Young Rissa Read Online Free PDF Page B

 
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    Otherwise, Rissa did not brood on her way of life. She worked, ate, slept, ran before dinner in the gymnasium, and operated her various office machines. She considered Gerard to be one of them; his morning demands no more unpleasant than cleaning the photocopier. Except that on the days she bled, the hard floor hurt her knees.  
    Evenings, sometimes, she still watched the Tri-V — but saw it as fantasy, for the lives it showed were quite unlike her own. Vaguely she recalled having looked and dressed like the children the screen showed, but came to think the memories must be false or derived from prior viewing.  
    With mixed feelings she awaited her sixteenth birthday and transfer to Section Female, Adult. Rumors gave her a dull dread. But despite herself she could not suppress a wild, reasonless spark of hope.  
    During her last weeks before transfer a blonde woman — Gerda Lindner, staff, not Client — worked with Rissa, training to take over the work. Rissa wondered whether the other would also have to bend over the desk each morning, and if so, whether she knew it yet.  
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    The morning she reported not for work but for transfer, she found Gerard alone. Tight-lipped, pale, he paced the floor.  
    â€œNow listen fast,” he said. “You’re going out of Welfare, I suppose, and I have to make you understand that you can’t talk about the Center, outside. You see — ”  
    â€œOut of Welfare?” Never had she interrupted Gerard. “How?”  
    â€œThe lottery, how else? Just a few minutes ago, it was announced on Tri-V. The top prize — awarded six months in a row to ineligibles, unclaimed and piling up — and the damned ticket’s in your name . You — ”  
    She stopped hearing him. She knew that Gerard bought lottery tickets with Juvenile Clients’ work-credits. Losses cost him nothing. Winnings, payable to the Client at transfer time, were Gerard’s meanwhile, to invest for his own profit.  
    But one of “her” tickets had won, and it was transfer time. So, with the media watching, she would buy out of Welfare!  
    Dazed, she asked, “The big one?” Then; “How much?”  
    â€œThe newsies weren’t sure. Even after taxes, though — millions of Weltmarks.”  
    â€œTaxes? On State money, awarded by the State?”  
    â€œOf course. All income is taxable.”  
    In Gerard’s presence, until now, she had not laughed. “I see. They take money out of one pocket and put it in the other, so they can say the prize is bigger than it really is.” She shook her head. “Never mind — so long as it buys me out of here.” She looked at him, wondering if she had said too much. “What happens now?”  
    Gerard cleared his throat; when he spoke, his voice showed strain. “The press is coming. To talk to you before you leave. You mustn’t — just say you’re very happy, and grateful to the State, and you wish everyone could be as lucky as you are. Or else — ”  
    â€œOr else . . . trouble?” Suppressing what she felt, again she shook her head. “I will speak nicely to the press about my life here.”  
    His smiled showed relief. “Good. I’ve ordered up some clothes and a wig, so you’ll look better on Tri-V for the home folks.”  
    Before she could stop herself; “The hell with the home folks!” Then, quickly, “Wait a minute — I said I wouldn’t say anything. But I won’t look a lie, Gerard.” For the first time she called him by name. She felt surges of life, energy, power, but she was not yet free of this place. She fought them down and smiled. “I’m sure the public knows a Welfare haircut when it sees one. There’s no point in pretending lottery winners get that much advance notice. That’s all I meant.”  
    With clenched