Upgrade: Part I of II

When Kenny was 6 years old his parents used to make him walk to and from school. They said it was to help him establish trust in their eyes. Kenny knew it was because he was fat and they thought it would help him lose weight.

            A one way trip was about a mile long. Overall, it was fine and Kenny didn’t mind it, even if he did mind his parent’s hidden agenda. At the close of the journey to school, every morning Kenny would traverse the baseball diamond and surrounding field. And every morning the dew from the grass would coat his discount store sneakers in a thick layer of moisture. Because the baseball field was on school property, naturally as Kenny neared this space many school age children could be seen on foot converging towards the building.

            One day in particular had stood out in Kenny’s mind for years. A friend, Adrian hustled up to Kenny’s side as he strolled through the dewy grass. “Kenny, we need another kid for baseball today after school you in?”

            Kenny’s delight at the thought of taking in an activity with friends overruled his critical thinking skills for a moment. “Oh heck ya man!”

            “Great, we need a pitcher. You can use my glove.” Adrian smiled and trotted off ahead, Kenny could hear him telling some of the other kids heading towards the school, “Kenny’s gonna pitch for us today…”

* * *

            “I never went to the game,” Kenny shook his head. The memory was there with him, as though it were still happening. A few key moments, on repeat in his brain for 30 some years of his life.

            “So what happened at the game?” the man on the other side of Kenny’s story was a stern, but wise looking chap dressed in a white lab coat. He had circular glasses and distinguished grey hair combed over to one side.

            “That’s just it Doctor Blevins, I never went.”

            “Why not?”

            “I couldn’t just come out and tell those kids I had a disability, they would’ve roasted me.”

            Blevins removed a stethoscope from Kenny’s bare chest. “So what did you do?”

            “I lied”, Kenny admitted, “I told them I forgot. They never invited me to another game again. And I went on never telling anyone about my disability. Doc, I hope you understand what this prosthetic means to me. This is not just a chance to at increased efficacy. This is a chance to become whole, to become normal.”

            “Alright Kenny, first things first, you’re physically in great condition. Despite the story you just told me, that childhood weight obviously dropped off at some point. Regarding the surgery you are cleared. But I want you to understand something…”

            Kenny was putting his shirt back on but paused to hear Dr. Blevins.

            “…Getting this surgery, receiving this prosthetic isn’t going to make you normal.”

            Shirt now on, confusion flashed in Kenny’s eyes, even as the doctor began to elaborate.  

            “This prosthetic is a trade off. You will gain functionality in your hand. So much so it will be above and beyond that of an average person. However, you will also gain the unwanted attention of many who cannot afford the investment of an Astir Industries product.”

            “C’mon doc, it’s like driving a Mercedes. It’s a status symbol.”

            “Perhaps, but unlike your current physical condition, you cannot hide this product in a garage, or lie to those around you about its existence. It will be in plain sight, 24 hours a day, yada yada yada.”

            “Lie about it?” Kenny laughed loudly as he hopped from the examination table. “Dr. Blevins I’m going to proudly show it to the world.”

            Dr. Blevins nodded. “Please see Marjorie on your way out about scheduling a surgery date.”

* * *

            On the way home Kenny rode the subway alone, smiling stupidly at the appointment reminder he had received from the Blevin’s assistant. Two weeks.

            In two weeks he would be happy. In 14 days he would be a man. In 336 hours he would be strong. In 20,160 minutes he would be independent.

            When Kenny wasn’t staring at the appointment card he was fumbling through the pamphlets he was given. One of which was beige and green tri-fold that was titled ‘Astir Industries: Life perfected’ and a second black and white booklet had a cover that read ‘Upgrade: Dealing with the Physical and Psychological Changes that perfection brings’.

            Those sharing the car with Kenny all eyeballed the literature. With silent judgment, they scanned Kenny. They saw him in his drab jeans, and well worn t-shirt. To them, he cast a distinctly sub-average visage. Collectively, their eyes seemed to say; what’s so special about him.

            One woman, a white-haired beast in a wheelchair, whispered at Kenny, “Fuckin’ elitist.” Kenny was so caught up in himself he didn’t notice. He just continued to smile that stupid smile.

* * *

            Kenny arrived home, his wife of 12 years greeted him. He was ecstatic when he told her the news. She, less so.

            “You were approved? I didn’t think they’d clear you.”

            “What is that supposed to mean Claire?”

            “I just thought the evaluation…so few actually make it.”

            “Nah, Dr. Blevins said that’s a thing of the past now Astir wants to be freer to open up upgrades to the general populace.”

            “Provided they can pay for it?” Claire responded.

            “Are you mad?” Before Claire could answer, Kenny blurted an accusation, “No you’re jealous! Oh my God!” Kenny wanted to laugh, but he suddenly felt so sad. He had come home to share his great news, and had been met with defiance.

            “Jealous! No, my no. I am happy for you but…”

            “But what?” Kenny heard his voice rising, but didn’t fight it. He was hurt and wanted to be heard, and also he wanted to hear what was on Claire’s mind. What she really thought.

