State of Delivery

1

A thin layer of sun-glazed mist seeped through the broken slats of Arlo Wilson’s bedroom. The splintered door hung sad, softly creaking as the dust clotted its rotting veins. The wooden furniture also fell victim to the toxic air and so gifted the apartment an old dying smell. However, when dawn arose, it brought with it a new fragrance. For the first time in months, the morning air was sweet and wet and gave life to the dehydrated apartment. A cool soft wind swept in, hissing through the cracks. The familiar scent of autumn enveloped the place and it was this freshness of daybreak that woke Arlo just in time for work. He stirred, reaching for water with his clammy hands, unable to find his glass. He realised the time when he felt the sun gazing down on him; the sun never shone through the slats before he left for work. In a rush Arlo quickly donned his slacks and sweater and headed for the door. He doubled back on himself to get his keys, wallet and coat and then went for the door again, his hands slipping at the handle. He swung it open and bumped straight into little old Prim from next door.

In all his life Arlo Wilson was never late for anything, least of all his job. It was one of many stresses in his life he actively tried to avoid. The few people that knew Arlo, and few they were, would likely argue him to have some sort of medical condition relating to his obsession with punctuality. Arlo always made a special effort to leave with plenty of time should anything happen during his commute to work. After all he knew first-hand what the roads could be like and in any case, the buses were nearly always too full for him.
However it was on the first Tuesday of October 2082, when old Prim from the flat next door brought down his timely streak. Arlo stepped out from his flat into the familiar, dusty city air and bumped straight into little Prim, almost knocking her over.
“Oh Prim! I’m sorry are you okay?”
“Oh I’m fine; I’m fine, thank you Mr Wilson.” She assured Arlo as she swayed on her frail legs, clasping her little walking stick.
She was only a small woman, around 5’ tall and quite thin. Arlo had never dared to ask her age but would guess she was at least in her 70s. The wrinkles on her face were such that they bore their own shadows from the sun. It was hard to imagine that there was once the face of a young woman behind them. Despite this, her hair remained warm with autumn colour, with only grey streaks occasionally peeking out. She was a nice woman but wasn’t very healthy. She had doctors visit her every couple of days and presumably because of her illness, Prim was a decidedly slow talker, often losing thought mid-sentence. Arlo tried as best as he could to avoid speaking with her; but she had been his neighbor since he moved into the flat and their doors were only meters away, so they had gotten to know each other a little over the years. 
Prim’s breath was heavy as she spoke. “It’s a… funny thing I bump into you actually…” 
Can’t be that funny, Arlo thought, as he bit his lip impatiently, she was about to knock on his door. It was far from a random meeting.
“I was hoping to ask you about my rose.”
“Your rose?” Arlo asked, uninterested. 
“Yes… My rose…” Prim repeated, seemingly trying to remind herself. 
“I didn't know you had a rose Prim.” Arlo said trying to get the conversation moving.
“Mmm… yes. I did…” She said, scratching her head. “…and I was wond-“
I’m afraid I don’t know much about your rose Prim and I’m running late for work so I really should go.”
“Oh... Work?” She looked down the ground for a moment before looking back up at Arlo. “At- at the Factory?”
“Afraid so.” Arlo said looking at his watch as he shuffled around Prim. “I really must dash. Take care now.” He forced a smile and disappeared around the corner, leaving old little Prim alone on his doorstep.
Arlo didn’t waste the time to look back. He instead glanced at his watch again before breaking into an awkward run, rushing past the various characters of the city. He knew he had missed the first four buses but should be okay for the fifth, which should get him to work precisely on time, but it would be tight. If only old Prim didn’t talk so damn slow. 

Arlo’s commute to the Factory featured approximately 17 minutes on the bus and then 22 minutes on the subway. Arlo wasn't much too keen on the bus portion of his journey. It was a class E bus-route so it was filled with some of the more easy riders of the city. There was rarely a spare seat going and when there was, it was always next to someone who wanted to talk to him about his ‘state job’ or the state of things these days. He didn't have much choice but to put up with it since it was either that or a 2 hour walk through some of the lower class sectors and you'd only have to flick the news on for a minute to see why that wouldn't be a good idea. Taking a cab was always an option but the £25 per minute of riding meant it certainly wasn't a permanent solution. On the other hand, Arlo didn't mind the subway as there were often at least 3 seats free and he could sit down in the middle without being directly sat next to anyone. Only government workers could ride on this particular line and they seldom found Arlo's line of work as impressive as the Class Es.
It would be a good day if Arlo could get all the way to work on time and without speaking a word to anyone. Getting to work on time usually wasn’t a problem. In fact he had a perfect record of being on time to work. It was just the part about not speaking to anyone that Arlo had issue with.

