Burnout

The day the police came for Cameron Rose, she had passed out in her own vomit. She had spent the night drinking shots and smoking a new drug called “sparks” with her friends. The drug was called that because when you lit the joint, it started flashing like a sparkler. It was supposed to give you visions of the future, but Cameron only had flashes of some frog-like creature sitting on her chest, singing a popular song from her preteen days called “(Make that Butt) Work”.

A day before she’d woken up, her face encrusted to her “pillow”, which was really just a packet of bubble wrap with a piece of paper taped to it that had, “Stop Using My Stuff, Cameron!” crossed out and, “I do wut I want,” written over it, she’d been fired from her second job in as many weeks. Her friends had taken her out to celebrate. Or commiserate. She honestly wasn’t really sure.

Either way, it resulted in her crawling to the toilet and dry heaving for half an hour. When she was done, Cam stripped and jumped in the shower. She squinted at the knobs a full five minutes before she remembered her water had been turned off. In frustration, she punched the drywall, leaving a dent in the cheap plaster.

Still feeling grimy and now with bleeding knuckles, she stepped back out of the shower and spritzed her hair with a dry shampoo and conditioner. Cam grabbed a shirt and skirt off the floor and was still awkwardly hopping on one foot to change when her phone rang. With one hand she swiped the screen to answer, and her mother’s disapproving face hovered over her.

“Cameron Mathilda Rose,” her mother began, “I have been trying to get a hold of you all morning. Do you have any idea how worried your father and I were after your little stunt last night?”

Cameron tried desperately to remember what she did to warrant her mother calling after three months of radio silence.

“I am disgusted that you have sunk to such lows. Honestly, we had hoped the cotillion was rock bottom for you, and yet here you are, using a drill to sink lower.”

Cam had enough survival instincts to resist snorting and tried to look as contrite as possible when she didn’t even know what she had done. “Mother, from the depths of my heart, I cannot tell you-”

“And that poor police officer! Do you have any idea how much therapy costs these days?”

Cameron gaped for a second before saying diplomatically, “I’m guessing a lot?”

Her mother’s lip curled. “Don’t,” she threatened, “speak over me.”

Cam could feel a drop of sweat go down her back.

Momentarily pacified, her mother folded her hands in her lap. Her gaze raked over her daughter critically. “Is that what you’re wearing to work,” she sneered.

Cam glanced down at her shirt, only just now realizing which outfit she’d grabbed. It was a plain white shirt that featured an illustration of an open heart locket with the word “tits” engraved inside. The skirt wasn’t actually a skirt, but her roommate’s tube top. She looked her mother in the eye and responded, “It’s our uniform.”

Silence.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, mother,” she said while picking up her phone and sliding her backpack on, “I have to get to work.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me! We are not done talking! There will be con-”

Cameron hung up. Then blocked her for an added measure, figuring she would just call her after begging for her job back. She would not get the chance.

Cam slammed the door behind her and locked it. Across from her, a group of androids glanced at her through the broken door leading into their apartment. Cam waved at them, but they went back to watching some reality program that involved a lot of screaming and close ups.

The apartment complex Cameron lived in with her three roommates had been squatted in for the better part of a century before the company that bought the building realized that they could profit off of their “tenants” and started demanding rent. Anyone who didn’t pay was chased out by hired security. Those that stayed had the privilege of running water that smelled like sewage and hallways that were constantly drenched in cat piss. Cameron’s roommates were discussing the possibility of accepting a fifth member due to the rent increases which were a result of the landlord labeling their studio an “historic” unit. Cameron was debating the merits of living inside a cardboard box.

As Cameron strolled through the building, she cheerfully greeted her neighbors, who reacted with bemusement and outright suspicion, though a few were polite enough not to stare at her attire. Then she was out on the streets of Horizon Wireless.

Someone on the street corner was screaming about Corporation Rights. A street vendor sold burner phones from a cart. Down the street, a man in a trenchcoat walked out of a dilapidated store with an assault rifle in a shopping bag advertising “Ray’s Rifles and Weapons”. A family, all wearing gas masks, walked over the rocky remains of the crosswalk, giggling and chatting as they bought iced strawberries and cream popsicles. Cameron affixed her own mask to prevent the acidic air from scarring her lungs. She shouldered past the family who all began swearing at her and flipping her off in a way that she personally thought very inappropriate for the seven year old with pigtails, the youngest member. A month ago, she would have taken the subway to her work, but it had been buried under a mountain of rubble during the last military “drill”.

Instead, Cam walked to the midtown area where the furry cafe she used to work at resided. All of the waiters were required to wear fursuits as their “fursonas”. Cameron’s had been a dog named “Pawmeron”.

Cam sidled up to a green wolf with a septum piercing and a heart shaped locked with the engraving “Howlward”. “Heeeeey,” she greeted.

Howlward removed his headpiece to reveal a young acne-faced man drenched in sweat. “What are you doing here, Cam,” he said.

“I’m here to beg for my job back.” She got down to her knees and clasped her hands in front of her beseechingly. “Please, give me my job back.”

He ran a hand through his dreads in exasperation. “Cam, I can’t.”

“Pleeeeeaaaasee, I am literally begging on my knees. I’ll do anything.” She pouted. “And I do mean anything.”

“Gross, Cam, you know I’m gay. And anyway it’s not up to me. Your dismissal came all the way from the top.”

“What?! Just because I was late every day and spat in the guy’s food right in front of his face?”

“And you kept loudly criticizing the diners. That one guy is still suing us for verbal harassment by the way.” Howlward sighed. “Look, Cam, you’re my friend, and I love you, and you’re always welcome to crash at my place if you need it. I’ll even do my best to be a reference for you if you promise you’ll really try. I’m just- I’m just tired of this.”

Gutted, Cam got back to her feet. “Oh.”

After noticing her expression he backtracked, “I’m not saying I’m tired of you! It’s just, well, working three jobs, helping with my sister’s kids, and all,” he gestured wildly with his still en-pawed hands, “this, it’s a lot!”

Cameron tried to wave him off while walking backwards out of the cafe with its gawking patrons. “No, I get it, you don’t have to explain yourself. It’s fine.”

“Cam, please-”

“Cameron Rose?” This was a new voice. A steely voice. Howlward’s eyes darted behind her. He paled.

Cam slowly turned around to see two cops watching her with unreadable expressions. “No,” she said, “I’m Camdolyn.”

They were unimpressed. “You’re under arrest,” the taller one said.

The shorter male cop brought out his handcuffs and advanced. Cameron’s eyes looked wildly around for an escape but landed on Howlward instead. She imagined herself fighting back and making a break for it. She imagined how the cops would immediately try to shoot her. Maybe they’d hit her. Or maybe they’d hit one of the customers or even Howlward. He didn’t deserve that. Or anything else she’d put him through these past five years.

So she let him cuff her.

“Under what charges?!” Howlward demanded.

‘Shut up,’ she thought fiercely.

“Incapability to perform self-guardianship,” said the taller female.

‘Oh,’ thought Cameron, ‘I should definitely have fought back.’

Howlward looked confused. Cameron gave him a bitter smile. “It means,” she explained, “I’m going to Heartland.”

She had vastly underestimated what her mother had meant by “consequences”.