Hot Water Cold

CHAPTERS

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One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Nineteen.

Twenty.

Twenty-one.

Twenty-two.

Twenty-three.

Twenty-four.

Twenty-five.

Twenty-six.

Twenty-seven.

Twenty-eight.

Twenty-nine.

Thirty.

Thirty-one.

Thirty-two.

Thirty-three.

Thirty-four.

Thirty-five.

Thirty-six.

Thirty-seven.

Thirty-eight.

Thirty-nine.

Forty.

After.

Also by.

One.

The alarm sounded early.  Little metal hammer on equally-little bells.  The sound bright and loud and—

Cutting—

Vibrant.

Then—

Then the sound slowly fading to nothing.  A hum – a tiny metallic hum as the bells settled and the hammer settled and then–

Nothing.

Gilbert looked at the alarm – early.  Always early.  Before the sun, before the rest of the world, before—

Before any citizen should have to be up.  But—

But the water—

Water.

It was the water – had to get the—

Hot.  Water. 

A finite resource growing ever-more so.  Nevermore finite than first thing in the morning, when everybody—

File a complaint – go to maintenance and—

That’ll fix—

That—

Shook his head.

It wouldn’t.  It—

He rose, glanced at the alarm.

Not a dream, not a—

The urge to enjoy a shower of hot water overriding the urge for sleep.  The—

And it didn’t even need to be hot – warm would do.  Even a dribble of warm was–

Really, as long as it wasn’t cold—

Up and out in the dark in the pre-dawn time to the lavatory.  Across linoleum floor – same linoleum in every National Housing Unit.

Linoleum – easy cleaning.  Efficient.

An Efficient People Is A Virtuous People

The lights came on with the switch, but came low – the dim not yet ended.  Still, he needed no light to hear footsteps overhead.  Or below.  Or next.  Neighbors all around – neighbors.  Their alarms dragging them awake for water.  Their feet on the same floor as his.  Then—

Quickly – had to act quick.

Naked, in the shower – only showers – eyed mold.  Tile.  Crumbling grout.  Disrepair – all of it.  Cleanliness and efficiency virtues – no mention of repair.

Make a complaint.

Turning the nozzle, the dial, passed the ‘C’ toward the ‘H’ and—

Cold water.

Not hot – not even warm.

Cold.

At best a trickle of warmth – a momentary trickle.  A momentary trickle of warmth hidden inside an endless dribble of cold.

A moment of warmth and—

And then cold, but not just cold–

Frigidity. 

In less-than an instant, testicles shrunk to raisins, undetectable. 

A Clean Man Is A Healthy Man

printed on the tile – in the tile.  Painted under the glaze, for permanence.  Same as in all NHUs.  Impossible to forget.

A Clean People Is A Healthy People

Gilbert did not read the words – no need.  Knew them by heart.  Gazed upon them so many times they were imprinted on his eyes.  Imprinted on his brain.  Standing in the cold water a moment longer just to read that again?

Madness.

A clean man is a healthy man, he recited from memory, hurriedly scrubbing, determined to finish before the shivers took him.  A clean people is a healthy people.

Hair, short and wiry, full of suds, rinsing in the cold.  Then rinsing the rest – face, chest, arms, legs, body.  Doing it quickly.

Only—

Only there was something – something not there before.  On his shoulder, where it met his neck.  A—

A nub – a growth. 

Just over the top of his shoulder and on his back and out of sight. 

Just—

The feel of it brought his rinsing to a halt.  Water coming down,  Cold coming with it.  Showering him while he just stood there.

He touched it – the nub, whatever it was.  Fingertips going numb in the cold but feeling it just the same.  Analyzing it.

Questioning—

Goose pimple?  Just a—

And it was cold – he was cold.  Goose pimples?  In this water?  There were plenty of goose pimples.  Up his arms, across his shoulder.  There were—

But—

But this one was different.  Taller.  Insistent.

A pimple then – that’s all.

Excised the ‘goose’ from it, made it what it was–

A pimple.

Stepped out of the shower, determined to rid himself of it.

A pimple.

Dried roughly, then turned his back to the mirror, looking for it – the pimple.  But it was hidden in the dark – in the dim.

Only–

Only, the dim ended then.  The lights coming up.  Zipped up and burned bright.  The daily duty of conservation at an end.

The Ministry Of Electrification Commends Your Service

The disembodied voice – the announcement.  Coming through the windows.  Under the doors.  Up from the drains.  Timed with the brightening.  The blimps circling the city and reminding – always circling, always reminding—

The Ministry Of Electrification Commends Your Service

Gilbert did not listen.  Only focused on the nub – the pimple.  Tried to see it, but even after the dim—

Could not.

Up there where his shoulder met his neck.  Just around the back, just out of sight.  But—

Don’t need to see it.  So—

Felt around and put fingers to it.  Pressed one on either side, pressed hard.  Squeezed like it mattered.  But nothing.

