By Geraldine Borella
I stood in front of Taila2, praying I had enough CC’s for Andaya’s meds. Lights blinked and mechanical arms whizzed and whirred between rows and columns of pharmaceutical excipients, the monstrosity waiting to make a tailored biologic fit-for-purpose. I’d be short this time, for sure, using all my Contribution Credits to purchase the last supply, along with child support allocations too. There’d be no hope for higher education for Zella, her CC’s going fully towards Andaya’s meds and astronomical medical bills. She’d be consigned to a menial job like me, providing personal care to the elderly. There wasn’t an algorithm written to make robots suitable for wiping dribble and redirecting the demented mind yet. If only Shawnan hadn’t been injured in that mine blast. If he’d been able to make his mining quota this quarter, we might have made it. It would’ve been tight but doable.
Andaya’s last bio-supply had been stretched out to cover three months instead of one, but her chest had become clogged and her wheezy cough had returned. Her weight had dropped, and she was at serious risk of contracting a fatal chest infection. I simply couldn’t hold out any longer.
So, I punched her Cit-Number into the keypad, took a deep breath, and swiped my wrist across the scanner to pay.
Please, by some miracle, let there be enough!
But Taila2 displayed an indifferent message: Balance Insufficient.
Fuck!
My wrist buzzed — a call coming in — and I pressed to answer. Saraiya Galt’s shrill voice screeched through my earbuds.
‘I need your help. I know you’re not due for another hour, but I need you now.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘She’s at it again, emptying all the cupboards and trying to bust out of the apartment. I don’t have time to sit with her. I’ve got an important report to finish.’ I sighed and stared at the intractable Taila2, fighting the urge to smash it into shards of glass, metal and data-chips.
‘Look, I’ll pay you triple CC’s for the overtime,’ Saraiya said, misinterpreting. ‘I need you here.’ I fought the urge to scoff. Saraiya knew the unfairness of it all. She knew how the system could push you down and keep you there. Christ! She helped perpetuate it. The CC’s she amassed for compiling useless middle-management reports was laughable compared to the pittance I received for personal care work. But, if you removed either of us out of the equation, who would be missed the most?
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ll be there in five.’
‘Thank the stars,’ she muttered, before cutting the call.
Saraiya met me at the door. Dressed in a black glittery sheath, her white-blonde hair pulled into a tight chignon, she looked ready for a cocktail party. So much for the night at the office writing reports.
‘I’ve locked her in her room, but it’s a mess. Could you calm her down, feed her dinner and clean up?’ She didn’t wait for my reply and pushed past, high heels clicking down the corridor.
‘Sure,’ I muttered before closing the door.
In her bedroom, Hellenzi stood before a pile of clothes. She glanced up, annoyed at the interruption. I sidled in and sat quietly on the bed.
‘You’re a busy bee,’ I said.
‘They left me to do everything,’ she replied, flinging her arms in the air.
‘I see. Maybe I can help?’
‘Oh, Lord, look at this mess!’ she said, as though seeing the mound of clothes for the first time. ‘I don’t have time for this!’
‘No. But don’t worry, I’ll do it for you.’
Her shoulders lowered and she turned to stare. ‘Who are you?’
‘Kajulla,’ I said. ‘I’m Kajulla.’
‘Been here before?’
‘On the odd occasion.’
‘And have they told you how to get out? They won’t tell me.’
‘Not yet. I’m waiting to be told too.’
‘Well, don’t hold your breath,’ she said with a huff. ‘Anyway, where did those meteors land?’
‘Oh, miles away,’ I assured, playing along. Approaching meteors were blasted into dust nowadays and no longer posed a threat. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not in any danger.’
‘Good.’ She nodded then said, ‘And who stole the fish paste?’
‘Um…I don’t think anyone stole it. I think it just ran out.’
‘They should have ordered more.’
‘Yes, they should have.’
It was always best to follow Hellenzi’s convoluted discourse with agreement and calm reassurance. She’d get riled up if you didn’t. Admittedly, it wasn’t always this bad. There were moments of lucidity where she would carry on a proper conversation, but lately they were rare and getting rarer, despite Taila2’s biologics. Still, Saraiya kept her topped up on a weekly basis, desperate to wash away plaques, bump up proteins and reset thought patterns. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was throwing CC’s away for nothing. It seemed like an awful waste. After all, Andaya was barely twelve, Hellenzi a hundred and eight. Who deserved Taila2’s biologics more?
When Hellenzi calmed down, I managed to get a few spoons of dinner into her. Settling her into bed, I set the air to ‘Somnolent Lavender’ and flicked on a relaxation hologram. As she drifted off, I bustled around cleaning the room.
***
It was my next shift with Hellenzi that led to my current predicament.
