Dyscountopia Read Online Free PDF Page A

yes… you, sir.”
    Ron was pointing directly at Albert Zim, much to Albert’s surprise.   Roger, who had already begun to mouth the first syllables of the Omega-Mart anthem, gazed impatiently at his befuddled neighbor, letting his hand drop from his heart with an irritable sigh.
    That’s when it occurred to Albert that somehow, without his knowledge or consent, his hand had made the slow, treacherous journey above his head, exposing him to the world.   A stark realization gripped him that he was about to do something terrible – the worst thing that anyone can ever do in a room full of people.   He was about to ask a question.   He desperately searched the recesses of his mind for another one, any other question than the one he was about to ask.   But he couldn’t find a single one.
    “Since our customers are what’s most important, and our customers are also our employees, and our employees are part of our family, couldn’t we help them out every once in awhile?   Like with emergencies or whatever?   Couldn’t we pay to have someone’s teeth fixed?”
    The question slid out of his mouth and crashed to the floor like a cannonball with a lit fuse.   Albert was certain that, for just a short moment, time had frozen and all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.
    Ron’s eyes darted around the amphitheater, falling everywhere but on the humiliated image of Albert Zim.   Albert had stupidly squandered his right to exist.   “No more questions, then?   Alright.   Good-night everybody, and remember – low prices at all costs .”   Ron exited the stage.
    Albert heaved a sigh of relief.   For a moment he was convinced that he hadn’t said anything at all.   Then it occurred to him that what had really happened was that no one had even heard him.   Good.   He could just go on with his life like nothing ever happened.   So why was everyone looking at him like that?
     
    ****
     
    She followed the purple stripe home, her eyes fixed to the floor, unraveling with every step.   The world around her seemed fragile and perilous, as if the walls might open up and swallow her, as if she might plummet to her death through a thin spot in the floor.   The voices around her were a babbling brook, each human soul a tiny rock against which splashed the tiniest of waves.   She felt a thousand eyes upon her, though none looked in her direction.
    She stopped at a place where she’d stopped before, many times on the long walk home.   It was a small, poorly lit kiosk at the end of a long, lonely aisle.    On the plastic shelves there, strewn haphazardly by the hands of harried bargain hunters, lay dozens and dozens of small red tagged items -- cheap glittered lip-gloss, shoddily glued refrigerator magnets, discontinued snow globes from Christmases past -- silly, needless objects forced to suffer the cruel humiliation of multiple price-slashings but never allowed to die; not while there was still hope that they might turn a penny.  
    She stood alone there in front of them, her stomach tingling with shame and anticipation, electrified by the forbidden possibilities of this place.   Only she knew its significance.   The eyes of the world could not see here.   It was a blind spot, a shadowy corner of the universe where Omega-Mart’s cameras did not penetrate.   It was, as far as she knew, the only place like it in the world.
    Her eyes were drawn to a small, pink plastic picture frame.   Inside the frame was a photo of a kitten hanging from a tree branch, and written beneath the kitten, these four simple words:   HANG IN THERE, BABY.
    “Oh, will you just look at that!”   A thick, blue-haired woman suddenly appeared behind her, an enormous leopard printed scarf suffocating her neck.   “ Purple nail polish – who could ever pull such a thing off?   And why would they want to?   The woman made a face like she was sucking on lemons.   “’Course, a young thing like you could wear whatever she