"FWLS10" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

"I'd like that, really," Spork said, "I hear the air is very
nice out there. But if you can, please, I'd rather stay here,
near my job at the Waste Management Center. I sort glass."

"You'll get what I can find," I retorted. "I'll do what I
can, but don't expect miracles."

"Sorry."

"And quit apologizing!"

*

"Whaddya mean, I can't look up the ID number?!" I shouted at
the bureaucrat behind the desc in Citizen Management.

I hate Citizen Management. Out of the thirty seven
government office buildings alone in this city, this is quite
possibly the worst. The clerks are snotty and don't even argue
right, and the phone system is always tied up. I tried calling,
on the one in five million chance that the line'd be open, but
ended up walking here, as usual.

"I require a form B:767 stroke alpha, Citizen ID Request
Form, before any ID inquiries can be made," the clerk stated.
This weasel wasn't even bothering to get angry. "Until then, I
can't process your request. Have a Typical Day."

"Look, you'll be eating my fist in a minute, bucko," I said.
Okay, so violence was a cheap shot, a last resort in an argument,
but this guy wouldn't bother getting angry enough to decently
argue with.

"If you decide to take that avenue, you'll need to fill out
a J:9765 stoke delta, Agreement to Pay Fines In Response to
Striking a Citizen, from the slammer. Have a Typical Day."

"Oh, alright, I'll get your damn form. Oops," I said,
'accidentally' knocking the six-inch high stack of papers on his
desk to the floor. "SORRY about that."

I stomped off, heading back to the Personnel Transit Booth.
This is really the worst way to travel around inside office
buildings, because although it'll cross hundreds of feet in less
than a second, you're screwed if there's no map nearby. I'm not
in the mood to take a ball of string and a parchment and start
mapping my way to Form Dispensing, however, so I'd have to risk
it.