{"id":9270,"date":"2015-07-15T06:00:18","date_gmt":"2015-07-15T11:00:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/?p=9270"},"modified":"2015-07-15T06:00:18","modified_gmt":"2015-07-15T11:00:18","slug":"rest-us-bottoms","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/?p=9270","title":{"rendered":"The Rest of Us: Bottoms Up"},"content":{"rendered":"

This short story takes place in the world of my planned dystopian science fiction novel <\/em>The Rest of Us.<\/em><\/p>\n

The glassware clattered as another rocket launched. My father, sitting at the head of the large oak table, steadied his wine glass and then lifted it up as if that had been his plan all along.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo a new future,\u201d he said, yelling over the roar of the nearby launch. \u201cBottoms up.\u201d<\/p>\n

We drank. My mom, father, and brother-in-law drank wine from a dark, dusty bottle. I, along with my six-months-pregnant older sister, drank iced tea. The noise of the rocket faded. My father smacked his lips and sat his glass back down next to the bone-white China, the finest plate he had ever seen.<\/p>\n

He picked up his fork and knife, sawed a chunk of his filet mignon and chewed on it heartily. He motioned at me with his fork. \u201cI\u2019m telling you, Jacob, that I would give anything to be a young man, right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

My mom patted him on the hand. \u201cNow, Darryl, don\u2019t go pressuring the boy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat pressure?\u201d My dad motioned to the dining room all around us. \u201cThere is no pressure. Not anymore. A man can be anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the distance, another rocket launched, far enough away that we barely felt it. My dad mocked waving at the sky. \u201cGood riddance to them. Nothing but a bunch of snobby pricks, always looking down on the little guy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark, my brother-in-law chirped in. \u201cThe bastards can look down on us all they want from Mars. As long as they are out of my hair.\u201d<\/p>\n

My dad pointed at Mark, smiling. \u201cSee, Mark gets it. The world has been reset. This is the best thing that could have happened to us. Look where we are living!\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked around the formal dining room. It was almost as big as our entire apartment. Place settings for my entire family didn\u2019t even make a dent in the well-stocked China cabinet. I had no doubt that its contents cost more than my dad made in a year.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave you heard anything about the factory?\u201d my mom asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNancy, why do you gotta bring up work at dinnertime?\u201d My dad turned back to his plate. He speared a piece of asparagus. \u201cNo. I haven\u2019t heard anything yet. We\u2019re taking a little break, letting the rats flee the boat, and then\u2014then, we are gonna open it up our way.\u201d<\/p>\n

My dad worked at the General Motors plant, building vehicles. At least he did before the Exodus. That\u2019s what the politicians had called it. The environment was too far gone to be repaired. Scientists had success building colonies on Mars. A plan was made. The human race would set up a satellite location on Mars. Perhaps the Earth could sustain life with the decreased population. If not, the species would survive.<\/p>\n

The selection process had been about as fair as you would expect. In the end, the rich got their rides. The rest of us got left behind to deal with the mess. Over the course of a couple of years, plans were made, launch pads were erected in parks near rich neighborhoods and protected by mercenaries. In the last week, five percent of the population had been relocated. You were welcome to go, as long as you were the right five percent.<\/p>\n

\u201cI tell ya what, though,\u201d dad pointed at me again. \u201cThat factory is small potatoes compared to what you are going to have. Want to be a lawyer? Doctor? Engineer? They\u2019ve got more openings than the schools can fill.\u201d<\/p>\n

I slouched in my chair. Despite the expensive food in front of me, I had lost my appetite. \u201cMaybe I don\u2019t want to be anything of those things.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t want to be any of those things?\u201d My dad wiped his mouth on a silk napkin and then slammed it down on the table. \u201cAre you kidding me? What do you want to be?\u201d<\/p>\n

My mom intervened again. \u201cNow, Darryl\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. No \u2018now Darryl\u2019s.’ I want to know what sort of future my son is going to have, now that he has the pick of the litter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I mumbled.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t know? You got a chance right now to be anything, and you don\u2019t know?\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark shook his head in disbelief, agreeing with my dad, as always. My sister Alice kept quiet, patting the top of her swollen belly. I looked to my mom for support, but there was none there. Everyone looked at me, waiting for me to decide my future profession. I was to decide my role in the new world over dinner.<\/p>\n

