Anarchy in New Enlgand Read Online Free PDF Page A

Mr. Barry looked at the screen as if trying to figure out some way to dodge the call. His lips curved into a frown as he reached for the screen, then hesitated, cleared his throat, and quickly hit the "receive" button, the motion of his hand invoking images of a striking snake. Most people used the two way screens when answering calls, but Barry habitually disabled his camera.
    "Hello Ms. Metis so good to hear from you!" Barry said a bit too joyfully and a little too loudly. But he wasn't fooling anyone, especially not Molly, with his fake enthusiasm.
    "Hi... Mr. Barry" Molly stumbled a bit when Barry's screen remained black instead of his face popping up as with most people on a call.
    "How can I best serve you today Molly – may I call you Molly?" Barry wasn't letting up on his happy-go-lucky act.
    "That's fine." Molly said shortly. "I am just calling to find out why you left four questions blank on the survey that you returned to us last week."
    "Oh did I? An oversight I'm sure."
    "Well that's what you said the first time, but you still failed to fill out the information when we resent the form."
    "Just message that over to me and I'll..."
    "Frankly we need to clear this up in person, BER has a policy that a personal interview is required if it is determined that the subject is refusing to answer certain questions."
    "I'm insulted!" Mr. Barry retorted unconvincingly – he was well aware of this policy. "I am certainly not trying to be evasive, why don't you come by next Tuesday."
    "Tomorrow or Thursday would work much better for me. It will be almost as bad for your company to have a blank rating when the report comes out next month than to get a C rating... assuming you answer my questions to BER's satisfaction."
    Barry hesitated, as if again attempting to think of an exit plan. With a slight sigh that he hoped Molly did not detect, Barry replied, more subdued than before, "Ah, Thursday will be fine. Come by after lunch."
    "Thank you Mr. Barry, I will see you around 13:00," responded Molly before she hung up.
    Barry's fake smile (which he was wearing despite disabling the video screen) quickly vanished as he hit the "end call" button.
    Frown returning, Barry ground his teeth, reaching for the scotch bottle in his top drawer – it was already half empty. Barry was in his mid sixties with gray hair that slightly receded away from his forehead. He had a matching gray goatee that formed a small triangle; Barry must have used gel or wax to keep it in place, and sometimes when he would twist it out of habit, the goatee would develop some curls. He was bony and pale with red cheeks, and bags under his dark blue eyes; the iris sometimes blended right in with the black of his pupils. His ears came to dull points at the top, and extended to the sides a bit further than normal. His nose was slightly rounded, and his lips were thin.
    Barry was old enough to remember as a child, politicians. He was envious of the lost profession, and wished he could have lived in a time where he didn't have to spend every day fighting his competitors to stay in business.
    " It is too much work! Haven’t I earned enough already? It is a cruel society that forces an aging man to work his fingers to the bone everyday just to turn a profit. It is pathetic, " he thought as he swigged his scotch from an iceless glass like a pirate drinking rum, " that I have to attend charity events in order to make speeches and take my rightful place at the head of a crowd. Government events would provide me a much more fitting platform ” , but the days of government in New England were a distant memory.
    Even the politicians that Barry remembered were hardly the type that used to inhabit every region of the continent and globe. The politicians from Barry's childhood were mayors and local selectmen who were big fish in a small pond. In the end they were out-competed by bigger, private entities which delivered all the benefits of a town government, for a lower cost,