His eyes had grown sore. Breaks between looking at screens helped, but the rawness kept coming back to Felton Sheltham. He went to the restroom to wash his face. Tiny drops allowed some relief. Like little gushes of rain falling on dry land, they alleviated him to a great extent. In the hallway, he met up with one of his subordinates. With chestnut brown skin and a bald head, he smiled at his boss with glittering platinum teeth. Tayron Vayer was about six feet tall and showed freckles on his face as if spray painted through a screen. 

“Hey, sir! Did you hear that Doc Strong was at the shop the other day?”

“Of course. Of course,” Sheltham answered with a grin. “The Founders, all of them, might be coming to the plant, but don’t tell anyone I told you,” Sheltham intoned.

“Word is bond, sir,” Vayer replied. His voice sounded shrouded in truth and trust.

“Alright, Tay. You’ve been great this quarter. You’re honing in on these units, that’s an excellent sign.”

“Thanks, Mr. Sheltham,” The salute didn’t come from a hand raised to his forehead but from the tone of his voice.

Sheltham continued to walk to his station. With his eyes feeling better, he could concentrate on coordinating the shipments and allowing the gigantic drones to zip about like moths in search of light.

One of his superiors, Trebecka Stalley checked in on him.

“Good morning ma’am,” Sheltham responded upon noticing her presence.

“Good morning, Felton,” She replied. At five feet even, she had reddish brown hair and green eyes. Full cheeks complimented her tiny nose and round chin. She looked like a baby doll just out of the package.

For her slight stature she still could command a room. An UltraChip remained in her brain.

“I’ve seen your totals last month. You set a record. You moved 23% more product than in the previous quarters. I smell a raise coming on in your future.”

Sheltham didn’t show any sign of agreement in her words. It did, however, feel as if tiny wings had sprouted from his back. Just that little push of positivity allowed him to become even more aware of his role as manager. Trebecka had been the regional manager for six years. 

“I appreciate that ma’am,” Sheltham finally responded.

“Call me Becks. Everyone calls me Becks that is on a level that you have or higher.” She inched closer to him. The room had been desolate save for a few monitors and some office chairs. No one else occupied the somewhat small space. Trebecka inched closer to him.

“You should take a break from all of this,” she suggested.

“I actually just took––” he started and she moved closer. She wore a crisp white shirt and black trousers. She looked like a little domino next to Sheltham’s all black king chess piece. A few more steps closer and he could breathe on her.

“Don’t be so formal. Loosen up, some,” Trebecka commanded with a softness in the way she spoke. 

“The 23% was due to my team. We worked to get that figure.” He inhaled sharply. 

“That’s right. And everyone under you is going to get more money as a result,” At forty-one-years-of-age, Trebecka could still present cogent boldness with her wording.

Sheltham appreciated her candor but not the space they shared. With precision, he walked around one of the office chairs and continued to look at the monitors. 

“You know, I’ve got the kids that are in college now,” she shifted the conversation once more, this time to be more personal.

“And you know I’m raising those boys,” he shot back at her. “They’re all in grade school. Mala and I are both bringing them up in a stable household.” He sounded like he was selling life insurance. She sounded like a woman on the line of a call center.

She looked at him and didn’t wink but just her presence made a hint that she had.

“I see you working here, gristle and bone, trying to put together this enterprise of ours. It’s encouraging to all staff that you do this. Above and below,” A twisted smirk wrapped around her mouth. 

“As I’ve said, my wife Mala and I are working in order to feed those young men in our charge.”

“Relax. Relax,” Trebecka said, her voice velvety.

“Simon go on autopilot,” Sheltham commanded and finally broke from his attention to the shipping. He turned to her. It wasn’t a sense of reprimand, only a warning.

“I appreciate you coming up here from Kent County, but I’ve really got to get these shipments out of here…Becks.” He struggled to say not only her title but her nickname.

Trebecka held the same smirk as she looked up at his lanky figure.

“That’s why I’m here. I know you know the numbers. You’re a skilled professional like myself. I just thought you needed a physical sighting of those figures brought to you by one of your bosses.” She slinked a bit closer to him and he backed away. He noted her comeliness and her forthright approach.

“Okay, if you’d just let me handle this.”

“There is no problem…yet….” Sheltham summoned up all the courage in his frame. 

“I see you’re not wearing a ring. What would Mala have to say about that?”

“She knows I don’t have to wear a ring in order to broadcast my love for her.”

Trebecka frowned. “Awww. That’s so idealistic,” she replied. Her tone didn’t seem like mockery but some seeped into her words anyhow. 

Sheltham breathed. “I don’t want to disrespect you or give you the wrong impression. I respect and like you, forgive me, Miss Stalley,” he managed to speak plainly. A rush of confidence coursed through his veins. 

“No, no. I just wanted to let you know that with your talents, you could be doing much better. There’s a pilot program that is being headed up by some of my bosses that could put you on a fast track to a degree.” The air appeared to be less thick and Trebecka backed away slightly from in front of Sheltham.

