Davis, Jerry - Justification

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JUSTIFICATION

Previously Published in Aboriginal Science Fiction Magazine

Dale Bently shuffled out of his apartment in his robe and slippers, squinting in the pale fall

sunlight, heading toward the mailbox and the letter that would tell him his life was over. In

one week it would be his fortieth birthday, and while he had that vaguely in mind, he had

forgotten about what it meant. He had forgotten a lot within the past five years, his life

becoming a pale blur of featureless days.

He opened the mailbox with his thumbprint and pulled out the small bundle of junk mail,

not even seeing the envelope from the Bureau of the Census. He carried it back to his

apartment and shuffled inside, the end of his daily trip into the world. He shut the door and

locked it, and threw the mail down on the coffee table that separated the couch from the

television. As the letters spread out he saw the bright red envelope and it caught his attention.

He'd seen that envelope before.

It was easy when Dale Bently was five years old; he was a child in good health and was

getting good grades in school. Children of his age were rarely judged poorly. It was the same

when he was ten years old. By the time he was fifteen he'd developed into a bit of a

disciplinary problem, but that was normal for a teenager and there was still no real worry.

When he was 20 he was in college and getting good grades again.

By the time he was 25 Dale was making a good living as a apprentice engineer with

Lagrange 5 Corp. It was the first time he'd seen the Census as a threat, but as he was actively

working for the good of mankind and producing more than his share, he passed. The same

when he was 30 and 35 years old. But then there was the accident, and the hospitals, and the

lawsuit which gave him enough money to compensate him for not ever being able to work in

high orbit again.

The money, officially, was for him to be able to reeducate and enter a new career, but as

it turned out it was enough for him to comfortably survive without working for a

considerably long time. He grew inward, reclusive, living for his daily and nightly television

favorites. It never occurred to him, never at all, that he was dooming his very existence.

He opened the red envelope and held its contents in his hands. The Census! he thought.

The damned Census!

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Bureau of the Census

Dept. of Life Evaluation

Division of Judgment

Los Angeles, CA 90039-3278-34

Notice to Mr. Dale Bently of 7892634 Vericruz Lane, Apt. 982e7,

Tuleburg California 95205-1252-08, S.S. #578-23-8493-X-4398:

IMPORTANT! This is your 5 year census notice! You must fill out

the accompanying form and essay and return to the Bureau (see

enclosed self-addressed envelope) before your deadline of

November 1st. Failure to complete or return the census will

jeopardize your status of citizenship.

My God! Dale thought. My God, I forgot all about this! What have I been thinking!?

He looked over the form and the instructions for the essay. The form itself only counted

for %10 of the evaluation. It was the essay that carried the weight. In big bold letters the

instructions read:

In your own handwriting, justify your existence in 500 words or less.

Letter held numbly in his hand, Dale walked to a window and looked out. The white sunlight

made everything glare in his eyes, causing him to squint. It looked so unreal, much less real

than the television screen. There was no color out there.

Dale looked down at the letter. He looked at the date. November 1st, it read. He had one

week.

The trolley rumbled and swayed over the old freeway foundations, steel wheels singing

against steel tracks as it whizzed out of Old Town and into the vast spread of cityscape that

covered the once vital farmlands. Tuleburg was now bigger than the L.A. basin, with Money

and Business drawn around the big space ports like iron filings to a magnet. The sprawl of the

California Central College campus was visible miles before the swaying green trolley reached

the station, giving the impression that the trolley was barely creeping along. This was pure

illusion, as they were traveling in excess of 70 miles per hour. Dale was standing, holding

onto a rail and squinting through the windows, when the brakes were applied. He was thrown

forward and would have gone tumbling had he not grabbed on with his other hand.

The walk from the station into the campus had him exhausted before he was anywhere

near his destination. He had a headache and he was dizzy and his legs felt like they were

going to collapse beneath him. The students milling about all looked impossibly young. He

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couldn't tell if they were 14 or 24.

One tower stood out from the rest. He entered and rested on a bench in front of the

elevators for a while, mentally preparing himself for the interview. Almost five years ago

Lagrange 5 Corp. had suggested he take up teaching --- he only hoped that it wasn't too late.

By teaching the young, he could easily justify his existence.

His watch beeped and said, "You'd better hurry up, your appointment is in five minutes."

Dale sighed, said, "Oh, shut up," to the watch, and wearily got to his feet. He touched the

button for the elevator and the doors opened. He stepped inside, announced his destination as

the 22nd level, and nearly toppled to the floor as the elevator swooped upwards toward the top

of the tower.

On the 22nd floor, he managed to find his way to Virginia Mergle's office, which was a

large hardwood door with a sign that read "PERSONNEL." Beyond was a waiting room with

a large information screen in a corner and seats all around. A computer voice said, "State

your name and business," as soon as he entered. Dale spoke up in a nervous voice, and the

computer acknowledged him and said, "Miss Mergle will see you in one minute, seventeen

seconds." The information screen showed several different views of the campus, a scrolling

list of job opportunities, and a documentary on keeping full sized whales in captivity.

When the countdown to his appointment reached zero the door swung open by itself and

the computer announced, "Miss Mergle will see you now." Dale stepped into the inner office

and saw a smooth-skinned black haired woman reclining in a chair behind a huge desk. Her

eyes were closed, and eight data cables trailed from her head like an octopus's tentacles.

"Come in, Mr. Bently," she said without opening her eyes. Her voice had an unpleasant, too-

relaxed quality about it. Despite her clear enunciation, it sounded like she was talking in her

sleep. "Please, sit down and relax."

Dale sat but he didn't relax. "I'm here about a job teaching zero-gravity engineering."

"We have an opening," Virginia said in her sleep-voice. "What are your qualifications?"

"I have a degree in zero-gravity and low gravity engineering from the Tuleburg Institute

of Technology, and ten years of practical experience with L5 Corp."

"Yes," she said, her eyes still closed. "I am reviewing your records now."

Dale swallowed, his throat dry. Silent seconds passed while data streamed in and out of

the woman's brain. She breathed slowly, her breasts heaving up and down with dream-like

calm.

"You have no teaching credentials," she said finally.

"I have practical experience, things that----"

"You have no teaching experience, either. I'm sorry, but I can't give you any teaching

position at all without a degree. I am searching for other employment possibilities now."

Again, Dale found himself waiting silently and watching the woman's breasts ease up and

then down again.

"Your physical records indicate you would not be able to do any heavy labor. I'm sorry

Mr. Bently, but I just don't have anything for you at all."

Dale sighed, and stood up.

"Mr. Bently, I'm curious. Your records indicate you have not been in any schooling nor

work for years. Why the sudden interest in teaching? You could have spent all this time

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