Life is costly. We pay for everything—the heating and cooling of our homes, the water we drink and use to keep our gardens blooming, and the gas and electricity we depend on to live comfortably.

And the government tries to enforce restrictions on how much of these resources we can use. Its span of control continues to grow and can become overwhelming. But how far can it go? We will see in . . .

Air Ration

     We finished eating a wonderful dinner with our friends, Pam and James Nelson. My wife, Mindy, had outdone herself. The Veal Marsala brought back memories of our trip to Italy. And I deserve some credit, too. After all, I did slice the sourdough bread.

     We retreated to the living room for some conversation and relaxation. I sat down on our plush, brown leather chair and propped my feet up on the matching ottoman. Looking out the large picture window, I could see the sun dipping behind the distant, beautiful green hillside. Then my eyes drifted toward the others. Mindy, perched on the other ottoman alongside the oak coffee table across from the couch, had a pleased look on her face and appeared to be relishing her dinner triumph. Pam and James reclined on our overstuffed sofa.   

     I stared at James. He looked perplexed.

     “Matt, did you get your air bill?” he asked.

     “Yeah, I think so, but I haven’t had time to look at it. Is there a problem?”

     “Well, ours went up one hundred sixty-three dollars from last month’s bill.”

     “Did you check the meter to see if it was working right?”

     “Sure did. Even ran the test the manual suggests, if we think something’s wrong. All indicators showed the system working as it should.”

     “Hmm. Maybe you should follow up with the company.”

     “Hell, no! You want me to spend the better part of my day trying to get through that bureaucratic nightmare? They keep you on hold for hours. And when you do get a live person on the line, you’ll be told to check the meter and refer to the manual.”

     “Give me a minute. I’ll go get my bill and see if I got a similar increase.”

     I got up, stretched, and made my way to the den. A staggering pile of papers sat on my desk. I leafed through them and found this month’s statement from the Air Ration Agency, a government controlled air-monitoring service. I tore open the envelope. To my amazement and disgust, our bill was huge. I opened the file cabinet alongside the desk to find last month’s statement. Grabbing it, I tossed it on the desk next to the current bill. “There’s got to be a mistake,” I screamed.

     Clutching the two invoices, I raced back to the living room. I caught my breath and began to speak. But before I could get the words out, James blurted, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

     “If you mean, it looks like my heart stopped, you may be right. The damn bills gone up one hundred ninety-two dollars—one hundred ninety-two dollars. That’s insane.”

     ‘What do you think we should do?” James queried.

     “Beats me. Who could’ve imagined the government would resort to monitoring our air intake inside our homes, in the first place? Sometimes I walk around trying to hold my breath to keep costs down. I guess this month Mindy and I breathed in too much of the contaminated substance we call air. Must’ve been when we made love the other night.”

     “Don’t go there,” Mindy admonished.

     “But I’m trying to make a point.”

     “Well, make your point some other way. Leave what happens in our bedroom out of it.”

     “What’re they going to think of next to raise revenue?” I lamented. “At least we can breathe all the air we want outdoors.”

     “Then be happy. All you guys do is complain about things you can’t control,” Pam shouted.

     James bemoaned, “The controls keep getting worse. If we sit and do nothing, they’ll keep taking away our freedoms.”

     “Aw come on,” Mindy shrieked. “We’re already being charged for heating and cooling the air. So what’s so wrong with charging for the air itself?”

     “Well, we’re not made of money. My salary’s been frozen for two years,” I said with regret.

     “Let’s change the subject,” Pam declared. “So what do you think about this global warming thing?”

     James shook his head. “Leave it my wife to muddy the waters even more than they are.”

     “Hey, let’s play Hand ‘n Foot,” I suggested, hoping to turn our evening in a more positive direction.

     “Good, cards sounds like a great idea,” James chimed in.    

     And so, we didn’t talk about the air bill the rest of the evening. The card game created a great diversion. James and I beat the women by over 10,000 points—and we rubbed it in until it hurt.

     After Pam and James left, Mindy and I cleared the snacks from the kitchen table. The bill kept nagging at me. So, I brought it up again. “You know, we shouldn’t take this crap anymore.”

     “What crap?” Mindy asked.

     “The increase in the air bill.”

     “Oh, come on, Matt. Drop it already. You make a good salary. You can pay the bill.”

     “But . . .”

     “But, nothing. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

     And so we didn’t. However, I couldn’t shake the thought from my mind that our cherished government planned to impose more regulations on us.

     After washing up, I crawled into bed, kissed Mindy, and rolled over. I had a hard time getting to sleep. With my head still cluttered with the evening’s conversation, I couldn’t reach closure. As I drifted off, the night disappeared into a restless sea of confusion. And then, I couldn’t believe the next day, October 20, had arrived. When I got to work, people seemed to be yelling at one another. The deafening noise level shook me to the core.

     “Did you hear the news?” Marissa squealed.

     “What news?”

     “Don’t you listen to the radio on the way to work?”

     “Not this morning. So tell me what you’re talking about, Marissa.”

     “The new air policy.”

     “Oh, you mean the raise we got in our air bill. I already know about it. I saw this month’s statement.”

     “No, Matt. That’s old news.”

