Mansfield: Part Five: the Future

By Keith R. Long

B has just received devastating news: the world has run out of fossil fuel. As a global disaster appears imminent, the stock markets close, unemployment numbers grow, and B wonders what the future holds.

Lucky to still have a job at ContractCorp, B is accompanied to work every day by Lieutenant Iyax Montgomery, an attractive military man. When her Boss tells her he is dying and heading to a secret Warehouse, he promotes B to CEO and promises that one day, there will be a place for her there as well. But after her home is attacked, B must rely on others to help her survive the poverty, starvation, and lawlessness of an apocalyptic world. Now only time will tell if Iyax and B will develop their budding romance or if the hidden horrible realities of the Warehousing phenomenon invented by Tim Worthington will eventually tear their relationship apart.

In this futuristic dystopian Society B, Ijax, and Worthington struggle to survive while rebel groups attempt to stop a frightening Warehousing phenomenon before it is too late for the human race.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491735879

Keith R. Long

Keith R. Long was raised on a cattle ranch in Grass Valley, California. He earned a BA in English drama from California State University–Chico and served in the United States Marine Corps as an officer and helicopter pilot. Long currently works as a nurse at Folsom Prison in California.

Book preview

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MANSFIELD

PART FIVE: THE FUTURE

Copyright © 2014 Keith R. Long.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse LLC

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-3588-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-3589-3 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-3587-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014909863

iUniverse rev. date: 08/06/2014

CHAPTER

Chapter 1 Apocalypse

Chapter 2 Idea For The Greatest Novel Ever

Chapter 3 Rebel Attack

Chapter 4 Peace

Quotes From The Text

In one romantic sweep, Iyax slides his arm around her waist and guides her into an intimate position on the couch. Against B’s better judgment, she lets her head fall onto his inviting shoulder, and she can’t resist the temptation to snuggle her nose into his neck. B struggles briefly with her weakness and frequent submission to Iyax’s displays of affection. I’m rewarding him with snuggles and kisses rather than saying the word no, which is a word, while ever present in my thoughts, that somehow never makes it past my lips. (chapter 1)

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B suddenly feels Iyax’s hot, appreciative, and loving lips kissing her face and wants to tell him to stop before her dress melts away from her body. Unfortunately, she says nothing, and so it does. (chapter 1)

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I was dreaming the other night and had an idea for the greatest novel ever. You see… the world is overpopulated, and all our resources are diminishing, so what are we going to do? Well, imagine there was a computer so powerful it could create a world as real as the one we live in. A surgeon wires this computer into our spinal column and our brains so it can feed signals into our minds to make us think we’re living in the real world, even though we aren’t. (Tim Worthington from chapter 2)

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Wherever I turn my senses, the headlights illuminate a world complete and wonderful, but just over the top of the hills and behind me there is nothing. I can’t turn around fast enough to see the void of nothingness, because the commands from my brain to turn around are intercepted coming out of my neck and the computer has all the information necessary to build the illusion of my world wherever I’m looking.

Even more disturbing—when I’m not looking into a mirror, I don’t exist in cyberspace at all. Of course, I wonder about the implications of having wires threaded up my nose to deliver signals to my olfactory nerve endings to trick my mind into believing there is a smell. (Tim Worthington from chapter 2)

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Somewhere, though, electricity still flows, and the computer programs dance in their ultimate efficiency with a grace and beauty that only a computer can appreciate, especially considering at that point the master computer will be the only life form left on the planet. (Tim Worthington from chapter 2)

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The rebel with the tiny voice stops the crowd again by asking quietly, I don’t suppose we could add something to your plan, Senator. I know this computer genius who ran an idea past me the other day. I thought he was crazy, but maybe under the circumstances we could give his idea a try.

Citizen, I’m ready to listen to any proposal, but let’s talk in private. I don’t want the idea to be found out. The senator motions for everyone else to leave. (chapter 3)

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The senator sits in his chair. Graciously, he says, Thank you. I’m so glad everyone could make this meeting. I’m sure by now that all of you understand the basic plan, and before we move on the next step, I want to make sure we are all in agreement.