“You know synths are going to be able to do all of the work you’re doing,” she continued. “We’re going to need human brain power to monitor and guide them to ship the orders,” Trebecka continued. Stung, she blurted out the ideas related to job. Sheltham breathed with a calmness of a storm passing over his head. 

“Yes, I’ve actually been studying to pass those exams to become manager here in Smartystan. The Smarties deserve to have their packages delivered on time and in an order that is reasonable,” Sheltham spoke as if to put a fence up between he and Trebecka Stalley. She turned to leave.

“You can trust me, Felton. Let’s be friends about this.”

“A man on post has no friends,” Sheltham observed.

Trebecka moved away from Sheltham almost entirely. With each step towards her exit, Sheltham felt a bit more in tune with himself. 

“Let me know if you need any more assistance,” she said at the door and then disappeared.

“Simon, resume,” Sheltham sighed and looked down at the monitor. The autopilot had performed the duties, just not in the way he had wanted. He considered what just took place and put a handkerchief up to the beads of sweat which had congregated at his forehead and temples. He looked even better than when he first started work. Now, he took on the role of managing his mind and not just the containers of goods. He had to search somewhere in himself for the out he had not seen on the walls of his mind. Visibly shaken, he still had a clean thought processor that issued him constant bits of information. 

In all of this, he had decided to put the finishing touches on the work and then go onto the evaluation phase. He may have been up on the quarter, but this was a down day. Only about fifty of the seventy orders had been shipped that day. Could it have been the fact he had been in conversation with Trebecka? It had been the question mark swirling around in his consciousness that whole time. Signs finally pointed to Yes!

He took his belongings from his locker and headed towards his car. When he opened the door he noticed Trebecka one more time. She had been standing outside vaping with other higher ups. She looked in his direction and waved with her fingers slapping against her palm. He found a note on the digital display of his vehicle. It read, “Great chat today. Can’t wait to see you get that degree. ––Becks.”

After he arrived at his residence Mala greeted him at the door. He fell on her neck and pecked it and picked her up over the threshold. 

“Wow! You never have this much energy coming home from work!” Mala exclaimed. 

“They’re still in school. What’s taken over you?” Mala’s face lit up like a skyline at dusk.

Sheltham held her face so intently she felt as if he’d crush her skull. The intensity of the moment had not been lost on her. He kissed him back. In their house, they held two giant fish tanks. The decor all looked like blue, black, silver, and white furnishings. Everything became swirl. Sheltham and Mala headed to the lower level where a sofa converted into a bed at a single command to Simon. 

Sheltham laid her down and Mala let out such joyous laughter, one unblemished by distraction, hurt, or indifference. Sheltham wrapped his arms around her. He tousled her hair and placed his mouth on her breast. A collision of sorts resulted in their movements. Mala’s mind went straight to their first night they had known each other in this physical capacity. But this was somehow different. The splendor of their unmitigated ecstasy drove them to trade with each other. Their cleanness, their sacred act had already been realized times before this but now seemed more intense and purpose-driven.

Each touch seemed like a ray of sunshine, blinding and clear. All of their motions seemed holy and exact. Two atheists worshipped each other in their blest performances. From arousal to release, the both of them shuddered at a last moment of hallowed devotion.

   Mala stopped laughing. Sheltham sat up.

“What? What is it? The boys won’t be home for another hour.”

“It’s work. I’m just…there’s an issue with one of my bosses,” he admitted.

“You came at me like never before.” Mala threw her head back and smiled. ‘Tell me about it.”

“It’s just that…my boss was just trying to tell me I’m getting a boost….”

“That’s great! What’s the problem?”

“I didn’t like, well, she was pushy in a way.”

A smile evaporated from her face and worry lines encroached on her forehead. 

“She’s part of the top brass. I want you to meet her, actually. At the next company picnic. She’ll be there.”

“She got in my face, or tried to, anyway. She’s such a tiny thing.”

Mala searched for her vaporizer. “Tell me more.”

“And she just…came on a little strong with letting me know how well I did in the last quarter.”

“And I just talked about you and the boys and let her know she was my boss and to keep it professional.”

“Oh,” Mala replied like a hammer hitting a glowing bar of steel on an anvil. 

“That's nothing. I thought you’d been injured or something and your boss didn’t believe you or something. With what we just did, I can see you’re okay in body, but what about your mind? Is everything okay up there?”

“I would like to say that I am, right here with you, more than alright,” He asserted.

Chintan Jani

Smartystan

Thought Processor

His eyes had grown sore. Breaks between looking at screens helped, but the rawness kept coming back to Felton Sheltham. He went to the restroom to wash his face. Tiny drops allowed some relief. Like little gushes of rain falling on dry land, they alleviated him to a great extent. In the hallway, he met up with one of his subordinates. With chestnut brown skin and a bald head, he smiled at his boss with glittering platinum teeth. Tayron Vayer was about six feet tall and showed freckles on his face as if spray painted through a screen. 



Smartystan

Thought Processor

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Smartystan

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NATIONWIDE INVESTIGATION Sober Drivers Across The U.S. Are Getting Arrested For DUI And A New Investigation Shows It's A National Problem

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of Skyler Saunders