Arlo got to the bus stop just before the bus arrived. It was one of the louder, older models and looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in months. Regardless, Arlo got in line to get on. There was a slender man with a messy beard and his son just ahead of him, holding hands. The boy must have been around 5 or 6 and was sporting a cute little afro. He had a rugged soft toy of a horse in his spare hand which he squeezed tight. He briefly locked eyes with Arlo and Arlo looked away, ignoring him. They got to the front of the queue and there was some commotion with them getting onboard. It was something about the cost and that it had been increased since they last used the bus. The father was arguing with the driver over the price and tried to negotiate for his child to go free. Arlo really didn’t have time for this. He impatiently darted his eyes up and down to the street trying to distract himself from his frustration. A few moments passed and the father began to get desperate.
“Come on man! I just need to get my son to the hospital in town. He’s sick and our appointment is this morning. Look, I didn't know about the price. I’m sorry alright.”
“There isn’t anything I can do.” The driver seemed nonplussed and besides, the boy seemed healthy enough to Arlo.
“If you could just let us on… I’ve got most of the money here. C’mon man. For the boy…”
“I’m sorry; there isn’t anything I can do. Now will you please get off the bus?”
This outraged the man further and it was clear he wasn’t going to give up any time soon. All the while, Arlo could feel the boy’s eyes on him. He glanced down and the boy smiled at him. Arlo looked away again and checked his watch; it wasn’t looking good. He let out a few audible sighs from behind to try and shame the father into giving up, but to no avail.
That’d work on me, Arlo thought. Another minute or so passed and Arlo had to do something. He stepped up onto the bus and tapped the father on his shoulder.
“Here.” Arlo handed him a £25 coin. The man was taken back when he saw who it was that gave it to him, so much so that before he could say as much as a thank you, Arlo had already deposited his own fare and gone to the back of the bus. When the two paid, the boy approached Arlo and silently offered him his horse toy.
“Oh, no thank you. You’ll look after him much better than I would.” Arlo said as he forced a smile. With that, the boy turned on the spot and hurried off to sit next to his father. He’d occasionally look at Arlo throughout the journey but Arlo’s eyes were locked on his watch. When he finally got off to change for the subway, the father stood up and thanked him with genuine sincerity. As the bus pulled away, Arlo tried to remember if they had already passed the hospital.

The subway ride was fairly quiet as most government workers start at the same time as Arlo and would have caught the earlier trains. It was clear at this point that Arlo was going to be at least 5 minutes late but that didn’t stop him from checking his watch every few seconds. He could feel his sweat stick to his undershirt as he nervously ran his hand through his hair. His hair was a dark brown and a bit messy. He used to wear it slicked back with pomade but neglected it for too long and the style holds only a loose shape of what it once was. It had slumped into a more natural and wispy look which irritated Arlo, but not enough for him to do anything about it. The Factory had recently had a subway station installed, so upon arrival, Arlo was able to scan his Factory employee ID card and rush straight up to the depot. He vaulted the barriers out of the station and jumped up the stairs, two steps at a time. No one gave Arlo so much as a glance as he sprinted past them. Even if he had bumped into them, it’s likely they wouldn’t notice. Arlo slowed down for half a second as he passed reception, in an effort not to draw attention to himself and besides the lounge was so crowded; it was like a maze to get through. Despite this, Arlo noticed the new receptionist staring at him as he waded through the waves of people. She must have started working at the Factory several months ago but this was the first time Arlo had really noticed her. He’d walk past her twice a day without so much of a glance. It was only now that he realised she was beautiful. She had short dark hair with an auburn glow, coming down only to her shoulders. Her face was young and her figure slim. She stood at the desk in a very delicate way; the way a lonely flower stands against the morning breeze. When she realised she had caught Arlo’s eyes, she smiled and might have called out for him; but it was too loud and Arlo was running late, so he pushed on through to Deliveries Despatch.