After listening for a few moments to their mumblings and side conversations, he clears his throat to speak. We have Tim Worthington as a hostage, and if we are to have peace, we must return him.

Worthington is a criminal. (chapter 3)

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Senator, your information collection network is very good, Iyax responds with a smile.

Confessing, the senator continues, Muriel proudly let Bonnie know of her condition, and Bonnie told me right away with the excitement of a grandmother.

I see.

Iyax, I know you didn’t come all the way out here to talk about Muriel, the senator comments, waiting expectantly for Iyax to declare his candidacy.

No, Senator, I came to talk about B.

B?

The people.

Oh yes, the senator acknowledges, but he’s still not sure what Iyax is talking about. (chapter 4)

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When his supporters rush to congratulate him, Iyax is surprised.

The senator hugs Iyax along with several others before the senator says over the noise of the celebration, Iyax, are you happy you went to all this trouble for the people?

I didn’t exactly do it just for the people.

What?

I did it for B.

Realizing Iyax remembers the old metaphor, he says quietly, Oh. She is proud of you.

I think I would be much happier if she was still alive and could tell me that herself.

That’s one of the many things you have in common with the people. There isn’t one person who voted for you who didn’t lose most of their family, friends, and neighbors in the Apocalypse and the subsequent fighting during the civil war. They paid for this election with their blood.

Squaring his shoulders proudly, Iyax says confidently, I won’t let them down.

Good. Now, let’s go to the Congress Hall and get you sworn in. (chapter 3)

CHAPTER 1

Apocalypse

B sits in her office listening to the news reports coming from a large-screen TV down the hall. She takes a break from creating legal contracts that support the business dealings of multinational corporations and brushes back her short-cropped, graying, chestnut brown hair. B hears that OPEC has finally decided that they will no longer continue making regular deliveries of oil. Instead, they will be auctioning off each tanker load and B quickly understands that oil prices in the future will become exorbitant.

Jennifer, an anxious youthful coworker, enters B’s luxurious office, and she speaks rapid-fire, You won’t believe…

Giving Jennifer a sharp glance, B notices how pretty Jennifer looks in her knee-length pleated skirt before B interrupts, Please. Can’t you see that I’m too busy for gossip right now?

Jennifer approaches closer, hushes her voice, and twirls the ends of some of her blond hair with gentle fingers as she confides, Listen to me. We’re out of oil.

Giving Jennifer an understanding look, B says, You’re overreacting. There is still oil. OPEC will just make us pay a fortune for it.

Jennifer rubs her slender hands nervously together and confesses, The US reserves were secretly put out on the market for years to keep the prices down.

Feeling a chill, B stops typing, pulls the lapels of her gray business jacket together, and thinks for a moment about the implications of the US oil fields being depleted before saying, Who did you hear this from?

Jennifer suddenly feels defensive and nervously turns her trim body side to side, causing her skirt to wind and unwind across her thighs as she quietly answers, A friend, but the news reporter is going to be breaking the story in about two minutes if you don’t believe me.

Looking up to Jennifer, B sees she is truly concerned, so B stands and walks toward Jennifer, who smiles timidly with lips that glisten from pink glossy lipstick. Jennifer turns, and they both walk to the boardroom feeling comforted by their companionship.

B walks with a flood of office workers who are making their way to a TV the size of the whole wall that blares out the afternoon news report.

Jennifer places her hand gently against B’s back and guides B toward a group of their mutual friends who are huddling together for support and watching a newscast detailing the desperate oil situation.

Listening to the news, B learns not only that the US oil fields are nearly empty but that all the other producers have kept their dwindling supplies a secret, too. In shock, B turns to her friend before saying, If this report is true…

Jennifer shakes her head, tossing her long, blond hair in dismay, and adds, The oil is gone. I’m certain of it.