            “It’s so much money.”

            “You’re kidding me? That’s what you are worried about? Baby, I have scrimped and saved--”

            “We have saved.” Claire tried to interject, but her protest was overtaken by Kenny’s sheer volume.

            Kenny continued to yell, “--and gone without for years in the hopes that I would be able to do this one day.”

            “What if we have an emergency? What if we need our nest egg?”

            Kenny sighed, but continued his tirade, this time adopting a different approach, “You don’t understand what it’s like to live like this.”

            “What if I want more than this? Look around you! Do you think this rinky-dink apartment and off the rack clothes are what I’ve dreamt about all these years? Why do you get what I want and I get nothing?”

            Kenny paused as tears welled in Claire’s eyes, but only for a moment. “Because what you want is material, and what I want is so much more than that.”

            Claire stormed off, taking refuge in their tiny bathroom.

            The couple didn’t speak until late that night. They angled themselves around the small apartment, for fear they’d both turn its coziness into a setting for close quarters combat.

            At bedtime they both blurted out the same thing, just a beat or two from being completely in unison: “I’m sorry.”

            “Go ahead,” Kenny offered, “I was so rough on you today. You go first.”

            “OK I have to admit, I never thought they’d approve you. That’s why I agreed to you having the surgery.”

            Kenny nodded; he knew it deep down but hated to hear her say it, at the same time he needed to hear her say it aloud. “And I am being selfish with our money.”

            Kenny tried to continue but was cut off when Claire pressed a finger over his lips. “But I know how much this means to you, even if I don’t understand all of what it means to you. Just promise me you won’t freak out. Ya know, afterwards.”

            “I promise.” Kenny looked at Claire, her warm face, gentle eyes and inviting lips. He could tell she’d been crying for the better part of the afternoon. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you. I love you. ” He kissed her more times than they could count.   

CHECK BACK NEXT WEEK FOR PART II - THE EXCITING CONCLUSION!

Knowledge is Pricey

                Max walked through the promenade for only the second time. He was still in awe. Surrounding Max were students just like him, bright eyed wonder lit up their faces as they strode to their destination- to their destiny he presumed. Banners flew brightly on the old style lampposts that flanked the wide cobblestone walk. They displayed bold words designed to motivate, empower and drive new students from all over the world; Success!, Determination!, Discipline!. Beneath each one was the school’s logo in bright yellow; SDU.

                 In the main courtyard the lampposts and their banners followed the pavement in a more intimate circle. In its center was a statue of the school’s mascot, the powerful T-Rex. Max paused and inhaled deeply as he took in its majesty. He didn’t seem to notice that the copper creature’s arms were ridiculously exaggerated, looking more like the arms of a grizzly bear with a bicep fetish than the upper appendages of the extinct lizard king. Instead of noticing this obvious flaw, Max found himself swelling with pride again, and smiling even brighter than before.  He was now a T Rex as well; he still could hardly believe that they accepted him, even with his outstanding grades. He just needed to find a way to pay for it all.

                After allowing himself a moment to reflect, Max pushed on towards the conglomeration of administrative buildings just a few yards ahead. As he took them in, he had but a brief and ominous view of them. Max could’ve sworn that despite the rest of campus being lit up by the autumn sunshine, the admin buildings had a foreboding look to them, as if the sky just beyond them was about to break loose with a terrible and dark storm that would solely lash out at those buildings. The vision, though fleeting, made him weak in the knees for just a moment.

                Max shrugged it off and giggled at his own silliness. With another deep breath he regained his confidence and marched inside. At the front desk he approached the young woman seated behind it, “Hi there, I’m Max Herring, I have an appointment with Martha Nunez at 9 o’ clock.”

                “Good morning Max, Martha’s prior appointment is running a little long, but she’ll be right with you.” The receptionist was bubbly and smiled, Max thought her demeanor was genuine, he immediately liked her. “Go ahead and sign in.” the young lady pushed a small clipboard towards him.

                Max gladly picked up the pen that was attached by a long spiraling cord and filled in the following:

Name	Appt W/	Date	IN	OUT
Max Herring	Financial Advisor	8/8/37	8:59

                Max took a seat on the fashionable chairs in the lobby, red leather cushions with ample back and rear space, but no arm rests. Max figured they were expensive by the looks of them. Heck, not having any arm rests made them extremely fancy as it was, he could only imagine their cost! The rest of the waiting area looked pristine and glowed with newness. As Max looked around at the tall glass walls and sleek, modern furnishings he thought it might resemble a swanky fish bowl.

                After a few minutes a polished older women in a pants suit strode out from the catacombs of offices behind the receptionist. “Max Herring?” she let her voice go, although pleasant, the sound resonated through the room. Max didn’t find it odd that she did this despite the fact that he was the only one waiting.

                He stood, “That’s me.”

                The woman came forward, hand extended, as Max shook it, she said, “Welcome to State of Disparity University. I’m Martha.”

