Vend (A Short Story)

Ben stepped up to the metallic, rectangular machine. “Please place you thumb on the biometric thumb pad,” said the smooth female voice, “and place your eyes in front of the retina scanner.” Ben did as the machine instructed. The thumb pad flashed brightly for a second as it read Ben’s thumb print. A red laser scanned his black eyes, confirming his identity. “Hello, Benjamin Ward. Welcome to Burger Palace. It has been one week, four days since your last visit. How may I serve you today?”

“Yeah. Hold on one sec. I’ll have uhhh double cheeseburger, uhhh large curly fries, uhhh large diet coke, uhhh some onion rings, and uhhh how about uhhhmm a whole bunch of ketchup packets.”

Each item appeared on the screen as Ben placed his order, the price on the far right of the screen.

“Is there anything else I can get for you, Benjamin?”

“I think that’ll take care of it for me tonight.”

“Your total is $104.99”

“Yeah just put that on my Amex.” The word PROCESSING flashed across the screen several times, replaced by the words TRANSACTION COMPLETED.

“Okay Benjamin, your order will be out shortly.”  Five seconds later, a bell dinged and a door on the front of the machine slid open. A tray with Ben’s food on it. The white paper bag had “Burger Palace” printed on the side in black box letters. The bottom was soaked in grease. Next to the bag, a large cylinder with the word SODA wrapped around. A straw sticking out the top. “Benjamin, thank you for choosing Burger Palace. We hope to see you again soon. And don’t forget any of the other great brands that PepsiCo has to offer.” Ben grabbed the bag and drink and walked away before he could see the list of PepsiCo subsidiaries scroll across the screen.

Ben made his way across the street and down the escalator to the subway station. “Hello, Benjamin.” The same smooth voice as from the vending machine as Ben placed his hand on the palm scanner to gain access to the terminal. He stood by the green line platform waiting for train A to arrive. Rats scurried by his feet and chewed on homeless addicts’ fingers and ears. Used syringes littered the ground. Sanitation was non-existent outside of corporate footsteps.  Ben stepped onto the train and sat in one of the handicapped seats. He put earbuds deep into his ears and ate his meal. When he had finished eating, Ben closed his eyes.

The train was mostly empty this late at night, but Ben did share the car with a few other patrons. The tall black woman sitting in the handicapped seat across from Ben could have been his grandmother’s grandmother, by the shape and size of her wrinkles. She was wearing a native headdress, like the ones the islanders used to wear. She probably came over as a refugee during the Great Trans-Oceanic War. Her fingernails were long, the once vibrant colors painted in mystic patterns now as dull as the expression on her face. Long white hairs crept from her chin down to her bosom. Her last few teeth were rotted and saliva made its way from her mouth, down her hair, to her chest, like a useless firefighter sliding down a fibrous fire pole.

At the back end of the car was a young mother and her crying child, wrapped in dirty rags only the desperate would think to use as clothing. She whispered Spanish words of comfort into the child’s ear, clutching him tightly to her chest. She rocked him back and forth, imitating the undulating motion of a cradle or a rowboat on one of the lakes.

“Next stop, Huntington Circle.” The smooth female voice. The train slowed to a stop and the girl and child stepped out of the car. The train quickly left them behind. A pleasant but non-descript melody quietly filled the otherwise silent train car. Ben had a sterile expression on his face. A crumb from the onion rings sat in his beard.

The old woman across from Ben began coughing violently. She pounded her chest and the coughs only grew louder and more violent. Her entire body was in perfect sync with her coughing, like a well-rehearsed synchronized swimming routine. Phlegm shot across the car from her mouth and landed on Ben’s brown leather wingtips. Ben looked up at the woman in disgust, her body still convulsing. He grabbed yesterday’s newspaper from under his seat and wiped off the putrid loogie.

“Next stop, South 75th Street.” Ben hurried out of the car, throwing the crumpled newspaper at the woman.

The stairs of the 75th Street stop led up to an overgrown and unkempt park. Weeds and rust had long ago taken over the lifeblood of greenery. Where children used to play during the day, they now lay in hiding at night, waiting for unsuspecting drunks to stumble up from the subway station. Ben walked slowly through the park, the children’s eyes following the even slower thump thump of his heart. Each of his steps more deliberate than the last. Ben stopped for a moment, turning his head to the right, then left. He reached his hand inside of his jacket and slowly drew his gun. The sudden crack of the gun firing a single shot broke the cold silence in the park. A muffled THUMP followed as a small shadowy figure fell from the tree ten feet to Ben’s right. Ben slowly put his pistol back in his jacket and began to walk authoritatively towards the motionless mass. A pool of blood had already formed by the child’s mouth by the time Ben was hovering over its body. A hole directly between its eyes. The blood almost emptied from its skull. Ben dipped his little finger into the pool, stirring for a moment, a smile wide across his face. With his little finger, he painted a cross on the child’s forehead.

Ben pulled out a small flask from inside his jacket. He opened the flask and connected it to long thin tubing he had also taken from inside his jacket. He placed the end of the tubing by the pool of blood. A dark blue button on the side of the flask. Ben pressed the button and the flask began sucking up the blood. When the pool was dried, Ben placed a needle in the child’s arm, attached the tubing, and drained the child’s blood. The corpse looked less than human as Ben walked slowly off.

*      *      *

“Are you kidding me?” Ben snapped. “Only $22,000 for 3 liters? Last time you paid me twice that!”

“This isn’t last time, Benjamin. It’s $22,000.”

“This is bullcrap! I’ll take my business elsewhere if you’re just gonna pay me dirt!”

Ben turned to walk away. Two large men stepped in front of Ben. The first was twice Ben’s size and the second was twice the size of the first. The men’s eyes reeked of death. “Don’t play games with me Benjamin. You’ll take the $22,000 and then you’ll walk calmly out of here.”

Sweat began to drip down Ben’s forehead. He stared at the two men. They didn’t budge. He reached inside his jacket and slowly took out the flask. “I see how it is.” Ben dropped the flask on the ground. The two men stepped aside and Ben walked away. “Put the money on my account.” Ben’s reluctant voice quivered.

*      *      *

“Hello, Benjamin Ward. Welcome to Girlz. It has been two days since your last visit. How may I serve you today?” The smooth female voice.

“Can I get that busty red-head girl? I think her name was uhhh Julie or Julia or Jules or something like that.”

“I’m sorry, Julia is currently unavailable until tomorrow afternoon. Might I suggest our newest addition, Skylar?” A picture of Skylar appeared on the screen in front of Ben. Ben looked the picture up and down.

“Yeah that’ll do just fine. And I’ll take her for two and a half hours.”

“You’re total is $3,575.87.”

Ben paid for the girl. Moments later, the front of the vending machine swiveled open. Skylar, in a skin-tight black, leather leotard.

“Mr. Ward, my name is Skylar. How may I please you today?”