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Imad didn’t look at me. “Jay doesn’t work here anymore.”

“How come?”

“He doesn’t work here anymore.”

He never looked at me. I walked back to the office and told Monica, “Imad said he doesn’t work here anymore.”

“Why doesn’t he work anymore?”

“I don’t know. Imad wouldn’t say,” I said.

Monica said, “You know, I have access to all of the documents from my laptop at home. Do you want to look at them tonight?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

We made plans to meet up after work.

Half an hour before my shift was over, Imad came over to me and said, “Go to Heidelberg’s office.” I knew it was bad. Heidelberg did not believe in positive reinforcement. I realized that I had worked there for three weeks and not once did someone tell me I was doing a good job. They notified me immediately when I was doing a bad job, but not when I was doing a good job. I didn’t know what a good job was, I only knew what a bad job was. I had never worked for an institution that never gave positive feedback. I had worked for mega-corporations and local places, and both had notified me if I was doing things properly. But NEOTAP did not concern itself with helping the employee know when they were doing a good job. That wasn’t procedure.

I sat before Heidelberg. I sat there knowing I had a bachelor’s degree, that I graduated with a 3.4. My professors liked me, people with doctorates liked me. I could easily get a recommendation from a good amount of professors. I was told by my professors that I would have a bright future. I had won employee of the month at several of my jobs. No one had ever complained about my performance at work or in college. Getting yelled at constantly confused me. I knew I wasn’t allowed to speak first so I waited for Heidelberg.

Heidelberg, looking very angry, said, “I heard about what happened in the bathroom today.”

“Yes.” I knew I had to say yes. Yes was the appropriate reply.

“Imad called meds, correct?”

“Yes.”

“He told you over the walkie-talkie to get Sanders, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You called back over the walkie-talkie that resident Sanders was shaving.”

I remembered what happened. Imad called one o’clock meds at 12:30, not one o’clock. I went to the bathroom and Sanders was shaving. I told Sanders that Imad wanted him for meds. Sanders replied that Imad was not following procedure, and that he had the right to shave because he was following the rules. I called back on the walkie-talkie that Sanders was shaving. Imad yelled over the walkie-talkie, “Tell Sanders to come now or he will be written up.”

Heidelberg said, “I know that Imad did not follow procedure and start meds on time, but what you must understand, Mike, is that hierarchy trumps procedure. If someone who is your superior tells you to do something, even if it contradicts procedure, then you must do it, and the resident must do it. If Edward Choffin comes in here right now and tells me to do jumping jacks and sing ‘Paradise City’ by Guns N’ Roses, then I have to do that. You know why, Mike?”

“Because hierarchy trumps procedure.”

“That is correct. Also, there is one more item we need to talk about.”

“Okay,” I said.

“You asked Imad where Jay Riddick went today.”

“Yes.”

“You have a serious problem with listening. You don’t listen. You don’t need to know those things. Those things are not your business. Everyone in this establishment has ‘their business.’ I have my business, and you have your business. Everything you do is my business, everything you know is my business, everything you think and feel is my business. Everything that is my business is none of your business. Nothing that pertains to me pertains to you. Everything that pertains to you also pertains to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“We have had word from other staff members that you don’t take things seriously. That you don’t believe that this is a serious job. This is a very serious job.”

I wanted to say that counting sad drug addicts wasn’t that serious. That no one cared about these people. The only time people cared about the residents was when one of them committed a crime. Politicians didn’t care about their lives, corporations didn’t care about their lives, and the media didn’t care about their lives. Heidelberg didn’t even care about them. She had a job that paid well, offered good health care, and gave her a chance to power-trip. She had her American Dream.

Heidelberg went on. “Every procedure is vital to this institution. If you don’t do the body count right, people could escape. Do you know that? People could escape.”

“Yes.” Where could they go, seriously? I wanted to say ‘seriously’ too. It seemed like ‘seriously’ was a catch word when someone didn’t have a point but wanted to make a point, and they knew they didn’t have a point. They felt the pointlessness of their point and then said ‘seriously’ to make it a point.

“Do you understand how vital all this is? We are shaping the thoughts and behaviors of men and women who badly need to be reformed to live in society.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now go back to work.”

Monica Whitten Comes Over

I heard a knock on the door. I knew it was Monica. I went to the door and opened it. I felt like a sixteen-year-old, I was so excited to see her. She was dressed in street clothes and looked better than usual. I really liked Monica’s smile and laugh. She seemed so kind, so polite. She seemed like the kind of person who would always do their duty to their friends and family, the kind of person who would give things up for other people. She would give time, she would give money, she would give it all to others and not think once about it.

Monica and I went into the kitchen where my grandfather was sitting. I introduced Monica by saying, “Grandpa, this is Monica.”

The old man looked at her, smiled and said, “Monica, an ancient name, the name of Saint Augustine’s mother, a woman of devout faith. It could be said that her faith was the faith that gave Saint Augustine the ideas and power to write those books that changed human history for a thousand years. She was the great muse of Saint Augustine, but also it might be related to the Greek word ‘monos’ meaning ‘alone.’”

Monica stared at my grandfather and said, “Alone?”

“Yes, alone.”

“Do you think one day I will be alone?”

“Sounds good.”

We walked up to my bedroom and put her laptop on my bed. We lay on my bed on our bellies. I glanced at her body. She was small and skinny. She had a little peach butt that bulged in her leggings. I thought about her naked. I thought to myself, I want to lick her all over. I did not say that thought out loud.

She said, “Okay, I don’t know if I should be doing this, but this sounds really fun. I hate NEOTAP anyway. The only thing that saves me is that I work for the IT department.”

She opened the NEOTAP program and said, “What do you want me to look for?”

“Look for Sherwood Burke.”

She brought up all the residents, all the past and present residents. She showed me that she could access all the logs on residents, all the documents written by their case workers, even all their juvenile records. She had complete access. I said, “Where is Burke though?”

Monica said, “I can’t find him.”

“He has to be in there.”

“No, nothing. I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Well, look up Jay Riddick.”