When he arrived, many of his colleagues had already finished the pre-checks on their cars and were either cleaning them or moving them into the loading bays. He hurried onwards in a hot sweat. His car was on the other side of the depot stationed in bay 27. All he had to do was to get there before one of his seniors caught a glimpse of him. He walked with purpose and with no effort to blend in. Bay 15… Bay 20… 25…
“Mr Wilson!” A sharp voice called from behind Arlo with heeled footsteps swiftly moving toward him. Arlo turned to find McManis looking down at him through his glasses. McManis was a very tall and slender man with narrow, all-seeing eyes. His posture was of military standard and so combined with his height, he towered over most people, including Arlo. He wore a smart, rounded, black flat cap that matched his suit. It sat on his balding head quite comfortably and Arlo wondered if he had ever seen McManis without it on. The creases of his face seemed to have been entirely caused by stress. Arlo had always thought a wrinkled face came with the gift of wisdom, but it seemed McManis was the living exception of that rule.
“Mr Wilson. Good Morning. How are you?”
“I’m –“
“I couldn’t help but notice you were just arriving, no?”
This was make or break for Arlo. He had never been late before and was too stressed to think what he’d do if he was caught. He had heard about what they did to Thompson when he was late. And Thompson was a much better delivery driver. This was make or break for Arlo.
“No.” Arlo’s mouth moved seemingly without his permission. “No, I arrived earlier. I had just gone to the toilet and was hurrying back. Sorry.”
“Did you now? That’s not very cautious of you, to go to the toilet minutes before morning departures.” McManis said while looking Arlo dead in the eye. “I’ll be sure to let upper management know.” At this he tapped the inside of his ear and muttered what sounded like a series of peculiar acronyms and numbers. Midway through, he looked back to Arlo. “Are you still here? The packages are due any minute. Off with you Mr Wilson.”

At that, Arlo made haste toward his car. There was no time to perform a full check so he rushed round to the back and lifted the side door to at least inspect the interior. It looked pretty good in there. The velvet shawl hung neatly around the centered bed. The bed itself was a bit creased but Arlo didn’t have time to iron it so he simply tried to flatten it with his hand. It didn’t really work. The tiny crimson pillow that sat at the top of the bed appeared to be a bit lopsided, so Arlo leant in and gave it a quick nudge into the middle. It smelled of peaches in there. Arlo inhaled and carefully took the scent all the way into his lungs, as if it would grant him a thousand wishes. His would-be trance was short lived as the sound of waves crashing onto a beach struck his ears. The aptly named Hawaii alarm signaled the arrival of the package. It was said that the sound of a beach calmed the package before they were set out to deliver it. It made little sense to Arlo as the package wouldn’t have a clue to associate beach noises with calmness and besides, the bass from the speaker was far too dominating. It certainly didn’t calm Arlo. Regardless he backed out and quickly got into the front. The car turned on and greeted him as he sat down. He quickly gave it the command to park itself at loading bay 27b and then waited patiently for the package. As he waited, he took a minute to gather himself. He tilted the rear-view mirror toward him and it revealed a face not too dissimilar to a boy who had not done his homework and was afraid to be caught. If by some slim chance McManis believed the words that came out of Arlo’s mouth; it was for naught, as the truth was painted clear as day on his face. Arlo took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from his brow and ran his fingers through his beard. It was getting rather long.

