RoboNomics

Chapter 28 - 2016

I sit with my head in my hands, watching the snow fall in large clusters of flakes. The thick blanket has covered the city in the past two days. 

The snow shimmers even without sun. It's as if we're living inside a Christmas card.

"Whatcha doing?" Austin asks from his desk. 

Our desks crowd the little office. When we bought this house, the room was described as a third bedroom. We installed expensive workstations with sleek, metallic draw handles. 

The desks are arranged in an "L" shape. Mine faces the window. In front of Austin's desk is an InvisiScreen displaying our budget. 

He doesn't look away from it as he asks the question. He's swiping at the air above his desk. His gestures transform into changes appearing on the screen. He glares at the screen in concentration.

"I was just taking a break." 

I don't want to tell him that he interrupted my thoughts about Chris. I was thinking about how I'd barely noticed Chris during those first few months of going to the protest group. I'd tried hard to view him as a non-entity: like he was a piece of moving furniture existing on the edges of my world. 

I can't tell Austin that now Chris is like a splinter under my skin. That he's slowly sinking deeper.

"Seems we can't afford breaks," Austin says. "I'm not even sure if we can afford a Christmas this year."

"Yeah, I know." 

I lean back in my chair. I'm supposed to be responding to online jobs ads for executives. But I already know the responses I'll receive. 

How can I possibly even apply for those jobs without inviting ridicule? I'm a schoolteacher. That's my trade. It doesn't exist anymore, but it's still my trade. 

Every day there is news of more teaching jobs being cut. By the beginning of the next school year, the district is planning to cut half of the existing teaching jobs. 

They call it a cost saving project. They have a deficit to reduce. And the trend is catching. School districts surrounding the city are following their lead. The year after next, I'm afraid there won't be any jobs for teachers in Toronto at all.

I look over Austin's shoulder at the InvisiScreen. Something from our budget jumps out at me. It is remarkably cheap to feed the two of us now that we've quit our habit of eating out, we shop at discount surplus food stores, and we're living off coupons. 

But the mortgage, the car, the loans: these are the big expenses. They eat away at what we have left quicker than the bills for food or heating or water. And the numbers are clear on one point: we're headed for financial disaster.

"What about selling the other car? Or the house?" I ask, surprising myself. 

Austin's head jerks up. There's a light of anger in his eyes when he looks at me. 

"I mean," I continue. "That would relieve some of the stress, wouldn't it?"

"Don't you think I've already thought of that?" Austin snaps.

"Well, then, what's the problem?"

"How could we possibly sell them? Do you have any idea what the housing market is like nowadays?"

"Of course I know. I'm not a complete idiot, Austin."

"Then you know why we can't sell. The country's entered an economic crisis, Andrea," he continues. "Who would buy them anyway? Unemployed teachers? Or maybe unemployed doctors? Maybe you think an unemployed financial analyst or unemployed journalist would be on the market for a used car?"

"Maybe we could rent the house out?" 

My voice takes on the same annoyed edge that he's using.

Austin slams the desk and its floating keyboard, producing a "hey, be careful," from me. He stomps from the room. I'm about to follow him but my FlexPhone begins to buzz in my pocket.

"Hey, buddy. How's it going?" It's Henri. I haven't seen or talked to him outside of the Protest Group headquarters for months.

"Uh, fine. I guess." 

I feel like shit and I'm sure Henri can sense it. He always does. He'll hear in my voice that I've been arguing with Austin again.

"Heard anything from the union?" he asks.

All thoughts of my marital tiff leave my mind.

"Nah. Not a thing. You?"

"Nope. I'm beginning to wonder whether they've forgotten about us. How's the job hunt?"

"Oh, you know. Pounding the pavement," I say. "It's beginning to drive me crazy." 

I picture Austin lying on the bed above my head. He's probably face down, burrowing into the pillow and fuming.

"So I guess we're on for this big protest Chris wanted," Henri says, snapping my awareness back.

"What did you just say?"

(Continued in Chapter 29...)

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So what did you think of that chapter? There are quiet moments in this story, and I definitely built them in there on purpose. What do you think of them? Why do you think I would have done that?

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