Asimov's SF, August 2009 by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-07-10T14:01:34+00:00

* * *

Poetry: HUMAN RESOURCES

by F.J. Bergmann

This wasn’t the place I thought I’d be, and even getting here was hard.

—Jennifer Jones, “Jordan County Park”

—

I thought it was a funny place for

a job interview; the floor was half-an-inch

deep in water, or something like it,

with galvanized garbage can lids

for stepping-stones. There were twitching,

sudden movements in the fluid; maybe fish,

but I didn’t want to stare. It was important

to seem completely at ease.

—

He was floating directly above an enormous

ebony desk in lotus position with his eyes shut,

and it didn’t seem fair that I had had to climb

the last twelve stories on a ladder made of

goat hair, as far as I could tell. Two dirty

porcelain plates, a fingerbowl, wine glass,

water goblet, demitasse, and assorted utensils

hovered in the perfumed, pink air, orbiting him

like deformed planets circling a dead sun.

—

I waited patiently, crouched on the last lid,

clutching my purple briefcase to my bosom,

admiring the view of the smoking ruins

of the airport and labyrinth through the bullet-

riddled floor-to-ceiling glass. Far out to sea,

I thought I glimpsed a vast, dark armada

moving toward the next continent.

—

He asked me if I’d be willing to relocate,

learn Unix, play golf, drive a Hummer,

insure my life in his favor, get a sex change,

and wear nothing but lime green. I said it

might be difficult to find hiking boots

that color. He told me I had to grow

my own wings.

* * * *

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