Just as our glorious leader, Gilbert muttered, mindlessly, then remembered himself – such things were not done.

Not said.

Criticism punishable by—

Squeezed again, but no matter the effort – squeezed nearly so hard and so long he thought his fingers might fuse together, tip to tip over the top – it would not give.  It refused.

In the medicine chest – a needle.  The mirror broken in two and repaired with clear tape.  Hinges squealing when opened.  The needle within.

In hand, he reached to prick it.  To reach up where his neck met his shoulder and rid himself of it – whatever it was.  But—

But then the light went out.

Not as with the dim, when every light went...dim.  No, it was only this light, this one light.  Localized to the socket over the sink in the lavatory of unit 72 on the 12th floor of Municipal Flat Block 18A Linear North, named for the Glorious Leader General Coolidge, who fought so valiantly for central autonomy in the Battle of—

Out – the light went out.

To the kitchen, wrapped in but a towel, shivering, to find a bulb.  Poked about under the sink, for the box issued at the New Year.  Yearly rations—

Making The World Last By Making

It’s Things Last.

The box full and new then, empty now.  A requisition form stuffed within – three of them.  Dated differently for each—

Taken for the greater good. 

In the name of the people.

Taken for somebody who would not conserve.

Dimly, Gilbert studied the requisition form–

Approved by R.L. Hadley, Ministry of Maintenance, Flatblock 18A Linear North

–then set it aside.

Instead, found a flashlight – under the sink and all the way in the back and forgotten.  Shook it to life and then went back to the lavatory.  Back to the needle.

Light in one hand, needle in the other, he located the nub best he could.  Could not see where it was, only where it was not.  Poked it enough it wept blood – a few drops, at most.  No satisfying pop, no oozing of pus—

Only tiny tears of blood staining his fingers.  Drops on the ends of them and–

Washed them, under the faucet and–

Cold water – why is it always cold?

Make a complaint – maintenance will do–

What?

Something.

Considered the notion.

Hadley – see Hadley.

I will, he finally said, out loud, for no other reason than to hear the words voiced.  I–

Two.

Gilbert knocked at the door.  Down the hall and down the lift and down another hall to Hadley’s door–

–he knew it was Hadley’s door because it said so on the door–

R.L. Hadley – Maintenance

–and knocked before he could lose his nerve.

Lost Nerve?  Constant.

Mr. Hadley? he called and knocked again.  Three times quick.  Emphatic.  Mr. Hadley?

Hadley’s flat was on the third floor—

Live Where You Work

Maintain Your Own Home

–both Ministry of Maintenance policies.

Down the end of the hall, near the stairs.  The farthest from the lift – the lift and the noise of the lift.  The rumble, rattle and–

It’s where I’d–

Knocked again.

Mr. Hadley?

The door opened then – the locks sounding, chains thrown back and–

A squat, narrow-eyed man stood there.  Slovenly.  Hair a mess.  Unshaven.  Uniform stained – the uniform mostly blue, though brown in places.  Coffee.  Gravy.  Grease.

Hadley? Gilbert said.  Surprised by the man he faced.  Are–

The other man looked at him.  Inscrutable.

What do you want? he said.

Gilbert sputtered.

I’m...I’m...

The other man waited.

"Are you...are you Hadley? Gilbert said, at the silence.  This is–"

He looked at the door, the name–

R.L. Hadley

–was obviously the place.

I’m...

The other man only looked at him – looked at him while Gilbert looked back.  Studied the uniform, the crossed hammer and screwdriver on his left breast – the Ministry of Maintenance logo – and the stitching below it–

R.L. Hadley

Are you Hadley? Gilbert said.  Then, "You’re Hadley.

The other man said nothing.  Only stood there with those narrow eyes.

Mister...uh...Mister Hadley?

Hadley sniffed.

What do you want?

Gilbert gave a thin smile.  Satisfied, if minimally.

"I’m...my name is...I’m Smith."

Hadley nodded.

Well, I have a...I have a complaint, he said.

Hadley said nothing.  Did not nod.  Did not move.  Only stood there with those eyes.

"Smith – I’m Smith, Gilbert said again.  Gilbert Smith."

Hadley said nothing.

Unnerving – the way he–

Flat 72, Gilbert said.  I have a...uh...complaint.

Hadley said nothing.

Why won’t you–

It’s...uh...it’s the water, Gilbert said.  In my–

He waved vaguely in the other direction.

The water – it’s always..., Gilbert said, "cold."

Hadley said nothing. 

Mr. Hadley? Gilbert said.  It’s the water.

Hadley said nothing.  Remained completely passive.

Mr. Hadley, can you...can you hear me? Gilbert said.  Mister...

Hadley scratched his chin – it was as much answer as he would give.  For a moment, Gilbert brightened.

As I was saying – it’s the water, he said.  Is there...is there any way...can’t we have hot water?  In my flat?

Hadley did not say.  Only ceased scratching his chin.

