Evolution Read Online Free Page B
Author: Jeannie van Rompaey
not be happy until I have left Home-Court-Jameson and she can have Father to herself.
Back in my room, I type in rehabilitationcentre.inc and up it comes. It’s not a very informative site, but it tells me enough to make me realise that although job skills are taught there and linked to work experience, the emphasis is on psychoanalysis.
What exactly does that entail? It seems that the centre is designed to re-educate “miscreants” defined as those who have abused their civil rights and need to be “re-processed.”After treatment and tests, they may be eligible for work experience, unpaid jobs, that may lead to them being taken on as paid employees, acceptable as citizens of Oasis again.
From the few details described on screen the process sounds a viable method of making sure that the participants are ready to go back to live and work in the community. Why then do I feel uneasy? I think it’s the terminology, all those words beginning with “re”. Reprogrammed, repatriation, reprocessed, re-educated, reconstituted. They all suggest the stifling of the individual. Could Oasis be degenerating into the kind of regime that imposes its will on those who do not conform, a regime that turns those it considers dissidents into model citizens through force? I intend to find out.
Enough of that for the moment. I must plan my paper for tomorrow’s seminar on Russian politics.
No. I can’t concentrate. Too many new thoughts whizzing round in my brain. I’ll make “a things to do list” instead. I often use this method to prioritise my work schedule, but this time my list is shorter than usual.
1) Write essay 2) Visit Rehabilitation Centre 3) Visit Isis in Hos-sat.
I had no idea I was going to write the third item, but as soon as it’s written down, I know it’s something I must do. It won’t be just a social call. If Oasis is as corrupt as I’m beginning to believe, the future of the latest mutant humanoid to be born could be in jeopardy. I need to make sure my friend and her baby are safe. I cut and paste and put the visit to Isis at the top of my short list. I stare at the three items and once they’re imprinted on my mind delete them.
The next evening I tell Father and Stella that I’ve decided to go to Hos-sat. Stella’s face glows. ‘Well done, Michael. You’re doing the right thing. You won’t regret it.’
Father offers to come with me.
‘No, that’s not necessary. I’m a man now. I don’t need youto hold my hand. Besides, I’ve got friends there. I won’t be alone.’
The team who did my surgery to transform me from mutant to complete will pleased to see me again: the surgeon, nurses and the therapists, Janey and Moira.
Father agrees to let me go on my own. ‘This is a simple operation compared with the ones you had before and, as you say, you’ll be in good hands. When would you like to go?’
‘As soon as possible,’ I tell him. ‘Tomorrow if possible. Better to get it over with.’
‘Tomorrow might be rather short notice, but I promise to do my best to get you there as soon as possible.’
‘Better make it quick before I change my mind.’
Stella and Father exchange concerned looks.
‘Just joking,’ I assure them but Stella whispers in Father’s ear and he gets up to use the phone in his study. I plump up a peach-coloured silk cushion, plonk it behind my head and close my eyes.
When Father returns he says everything is arranged. I can go to Hos-sat tomorrow. Stella grins like the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland .
If she knew what I was really planning, she wouldn’t be so smug. I have no intention of having a vasectomy. Isis is due to give birth any day now and I intend to be there to prevent anything that may affect the safety of the new baby.
Chapter Three
Diversions and Duplicities
(according to Heracles)
My darling boss, that bitch Athene, has invited me to supper in her superior pad in Compound 99, Earth’s flagship. No sign of anything to eat. Straightway
Back in my room, I type in rehabilitationcentre.inc and up it comes. It’s not a very informative site, but it tells me enough to make me realise that although job skills are taught there and linked to work experience, the emphasis is on psychoanalysis.
What exactly does that entail? It seems that the centre is designed to re-educate “miscreants” defined as those who have abused their civil rights and need to be “re-processed.”After treatment and tests, they may be eligible for work experience, unpaid jobs, that may lead to them being taken on as paid employees, acceptable as citizens of Oasis again.
From the few details described on screen the process sounds a viable method of making sure that the participants are ready to go back to live and work in the community. Why then do I feel uneasy? I think it’s the terminology, all those words beginning with “re”. Reprogrammed, repatriation, reprocessed, re-educated, reconstituted. They all suggest the stifling of the individual. Could Oasis be degenerating into the kind of regime that imposes its will on those who do not conform, a regime that turns those it considers dissidents into model citizens through force? I intend to find out.
Enough of that for the moment. I must plan my paper for tomorrow’s seminar on Russian politics.
No. I can’t concentrate. Too many new thoughts whizzing round in my brain. I’ll make “a things to do list” instead. I often use this method to prioritise my work schedule, but this time my list is shorter than usual.
1) Write essay 2) Visit Rehabilitation Centre 3) Visit Isis in Hos-sat.
I had no idea I was going to write the third item, but as soon as it’s written down, I know it’s something I must do. It won’t be just a social call. If Oasis is as corrupt as I’m beginning to believe, the future of the latest mutant humanoid to be born could be in jeopardy. I need to make sure my friend and her baby are safe. I cut and paste and put the visit to Isis at the top of my short list. I stare at the three items and once they’re imprinted on my mind delete them.
The next evening I tell Father and Stella that I’ve decided to go to Hos-sat. Stella’s face glows. ‘Well done, Michael. You’re doing the right thing. You won’t regret it.’
Father offers to come with me.
‘No, that’s not necessary. I’m a man now. I don’t need youto hold my hand. Besides, I’ve got friends there. I won’t be alone.’
The team who did my surgery to transform me from mutant to complete will pleased to see me again: the surgeon, nurses and the therapists, Janey and Moira.
Father agrees to let me go on my own. ‘This is a simple operation compared with the ones you had before and, as you say, you’ll be in good hands. When would you like to go?’
‘As soon as possible,’ I tell him. ‘Tomorrow if possible. Better to get it over with.’
‘Tomorrow might be rather short notice, but I promise to do my best to get you there as soon as possible.’
‘Better make it quick before I change my mind.’
Stella and Father exchange concerned looks.
‘Just joking,’ I assure them but Stella whispers in Father’s ear and he gets up to use the phone in his study. I plump up a peach-coloured silk cushion, plonk it behind my head and close my eyes.
When Father returns he says everything is arranged. I can go to Hos-sat tomorrow. Stella grins like the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland .
If she knew what I was really planning, she wouldn’t be so smug. I have no intention of having a vasectomy. Isis is due to give birth any day now and I intend to be there to prevent anything that may affect the safety of the new baby.
Chapter Three
Diversions and Duplicities
(according to Heracles)
My darling boss, that bitch Athene, has invited me to supper in her superior pad in Compound 99, Earth’s flagship. No sign of anything to eat. Straightway
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