B listens carefully in silence as the gloomy reports drone on about the impending disappearance of all the oil-related industries, until there is a special announcement that the financial markets around the world are being shut down by their governments because a worldwide mass hysterical sell-off of stocks is causing a financial meltdown of disastrous proportions.

With someone clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention, the sound from the TV is cut, and B sees that the CEO of their corporation is gently raising his delicate hands to get everyone’s attention.

Look, Jennifer, one of the Mansfields has come down from his high perch in the executive wing to speak to us.

Jennifer hides behind B. Wow. This must be serious. He never did anything like this before.

Mr. Mansfield’s golden cufflinks sparkle when he gestures with his supple hands. B anxiously listens as he speaks nervously to the assembled office workers. Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to make a few announcements; first: I’m sending everyone home for the day.

The impeccably dressed Mr. Mansfield dexterously turns a diamond-encrusted ring around on his lithe finger and waits for the cheering to die down before continuing with his impromptu speech. Next, I want all the department heads to come up to my office for a meeting.

B drops her shoulders and groans. Jennifer pats her on the back to offer some silent support. B feels energized by her friend’s touch and quickly makes her way through the crowd to get her laptop, so she can go to the meeting with all the other department heads.

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Getting ready in her office, B enviously watches several employees gathering their personal belongings, so they can flee the building and enjoy the rest of the day off.

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B is the last department head to arrive at Mr. Mansfield’s office. Mr. Mansfield extends his delicate hand, and B notices his manicured fingernails. Once he finishes shaking her hand, he motions for her to sit with everyone else in front of his desk.

B senses the tension in the room and feels a bit claustrophobic, so she nervously shifts her portable chair before sitting down.

Compassionately, B watches Mr. Mansfield return to his desk. He shuffles a few items around on his desk with his agile fingers as he waits for the department heads to settle down and uses the delay to gather up his nerve before saying what is on his mind.

B holds onto her laptop with both hands and nervously listens when he begins speaking with a somber tone in his voice, We’ve anticipated today’s events and have a detailed contingency plan.

B thinks, I’m feeling much better.

Mr. Mansfield continues, Naturally and for obvious reasons, I’ve kept our information about the depletion of the world’s oil supplies secret. Now that the news is out, I can tell you that there will be no more gasoline for personal automobiles.

Oh no.

Also diesel for transportation and even farming will be virtually nonexistent, and only the most critical industries that use oil as a raw material for the manufacturing of their products will continue to be operational.

Mr. Mansfield finishes his earthshaking statement, quietly drums his lithe fingers on the desktop, and sits for an unusually long period of time before continuing.

Starting right now the world will be a different place, and we must adapt accordingly. You will lay off all of our employees excluding yourselves, and it will be up to us to reinvent ContractCorp so that we may serve the corporations that survive this catastrophe.

Like everyone else, B looks side to side and judges her colleagues’ reactions to Mr. Mansfield’s speech. After hearing more than one nervous cough and seeing everyone squirming in their chairs, she nervously thinks, For sure, everyone else has a better understanding of this worldwide disaster than I do.

Mr. Mansfield makes some reassuring eye contact with his department heads and resumes speaking. My friends, a vast majority of the clients that we’ve traditionally served will be bankrupt and out of business in a matter of days. It’ll be up to us to find the corporations that can survive, and we must convince them that we are the best providers of contracts to facilitate their multinational business operations.

B silently watches Mr. Mansfield fidget in his chair as he looks from person to person waiting for questions. When none are forthcoming, he stands. B realizes that his action is the cue for the executives to stand and to move to the door so they can shake his hand before returning to their offices.

When it is her turn, he makes a banal remark to her, shakes her hand, and quickly reaches for the next person while saying something encouraging.

B thinks, His comments probably came from a list of generically hopeful things to say to a subordinate during a disaster.

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B returns to a floor that is now totally deserted of employees and sits in shock for several minutes. She composes an e-mail to convey her optimistic belief that, the dismissal is only temporary, and once business returns to normal, I will accept applications for employment to revive ContractCorp so we can serve our multinational clients in the future.