                “It’s a pleasure to be here ma’am- and to meet you.”

                Martha smiled and led Max behind the reception area and down the hall to her office. Max walked in and saw that it was decorated with SDU memorabilia to the point of near clutter; foam fingers, posters, plaques, tiny T-Rex dolls, the collection’s centerpiece was a red football helmet emblazoned with a yellow T Rex silhouette; it had an autograph scrawled across it as well. Max recognized it immediately; it was SDUs famed coach of several decades, Rick Mostly.  The T Rex’s dominated the NCAA football rankings; it had been that way since time immemorial. They only recruited the best.

                “Go ahead and have a seat Max.”

                Blushing a bit, Max sat realizing he had been slightly distracted by Martha’s display of knick-knacks.

                “Alright,” Martha grabbed a paper file and laid it before her on her desk. “We are here to try and figure out what sort of financial options we have available for your tuition.”

                As Martha opened the file Max asked meekly, “Oh my parents couldn’t be here, but they wanted to make sure I ask about Direct Data Download?”

                Martha visibly winced at the question, “Oh Max, unfortunately DDD is not covered by your financial aid or any of your scholarship dollars.”

                Max seemed stunned, “Oh why not?”

                “Well SDU has to adhere to federal laws concerning direct data download- as you know students that receive DDD gain the ability to learn in real time, by having the knowledge directly input and interpreted via a computer chip that is implanted in the occipital lobe of the skull. This of course guarantees the receiving student will retain the knowledge at a rate of 97% or higher. Because of recent legislature concerning the implant portion of DDD the government ruled that neither financial aid, or scholarships may be used towards Direct Data Download as it was classified as a medical procedure, rather than a pursuit of higher education.”

                “I see, so what does that mean for me?” Max now seemed a bit anxious.

                Martha paused for just a moment, when she finally spoke she had this to say, “Well Max, DDD is still available to students like you at the standard tuition rate of $2000 per credit hour,” Martha snickered like a hog, “of course that’s for you as an undergrad. The rate is much higher for master’s students, and even steeper for doctoral candidates.”

                Max was stunned. “Oh well neither myself or my folks can afford that, what are my other options?”

                “My suggestion for you would be to enroll in the standard courses at $1000 a credit hour- that’s a savings of fifty percent! Those would qualify you to use that pesky financial aid as well as your modest scholarship dollars. Then identify any courses you think you might struggle with and utilize direct data download for those credits. So for instance, I can see the math scores on your transcript are less than stellar, I’d think about possibly using DDD for those. What do you think?”

                Max’s eyes narrowed, he felt it was time to get serious. “I am prepared to accept a rate of no more than $750 per credit hour.”

                A squeaky laugh escaped Martha’s lips, “Why Mr. Herring are you haggling with me? I think you’ll find our pricing more than fair.”

                Max’s face hardened, “Well I can go down the street to your competitor and get a guaranteed rate of $725. You’ll find I’ve already done my research.”

                “Pish posh Mr. Herring. I’ll tell you one thing of the utmost importance, these days the quality of your university is just as important as the curricula that makes up that education. If you settle for less to save a buck, it will cost you in the end on your resume, because simply put employers want to see that degree from SDU. Anything else is viewed as subpar.”

                “Alright, well I guess we have nothing further to discuss,” Max abruptly rose from his chair and headed for the door.

                Martha moved with the speed of a jungle cat, and stepped in front of him before he could exit. “Now let’s not be hasty Max,” she looked him in the eye, “What do I have to do to get you into classes at SDU?”

                “Well I’d really like to try out that direct data download for a few of those math courses you mentioned.”

                Martha sighed, but her reply was as chipper as ever, “Okay, okay. Let me go talk to my boss and I’ll have him run some numbers and see what we can do.”

                Martha was gone for several minutes, when she returned a man with a wrinkled suit and bad hair plugs returned with her. “Max this is my manager, Ken Glenn.”

                “Max, pleased to meet you, have a seat, relax please. Ken Glenn, director of credit hour sales for SDU,” he extended a hand. Max shook it. “Thank you for stopping by today. Martha discussed with me some of your educational needs and I believe we can get you out the door today for around $70,000 – that package includes 15 credit hours of DDD- a bargain at $1200 each, so we gave you deep discounts there. Not to mention if you purchase today you’re eligible for a free meal voucher good for $100 of food at the school café (offer expires at the end of fall semester). And finally, once we take your scholarship dollars as trade you’ll only be looking at just over 60k.”

                Ken remained standing, but slid a towering stack of papers in front of Max’s nose. “Have a look-see; I believe you’ll find that contract very appealing. Martha and I really had to dig deep to get it to work on paper but I’m sure you’ll be excited to see the results. We want you at SDU- not the competition. What do you say future SDU alumni?”

                Max gave the contract a cursory flip through. Doubt had etched the young man’s face, but nonetheless he looked up at Ken and Martha who’s faces were eager and anxious. “Ok yes, I’ll do it! I’m an SDU man all the way! Where do I sign?”