< Episode 6: “Homie” | Episode 8: “Clop” >
“What’s it going to be when it grows up?” asked Maureen. “The kid, I mean…”
Benny remained silent. They sat on the couch, watching the White House Fam Mature channel on the television. The evening news broadcast was just wrapping up, with advertisements for the upcoming reality show already darting across the bottom of the screen. The anchorwoman was blabbering on and on about something that J-Bro said earlier that afternoon; again, Benny wasn’t listening. He was fixated on the thumbnail in the upper corner of the screen, which displayed a grainy clip of the event captured on someone’s mobile phone.
There he was. Even in the sanctity of his own home, Benny couldn’t escape him. The beautiful, the magnanimous, the boss of the White House Fam…
However, Benny couldn’t really complain right now. Not only was it dark in the apartment save for the cataract of light pouring out of the screen, it was also perfectly serene. Or at least it was the closest to serene as could be, with the television’s sound chirping in the background and all. Once in a while, the building would creak and groan at the steps of someone next door; yes, even in the Current Year, even in Greatland, apartment buildings for the common person were made of such relatively flimsy materials as plaster and lumber, which served as a veritable resonance chamber that amplified even the most minor of vibrations. Hence the small earthquakes when people walked around in the other units, or drove cars past the building in the adjacent streets.
Or played loud music from above; oh, no, wait, that wasn’t going to be an issue any longer.
Not anymore.
Not ever since Benny called Denny.
“I’m gonna call him again,” Benny grumbled as soon as dinner was over.
Before Maureen could say anything, he got up and rushed back to the bathroom with his phone. He locked the door behind him, turned on the rickety ventilation fan, and sat on the toilet seat.
However, he did not dial in Josh’s number. He went on the White House Fam social media app instead. There was another number that he wanted to search for, and since it was proper etiquette to display as much personal information as possible on their public social media profile, finding it was a breeze.
There he was, on Denny Pyro’s profile. The number was there, for all to see. There only remained the question of whether or not Denny, being the important man that he was, would actually answer.
It was worth a try. There goes nothing…
“Hello?”
“Yes!” Benny shouted in trepidation. “Denny? It’s Benny! You know, from earlier…”
“Oh! Hey, Ben! How’s it going?”
“Good! Good, real… Real good…”
“You sure about that? What’s all that noise in the background? It kind of makes it hard for me to hear you…”
“It’s… Oh gosh, this is embarrassing. But, well… Oh, you see…”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Well, yes… and no! I mean, nothing out of alrightiness, you know… Just… Well…”
“Wait a second, let me guess. It’s your neighbour, isn’t it?”
“Err, well, yes I suppose. How did you…”
“Guess? It’s only the first thing I noticed when I joined the Fam: no neighbours to bother you on week nights. It’s been a while since the last time I had to put up with community living, but let me tell you, I can imagine how hard it must be for you guys.”
“Oh, well, thanks Denny…”
“Don’t mention it. So, who’s this neighbour of yours? Where is he at? Downstairs? Upstairs?”
“Up! Upstairs… And the music and all… I already called him to talk things over but…”
“Not exactly open to compromise, is he?”
“Well, we had a talk and…”
“Yeah, I get it.”
There was an awkward pause. Benny felt like asking Denny for help, but for some reason he had a hard time actually forming the words with his lips and saying it out loud…
“So… I got this feeling that you didn’t call me just to chat, Benny. Is there anything you wanted to ask me?”
“Well… I, err, I was just wondering if…”
Again, Benny halted. He really didn’t like doing this. Not only that, he could tell that Denny was well aware of his malaise, which made the ordeal all the more uncomfortable…
“If… you… you… just…”
“Do you want me to help you out with your neighbour?”
“I… well…”
“All you have to do is say yes, Benny, and I’ll see what I can do. So do you want help with your neighbour?”
But Benny kept on hesitating! He felt terrible about it all: about letting his family suffer at the hands of Josh from upstairs, about taking up Denny’s time, about being too proud to do the unthinkable in Current Year Greatland: ask someone for a favour. He felt horrible, and he kept on stuttering and he started wondering how long Denny would be able to put up with him…
Then, his life partner saved the day, albeit unconsciously.
“Benny!” she crooned above the music, joyfully maniacal. “Are you going to clean the cooker or not?”
