I was tired. I crawled out of bed and looked out the window. During the night my body had been twisted out of place by my merciless mattress. I calculated the odds of making it through the day without taking a Prozametaphin. "Fuck, just take one now," I said out loud as I reached over to the green bottle of white pills on my night table. I struggled with the bottle cap and wondered what asshole ever came up with the idea of numerical code bottle caps. Luckily I used my social security number for everything--although sometimes I had trouble remembering even that.

I felt the Proz kick in the second I swallowed it. It's not a strong sedative--more like a relaxant really. Power steering for the mind--that's what I call it. Gradually I felt my sense of hunger returning. I reached down under the pile of clothes on the floor looking for the remote. I zapped the fridge door and it popped open. The room filled up with the greenish glow of the fridge's incubator. I could smell a rotting gene pool I forgot to throw away. Three protein tubes had grown into maturity and were gradually baking in their own juices. I grabbed one and pulled it out of its shell. I started chewing on it as I cleared some space off the table with my elbow.

Outside I heard the sound of cheering. No doubt another brownie point had been scored for some citizen bent on increasing economic efficiency for the NATIONSTATES. "How much more efficient can we get?" I thought to myself as my eyes scanned the kitchen counter looking for liquids. I, for one, am tired of the INFORMATION REFORMATION. Gradually, the roar of the crowd outside became louder to the point where I had to take a peek. I asked my monitor to show me the street directly below my dwelling unit. The monitor hummed as it turned itself on and I could immediately see about twenty people marching down the street dragging a couple who were tightly bound and gagged. I asked the monitor to follow the group. I could see they were headed for the town square--the place where all the public "efficiency killings" were performed. I quickly swallowed the last bite of my protein tube and stood up to grab my jacket and hat. I told the door to open and I quickly exited, wiping my arm across my mouth as I walked down the hallway.

As I stopped outside, I was momentarily overtaken by the dank street smells. I had been sleeping for the last three days and wasn't used to that persistent pissy smell of the public street. I put on a nose clip and tried to catch up with the crowd. There was blood lust in the air, no doubt about it. The street corner monitors were flashing images of the last urban war, as if we needed to be reminded. Kids were throwing cans and bottles against the walls of the housing units. I could hear the crowd start cheering in a rhythmic chant as they started the first stage of their undulating ritualistic frenzy. There was smoke in the air;I could feel it in my eyes and throat.

I turned the corner and caught up with the mob. Arc lights lit up the town square with their blinding white lights shining down upon a wooden stage. Ten members of the mob hoisted themselves onto the stage and tugged away on the ropes of their two prisoners, pulling them from the arms of the crowd below. Suddenly, the neon score efficiency board at the edge of the town center lit up with its Las Vegasy circular flashing border lights. The mob cheered as all heads looked up.

Efficiency boards existed in every town center throughout the NATIONSTATES. The efficiency board looked like a score board from a football stadium, but instead of displaying scores, it listed the financial status of the local citizens. Those who were contributing to the local economy were listed on one side; those who depended on the state were listed on the other in red. One could see the names and addresses of all the local citizenry and exactly how much each person either contributed to or took out of the system.

MACROHARD created a new system of government based on the stock market. Cities became corporations controlled by a stock market system. These shares would then be traded on the market just like the shares of a private company. I, myself, had about 2000 shares I gradually acquired from my first job as a minesweeper during the war. The shares fluctuated in value from day to day; most people would check the share price on the efficiency board on an hourly basis. If the share price rose, the city was given more services. If the share price declined, services were taken away. If too many people went onto unemployment, the share price would go down. Their names would be displayed on the score board as a form of public humiliation. Even if you got sick and missed work, your name would show up. The problem was that people whose names stayed on the board too long had the dreadful habit of disappearing. People got pissed off; they didn't want their shares to drop in value. What it amounted to was sanctioned homicide. If you were on the list more than three weeks, that was it. You might as well go into hiding.

The government made it clear: individual hate crimes would not be prosecuted. If someone wanted to kill a prostitute or homeless person, it was considered as officially reprehensible, but tolerated the way a parent puts up with a teenage boy sewing his wild oats. "COGNITIC PSYCHDEMOGRAPHIC EQUALIZATION," is what they liked to call it. People needed an outlet and violent crime was considered to be one of the best. Besides, the propaganda implied you were saving the state money.

As I saw the bound and gagged couple forced into the guillotines, I looked away. I didn't like to watch. I stared at the sawdust and broken glass at my feet and clenched my teeth in anticipation of the death blow. I could feel my stomach arching up into my chest as if it were trying to expel a toxin from my system. Then I heard the thud. It was always the same type of noise: not a dull thud like a car door swinging shut, but more like the prolonged wheeling thud a van makes when its side doors open. Then the bells went off and the crowd roared. The score board lit up in bold letters: CONGRATULATIONS! THE PRICE OF A SHARE IN YOUR CITY IS NOW WORTH 341 CREDITS! A REMARKABLE 8% GAIN! KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK BY DOING YOUR PART TO CUT DOWN UNNECESSARY COSTS. WHAT A WIN-WIN WHEN WE ALL WORK AS ONE.

Stay Tuned November 20 for the continued story of Lane Cooper!