I was saved by a loud knock on the front door and a loud, booming voice. \u201cHello? Anyone home?\u201d<\/p>\n

My dad\u2019s eyes went wide. He grabbed his shotgun from where he had left it leaning on the China cabinet. He motioned for Mark to get his as well. They were both seated again, loaded weapons in their laps by the time the police officer entered the room.<\/p>\n

The man was young. His blonde hair was cut close to his skull. He wore a crisp blue uniform accented by a tarnished badge. His right hand rested upon the grip of the handgun that peeked out of his shiny leather holster. His belt and uniform looked brand new.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry to bother you all,\u201d he said with a deep, resonating voice. \u201cI see I\u2019m interrupting dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n

My father smiled. \u201cCan we help you, officer?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I hope so.\u201d The officer picked up my silver soup spoon and admired it. \u201cI\u2019m one of your local law enforcement officers, and I\u2019m here today to talk to you about protection.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cProtection?\u201d my dad asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave you been out there the last couple of days?\u201d The officer hooked his thumb towards the door. \u201cThe gangs are already banding together. You ought to see some of the weapons. They\u2019re going house-to-house with pick-up trucks. They\u2019re stealing money, jewelry\u2014\u201c He motioned to my mom and sister. \u201c\u2014women.\u201d<\/p>\n

The officer picked up my filet with his bare hands. He took a bite. \u201cYou don\u2019t mind, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shook my head.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is good shit,\u201d he said. \u201cNow, my department and I can offer you protection for a small fee.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark scoffed. \u201cYou\u2019re the police. Aren\u2019t we already paying you?\u201d<\/p>\n

The officer shrugged. \u201cThe city pays us, but it appears that the politicians and city lawyers cleaned out the accounts when they hopped aboard their rockets. Who knows when I might get an actual paycheck, again?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry to hear your troubles officer,\u201d my dad said. \u201cBut they are hardly ours.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not so sure about that,\u201d the officer said. \u201cBut you are welcome to try the same line on the gangs. Without our help, they\u2019ll be here any day, now.\u201d<\/p>\n

My sister winced as the baby moved in her stomach. Mark grabbed her hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like you are going to need help pretty soon,\u201d the officer said. \u201cAren\u2019t many doctors left, and they won\u2019t be going anywhere without an escort.\u201d<\/p>\n

Mark bit his lip. He seemed to shake. \u201cHow much do you need?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot everything. Just enough\u201d The officer peeked in the China cabinet, he opened it up and removed a crystal wine glass. He ran a finger around the rim of the glass, producing a hollow tone.<\/p>\n

My father sat his shotgun down on the floor and stood up. He took his wallet out of his back pocket and looked through it. \u201cI\u2019ve got around a hundred and fifty on me, right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

The officer smirked. \u201cI think our ideas of \u2018enough\u2019 are a bit different.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all I\u2019ve got.\u201d<\/p>\n

The officer pointed to the candelabra in the center of the table. \u201cThat real silver?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2014I think so,\u201d my mom stammered.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want that?\u201d my dad asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt would be a good start.\u201d The officer smiled. \u201cIt\u2019s not like it\u2019s yours anyway. Right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Dad winced at the accusation. My mom struggled, but blew out the candles. She held it out to the officer in her small, shaking hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think this will do nicely.\u201d The officer looked over the silver, a smile stretching across his face. \u201cTell you what, pour me a glass of that wine, and we\u2019ll consider our business finished for today.\u201d<\/p>\n

My dad picked up the wine bottle. Another rocket launched nearby. The crystal glass shook and wine spilled upon the perfect white table cloth.<\/p>\n

The officer picked up the glass and winked. \u201cBottom\u2019s up.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This short story takes place in the world of my planned dystopian science fiction novel The Rest of Us. The glassware clattered as another rocket launched. My father, sitting at the head of the large oak table, steadied his wine glass and then lifted it up as if that had been his plan all along. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":8,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[289,1004],"class_list":["post-9270","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-dining-room","tag-short-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9270","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/8"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=9270"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9270\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=9270"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=9270"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.confabulatorcafe.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=9270"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}