The Center

By KL Markey

"We need a license to drive, but anyone can have kids." We've heard this in frustration to news of violence, murder and suicides in America. So what is new? American parents are tested, kids are monitored and the nation has a New Pledge of Allegiance. Sample the test material with new parents Laura and Steven York, and join Child Advocate Coordinator, Larry Winterbourne, as he advises parents one Friday in The Center. Responsibility has shifted and we're a New America. This first, short story by KL Markey is slightly Sci-Fi, Horror, Retro and Futuristic. Grab your Fiddle Faddle and take a seat in The Center. We'll be with you shortly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: KL Markey
• Release date: Jul 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393379638

KL Markey

KL Markey resides in the Pacific Northwest, USA. She loves Scotties, knitting, art, movies and UK TV. Future interests include screenwriting and directing.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE: The Pledge

Feeling a mild migraine, Larry’s eyes snap open. He hates waking up with these things; it usually means coping with a heavy weight in his left eye, while muscles pull down the left side of his head and neck. Rising quickly and downing five Ibuprofen on an empty stomach, he attempts a jump-start on the brutal enemy before its full progression.

‘Must get food’. The anti-inflammatory gives him intestinal pain without food. Grabbing a pan, butter and eggs, he thinks about his day ahead while whisking and frying scrambled eggs. He has a lighter work day than usual, but he’ll be at The Center all day, with a staff party in the afternoon. It is meant to be a fun day.

Larry has a triangular swimmer’s build: 5 feet 10 inches tall, with wide shoulders and a long torso. He doesn’t walk; he glides elegantly, as a svelte jungle-cat with not an ounce of fat. His smooth, Irish skin covers his lean muscles like cream velvet. He has large, alert, Prussian-blue eyes...always measuring, forever evaluating. Larry is very attractive, with slightly curly, toffee-colored hair with a pinch of ginger, complementing his fair, lightly-freckled skin.

In college, Larry had done a bit of modeling: mostly with sweater and yarn companies for catalogs. Those were easy and occasional weekend jobs that didn’t interfere with his college studies and didn’t require long travel. Larry modeled under the radar of his friends and dorm mates; they thought he just went home for the odd weekend. They didn’t know he was making decent money, with the added bonus of meeting and sexing-up female models. He loved this secret. Everyone needs to keep something for themselves ... something deliciously private. He avoided the models who took selfies; he didn’t want that attention.

He easily attracts women, but he’s extra-nerdy these days; working full-time, plus part-time and researching for his writing. His bar-hopping days are behind him. Now in his mid-30’s, he wants a steady income with enough spare time to create and avidly read. He doesn’t spend time thinking of marriage, but all his friends have done so, even two of them twice. He’s seen enough marital and family dysfunction in the last three years to last a lifetime, as he professionally dances on the edges in his interloper capacity. He is used to the edges of life and he likes it. This is one reason he wanted to become a writer.

These days, Larry is reasonably content in his day job with the occasional teaching job at the community college evening course, Fiction Writing 101. He also teaches online: Skyping in consultation with students needing a tutor. Life with less interpersonal complication at home suits him.

Larry had once considered an apparel career, since he had been in his father’s tailoring store every Summer and after school. He learned early to be quiet, polite, and to represent the family business at all times. He learned so much about fabrics and fitting, but he learned far more by studying people: how mothers treat their sons, how husbands treat their wives and all vice-versa. Larry became a ‘people watcher’ and this prompted him to take two Summer college psychology courses right after high school. After those courses, he decided to be a writer. His father, Andrew, was not happy; but said if his son wanted to be a tailor as back-up, he always had a job.

That all changed when his father died suddenly of a heart attack. His mother, Kate, sold the store, and Larry was accepted for training with The Center. He makes a decent living while writing part-time. He’s aware of all patient information being off-limits, but he’s found a wealth of personality traits and gestures, not only from clients, but also co-workers. He misses his dad and he isn’t very close to his mother. He keeps wondering if she’ll re-marry and how weird that will feel. He snaps back into the present when reaching The Center’s staff entrance, with all the familiar faces smiling and appraising each others’ creativity in their wardrobe choices for this festive day.

Today is different, a costume day of sorts. This Friday, female colleagues and supervisors are wearing pencil skirts, mod geometric earrings and brooches on their blouses. Male associates are especially dapper in black oxford shoes, wide or thin ties on crisp white shirts, many capping their heads with Fedoras, and today brings many more mediocre, grey flannel suits than usual. Larry has chosen a dark teal, shark skin suit, white shirt and one of his Dad’s thin striped ties and black, wing-tipped shoes. The suit is a lean cut, but not too tight and the tie is white with thin black and navy pinstripes, plus wide yellow stripes. His Fedora is black with a bright, gold feather.

As they stream into the belly of The Center, Larry notices the music playing has been changed for the occasion from the usual tone pop, often in the background. ‘Tone Pop’ is a genre in the evolution of music that results from music first losing melody, then losing lyrics, then losing any beat. What this evolution produces is one tone in various lengths and non-standard intervals; an abstract music form, sounding like, boop, boop,boop,boop, booooooop, with