"Mr. Hadley, is there anything–"

Hadley scratched again, then–

The repair will be made in—

The repair? Gilbert said.  I don’t think you–

–will be made in–

"No, I don’t need a repair," Gilbert said. 

Hadley stopped speaking.

It’s not...it’s not anything is broken, Gilbert said.  "It’s there’s not...enough."

He looked at Hadley, waited for recognition – none came.

Water, Gilbert said.  Not enough hot–

Nothing – Hadley gave nothing.

When I shower, there’s no..., Gilbert said, voice faltering.  "Can’t we...can’t we just have...more?"

Hadley said nothing.

Hot water? Gilbert said.  "Mr. Hadley?  Hot...water?"

Hadley said nothing.

"Even warm water? Gilbert said.  Even a little will be–"

Hadley said nothing – now Gilbert scratched his head.

Mr. Hadley – I asked you a question?

You are not authorized to question–

"I’m not questioning, Gilbert said, rushing the words out, self-consciously laughing with him.  I’m—"

He knew all about questioning.

"I’m only asking if there is...is there..., he said, is there some form I can complete?  Some request?"

He waved a hand in front of him, as if a wheel was spinning in front of his chest.  It made no sense what he meant with it, but he did it just the same.

For the water?

Hadley said nothing.  Only scratched his head.  Perhaps pondering.  Perhaps only a twitch.

A form? Gilbert finally said.  Is there–?

Hadley went on scratching – digging and digging and digging – but finally turned away and disappeared into his flat again.  Neither closed the door to Gilbert, nor invited him in.  Merely pointed across the threshold outside the door and told Gilbert to, wait there, then disappeared within.

But though not invited in, Gilbert could see in and–

And he expected Hadley’s flat to be...better.  Cleaner.  Better–

Maintained.

That’s what he does – maintenance.

So it should–

But it was not.

Here.

Hadley returned and held a form across the space between he and Gilbert – a Ministry form.  Gilbert looked at it – crumpled.  As if Hadley’d slept on it. 

Here, Hadley said. 

Not helpful  in tone – demanding. 

Gilbert took it, looked at what he held.

Requisition

it said, across the top.  Several sheets of paper, all the same, fixed together at the top, sheets of carbon paper between them.

No, I don’t think you understand, Gilbert said.  "I don’t want to requisition hot water–"

File your request for any repairs or requisitions with–

No, I–

File your request–

Gilbert sighed.

Hadley stopped, returned to merely looking at him.

Unnerving–

Gilbert looked at the form.  Eyes glancing across the printed lines–

Name

Housing Assignment

Class Assignment

Describe the nature of your request...

Ministry of Maintenance logo across the top – the crossed hammer and screwdriver.

Will this get water?

File–

Where, Mr. Hadley? Gilbert said.  "Where do I file—?"

File all originals with the Ministry of Maintenance–

The original – the white copy.  The top copy. 

–in person between the hours of–

Gilbert looked at his timepiece–

Do I have–

The fuchsia copy is filed with the local director of maintenance–

That’s...that’s you? Gilbert said.  "You are–"

Hadley pointed to a slot in the wall aside his door– 

Requisitions

was printed on the wall above it.  Only–

Only the slot was covered over with a metal plate and a sticker promising repairs some months in the future.

Hadley’s signature on the sticker.

And the goldenrod copy remains in the possession of the party making the request.

Gilbert looked through the forms again.

Goldenrod.

With me? he said.  I—

Hadley said nothing, merely closed his door.

Good day.

Gilbert looked at his timepiece again.

Is there time to–

Three.

The train was tight.  Men packed in, front-to-side-to-back, little room to move.  Or breathe.

Idly, Gilbert checked his timepiece. Struggled his arm up to see it.

Have to be quick – have to–

Stuffed against other citizens in their Ministry uniforms, off to work.  To unstuff themselves from the train and stuff themselves into buildings and cubicles and offices and–

Working Together For The Good Of All!

On board, jostling.  Elbows touching.  Pushing, battling–

Yet—

Courtesy Is Contagious

painted on both walls.  Along the car, along the wall above the windows.  From end to end.

Courtesy is Contagious.  Courtesy is—

Repeated, repeated, repeated.  Along both walls and across both ends.

—is Contagious.  Courtesy is—

Around and around, a never-ending loop – reminding them–

Working Together For The Good Of All!

Except—

Except one was scratched and touched up–

Courtly is Anus

Gilbert eyed it. 

Courtly is Anus

What does that—?

The Central Ministry did not approve of graffiti.

Did not approve of free expression.

Did not–

Citizens Seeking Individualized Comment       Must File A Requ–

Yet—

And yet—

There it was.

Strange.

Courtly is Anus

Could not fathom the meaning.  Tried to fathom it – could not.

Let his mind wander instead.  Fleeting images.  School.  The country.  Youth – the time before the old divisions gave way to the new.  The new geography, the new Republic.  Visiting the sea.  On