A New Life

Survival of the Fittest

Arnold also said I should get a job. For starters, he let me try one of his available employee areas once I had got my strength and (most of) my looks back. He offered to drive me a few times in his new car(whatever that is-I'm sure you know), but I said I would rather walk. The first time he did not accompany me, I got temporarily lost. I would never get the hang of visually remembering all these identical ten-story buildings and how to wind my way around them!

It is in these cases that I wish people would be using horses and carts still. They could memorize where to go. When I told Arnold this he simply laughed, and called me the BOF(Boy of Old Fashion) and said I'd get used to it. In the meantime I'd better find something I want to do.

He had good reasons to call me BOF. I wanted horses and carts, washed my dishes by hand, wore simple clothes, walked everywhere I went, and talked with a pheasant's accent(I don't know how those things are old-fashioned, but he certainly does).

I tried different jobs. The teacher, the doctor, the plumber, the garbage-collector, the mailman, truck drivers, engineers, waiters, you name it! I had trouble at all of these, however, for I was still getting used to my metal arm and still it was in a band, and most jobs you cannot do with one arm. Even the jobs I tried with two arms I was sent away from, for a metal arm is 'unreliable', 'dangerous', 'disabling', and I had better 'seek a job elsewhere'. Thanks very much for those kind words, but I've tried everything already!

To put up with me was already frustrating, but to have to give him money and food was something worse. I felt deeply indebted to Arnold, and I already told myself that by now I would almost do anything that he asked now. I thought he would never ask, but I was soon to learn my mistake.

It was one afternoon when I had just gotten fired from being a janitor in a McDonald's store that Arnold said he would like to speak to me. He recalled all the disappointed trials to get a job; thirty-two times. He recalled all the times I had come home empty-handed and he had paid my rentals at my apartment, and bought food. He(painfully)brought back to mind how he had saved me and used a lot of money to pay for the metal arm I now use. He recalled the time I had asked him why he had bothered saving me at all, why he could not have just left me in the ghost town to remain unconscious but not be a problem for all eternity. He took a deep breath and said matter-of-factly;

"BOF,"(That's my new nickname), "I'm in an organization to hunt down criminals, major and minor. I'm not in there much, for I am not strong, but I do help out backstage. I talked with the leader of us, who has seen your condition and pities you, but also want to let you know you can join whenever you want to."

I stared at him for a second, confused. "Could you repeat that for a second?"

"Look, I don't have an endless supply of money. You've got to get a job, and I've found one for you."

"But what about, you know, my arm?"

"That's exactly the reason they want you. With your arm, you could wield a thousand pounds, if not more. And you have shown that wielding, despite what researchers and other experiment results say." He let the word 'experiment' slip out-suddenly the truth dawned on me and I was filled with rage.

"So I'm nothing more but an experiment!" I shouted hurtfully. "You should have left me to die."

"We didn't realize you were alive. Besides, I don't think staying there after 300 years would kill you."

"All the more reason for me not to be a useful 'experiment'!" I stressed the word.

"BOF, please understand that I am doing this for your good as well as mine. As well as everyone's. And I did help you out."

At that, I felt again like I owe him something. "Fine." I say, "But I cannot promise anything!"

What is life anyway? You might just say, 'a short period in which one...' and go on and on. To me, it was not a short period. It's sort of drawn out, sort of stretched from 50 years to hundreds of years. I say drawn out, but I was asleep about 279 years, so it's not exactly drawn out. I must admit that I do feel old, but its not like I lived out my life fully.

Anyway, back to my story. Arnold took me over in the morning to a tall warehouse. He told me not to expect anything wonderful to happen, so I was not surprised when the person who looked like the chief handed over a mop and bucket. So, I was to (slowly) clean the floor for the next three and a half months. In fact, probably all the rest of my life if it were not for what happened later.

Arnold did not seem satisfied with my pay. He knew he had to get my level up if I was to earn any more. After a talk with the chief, they decided I was to be in charge of the vicious police dogs they keep there.

Now, if you have ever stopped a dog from fighting with other dogs while your arm was broken, and then multiply the level of difficulty by ten, you should understand my position. These dogs were trained from birth to be as vicious as possible, and as brutal. They had learned who were the people in charge there, and these alone were the people they kept from harm and obeyed. Being a simple janitor for months, they had no idea who I was, or why I was standing outside their kennels. I remember being afraid of these dogs the first time I saw them, when I was about ten on my way to school. A police station was near the school, and the dogs' field where they ran around for exercise was joined to it. When they saw me they rushed at the edge of the electric fence, barked, and showed their huge teeth. Their eyes were filled with hate and revenge(I don't know what for-I didn't do anything), and their mouths were filled with slobber. They did indeed look like wild dogs, and I wondered what the policemen could even use them for or who dared to train them. I realize now.

These dogs were much the same, perhaps a little darker in color. The policemen made it clear to stay out of the kennels for a while, but lift up the cage doors in the morning to let them attack one another in the field. I was also to (quietly) pour the food in the bowls while they were out. From there one of the others would take care of them.