HELPER12, Jack Blaine [reading in the dark .TXT] 📗

She looks into his eyes.  He smiles up at her; unknowing, unblinking.

“He really is such a handsome baby, aren’t you Mr. William?”  She coos and smiles back at him.

This is good.  The more she connects with him, the better chance he has of making it here.  I don’t know exactly what not making it would look like, but I know it wouldn’t be good.  I have to do everything I can to make her love him.

Love.

That’s the thing.  That’s what isn’t allowed, where I come from.  It’s not illegal, or anything, it’s just . . . impossible.  Impossible to have a relationship based on feelings.  All of the relationships in the complexes are based on need, like my relationship with my Jacket, or comfort, like my relationship with Kris.  I like Kris; she and I provide each other a companion on treks to the shops for haircuts or supplies—that can be a dangerous trip for a woman alone.  It’s also a comfort to have someone to share small talk with, and on rare occasions, Kris and I have come close to actually speaking honestly about things.  But I base our friendship on the assumption that she would report me in a second if she knew I was violating a regulation.

If you know someone is violating regulations and you don’t report them, you’ll get a Charge By Association if they’re ever caught.  CBAs are double what the original penalty would be, and if someone is caught, all of their associates are examined.  Sometimes, people get CBAed even when they knew nothing at all about their friend’s violating behavior.

So, if I were charged with a violation because they found my drawings, Kris would be examined.  If they decided she knew about my crime, she’d be given double my punishment.  For acting outside your tracked designation, that would be somewhere between 20 years to life, imprisoned in one of the labor camps.  If she knew about my drawings, Kris would feel like she had to report me, in order to avoid getting a CBA.

I used to ask myself if I would report her, if I knew she was violating.  Sometimes I’m afraid of the answer to that question.

The thing that is illegal in the complexes is family.  In the complexes, you have to live alone.  One person, one cube, that’s the rule.  You can have sex, you can visit people, you can go places with friends, but you cannot live together.  You cannot form a family.  You cannot have babies, your own or anyone else’s.  No love.  No families.

I’d always thought that was what rich people bought with their money.  Love.  Family.  I don’t know how it is in other family units, but I don’t see love here between Mr. and Ms. Sloane.  There’s something, but I don’t think it’s love.  Still, I’m hoping that I can kindle some love, between Ms. Sloane and Jobee, so he is safe.

So we’re both safe.

“Mr. Sloane and I will be leaving tonight for our trip.”  Ms. Sloane is handing Jobee back to me.  I take him, trying to remember what trip she might be talking about.  I must have a dumbfounded expression on my face.

“Our anniversary trip.”  She studies me for a minute.  “We’ll be gone for three weeks.  And while we’re gone, I don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“Yes, Ms. Sloane.”  I wonder what she means.

“You’re to stay inside or out here, as usual, no going past the gate.  If you need anything the Driver can get it for you.  Helper will be cooking the meals, and she has the list of contacts should any outside assistance be required.  The physician we’ll be using for William, that sort of thing.”  She pauses.  “Is that all clear?”

I nod.

Helper.  Every time I hear her say it I think she might be talking to me, but she isn’t.  When she says Helper she means the Domestic Helper.  That woman must have a number, but they don’t use it here.  They call the Driver ‘Driver’ too, like it’s his baby name or something.  I’ve heard her call me the girl, when she was talking to Mr. Sloane about me.  The girl will need to be told to bathe William before dinner.  The girl should probably eat after she tends to William at our table, not with us. 

“Thank goodness this trip is to a proper resort.”  Ms. Sloane purses her lips.  “The last vacation we planned, Mr. Sloane had his heart set on visiting a remote village in the Tongal region, of all things.  I didn’t join him for that—I stayed in the hotel on the mainland.”

I wonder where Tongal is—they didn’t cover that in Baby Helper training.

“Well.”  She reaches out, touches Jobee’s foot one more time.  “Sweet William.  We’ll be back soon enough.”  She turns and walks away.

It’s barely noon.  She said they were leaving tonight.  But it seems clear that she isn’t planning on seeing Jobee again today.  So much for my kindling any love between her and this baby.

Chapter Eight

The Sloanes have been gone two days.  We—Helper, me, and the Driver—have settled into an uneasy routine.  Helper cooks for the three of us.  We gather only at meals, and eat around the table in the kitchen instead of the table in the formal dining room.  None of us says much.  I feed Jobee his meals while I eat mine.  Helper doesn’t like him; she rarely spares him a glance, and when she does it’s usually a glare because he’s spilled something.

The Driver—I am beginning to suspect he is not just a Driver.  For one thing, there’s nobody here to drive anywhere right now.  All the household supplies are delivered.  There is no reason for him to stay here, but he’s sleeping in one of the guestrooms.  I smell security.  I wonder if he’s watching out for us, or just watching us.

He kind of likes Jobee.  I see him watching at our meals, and he smiles when Jobee giggles, or squeals at something that he’s