All things desired require a method of acquisition

– Avenel Meade

It is a simple equation, yet, it is one that has challenged the best and worst minds of every epoch. For while nothing could be easier than obtaining desire, the method for acquiring desire’s tangible form is often not so simple.

Foss 77 was perplexed with this very equation in Time Cycle 3 of Calendar Block 7. In fact, he had been utterly consumed with finding a solution ever since he received some troublesome news from the City Denizen Authority in Time Cycle 1. He paced around his Life Unit like an extinct jungle cat that his grandfather’s father had seen long ago in a special animal city known as a Zoo.

He was lucky, Foss 77, to have been granted a Life Unit such as his. It was a good size and its location to the Alpha line commuter tram made getting to any Level of the City fast and easy although he rarely went anywhere. But Foss 77’s luck had run out in Time Cycle 1. That was when he learned that, due to dwindling City space, he would be assigned not just one but two co-habitants unless he could prove that his Life Unit was already occupied by three tenants. Foss 77 was in a panic. Generous as it was, there was just enough space in his quarters for himself to be comfortable, introducing two additional bodies would make things unbearable.

Foss 77 peered out his single window as if he would spy a solution to his problem strolling by at a casual gait. Upward were the intricate tangles of municipality that composed the City Levels overhead and the glowing orange sky beyond. City Levels spiraled in similar contortions below him and eventually disappeared into a dense, boiling stew of soot colored fog. Foss 77 might have used the word “dystopia” to describe what he saw had that word not been banned years before his inception along with other language that could be used to criticize government institutions, its operators and their machinations.

Despite his morning medication, Foss 77 was still extremely anxious. “Perhaps a Lotus capsule would help calm my nerves,” he thought aloud. “Is it too early to euphoricate?” He questioned himself. Foss 77 had nowhere to be. So, what did it matter? Besides, he thought he might find his “method” within euphorication like ancient poets were said to have found inspiration from fermented drink. Foss 77 opened a Lotus capsule and inhaled his pleasure. In an instant, Foss 77’s body was levitating in delicious narcosis above the floor of his Life Unit and divided in two like a cell undergoing mitosis beneath the leering eye of a microscope. The pair split again into two identical pairs and those pairs split again until there were thousands of identical Foss 77’s floating like party balloons. He was not sure if he had experienced inspiration like an ancient poet, but when the one true embodiment of Foss 77 returned to a reasonable level of coherence, he knew he had returned with a very good “method.”

Foss 77 rode the Alpha line a few Levels down before transferring to the Echo line that vanished into the fog layer like a snake slithering into a pile of filthy rags. “What a fine adventure,” thought Foss 77 in the blue tinted light of the tram car. Through the grimy windows, the stations and life in the Levels below the fog layer flickered and flashed by in disturbing yet alluring scenes. It had been a very long time since Foss 77 had visited City surface. But when he stepped out of the Echo tram station he decided nothing had changed.

It was cold and damp and veiled in a perpetual twilight that was ablaze with archaic, electric signs offering every manner of delight forbidden from delivery to Life Units above. Foss 77 was tempted at every carnal step. It took a considerable amount of asceticism to resist the allure of voluptuous creatures promising ecstasy or the sensuous texture of fat noodles simmering in hot, aromatic soup. “Your purpose is strictly business,” he repeated to himself over and over like a monk chanting a prayer as aegis against sin.

The “method” he needed was offered by a concern located off the main streets in a labyrinth of sad, quiet alleys. Foss 77 opened the door beneath a sign that read: Pharo Identity Ltd. Inside, the smell of musty paper commingled with an unusual chemical scent.

Covering the walls were people of every conceivable size, shape and ethnicity captured in unframed photographs. Each print was fastened to a laminated page containing detailed information of the face staring back. Behind the shop’s counter was a fellow so emaciated in stature that Foss 77 did not notice him until he spoke.

“Welcome here, autochthon. How may we be of service?”

The stick of a figure wore an unsettling grin. There was barely enough of the man to cast even a whisper of a shadow.

As Foss 77 explained the equation and his “method,” the man nodded his gaunt skull in empathetic contemplation. The unsettling grin stretched to reveal a castellated row of yellow teeth.

“We have just the thing. And a wide selection at that. I will be right back.” The weed disappeared behind a curtain of stringed beads covering a doorway to another room. The silhouette that followed seemed to possess a constitution more substantial than its owner. He returned in the company of a young girl with a bowl haircut and wearing baggy overalls. Both carried large, metal trays glossed by condensation from refrigerated storage. Man and girl placed the trays on the counter for Foss 77’s inspection in a simultaneous fashion that suggested rehearsal. Both trays were divided into equal compartments that housed a specimen, vacuum-sealed in plastic and affixed with an identifying label.

“Thumbs are here.” The grinning pole made a sweeping gesture over the tray the girl had provided. He did the same over his offering. “And a matching index finger can be found in this tray. My assistant will be right out with the other samples. Please, handle.”

Foss 77 selected an index finger at random and studied the swirling papillary ridges, a pattern unique to all others in the world, the singular thing the previous owner had all to itself until it lost everything. Foss 77 admired the precise, surgical cut that had separated the digit from the hand. Great care had been taken to harvest this item. “I wonder how much the harvesting company paid the owner?” thought Foss 77 as he replaced the finger and picked out a thumb. “Or if it was even obtained in such a professional, businesslike manner?”

“I assure nothing here has a criminal history on record. All clean, these. Ah…here are the others.”

The girl approached with a third tray, the plastic beads of the curtain swinging and clicking behind her. The new tray was partitioned like the other two but contained small, glass jars. Foss 77 plucked one from its compartment with reverent care. As he examined the contents, the crystal blue of a lifeless retina gazed back at him, the eyeball bobbing in its clear, preservative fluid.

“Your patronage of Pharo is wise, my friend. Yes, exceedingly wise. My competitors offer similar wares and are willing to sell you only the pieces needed. However, Pharo Identity specializes in whole sets all harvested from the same source.”

Foss 77 considered which retinas were complimentary in color, holding two jars side by side as if he were comparing paint samples while the cadaverous proprietor elaborated on the superior features of his commodities.

“Yes, because I only sell the whole set, my prices are somewhat higher but when you factor in the quality of our pieces and the reassurance that you have everything required for a complete identity screen, I think you will agree you are getting top value for your purchase. And, of course, the guarantee that these are free of a criminal history, as I said. No nasty surprises later on I can assure you of that, my friend.”

Foss 77 chose an eye of light hazel and another the shade of rich mahogany. The girl set about finding the matching appendages in the other trays.

“And complimentary with your purchase, Pharo offers the identification sheets of your specimens. Some like to know a bit of the original owner’s history.” The grinning skeleton pointed towards the wall filled with photos and their laminated stories such as they were.

At first Foss 77 did not wish to learn such details but when he was presented with the final invoice, he decided he might as well receive a little extra on the house. Besides, it might be nice to discover something of the unobtrusive company sharing his Life Unit. Yes, two, new, unobtrusive co-habitants. In Time Cycle 5 he would submit identifiable prints and matching retina scans to the City Denizen Authority as proof his Life Unit was at maximum capacity.

His “method” successful, Foss 77 secured his “acquisition” and made the twisted journey home.