I wanted to ask Rambo to come with me to Knox. Knox was a five storey building on Colfax that sold everything the way Wal-Mart used to. After the White Plaque, the New Order took office and everything in life was stratified by status and socio-economic levels. The race riots burned everything down, and the plaque killed nearly 25 million people. The New Order became ruthless in death and taxes as surely as it happened in front of our eyes.
I sped up flying over the crowds from the corner of Grant Street, and hit a wall with the end of my paddle and bounced off to the front of Knox. Rambo wasn't anywhere in sight. I was only allowed to shop by "top-shelf" rule due to my Father being a surgeon. Top three shelves only or Tier 1, and the next three was for those in the next lower income bracket, and the lowest income levels shop the last three shelves.
The homeless could only shop for only consumables with tokens from the government offices from the vending machine out front near the parking lots of Knox. All the first-aid products were not readily available. All health-related products were the most expensive items and they were rationed by household and income levels. All meats were reduced by size and lean percentage, from the leanest as most expensive only for top-shelvers. All other fatty meats were for those earning Tier 2 at less than $300,000 but more than $100,000, and Tier 3 was less than $100, 000 but more than $35,000. Everything had a code, matched to my ID and my name.
I wished I could purchase popcorn by the dozens like the Tier 3ers, because Rambo could buy a 10-pack for $10 from his job as the garbage disposal aid, while my shelves cost me $10 for two bags. I would trade marshmallows with Rambo if he was around.
I took my paddle and shrunk it down to fit the inside of my shoulder pack and jumped off my longboard.
"ID, please," said the front store attendant.
I showed him my shoulder and the chip scanned on his scanner gun.
"Tier 1 only," he said.
I breathed in, and walked inside.
Just write.