“YES!” Benny hollered, breaking out laughing near the end.
Only this laugh wasn’t forced for alrightiness. It was authentic: he couldn’t believe it! The stress and the anxiety was all gone: he had done it, he had taken care of things at last…
“Okay then,” Denny chuckled. “I’ll take that for a positive.”
“Look, Denny, you really don’t have to…”
“Oh but I want to, Benny. I really do. It’s not like I’m busy or anything. I’ll take care of it, just sit tight, okay? It shouldn’t take too long…”
“Oh… Uh, okay then…”
“Alrighty then.”
“Right…”
“See you around, Benny…”
“Yeah, sure… Oh, and Denny?”
“Yes, Ben?”
“Err… just… thanks, I guess.”
“Don’t mention it. Goodbye Ben.”
“Bye…”
With that, Denny hung up. Benny had no idea what was going to happen next, to him or his family or Josh for that matter. But what he did know was that Denny was going to “take care of it”, whatever that meant.
For now, the music kept on playing. Powerless, Benny joined Maureen at the miniature sink and picked up a mouldy sponge, which he wet under the barely trickling faucet (water rationing was in full effect in that time of year) and used to scrub away at the hardened gelatinous splotches that clung to the sides of the cooker’s metal basin.
For what felt like hours he kept on scrubbing. The splotches were incredibly hard to dissolve this evening. Benny tried imagining that it was in fact Josh’s face that he was scrubbing, but that only made him even more angry. It didn’t help anything in the end…
After a while, he started doubting whether or not Denny was ever going to intervene. What could the White House Fam do? Kick Josh out? Send out Bro Cops to beat him up and incarcerate him? And for what? Wouldn’t that be unfair?
It probably would be unfair. But Benny didn’t care; all he wanted was for that music to stop playing permanently…
Besides, the fact that Josh’s imprisonment would be unfair actually made the prospect even more entertaining for Benny, even though he didn’t like the fact that he derived pleasure from imagining it in the first place…
What about Maureen? Already, she was upset that he had come home late, and now this: Benny looked totally inept! Even though he had done the phone call, he had done everything he could, Benny still felt emasculated by his unwillingness to forcefully get his way himself. At least, Maureen didn’t know about his phone call to Denny for now; if the White House Fam did choose to intervene, Benny could theoretically claim at least some credit for it. But still…
Josh was still working out upstairs.
The music was still playing.
Benny was still a coward.
Then, nothing.
It stopped! Finally, at long last! The music stopped! Permanently at that!
Then, a humming sound from the counter. The phone, he had left it on the counter, and it was ringing! For all to see! For Maureen to pick up…
J-Bro forbid it was Denny… The last thing Benny wanted was for Maureen to find out that he had asked someone for help. Thankfully, this was not yet destined to be…
“Oh, hello Josh,” Maureen answered, all the while giving Benny an anxious glance. “Yes, I’m Maureen, Benny’s life partner. What’s that now?”
Her face immediately lit up. Not out of terror or distress, but… Glee?
“Oh, so you just bought a gym membership? That seems a bit… impulsive, but okay then… Oh, and you just sold off your sound system to pay for it? Gee, well, err… Way to keep your priorities in the right place, Josh… Yes, I’ll tell him. Okay, then. You too. Bye…”
Maureen lowered the phone, puzzled yet amused.
“It was Josh. He sounded… Scared, almost…” she mused, looking deep into Benny’s eyes. “What did you tell him?”
“I, err, I told him what he needed to hear is all,” Benny lied. “Like you said, that he needs to set his priorities straight if he wants to join the Bro Cops.”
“Uhuh…”
Her tone was disbelieving, but her radiant smile was authentic as could be.
Benny couldn’t believe it anymore than she could, but he smiled as well. That’s all he could do, even as Maureen stepped up and hugged him. He was speechless, not only at how swiftly Denny had answered the call but also at how powerful the man’s influence actually was in reality…
He shook his head and giggled giddily as he returned his life partner’s embrace: so that’s what the White House Fam effect looked like, or so it seemed.
And now, that effect was on his side.
And that made him happy.
But now, the question.
“What’s it going to be when it grows up?”
