Protect All Monsters by Alan Spencer Page A

brushed her teeth and splashed ice-cold water into her face. She perked up for the sake of staying safe. Monsters. Rapists. Anything could happen, and there would be no apologies, only condolences—if that.
    What do they do with the people that die here?
    The question would weigh on her mind for a long time.
    Addey stood vigilant outside the door. She recognized many people from the boat crew yesterday: Herman, Todd and Angela Weathers—the hippie couple looking anything but themselves in the work attire—and Todd Lamberson, the cop. She expected all the inhabitants of the hallway to be standing outside the doors, but only the new crew was awakened. Everybody else was either enjoying food in the lounge, reading in the library, or roaming the halls tired- faced. They worked in shifts, she realized, and once inducted into the work force, it was normal leisure time after the job was done.
    What kind of job she’d be inducted into was her topmost worry.
    Grace Mooney walked down the hall, checking the names off on a clipboard. Richard entered the scene. She tried to look him in the eye, but he shrugged her off completely. He looked aggravated.
    He raised his voice. “Okay, people, I have a little bit of time to show you around. This tour does not involve where you work. These are the places you can go when your work is done. I consider free time as important as anything else. I don’t want burnouts. I want solid help. You will be evaluated according to your work output.
    “Follow me, and keep up. At the end of the tour, you will be given a job. This is picked in the lottery, completely random—so no complaints. You will do rotations, so the job you are assigned, you won’t be stuck at forever.”
    Grace urged them to follow behind Richard, and the woman became the anchor of the line. He guided them to a hall without rooms. Leaving there, the way opened up, and he pointed to the left. “Here’s your gym. You’ve got a full weight room with treadmills, elliptical machines, running track, Olympic-size pool and saunas. The gym is open 24/7.”
    The walkway ahead shocked her. The strip of department stores were out of place. But then she recalled a special on the Iraq war and how encampments had fast food and retail stores just the same as real life. Richard pointed to the area that was equivalent to a city block. “Here’s your mall, folks. You’ve got Dillard’s, Macy’s, Dick’s Sporting Goods, Target, Redbox, Glamour Shots, a tavern and dance club and even a movie theater.
    “At the end of each week, you will receive an envelope of cash stuffed under your door. This is yours to do with as you wish. Rent a movie, go see a movie, buy new clothes and hit the dance floor. The club opens at ten p.m. and closes at five in the morning.”  
    Richard pointed farther back to a store that was untitled, a red curtain drawn across the entrance where two security guards stood in place. “That is your red-light district. You want peep shows, lap dances, or,” he cleared his throat, “ sex , that’s the place you go.”
    She was shocked at the elaborate setup. A panel of people had decided what humans liked: movies, food, sex and dancing. How about fresh air? Walks in nature? How about not imprisoning people? How about not being attacked by monsters?
    The leisure block was there and gone, and then they entered a large cafeteria. The medley of smells caused her stomach to grumble: bacon, eggs, sausage, hash browns, French toast, pancakes, Belgian waffles, doughnuts, Danishes, tortes, omelets, steaks, breakfast sandwiches, fresh fruit heaped in baskets, and snack cakes, among many other items in the buffet area. The seating reminded her of high school: long tables unfolded with chairs already installed into them. The noisy bustle of conversations and eating was deafening outside the room. She imagined there were four hundred people occupying the space. This was a small city, and it functioned like a well-oiled