She despised all Welfare Centres as a general rule, but most especially this one.<\/p>\n
She\u2019d waited three hours in an uncomfortable metal chair, watching the news channel on the muted viewscreen, night-vision images of gunfire, bombs and airstrikes. Eventually, the display light at the service desk buzzed garish red neon with her name: \u201cFrankie Simkins\u201d.<\/p>\n
With a struggle, using her crutch to get up, she hobbled across the wipe-clean flooring. While she\u2019d been sitting waiting, the floor had been sheened over by KleenBots twice; first when a thin, sickly-looking child puked all over himself and the floor, and second when an old man had urinated on it, shouting something threatening in a foreign language. Security had arrived and took him away, then the KleenBots had buzzed in.<\/p>\n
Frankie got to the appointed desk without slipping over and sat down.<\/p>\n
The Welfare Officer was a woman, bland-looking, severe.<\/p>\n
\u201cMrs Simkins?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow can Welfare help you today, Mrs Simkins?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI, erm…I need a crisis loan.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI see.\u201d The WO prodded buttons on her computer, and scanned the screen.<\/p>\n
\u201cMrs Simkins, you\u2019ve had three Crisis Loans from us in the past four years, one of them still outstanding. You don\u2019t qualify for another.\u201d The WO was closing the file on the computer; that was it, it was not negotiable.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I can\u2019t afford it any more. Everything\u2019s gone up. I can\u2019t pay my bills. Please, make an exception, I\u2019m begging you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMrs Simkins, you\u2019re aware of the current state of the economy? And the war, too is very expensive. You don\u2019t qualify for another loan.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I\u2019ve got a family to feed. Please… look…do you have any children? You must know what it\u2019s like?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy status is of no concern here,\u201d said the WO plainly.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease help me.\u201d Frankie was close to tears now, but trying to sniff the emotion back into her nose. \u201cI need help.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYou know the procedure, Mrs Simkins. There can be no loan,\u201d She swiped at her computer screen; \u201cDo you still have three children, Mrs Simkins?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, three. Jilly\u2019s just a baby, I can\u2019t afford her milk formula.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you telling me you\u2019d like me to open a Social Care Order?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe would redistribute your baby. It would ease your financial situa-\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo! No-one\u2019s taking my baby!\u201d Frankie nearly screamed, between tears now too numerous to dam.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen perhaps you would like a token to take to your clinic. The State would meet the cost of your womb being biologically dessicated.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t do that! I\u2019m only 28. Look, it\u2019s just my budget\u2019s really squeezed. I can\u2019t feed-\u201d She nearly said, \u2018I can\u2019t feed my kids\u2019, but stopped herself; they would probably be taken away if she said that. \u201cMe and my husband barely eat. The kids get it all. Please, I just need a few hundred.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI see your husband works in the Uranium Plant. A labourer. Are you still looking for work, Mrs Simkins?\u201d<\/p>\n
Frankie\u2019s tears stopped with astonishment. She stood up on her crutch and took a couple of hops away from the desk. \u201cHaven\u2019t you seen my problem? How am I supposed to keep a family together and clean and fed, and then go out to work and labour somewhere. Who would employ me?\u201d She aimed her plastic stump at the Welfare Officer. \u201cI\u2019ve only got one bloody leg, for Christs sake!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOK, Mrs Simkins, please sit down. There\u2019s no need for hysterics.\u201d She swiped more screen, ruffled more papers. Frankie sat back down.<\/p>\n
\u201cClearly you know all the benefits of the system,\u201d the WO said,
\n\u201cTherefore you know that there will be no crisis loan today, or in fact, any other day until you\u2019ve repaid what is outstanding.\u201d<\/p>\n
Frankie was about to get up and leave; she was considering urinating on the floor on her way out.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll we can offer is to further lighten your load…if you were willing to make a Contribution to the War Effort. I\u2019m obligated by my employers to inform you that a single Contribution to the State will lessen your nutritional needs and therefore your personal food intake by up to nine percent. With a hungry family to feed, this could make your life just that tiny bit easier. And, of course, you\u2019d also receive all the appropriate benefits for your Contribution, which now include the new Severance Allowance for six months.\u201d <\/p>\n
Frankie was dabbing her eyes; the tears had gone, but reality remained.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust one more loan,\u201d she said. \u201cThat\u2019s all I\u2019m asking. I\u2019m desperate.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDesperate times require desperate measures, Mrs Simkins.\u201d<\/p>\n
Frankie sighed, defeated. \u201cBut…it\u2019s hard now. How would I manage?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou seem to be a strong woman…but something in your family has to give. The baby is still an option.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. God, no,\u201d said Frankie. She sat for a moment, head bowed, weighing up the devil and the deep blue sea. <\/p>\n
\u201cAlright,\u201d she said, finally, \u201cif there\u2019s no other way… I suppose I\u2019ll have to…\u201d<\/p>\n
The WO reached into a drawer for the correct papers, and began to put the process in motion.<\/p>\n
\u201c…before I change my mind.\u201d Frankie said under her breath.<\/p>\n
Applications were filled, papers signed, and financial support determined in a little under twenty minutes. Frankie had remained mostly quiet; she was deflated, beaten.<\/p>\n
\u201cOk, Mrs Simkins, that\u2019s all correct,\u201d said the WO and pointed to the far end of the office. \u201cBooth number six has just become free. You can go straight in. Your new benefit package will begin immediately. Thank you once again for your worthy sacrifice to our great country. Goodbye, Mrs Simkins.\u201d<\/p>\n
Frankie hauled herself up, massaged her palms on her forehead, and hobbled over to Booth Six. The door was standing open, and she went in, forcing herself not to hop like hell away from the place.
\nIn the room was a man in a white plastic coat. He closed the door behind her, and slipped on the \u2018engaged\u2019 sign.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello again, Mrs Simkins,\u201d he said, quite cheerily, as he changed his white rubber surgeons gloves, \u201cWhat did you have in mind, this time?\u201d<\/p>\n
Frankie was crying again, and shaking her head.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, don\u2019t you fret,\u201d said the doctor, as he handed her a surgical gown. \u201cThey graft them on really quickly these days, and they\u2019re so much more versatile than the prosthetics. Six months or so, and our boys and girls are back on the front line. If you could just get changed into the gown please.\u201d<\/p>\n
Frankie began to cross the room, heading for the changing area.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you think, then?\u201d the doctor said, as he readied the anaesthetic mask. \u201cPerhaps an arm this time? Those robotic ones are so fiddly; our soldiers like nothing better than real<\/em> fingers.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" She despised all Welfare Centres as a general rule, but most especially this one. She\u2019d waited three hours in an uncomfortable metal chair, watching the news channel on the muted viewscreen, night-vision images of gunfire, bombs and airstrikes. Eventually, the display light at the service desk buzzed garish red neon with her name: \u201cFrankie Simkins\u201d. …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2605,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,125,902],"tags":[903],"class_list":["post-7226","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","category-futuristic","category-tcl-10-winter-2014","tag-the-colored-lens-10-winter-2014","entry entry-center"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7226","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2605"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7226"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7226\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":139629,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7226\/revisions\/139629"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7226"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7226"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thecoloredlens.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7226"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}