The Spare

The Gatekeeper

In the corner office on the 53rd floor, Max glanced up from his computer screen with a sigh, as if a perfectly good day had been interrupted by this lackluster meeting. "So," he said at last, "why does NeuraLife need you?"

His new recruit was thrown by the question. No doubt, he had gone through months of rigorous interviews, tests, and evaluations to get here. Surely, he did not expect to be vetted by Max as well. Though Max had risen faster than Colin during his six months at NeuraLife, he was still only a Jr. Manager. Then again, he was a Jr. Manager that could make or break the new Spare's career.

"Well," the recruit ventured, "you've been promoted quickly, so I imagine you have more duties now and you need the additional help."

"I know why I advertised the position, the question is, why not hire one of them?" he gestured outside, to the floor full of NeuraLife's top synthetics. "A brand-new flesh-bot?"

His recruit was embarrassed now, his face flushing. He was not used to hearing the derogatory term for a synthetic. Certainly not out in the open.

Max laughed. "Does that offend you? Well, you'll need to get used to it. That's why I'm here to prepare you. We do things quite differently around here. No boundaries or social mores. It's vital to keep our minds free and open, understand?"

His recruit nodded, listening intently.

"Now, tell me about the last job you held, before the Separation."

He could see the surprise on the recruit's face, and it pleased Max to see him hesitate. That meant he regarded Max as one of them. No longer a Spare. No longer... human. Finally, he spoke.

"I was a, uh, VP of marketing at a large firm. A few months away from taking my bosses job."

Max smiled. "I could tell you were in a leadership position. They need people here who can improve messaging and outreach to our kind. But, to be clear, no matter what you think you're entitled to because of your previous experience, or the diversity clause for that matter, remember: times have changed, and we have to change with them. The sooner we accept that, the sooner we can move forward, and move up again."

The new recruit leaned forward, and Max could see the care with which he had pressed his drab suit—trying to make himself appear more professional, more desirable. The desperation and naiveté was all too familiar, and it both repulsed and depressed Max. But, he merely pressed the reward button on his chem tracker, activating the calming cocktail Helix had invented; reminding him of the real reason he was here.

The choice he had made.

"Do you really think we can move up again?" asked the recruit, hopefully. "To the top levels where we can make a difference?"

By the time Max heard this question, his feelings of revulsion and remorse had drifted away, and he no longer cared about anything but his mid-level office, the small amount of power he wielded, and the fact that he now lived on a higher level than any Spare; especially this new recruit.

"Of course," he lied, confident in the purpose of the lie, if not in the statement itself. "Once you're inside, you can change things. Look at me," he gestured at his tailored uniform and elegant surroundings, as proof of the very power and prestige this Spare hoped to gain. "Now, I'm the gatekeeper, and I'm letting you in."

The new recruit smiled hopefully. Sold.

Max slid the company agreements across the desk to seal the deal. "But I need you to sign these first. We're on the cutting edge here, and we can't risk having our research leaked to anyone." As the recruit paused over hefty paperwork, Max held out a pen. "Look, I only take in people I trust. Because if you fuck this up for yourself, you fuck it up for all of us. And you don't want to do that, right?"

The recruit shook his head and signed the forms. "Of course not, I'm sorry."

"Good," said Max, standing up. "And, relax, I'm on your side. If you ever need anything, I'm here for you."

"Thank you, I won't let you down."

He shook his hand gratefully, and Max watched as the unwitting Spare was swept into the elevator to the top floor... another lamb to the slaughter.

Bullshit, he told himself desperately. This was so much better than the alternative. It was far better being a part of the system than having no voice or power in the process at all. Besides, from his unique position he could at least choose the strongest candidates and discourage the weaker ones, those who most certainly would break. And wasn't that at least some service? He couldn't be expected to single-handedly overturn the system by playing the martyr. The system would continue with our without him. At any rate, coming here was their choice—just as it was his. And he was doing better now, wasn't he?

Wasn't he?...

Max pressed the reward button again, and pleasant thoughts of his power and status filled his mind. Yes, he was better now. After all, why change the system...

... when you can become it?

THE END

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Dear readers, I hope you have enjoyed The Spare! This story was a bit of an experiment for me, so it's been wonderful to share it with all of you and hear your thoughts. If you enjoyed the finale (or any other chapter!) I hope you'll consider voting or leaving some comments. Every little bit of feedback helps me develop more stories—and find more readers like you!

I look forward to sharing more writing in the future.  Thanks again :)