     “So, what’s the latest?”

     “Last night President Ventura signed into law the bill to monitor our air intake outside our homes.”

     “How in God’s name are they going to do that?” I grimaced.

     “Well, we’ll find out at ten this morning. The world is being put on hold so we can listen to President Ventura’s pronouncement to the country. Everything’s been ordered to stop.”

     “They can’t stop everything.”

     “Maybe not. But they’re going to try. The boss has invited us to meet in the conference room to listen to the president’s message. However, this is more a command performance than an invitation.”

     I went to my desk and pondered what the message from the president might be. I got on the computer and tried to Google the speech announcement—but found nothing significant. This made me anxious.

     At ten minutes to ten, I made my way to the large conference room on the east side of the office complex. Staff shuffled into the room. Chairs were set up facing the seventy-two inch flat screen TV. By the time I sat down, it appeared every seat in the room would be occupied.   

     The boss, John Reiner, our property management company’s Chief Executive Officer (CEO), moved to the front of the room and motioned to those still standing to be seated. Then he spoke with authority and a sense of caution, “All companies, both big and small, have been asked to convene their employees to hear this very important message from the president. We’ve been advised to tell you to keep your calm during the presentation. Let the president explain the new air intake regulations that will be put into place, and how they'll be enforced. After his address, the screen will become interactive and questions may be posed to the president. At this time, make yourself comfortable. The presentation will began in four minutes. Let’s all approach this with an open mind.”

     CEO Reiner left the front of the room and went to a section in the back, where he sat with the company’s executive board and other senior management. With one minute to go, an eerie stillness fell upon the room. “What the crap is the president going to say?” I whispered aloud.

     Then the lights in the room dimmed and the TV screen lit up. President Ventura stood stone-faced before us and spoke, “My fellow citizens, it is with a heavy heart I must advise you our dire economic situation, coupled with the world populations' exploitation of the air we breathe, has caused the community of world leaders to come to an agreement on a universal measure to raise funds and to restrict the use and abuse of our air.”

     The president went on and on about the regulations to be imposed on companies and administered by regional Air Ration Agency offices. He bemoaned company ineffectiveness in controlling air pollutants. I’d heard versions of his rhetoric day in and day out from other government officials over the past twenty years. I began to tune him out, when the emphasis shifted to the individual . . . me. Shaken back to reality, I began to pay attention.

     “And now I must tell you how your lives will be affected by the new regulations. While the air inside your homes has been monitored and you’ve had to pay for excessive use, you still have had the freedom to breathe the air outside your home with no restrictions. This will now change,” he stated.

     I could hear moaning throughout the audience. I couldn’t imagine the next words to come out of the president’s mouth, but I anticipated the worst. And the worst spewed forth.

      “A patch has been developed that you will be required to wear on the back of your right hand,” the president stated. “This patch has the ability to monitor air intake and circulation through the bloodstream. Under the auspices of Air Ration Agency regional offices, air inspectors, armed with detector wands, will be empowered to move through the streets outside your homes, workplaces, and other buildings. If these wands, when aimed at the patch, indicate you are consuming too much air, the inspector has the right to cite you for abusive air use. For first offenses, fines will be assessed. For more serious abuses of air use, you may be arrested and charged with a misdemeanor breathing crime. If the abuse continues, the charge could be elevated to a felony and you might have to serve jail time.”

     What got to me was the ultimate power the inspectors had. If they felt an individual’s abuse of his or her breathing rights produced a detrimental effect on society, by focusing the wand on the patch and pushing the trigger, all air flow throughout the body would stop, causing the target to fall motionless to the ground.

     The president’s presentation ended amid groans and moans from my fellow workers. And then a strange and unexpected thing happened. The screen became interactive and a voice resonated above the groaning. “Before we entertain questions, please stick out your right hand.” Uniformed air inspectors then passed through the crowd affixing patches to the top of our hands.

     Having received the patch, I began to suck in air at an amazing rate trying to ward off the anxiety welling up inside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw an inspector point the wand in my direction and pull the trigger. The room became silent, as I fell with a thud to the ground.

     The next thing I knew, a telephone began ringing. I opened my eyes and found myself at home in bed. I grabbed the phone from the nightstand and whispered, “Hello.”

     “Matt, this is Marissa. I’ve got to tell you about what’s going on at the office.”

     “You mean after the inspector zapped me yesterday and somebody brought me home?”

     “What are you talking about? You weren’t here yesterday. Remember, you spent the day with a client off-site?”

     “No, that was the day before, the nineteenth. I was zapped on the twentieth.”

     “But today is the twentieth. You’ve lost me. Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work. I came in early to get ready for the big address on air rationing the President of the United States is giving at ten. I wanted to give you a heads up.”

     “Huh, I’ve been there and done that.”

     “Matt, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, but you need to make sure you’re at the presentation. I’ve got to go. Bye.”

     I hung up the phone and sat on the side of the bed staring into space. Had it all been a weird dream? Or was I being warned, so I’d be able to protect myself from the fate I’d soon experience? When I arrived at the office, I became involved in an instant replay of events I’d already encountered. Only this time, I didn’t plan to end up in a heap on the ground.

Copyright © 2012 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.