Benny didn’t know how to handle it as they sat on the couch together, mindlessly watching the latest White House Fam reality show drama recap. She rested her head on his shoulder, leaning against him like a toppled domino, whispering into his ear the fateful words while he ran his fingers through her hair.
The words, they rendered him speechless. Only he didn’t really know why. It wasn’t the same speechlessness as earlier; his shock and awe at Denny’s prowess had dimmed, leaving him with a warm sense of contentment at the serenity currently reigning in his home. Maybe that was it: he was still savouring the silence, that beautiful, blissful silence…
Then again, maybe it was because he was clueless about the answer.
Maureen, she was talking about their child. It didn’t even have a proper name yet; that was to come later, when he was five. For now, it was referred to by the anonymous “Bemau” (pronounced “bee-moo”), meaning the offspring of Benny and Maureen. Not that it needed a more specific means of identification: it spent most of its days at home, soaking in its pre-person education from the appropriate White House Fam channels.
The kid was barely three, it didn’t even have a name, and Maureen was already fussing over its future. Perhaps this was why Benny remained silent. Even answering such a question felt so… futile to him.
He didn’t know what was going to happen to the kid. That was not up to him, or society or even nature for that matter. It hadn’t come into this world the same way that Benny or Maureen or even J-Bro had; it was part of J-Bro’s first custom-tailored generation, conceived and grown entirely artificially in some lab somewhere. To become parents, Benny and Maureen had had to go through an audition, similar to the one for White House Fam membership only easier to pass. Then, the infant would arrive the same way that any package plopped at their doorstep, via “mail brone” (“brone” being a porte-manteau of “biological” and “drone”, as a name for the synthetic, half-animal and half-flying machine entities that quickly overtook the place of freight trucks and other forms of obsolete commercial shipping in the early years of J-Bro’s presidency).
And just like that, a couple became a household.
“You raise ’em as long as you respect ‘em.”
That meant leaving every decision about their future up to J-Bro, of course. No naming, no colouring the bedroom blue or pink… These things would all be determined by the White House Fam at the age of five, at the Personhood Ceremony.
So for example, although as far as Benny was concerned the kid clearly looked like a boy (stockier features, a squarer face, not to mention the appendage hanging between its legs), he was forbidden to mention any of these biological traits to the child for fear of “misgendering” it before J-Bro’s verdict. Which meant that he and Maureen could for now only whisper a few speculations here and there at night, when the kid was in bed and the eyes were less attentive to detail.
Hence the question.
“I don’t know, Maureen,” Benny finally mumbled.
“Something rich.”
“Something… Important. Like an actor.”
“Like Denny…”
Benny gave her the most confused look he could fake.
“Wait, what now?”
“Remember Denny?”
“Uh…”
“We used to know him. He’s in the White House Fam now.”
As suddenly as he had reacted, Benny softened his gaze.
“Oh yeah… Yeah, like Denny…”
Maureen fell silent once more, defusing what remained of Benny’s glaring insecurities sprouting from the mention of Denny. The day was over, and he had managed to survive a day at work, enjoy his hobby and build a friendship with the White House Fam, the latter allowing him to silence his neighbour and impress his life partner. And the worst part was that Maureen still thought that he had done all that on his own, without Denny’s help.
And now the kid was in bed. It wasn’t even a person yet, but it was sleeping with a full stomach and a head full of alrightiness from the day’s educational content. It was J-Bro’s, but it was also Benny’s, for now at least. And that only bolstered Benny’s happiness for some reason, even though the kid wasn’t his, it didn’t come from him and it would grow up to be completely disassociated from him, biologically as much as in terms of identity…
And the planet spun round and round, and the days went by so fast, and it made Benny dizzy to think about such things. But the day was over. And his life partner was cuddled up against him. And J-Bro’s face was on the television.
And Benny stared into him.
And J-Bro stared into Benny.
And for some reason, out of pure coincidence, they both smiled at each other, at the same time. And that felt really important to Benny, even though it really wasn’t.
Then, Benny blinked. J-Bro was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Maureen, or the shadows of night; it was morning already. Benny’s smile was also gone, as were the fuzzy emotions and that fleeting sense of well-being. He had slept it all away…
“Oh, well,” he groaned while getting up.
It was time to start all over again.
GREATER/STRONGER — A Micro-Novel
To be continued…
