Cascade Point

"So put in new batteries, huh?" a different voice suggested. "Sign up and let someone else have a turn."

"I'll be happy to, as soon as I figure out how."

There was a loud groan. "Aw, c'mon, friend: you hitting senility early to avoid the crowds?"

Charley felt his face reddening. "Look—"

"If you don't know what you're doing, go up to fourth floor and get some help," someone else put in.

Charley hadn't realized help was available. "Yeah, okay," he muttered. Pushing the "cancel" button, he stepped away, the next man in line shouldering past with a growled profanity. Too embarrassed to even turn around, Charley pushed hurriedly through the crowd toward the elevators.

Surprisingly, the fourth floor was practically deserted. Several dozen cubicles like those he'd seen three floors up lined the walls, most of them darkened and apparently empty. Of the handful that were open for business, only about half were being used. The rest of Baltimore's citizenry, Charley reflected, must have learned the ins and outs of the lottery years ago. The thought made him feel old and a little bit silly. Choosing a cubicle with a sympathetic-looking older woman, he hesitantly approached. "Uh... excuse me?"

She looked up, folding up the portable thin-screen she'd been watching. "Can I help you?"

"I hope so." He sat down. "I was accidentally fired this weekend, and while my boss tries to get me reinstated I thought I'd sign up for the lottery—just to tide myself over. But I'm afraid I don't understand exactly how to go about it."

"What do you mean?" She frowned. "Are you trying to find a new category or something?"

"No, it's just that I've never had to use the lottery before."

Her eyes widened. "You're kidding. Never?"

"I like my job." He shrugged self-consciously. "I've been there for the past thirty-five years."

That awed look was still there, and Charley felt more than ever like a revived fossil. "Wow!" she breathed. "I didn't think there was anyone who hadn't gone through the lottery at least once." She seemed suddenly to realize she was staring and dropped her eyes. "Well, let's see what we can do for you," she continued in a more professional tone, swiveling the terminal screen so that they could both see it. "Could you give me your name, number, and previous job, please?"

He did so. She pushed a few keys, and Charley was faced with the third page of lottery instructions.

"Right, now, first let's figure out how many jobs you can sign up for," she said, tapping a paragraph with her pen. "The longer you've been unemployed, the more job lotteries you can be in. Since you've been out of work less than a week, you can only sign up on three lists. Anything over six months and you can be on twenty of them.

"Each job list is open for sign-up for a minimum of twenty-four hours. Once it's closed, all the names on the list are put in random order by the computer and the company in question hires the first person on it for, usually, at least one four- day week."

"After interviews, you mean?"

The woman blinked. "There aren't any interviews, Mr. Addison. This is an equal opportunity system; we don't allow discrimination over educational advantages any more than over race or religion." "But—" Charley floundered.

"It really does work," she assured him. "Maybe a bit slower than the old methods, but it spreads the jobs and wealth around more evenly and eliminates the need for a welfare system. And that saves all of us money."

She was repeating the same arguments that the developers of the system's precursor had used twenty years ago—the arguments, he remembered now, that had originally induced him to vote for it back then. It had seemed like a good idea at the time... but now he wasn't quite so sure. "I'll take your word for it," he told her. "What do I do next?"

"Sign up for your three jobs. Let's see..." She punched some keys, sca

"Wait a second—I don't know anything about accounting."

She frowned at him. "So? If they get down to your number the law says they will hire you for at least a week. Qualifications are irrelevant—equal opportunity, remember?"

"But what if, say, thirty short-order cooks and only one accountant sign up for the job. How is the company going to get the one they need before mid-August?"

"Oh, the law allows concurrent employment if all parties are willing. If the accountant they want is number nine in the lottery, they'd just hire him plus the eight people ahead of him. Those eight would get their week's salary and could leave right away; the accountant would begin work in his new job at the same time. See?"

"Very convenient." Also very expensive if the right person didn't make the top ten. No wonder Whitney always looked so harried when KDS was hiring. "How on Earth do small companies survive a financial shock like that?"

"The smallest companies are exempt from the lottery." She pressed a button and a different page of the lottery instructions appeared. "And there's an intermediate range where the company can hire applicants for only one, two, or three days instead of a full week." She pointed out the appropriate numbers, then turned back to the job listing she'd had on earlier. "You ready to try your luck now?"

"Well... I guess so. You really think I should try for that accounting job?"

"Absolutely." She sca

She tapped a number with her pen. "Here's the closing date and time: May 8, 1700 hours. This column gives the opening date and time; this one's the job ID number; this one's the yearly salary; and here's the current number of people on the list. Now, what'll it be—one or both?"

Charley pursed his lips. After all, he was just looking for something to tide him over until he could get back with KDS. "I guess I'll sign up just on the shorter list."

"Okay." She showed him how to line up the display pointer on the proper job and then how to officially get on the list. "You've got two more chances coming to you. Any preferences?"

He chose two computer programming jobs that would also close at five that evening, ignoring her warning that with three hundred people already signed up for each one he had little hope of making any money from either of them. When he had finished, she showed him how to confirm he was properly registered by calling up his Secure Government Personal File and checking his newly acquired job list. "You can drop out of contention for any of the jobs at any time, by using the display pointer and 'cancel' key. And don't forget, once you've been out of work one to three weeks you can be on five lists at a time."

"Right." Charley made a mental note to find a quiet corner at the library later and read over all these regulations more carefully. "What do I do now?"

"Go home and wait, I guess," she shrugged. "If you've got a computer tie-in on your phone you'll be able to find out your standing on the lottery lists as soon as they close; otherwise, you can find out on the terminals downstairs. If you're high enough, the company'll contact you. If you're really low on the lists, you might as well drop out and sign up on a new list; you'll be automatically dropped as soon as the job is permanently filled, anyway. Any other questions?"

"Well... I guess not. Thanks for your help."