We Have No Art John 13587 yawned and rolled out of his bunk. The alarm clock droned the morning news from the cubby hole by his bed. Apparently the skyways were clear and the president was on vacation for the day. John stood for a moment and stared at his quarters, his eyes glazed over. Everything was various shades of grey or black. When he squinted his eyes the room blurred together in a grand gray blob. Everything was all there to function, his coffee maker, the simple plank of black wood he used for a desk, even his clothes were simple white button down shirts and black slacks all neatly stacked on the black metal built in shelves opposite his bed with a row of black shoes on the shelf underneath. His whole quarters were filled with functional items, each placed to serve their designated purposes, each easy to clean, each designed to last. John 13587’s, or 87 as he was known to his friends, lived in the Thirty-second District. In 2153 humanity had done away with the old forms of dividing property such as countries, states and provinces. Now the world was simply divided into districts, each one perfectly square (except on coastlines) and each one numbered in order from north to south along longitude lines around the globe. Every male in 87’s district was named John with a number assigned to him. Every female was named Jane. One could therefore easily identify visitors from another district by their name. This rarely happened. Each district was designed for a purpose that helped the human race survive; there was rarely a need to venture outside of one’s designated district. 87 was in one of the ten districts that processed and shipped the world’s food supply. It was for this purpose that John showered, shaved, and dressed this morning, as he did every morning. The door to his quarters slid open and he made his way down the corridor to the train station, his work bag over his shoulder. The building seemed quiet, but John knew there were others like him making their way to the trains this early morning. The work shifts were staggered by one hour throughout the day as to not clog the mass transportation routes. At the end of his corridor was a door with the words “Please Wait” stenciled on them in big faded yellow letters. It looked like all the other doors in the hallway except for the wording. If he didn’t know any better he would think he could walk right through it. But in fact he was on the 71st floor of one of the housing buildings, and if the train was not there to step on to it would be a significant drop. Two other Johns and a Jane joined him in waiting for the train. “You hear the President is on vacation?” “Humph,” scoffed another, “Vacation from what? This place runs itself.” John had not had a vacation for over four years. What was there to do anyway? He worked ten hour shifts seven days a week, as most people did. The door finally slid open to reveal a crowded train. John stood near the door and leaned his forehead on the cool metal pole. The door slid shut and the train sped away. Building after building sped by the window, each one more or less the same as the last. They were the same color, made of the same materials, most with no windows. The only thing that varied was the height. Even though they were going along at 71 stories above the ground there were still buildings towering twenty stories over the train. there were still buildings towering twenty stories over the train The train jerked to a halt at the Food Plant building, and half of the train’s occupants exited. John stopped two steps outside the train. Something was different. There was a breeze flowing inside of the building, the halls were strongly illuminated. John knew at once what had happened. After all it happened at least once a week. He turned his head in the direction of the wind. A window was shattered. A priest in black kneeled by the open window on a small grey pillow. Maintenance workers were quickly cleaning up the glass and boarding up the window. This window would probably be bricked up like the others, as if the next desperate person would not follow through on this horrendous act just because the window he originally planned on using was no there. John stared at the scene in front of him, the workers in grey jumpsuits cleaning up the mess like a well organized hive, the old priest easing himself up off the well used grey pillow now permanently marked with his knee imprints, and the broken window mirroring the bleak worlds inside and out. He wondered vaguely if the John or Jane that had made the leap was now in a bloody puddle at the bottom of the world, or if maybe somehow he had grown wings and was now flying around and about the tall grey buildings. He shook his head out of his musings and looked around quickly, heart racing. John 13468 stood next to him staring into his eyes. workers in grey jumpsuits cleaning up the mess like a well organized hive, the old priest easing himself up off the well used grey pillow now permanently marked with his knee imprints, and the broken window mirroring the bleak worlds inside and out. He wondered vaguely if the John or Jane that had made the leap was now in a bloody puddle at the bottom of the world, or if maybe somehow he had grown wings and was now flying around and about the tall grey buildings. He shook his head out of his musings and looked around quickly, heart racing. John 13468 stood next to him staring into his eyes. well organized hive, the old priest easing himself up off the well used grey pillow now permanently marked with his knee imprints, and the broken window mirroring the bleak worlds inside and out. He wondered vaguely if the John or Jane that had made the leap was now in a bloody puddle at the bottom of the world, or if maybe somehow he had grown wings and was now flying around and about the tall grey buildings. He shook his head out of his musings and looked around quickly, heart racing. John 13468 stood next to him staring into his eyes. the well used grey pillow now permanently marked with his knee imprints, and the broken window mirroring the bleak worlds inside and out. He wondered vaguely if the John or Jane that had made the leap was now in a bloody puddle at the bottom of the world, or if maybe somehow he had grown wings and was now flying around and about the tall grey buildings. He shook his head out of his musings and looked around quickly, heart racing. John 13468 stood next to him staring into his eyes.“Hey! You alright there, 87?” John nodded. “Won’t be the last broken window. Don’t know what’s wrong with some folks. You in Room 70-21 today?” John nodded again and smiled slightly. “Let’s walk together then.” And 68 droned on about the production levels so far that day and the President being on vacation. With each step John’s muscles relaxed. He didn’t know what I was thinking. The more he thought about it the more ridiculous it seemed. He laughed out loud now thinking how silly his fear from only a few moments ago seemed now. 68 must have just said something meant to be funny, and nodded in agreement with John. “I know!” he said enthusiastically. John knew he didn’t know, and continued to smile at his secret.

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