Stacey Levine - Dra-

“The world is so big,” the woman murmured. “I wonder what would it be like to live so long that you could see the whole world change? And all its people, and all its parts, everything becoming so different, do you think that will happen?”

“Yes, I think maybe … yes, it will.”

The secretary shifted. “Sometimes we need someone older, don’t we?” And Dra— heard the woman’s eyes click open and shut and felt the cool draft of her breath as they sat together uncomfortably on the office chair, rocking slightly.

“I’ve wondered how people fit together, and speak, and stay together,” Dra— murmured.

“Oh? I know just what you mean!” said the secretary.

“You do? How does it work, then — how do people stay with one another so easily and talk for such a long time, as if it were nothing?”

“Oh. Well, if that’s what you’re saying, then I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean at all.”

“I mean, people staying together, days and nights of it — how do they do that, without scaring away?”

“Oh, Missy, that’s the stuff of the world. Everybody talks to everyone else — they talk, and they get married; then they go to work, and by then life is nearly over, isn’t it? People work, they drink water. They advance on the job.” The woman shrugged.

“But what do they talk about? What things do they say?”

“Oh, anything, dammit, anything at all, what does it matter? Something funny, or something spooky — people just talk, don’t they?”

“Talk about what?”

“Well, we’re talking right now, aren’t we?”

“Well, yes. You mean people ask one another for guidance?”

“Well, sure, they can do that.”

“I’ve heard people speaking in foreign phrases I don’t understand! I’ve seen things that don’t make sense, that don’t fit in with the rest — how can I—”

“Just forget anything like that, Missy, and concentrate on your plan for life. Why, you already have a job, so, at least in my book, you’re ahead of the game.”

“Well — I’ll have to find my Administrator and get settled; then—”

“Oh, quiet,” the secretary said.

“But, I’m lost, don’t you remember?”

“Shut up, girl.”

“If I hadn’t forgotten to go meet my Administrator—”

The secretary broke away, now bent nearly to the floor in laughter, gasping, “Oh, you are funny! Missy, get to work, that’s all! Gee, with your yipping on — get busy and don’t bother with much else, that’s my motto. Go on! And here’s another piece of advice: If you don’t understand directions, just ask! For example, if you got lost at a bazaar, wouldn’t you ask how to find your way home? Well, if you don’t understand the work assigned to you, just ask! Learn to ask!”

She stood and strode away, looking back at Dra—, shaking her bare arm, saying, “You don’t ask, that’s your problem. Yes, I know we all have difficulties in life that aren’t our own doing. But we must take control of it all, in spite of that! Oh, you’ve got to ask,” she sighed, wiping her eyes again.

For causing the secretary such strained emotions, Dra— felt remorse; nevertheless, she asked searchingly, “Are you talking about a kind of code for living?”

“Oh, be quiet,” the secretary said, leaving the room for the adjacent kitchenette, calling from there, “I’m not your Administrator, am I? That’s a question for her. It’s a big question. By the way, did you know that most people in charge are self-hating? It’s true.” Her voice faded as she disappeared into the interior of the offices. “Everything’s trouble, anyway,” she was saying.

After a few minutes she returned with a bowl of silty water, slurping it greedily, gasping between swallows, “If you have an Administrator, she’ll find you sooner or later, and if you don’t find her, she’s probably dead and you’ll be assigned another. Why make faces over it?”

* * *

Later, exhausted, far from the secretary, though their conversation still rang in her mind, Dra— lay among a pile of rotted, overturned tables at an abandoned worksite with a ceiling so low that it was difficult to stand. She had not reported to the pump site at all, and though dreadfully anxious to do so, she was also loath to move at all, since her head rang with the same headache she had had for quite a long time. However, she vowed that from now on, all her energies must be spent in pursuit of reporting to work, and she wondered idly when she might find a train that traveled to the pump site. Chewing thoughtfully upon some rolled pieces of paper, downing water from her cup, she turned to a directory of toxins that lay on her lap, beginning to read assiduously. She had come across the book beneath some rubble nearby, and though the print was dark and difficult to make out, she grew deeply absorbed in the text, forgetting herself and her lateness.

After some hours she looked up from the pages, recalling the secretary who, waving tiredly from the doorway of the desolate chiropractic, called out that it would be wise to study and memorize books such as these, and also books that evaluated the chemical sources of not only pleasure and pain, but more neutral emotions as well.

And soon, she imagined, she would be sitting not alone but among others, working hard and in close proximity to her new Administrator, too. Upon arrival at the pump site, she would begin to work immediately, even before she was told what to do; though when life had settled into a routine, she considered, she indeed would probably search casually for a worksite telephone just to call the Nurse and chat over nothing at all. This tack would be much preferable to calling the Nurse in the middle of the night with profound anxiety or terror, which had occurred before, and which caused the Nurse to lose her temper.

So with a strong, even will, Dra— rose and wiped her hands, laughing suddenly, uncharacteristically, and with deep amusement as she realized that she had forgotten entirely about the Administrator for the few moments she had been pondering the Nurse. Humming, feeling a light, modulated emotion much like hope, she began organizing stacks of blank papers on a legless, battered desk, just to keep herself in form, and swept dust from the ceiling; then she set out to find the train that would lead her to the new worksite and new vistas.

After several hours, having found the way to the station on a wall map, she approached the place through the expansive Employee Tunnel, and caught her breath at the sight of the train itself, so intricately decorated with misshapen metal spires, coils, and a two-dimensional staircase. False windows above its passengers’ seats were flung open so wide they seemed to be begging. She had heard this was a dependable train, speedy compared to other trains, and every day it ferried huge numbers of new employees to their worksites, albeit through an arduous system of uphill tunnels that caused significant delays. After crawling painstakingly through these, the train would finally arrive at its destinations, overheated; yet, Dra— had heard, new employees were actually well-rested and healthier for having ridden this train, and thus better able, at least for a while, to fend off illness as they began their new jobs.

So in the empty, echoing, high-domed station, she grew excited, thinking not only of the luck this train might bring, but of the joy she would feel when she rode it in the future — on visits to the Nurse, of course. But now, in the station, it seemed the train was not ready to leave, but instead stood quiet and intractable. Its first car bore a wooden placard that read “San Francisco,” a destination she did not really comprehend, though small print on the placard described the place as sad and far away, a dumping-ground for old machinery and even lost employees who were transported there by train.