Orphans

8

8 John’s office is also nondescript. I don’t know what I expected, more computers maybe, blueprints, spacesuits and maps of the universe. But it’s like any other office: a desk, a computer, a pencil holder and a little sign on the front of the desk, “The buck stops here and I’m the buck.” It is incredibly neat, everything lined-up just so, nothing out of place, no spare papers or files lying around. It fits John’s personality though, aligning nicely with his hair, neat, clipped, short; shirts, crisp and pressed; shoes, buffed and shined; his slacks, the crease like a knife blade, ironed to the point of sharpness and slicing through the air with every step. John and I went to high school together, something I think we both know, but have yet to acknowledge. He was an athlete and the son of a black ops space mercenary turned politician turned power broker. His dad was in early with the Chinese and now pulls strings behind the scenes, making deals and continuing the long-time legacy of Baidu politics. Fathers beget sons who assume their father ’s role only to at some point turn it over to their sons and on and on. I never really knew my father and so while it’s clear to me how John is here, it is less so how I am. They say I got the position through the annual jobs lottery , but that still seems impossible. “I know you are wondering how you got through the lottery,” John says neutrally, reading minds apparently one of his many skills, “how a system designed to mask, conceal and otherwise obdurate the fact that all jobs are patronage jobs, spit out a plum job for a fatherless, O R P H A N S 28 powerless and otherwise completely unconnected citizen of a city run by and for the powerful, but the time to wonder about such things is past. You are here and your drifter, scuzzball friends like Al B are not. And yes I remember the two of you from high school, with your leather pants, spiky black-dyed hair and guitars, endlessly wandering the halls and high on SynthKhat. But that was another life. This is your new life, if you want it. Do you want it?” “You’re offering me a full-time position then,” I say trying to tamp down my excitement and the idea that I will soon be able to prove myself to Shalla and pay off my debts which suddenly feel less daunting and bordering on the possible. “That is correct, you will begin by receiving the agreed upon base salary and you will be paid a commission on all deals closed upon the signing of the required and legally binding real estate contracts. Do you have any questions?” “I have a million of them, but I don’t know where to start,” I say. “You’ll figure it out and Ricky will be there to help. You start tomorrow. Be at Arthur Chin by noon to catch your flight. Good luck and welcome to the team,” John says standing-up and leaning forward to shake hands. “Tomorrow,” I repeat shaking his hand, “wow, okay.” ...