B sends the fateful e-mail and looks self-consciously out her window to watch her colleges dribbling out into the parking lot and notices they appear just about as somber and depressed as she is feeling. She gathers her things, heads out of her office, and walks through an uncharacteristically empty building.

In the parking lot, B makes an almost tearful glance back toward the ContractCorp office building and sees several soldiers who are wearing paramilitary uniforms decorated with Mansfield Industries logos. As they take up defensive positions around the building, she sadly shakes her head and thinks, Mansfield Industries must be expecting a lot of trouble if they’ve hired a private army to protect their investments.

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At home, weeks later, B sits on her black leather couch, watching the evening TV news reports about how the stock markets around the world are still closed. She thinks, There is lots of ferocious trading going on anyway, as frantic investors attempt to salvage what little they can. Factories are closing, corporations are collapsing, and banks are falling like houses made of cards in a windstorm.

B looks at the reassuring, warm, wooden, parquet floor beneath her feet and listens to reports of rolling blackouts designed to distribute the grief of power outages equally among all the citizens before cringing at a series of reports about riots at gas stations and supermarkets whenever it is declared the staples of life are exhausted.

A familiar knock comes from the door, and B wakes up from her depressing trance, walks to the door, and puts a smile on her face to hide her miserable state of mind. She fearfully opens the door a crack to confirm who is there and joyfully says, Jennifer.

Jennifer unbuttons the long gray coat she wore to hide her attractive figure from looters and glides into the house apologetically. I couldn’t call because the phones are out.

I understand, B acknowledges supportively. She briefly touches Jennifer’s shoulder as she helps Jennifer remove her coat.

I had to walk all the way because there isn’t any gas, Jennifer complains with a plaintive tone as she looks around at the opulent decorations in B’s living room.

B hangs up the coat and says, Look at the bright side. We get lots of exercise now.

I suppose, but how do you get to work?

Walking to the black leather couch, B answers, Some paramilitaries come and pick me up in the morning, and they bring me back at the end of the day.

It must be nice. I still haven’t found a job, Jennifer says dejectedly, looking curiously at a delicate art object.

I don’t think you will for a long while, B comments.

Jennifer sadly slouches over to the couch, plops dejectedly into a heap onto the plush cushions, and sobs, I don’t have any food, and I can’t pay my rent this month.

It’s the same everywhere, B answers, feeling empathetic and lonely. Impulsively, she adds, Why don’t you stay with me until you can get another job?

Gently taking B’s hand, Jennifer says hopefully, May I? I won’t be any trouble. I promise.

I’m glad to have you here, B says comfortingly, We can keep each other company.

Are you sure, B?

Changing

Reviews for Mansfield

[pauntley · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

What would it be like, I wonder, to read CK Stead's novel of Katherine Mansfield and her milieu without a working knowledge of English literary and intellectual culture in the opening decades of the 20th century? Prompted by Stead, the familiar cast of characters emerges from the recesses of memory a little uncertainly at first like clockwork figures, each with their characteristic stage make-up, grimaces, mannerisms and accoutrements. There is Bertrand Russell with his high celluloid collar, clenched pipe and withering halitosis; D H Lawrence, with wiry ginger hair, jutting red beard, tiresome argumentativeness and Frieda, his large German wife. In one of the more memorable set pieces in the novel Lawrence quarrels with Frieda and beats her viciously before collapsing in exhaustion and self pity. Ottoline Morrell is there, too, horsefaced, voracious in her pursuit of intellectual celebrities and oddly pathetic. Even Ludwig Wittgenstein, who was fighting on the German Front, makes an offstage appearance as the painful thorn in Bertrand Russell's self esteem. These well known figures provide the background for CK Stead's exploration of the triangular relationship between Katherine Mansfield, her awareness of her pre-eminent literary talent and 'Jack' Middleton Murry, her on and off lover, whom she eventually married. (To be continued)