Moments later, the package was loaded and the cars taxied out of the depot. Arlo’s clammy hands stuck to the wheel as he steered. He tried to rub them dry on the seat but to no success. As the car reached the exit of the depot, the GPS screen beeped and refreshed itself. It showed a basic map detailing a route to a large manor house, just on the edge of the city. Arlo quickly glanced at the map and then switched it off. He couldn’t really bear to stand the sound of the GPS’ voice. It was an old retro American Sat Nav voice and it would over pronounce certain words. It would pronounce manor as manore and road as rowwed, stretching it out as though it was correcting someone. At first Arlo found it funny, but after 5 years of hearing it, it soon became tedious. The car itself was about as old and retro as the voice that came with it. The appeal behind it was the appearance; it was an older car from a better time. It drove well enough, but occasionally you’d go over a pothole and think you’re about to lose a wheel. Magnetic suspension clearly wasn’t around back when these cars were made. But what it lacked in stability and engineering, it made up in looks. The interior had a polished old oak finish and stunning red leather seats with real leather too. On day 1, Arlo was in awe. He had never seen real leather before. It really felt like you went back in time. The exterior of the car was sleek and vintage and seemed like it was designed for this kind of delivery job. No one really knew what they were used for before. There was a rumour circulating for some time that they were used to transport the dead around town many, many years ago; but Arlo didn’t believe they would waste such beautiful cars on something like that. 
There were many enigmas dotted all around from past years, seemingly embedded in the new world. It could be anything, from a mysteriously shaped car to a bottle of privately distilled vodka. Most people couldn’t remember how the world used to run and those who could simply didn’t care. When the government pushed for national state ownership, a popular motto came to rise, in an effort to get people to accept their new world and forget the old: “You can’t earn a living from living in the past, but you can earn a living if you live for the future.” This radical restructure of ownership in society was met with understandable protest. The idea that the state would own everything you’ve ever owned and would own, naturally upset a lot of people. Everything from the biggest national conglomerate companies to the smallest town shops were taken. The farming industry, the entertainment industry, the retail industry and even the entire housing market; all collapsed overnight in one fell swoop. Stocks and shares disappeared as if they were never there. The state owned it all. They decided what areas of the country would get more food and what areas would get more money. They took over brands and made them their own. Creativity was now made in a factory and it all looked the same. They controlled the media and bent it to their will and with that, they controlled the truth. They dictated everything. They were everything.
It all happened rather quickly. The state took to the media to launch a campaign in support for the radical change and they got all kinds of celebrities to come out and say good things about it. They’d say anything for enough money and the state had all the money in the country. Despite this, there was a considerable backlash. It was inevitable. To combat it, the state introduced the 2041 human rights reform bill. It had two lines:

2041 Human Rights Act

Article I

Every able-bodied person has the right to live and prosper in the new world, if eligible. 

Article II

Every able-bodied person has the right to purchase and sell goods to the state, if eligible.

With this bill passed, the new world was born. A world without possessions and a world without liberty. Protests raged on for a while but when patience ran thin, they were met with a harsh right hand. Protests turned to riots and riots turned to massacres. Nothing was left to protect the people and thus the cause for freedom fizzled out like an ember in the night sky. The past became a distant memory. Distant and unspoken...

*

The sun continued to boil down on the black car so Arlo decided to open a window. The hot air rushed in and swept through his hair. The breeze briefly put Arlo’s mind at rest as he drove and he began to think about Hawaii and its peaceful beaches. He had never been to a beach before. He had never even left the city before. However when he thought about the beach, it fit into his mind like a familiar childhood memory. A memory of home. He could even taste the salt on his lips. 
All of a sudden, a couple of potholes brought Arlo back to reality. He quickly glanced back to check on the package. It was fine. Arlo closed the window and locked his eyes on the road. It was the first delivery of the day; he couldn’t afford to get distracted after his run in with McManis.

Traffic was good so Arlo arrived several minutes early. The manor house sat at the end of a winding street surrounded by large oak trees. The grounds were modest for a manor house and relatively un-kept. The grass stood several inches higher than you’d expect and many of the flowerbeds were browned, dying of thirst in the sun’s heat. There was no gate so Arlo taxied up the driveway and parked just in front of the door. The house towered above him, its pearl white walls covered in moss and ivy. Arlo double checked his watch before getting out. The engine turned off automatically and the side door opened. He had to do one final check on the package before the customer saw it, as state policy. It was lying in the bed just right. Arlo gently picked it up and cradled it in his left arm, ensuring the bow and tassels were centered correctly. He turned to the door and readied his well-practiced smile and then proceeded to knock the recommended Factory knock; three quick taps and then two slower taps. A moment passed before the wooden door swung open to an extraordinarily thin woman, perhaps more thin than Arlo, bouncing up and down.
“OH MY GOD! David! It’s here! It’s here! Oh my god, oh my god.”
Before Arlo could say a word, the woman excitedly snatched the package out of his arm.
“I can’t believe it! My very own baby.”