One by One

“I think your gauge is fucked up!” the man shouted at the Tanker through his oxygen mask. “This sure as shit doesn’t feel like six hours,” he said, hefting the E tank by its collar.

“You better watch your mouth!” the Tanker snarled back. “or you’ll just have to settle for your ration from the Obies.”

“I can’t get any more from the Oxygen Bureau until I get a job,” the man replied somberly. “It’s tough in our dhome. All we have is filtration. The O2 concentrator is fucked up. These tanks aren’t even for going outside. We’re going to need them in our dhome soon. That’s why I’ve got to make sure it’s not short.”

“Cry me a fucking river,” the Tanker responded, then withdrew a knife from his beltsheath and held it against the man’s oxygen hose. “And if you ever accuse me of shorting tanks again, I’ll cut you off.”

The man muttered terrified apologies, put the tank next to two others in an antique wheeled golf bag, and trundled off toward the Etrain.

“I’m so sorry about that,” the Tanker told the next customer with an obsequiousness that contrasted sharply with his previous tone. “You’re with the Water Bureau, aren’t you?” he said, nodding towards the gold signet ring with “WB” spelled out in diamonds.

“I’m a Dubbie all right,” the old man said as clearly as if he were wearing no mask at all, but it was a Gucci model with a Klipsch sound augmentation system. “And even I have to supplement what those stingy Obies give out. They have progressive pricing on their oxygen, so a rich cat like me has to pay top dollar. But you tankers, you charge the same for everybody. So here I am, in line with everyone else, to buy oxygen. When I was born, it was free. Absolutely free.”

“You should talk,” the Tanker said as he clamped filler hoses on the old man’s tanks which were emblazoned with Porsche Design logos, “you sell water.”

“Water was never free in my lifetime. You had to pay for it one way or another when I was born in 2012, but breathable air was free.” The Tanker shook his head.

“Not exactly, gramps. My grandfather told me that what you got for free wasn’t healthy. It was full of viruses and smoke and pollution. All of the Earth’s natural systems of air filtration got fucked up one by one. If you wanted healthy air, you had to go to a health center. I looked back in his old sales records and back then most of the oxygen sales were to health centers.”

“I didn’t mean any offense, friend.”

“Well, if you really want to be a friend, and continue to take advantage of discount pricing, and nobody at the Water Bureau finding out, you’ll hook me up with some water credits.”

“My silence to the Oxygen Bureau should perfectly offset your silence to the Water Bureau,” the old man countered.