James And Martha Kept Walking

 

   The recruiter waited at an old bus stop shelter on the bench. It was made of green painted metal and the seat was of wooden slats. The plastic walls of the shelter were dulled and scratched. No buses stopped there anymore. She sat quietly knitting a large red sock. 

    She had a delicate job to do, and she was one of the best at her job. Her recruits were among the most intelligent and the most dedicated of all the new hires. Her appearance tended to disarm even very frightened headers. Her name for all intents and purposes was Mrs. Franklin. Alice Franklin. Alice was a sweet looking Black lady in her 60s. She was a little chubby and dressed like a grandmother might be in someone’s imagination.
    She waited about a mile outside of this particular Pod City. Her bus stop bench was situated on the main road. No one used it except State employees or the rare citizen with a special travel permit in a state-owned car. There was a fair chance that if a person were to walk this highway that they wouldn't be seen for quite a while.
    The pavement was still in pretty good repair. It was a pleasant day in May of the year, according to the old calendar, of 2045. Birds sang their same old songs. Dandelions stared straight up at the sky brilliantly. The breeze was sweet and mild.
    She was there to chat with headers, those souls strong enough, rash enough, and disgusted enough to walk or head, out of the pod stacks. There were not scores of them, but a few every month or so. She was often alone there for days, before ending her shift and slipping home. Hers was a daylight shift. Others covered nighttime. The company and she felt that she was a better fit for daytime.
    Her job was to question headers and make them an offer. It was an offer of employment.
    Alice had three questions to ask those who would stop and talk to her.

    1. Why did you run?
    2. Where are you going?
    3. How will you know when you are there?

    If Alice liked the answers, she had a story to tell and an offer to make. There were no set correct answers. It all depended, and she had to use her judgement. She enjoyed her job immensely. She got a lot of knitting done too.
    She always kept some cookies or homemade candy in her bag. It helped sometimes. Most who headed out were young and would like a cookie or two.

*o0o*

    James, holding Martha’s hand, led her past the green square among the four pod stacks where his pod was located and out to the small road that ran around the four. This road led to an entrance into the one highway out of the old town and the pod square. They didn’t know where they were going, but desperate people will do desperate things in hopes of something better. They were now runners.
    Both of them had heard rumors of lives lived outside of pods and pod stack cities. Some gossip heard outside perhaps when sitting in the green or going on a rare errand. Most people thought those stories were just lies, or didn’t care or perhaps they liked their lives, as such.
    Martha could see mountains in the distance, and before the mountains, great sweeps of land with no buildings of any kind. They didn’t talk much until they were on the highway. They had a lot of getting to know each other to do.
    Being young souls, they began to enjoy their walk. They even laughed and smiled from time to time. Martha had hardly ever been outside of the doors of the girl’s facility in which she had been raised until she was marched to James’ pod door by the black uniformed nurses. She was overwhelmed at their own audacity and fascinated to see the road before them and the fields on both sides. So many plants! So much open land! The effect was dizzying.
    A bit further down the highway, on the right side, they could see an old-fashioned bus stop shelter. Someone was sitting in it. It was only an old lady. They thought that perhaps she was just resting there. They kept walking.
    Coming up to the shelter they slowed and smiled at the old woman. She smiled back and said, “good morning children! How are you this fine morning?”
    Strangely, no one had ever called either one of them a child. It was like entering a different reality. It stopped them in their tracks.
    “Well, we are alright, good morning, lady,” said James, a little embarrassed at not knowing what would be a safe or wise to say.
    “Would you like to rest a minute kids? I wouldn’t mind a little company,” Alice said kindly. “I have some cookies I made at home with me. How about some cookies?”
    James and Martha looked at each other and then sat down on the bench beside her. It seemed so pleasant and friendly in an unfamiliar way. She opened her bag and offered them some cookies from a container that had been in with her red yarn. They accepted a couple of Snickerdoodles each, and since they were young and hungry always, they ate their cookies.

    “Now tell me,” said Alice, “where are you going children?”