Nullform #1 by Dem Mikhailov

Chapter 3

Didn't do your job? Demoted! And down the chute I'd go. ORL becomes GBL — Graded Basic Labor. And what was it like having GBL status? It sucked. You did half as much work, but the payment matched that.

The job would look pretty much the same as what I had now, but with minor changes to the description and way less compensation.

Job: Collect gray slime. Easy (GBL).

Description: Collect and deliver forty standard containers of gray slime to the receiver unit.

Deadline: Evening end-of-work alarm.

Compensation: 8 sol.

Eight sol?

That was jack shit.

What was the bare minimum I was spending each day? Three sol for food, three for water, immunosuppressant shots, and vitamins. That was it. My whole daily wage. All eight sol. What about showers? Or... there were a lot of things I might need. A t-shirt would be nice. Could I buy a t-shirt here, or did they only give them to the women?

Were there other jobs? Ones that paid better?

Very rarely. Most of the system's ORL and GBL jobs were collecting slime, collecting garbage, and cleaning walls. Did people close to bankruptcy get easier jobs but with the same compensation?

What was it like being bankrupt? Wouldn't it make sense to just go bankrupt, since they get easier tasks? After today's evening alarm I'd be in the red myself, anyways. A fantastic start to my new life. What a meteoric career.

Did it make sense to go bankrupt? God forbid! There was no fate worse than bankruptcy.

In local slang, if you were completely bankrupt it meant you had lost all your rented limbs. The system would take them from you if your total debt reached fifty sol. If that happened, they'd take an arm in the medblock. If you were right-handed, it'd be your left, And if you were left-handed, vice versa.

Once they cut your arm off, your debt went down by twenty-five sol. You heard that right. That was how much your arm was worth. As soon as your debt hit fifty again, they'd cut off a leg. Which one? System's choice. Your debt would go down by thirty, and they'll send you on your way. You're fifty sol in debt again? Say goodbye to that second leg, and get another thirty wiped off your debt. Really? You hit fifty another time? Well, you only have yourself to blame. Get ready to part with your one remaining limb. In exchange, your debt gets canceled. You and the system are even.

That's bankruptcy.

You lose everything, and they take your last limb to pay off your debt. You turn into a worm with a human face. All you can do is crawl and beg — for food, for water, for help using the toilet or taking a shower. Help me, help me, help me... But how many times are people going to help you? Maybe one person who hasn't entirely lost their sense of compassion might answer your piteous prayers. Someone else might reluctantly give you a few sips of water. But sooner or later, you'd end up in a whorehouse or have to learn to use your head the way nature intended. There had been those who managed to survive by entertaining others with hallway performances.

"This is reality, dude. Get used to it. Think about it." The system was cold and merciless, but its approach worked well. Just seeing the pathetic, whimpering worms that were once human would dissuade you from taking a day off. You would work as hard as you could to complete that damned daily job, no matter what, just to avoid sliding down the debt chute. You would spend your days and nights thinking about your budget, trying to set aside at least twenty sol as savings in case you got sick or something. Even if you didn't buy food, water, or vitamins, you couldn't get out of the immunosuppressant and limb payments. Five sol every day. If you needed medicine, the medblock was there to help you out. Two sol for diagnostics, one sol for medicine. Or sometimes two, depending on how sick you were. Two days of that and your savings would be gone. Not very many people around here managed to save more than twenty sol.