Predatory Ethics Book I - Mad Gods

Chapter 11 - Vantage -

TIME: FEBRUARY 8TH, 1963. HALL OF RECORDS, SAN FRANCISCO, U.S.A

Serita Peres looked at the four people waiting in line, then addressed the person in front of her. The vieja pouta, old whore, with a coiffed beehive of tired, blue hair, eyes hidden behind black, horn-rimmed glasses, wanted to know why her neighborhood was being taken over. They were moving in all over the place, she said. She turned slightly, then leaned closer to Serita and whispered, “The one in this line stinks of fried chicken and watermelon.” Her wrinkles jiggled as she chuckled at her joke.

“Excuse me?” Serita stepped back from the blue-haired lady. “I would appreciate you being more civil with your choice of language, Mrs…” she looked down at the name in the request form, “Oh, Mrs. White.” Mrs. White. It was just too funny, too much. “Now, that attitude might be fine where you live, but here in the hall of records, we are required to overlook everyone’s ethnic background. Is that clear?”

“Oh yes, that’s fine.” Mrs. White knew that she must agree. She just wanted this fucking spic to do her job and not get all high and mighty.

“It’s just that they’re not like you and me. They don’t take pride in their surroundings. Even their little nigglets run around like animals.”

“What did you say?” Serita’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “Nigglets? What’s that?”

“Their kids. Their little ones. They scare me. They run around unattended, their fathers out stealing or getting drunk, their mothers whoring and drinking.” Mrs. White continued to speak under her breath, not wanting to take too long, or for the blackie, standing behind her in line, to hear.

“That’s enough, Mrs. White. Now, I will not warn you again. You need to stop referencing people of color in that manner.” Serita completely agreed with Mrs. White, and secretly, she stifled a laugh when the old crow referred to little black kids as nigglets. She’d have to remember to tell her husband about that. “Do I make myself clear?” She had to put this one in her place though. If it wasn’t the blacks, it was the Hispanics. If it wasn’t either of them, it was the Irish, the Chinese, the Protestants, anybody who was different.

“Here are the documents you requested, ma’am.” She had to push the woman away. Gringos were all like old Mrs. White, hating anybody who didn’t look like them.

She motioned for the next person in line to advance and was surprised when a tan, athletic man stepped up to the counter, holding onto a little boy. She had thought that the next person in line was black. The vieja pouta must’ve thought that too, otherwise, she wouldn’t have spoken so quietly.

“What is it that you require Mr…”

“Russell, ma’am, just Russell.” The little boy could not see past the top of the counter, so he turned around and watched the line of people, queuing to be served.

“I am looking for various buildings, or residences, that would fit the following requirements.” He handed her a list and Serita scanned it briefly.

“This is quite a request, sir. It will take some time and it will not be free.” Serita thought that this might dissuade Mr. Russell from further pursuing his request.

“How long and how much money would it take?” He didn’t seem to mind the wait. Serita looked at the list, then jotted a few points of her own on her notepad.

“It will take about a week and will cost eighty-seven dollars, sir.”

“That certainly seems reasonable.” His reaction was devoid of surprise or irritation. He conveyed none of the negative emotions with which Serita was used to dealing in such a bureaucratic environment. “Do you need the money now, or upon completion of the task?”