I somehow happened upon an open window in time, a perfect moment where Hellenzi’s treatments had combined to allow me to see the woman she once was. I cleaned and folded and she chatted quite lucidly, painting a lovely still-life of colourful hydrangeas. And after lunch, I settled her into bed for a nap. As I tucked her in, she reached out and grabbed me by the arm.
‘I’m slipping away again,’ she whispered. ‘You have to help.’ She stared at me, her dark eyes glassy but steadfast. ‘I don’t want any more of these expensive treatments.’
‘But Hellenzi, Saraiya is —’
‘Doing it for the money,’ she said. ‘She knows I’ve left everything — my condo, my CCs, all of it — to the Social Equality Alliance. She’s only keeping me alive to milk me dry. You have to help me.’
‘How can I?’
She handed me a slip of paper.
‘Transfer all my CC’s to SEqA. Please! I beg of you.’
I looked at the two bank account numbers, one for Hellenzi, the other for SEqA and I found myself nodding.
***
I wish I could say I did what she asked, but I can’t. Well, not to the letter anyway. I waited until she slipped back into her usual confused state and transferred all the CCs to my own account. Then, I went straight to Taila2 and paid for a lifetime supply of Andaya’s biologics. That’s why I’m here now, incarcerated.
About the Author
Geraldine Borella
Geraldine Borella writes adult short stories and stories for children and has been published in anthologies for both. In 2018, one of her children’s short stories placed second in The Buzz Words Short Story Prize and she won an ASA Emerging Writer’s Mentorship. She currently works part-time as a hospital pharmacist and as an online creative writing tutor.
She’s fascinated by stories that expand upon today’s technology, addressing the moral and ethical issues that might arise. Equally, she enjoys the creative freedom that writing for children allows. Right now, she’s writing a young adult novel, reworking a middle grade novel and writing adult short stories when inspiration strikes. She lives with her husband, Tim, in Yungaburra, Far North Queensland and dreams of one day taking a European gap year.
Ion Newcombe is the editor and publisher of AntipodeanSF, Australia’s longest running online speculative fiction magazine, regularly issued since January 1998, and conceived back around November 2007. He has been a zealous reader and occasional writer of SF since his childhood in the 1960s, and even sold a few stories here and there back in the '90s.
Mark Webb's midlife crisis came in the form of attempting to write speculative fiction at a very slow pace. His wife maintains this is a good outcome considering the more expensive and cliched alternatives. Evidence of Mark's attempts to procrastinate in his writing, including general musings and reviews of books he has been reading, can be found at www.markwebb.name.
Natsumi Tanaka is a writer living in Kyoto, Japan. Her short fiction has appeared in numerous Japanese magazines such as Anima Solaris, Kotori no kyuden, and Tanpen.
Evan James Sheldon’s work has appeared recently in American Literary Review, the Cincinnati Review, and New Flash Fiction Review.
Jake Dean is a writer and waverider living on Kaurna land in South Australia.
Matthew R. Doherty currently resides in Leeds, England, where he spends most of his free time writing about military history, but his other consuming passion is for science fiction.
Joanna is a writer who lives in the bush near the Glasshouse Mountains in Queensland.
Andrew writes science-fiction and fantasy from the state of Maryland on the eastern coast of the United States, often drawing ideas from jogs through forest trails at sunrise or a tasty beer at sunset. 
Tim Borella has never lost his childhood passion for SF and writing in general and has been lucky enough to have worked most of his life as a pilot — in other words, he’s never properly grown up.
Old enough to just remember the first manned Moon landing, Kevin was so impressed he made science his life.
Simon Petrie, born and educated in New Zealand, now lives in the Australian Capital Territory, where he is paid to be careful with words.
Margaret lives the good life on a small piece of rural New South Wales Australia, with an amazing man, a couple of pets, and several rambunctious wombats.
Laurie Bell lives in Melbourne, Australia. She was that girl you found with her nose always buried in a book. She has been writing ever since she was a little girl and first picked up a pen. From books to short stories, radio plays to snippets of ideas and reading them aloud to anyone who will listen.
Mark is an astrophysicist and space scientist who worked on the Cassini/Huygens mission to Saturn. Following this he worked in computer consultancy, engineering, and high energy research (with a stint at the JET Fusion Torus).
Pixie is a voice actor, cabaret performer & slam poet From the Blue Mountains in NSW.
Timothy Gwyn is a professional pilot in Canada, where he flies to remote communities. During a lull in his flying career, he was a radio announcer for three years, and he is also an author.
Although a writer of the baby boom persuasion, Ed has not boomed for quite a while.
Alistair Lloyd is a Melbourne based writer and narrator who has been consuming good quality science fiction and fantasy most of his life.
