to get to where I had to be, and that was it. Clutching my small overnight case, I was out the door and on the streets of the big city.
    Once temperature was no longer a problem, the city seemed much like those domed cities I’d been in on several other worlds. Factories and such were easy to spot by their design, but mostly because their exhaust vents went straight up to the illuminated ceiling and on through it. With temperatures fairly well equalized inside and out, there was no problem with frost, although occasional ice crystals floated in the air. Curiously, my breath did not show in the cold. I wondered just what the hell that bug had made us into, since I was