“Jacob Quince,” the receptionist called. “You will be seen now.”
Jacob got up and went to the desk. The receptionist took a hand-held retinal scanner and waved it in front of Jacob’s face. “Third door on the left,” she said without looking at him.
“Thanks,” he said and headed down the hall.
The door sat partially open, so he went in without announcing himself. His probation officer, Jani Newsome, sat behind her desk, “Jacob, come in. Have a seat. Today’s the big day,” she said.
Jacob sat down in a slightly more comfortable and slightly less stained chair.
“So,” Newsome continued, “how are you feeling?”
“Like I’m ready to get this all behind me and get on with the rest of my life.”
Newsome smiled and nodded. “Good. That’s good to hear. How is your relationship with,” she checked her notes, “Sandy?”
He hated when Newsome did this, trying to sound like she cared about his personal life. He smiled. “It’s fine, I guess.”
Newsome returned the smile. “Good. Close personal relationships are an important part of integrating back into society.”
“They are,” Jacob said.
Newsome checked her notes again. “The last time we met, I asked you to think about what that would look like, what the rest of your life would look like. Have you done that?”
Every day for the last three years, Jacob thought.
“I have,” he said.
“And?”
“Being banned from corporate work for the rest of my life sort of limits the options.”
“That’s true,” she said before he could continue, “but we have talked about that. There are so many things you can do.”
“I know. I enjoy working for Gomez at Retro Media, but I want something more. Maybe my own business.”
“That would be great,” she interrupted again. “There are many non-corporate opportunities out there. You just have to look.”
“I’ve also thought about Africa.”
“Really?”
“I did my two years on Your Better Life’s peace mission in Botswana.”
“That’s right. You did.”
“I’ve been thinking that I might save credits enough to get over there. I could get something that would be good for me in Maun. The corporations don’t have such a hold there. Maybe I could even get on at a small, non-corporate safari company. I don’t know, just something to get away from this,” he said, gesturing at nothing in particular.
“That would be great.”
Jacob nodded.
“Well,” Newsome said, “let’s talk about your probation. You have gone the entire two years without incident. There has been no record of you using an unauthorized code deck. You’ve had no run-ins with the police, either city or corporate. You’ve kept the same job and haven’t been late on any payments of any kind. That’s very good.” She smiled. “As I said I would, I recommended you to be released on time. I have all of the forms filled out and just need your thumbprint and retinal scan, and you will walk out of here a free citizen, your subdermal chip will be reactivated, and you can use a deck again.”
He wanted to tell her he’d been using a code deck since his release from prison, tell her he had been hacking for money for the last two years, tell her he flicked code on the side for extra credits, tell her he was better at breaking the rules than she was at catching him, but instead, he said, “Thank you.”
Chapter 2
He put his sunglasses back on and stepped out of the probation office door, feeling a sense of relief he hadn’t felt in three years. He was free, and it felt good. Resisting the urge to give the probation office the middle finger, he headed to Commie Cup, the ironically leftist coffee shop where he always stashed his code deck during a probation meeting.
He looked at the sunless sky, adjusted his backpack, and started walking, his mind replaying the question, “What does the rest of your life look like?” He honestly didn’t know. He wanted to. Three years ago he thought he did. A nice comfortable life of coding for a corporation. Moving up to head his own department one day. A nice place on the coast. A beautiful wife. But one stupid mistake and all of that was gone. What was left? His job at Retro Media? The small-time hacking jobs he and Gomez landed? Flicking code to code freaks in clubs? A small, rundown apartment? Sandy? He wasn’t even sure Sandy wanted to be with him. She hadn’t spoken to him in days. He just had no idea what the rest of his life looked like. At the moment, he couldn’t even imagine it. He did know he wanted it to look different than it did now.
“Jacob!” Ivan greeted him as he entered Commie Cup. “How did your meeting with the capitalist oppressor go, comrade?”
“You know, that might sound better with a Russian accent,” Jacob said.
“Maybe, but I can’t keep one going for long,” Ivan said in his best bad Russian accent. “Are you finally, what do they say, off-paper?’”
Jacob leaned on the counter. “I am. It hasn’t completely sunk in yet, but it sure as hell feels good.”
“I am happy for you.” He reached under the counter and brought out Jacob’s code deck. “I guess I will not be giving this a temporary home any longer?”
“No, you won’t. And it will be nice to not have to be so careful when I use it.”
Ivan placed the deck on the counter and pushed it to Jacob. “Can I get you a celebratory drink on the house?” he asked.
“On the house? Unheard of.”
Ivan smiled. “We are supposed to be Commie Cup. What better way to stick it to the capitalist overlord than to give your product away?”
“I don’t think it works that way, but I’ll take the usual,” Jacob said, placing his deck in his pocket.
“So what now?” Ivan asked, looking up from preparing an iced coffee.
“Retro Media for now. And the side jobs. Which reminds me, I should be done with the code for you soon. I’ve just got to
