Bureau of Second Chances
by Pat L. Sherrod

"How may I help you?" asked the receptionist.

I looked into the dull eyes of a middle-aged woman who wore glasses suspended from a chain hanging on her neck. A cigarette dangled from her lips, which were smeared with bright red lipstick. When I didn't answer immediately, she repeated the question in a strident tone.

"Do you have an appointment sir?"

"Yes. Yes." I stammered. I have an appointment with the Restoration Counselor."

"Name?"

"Wary Streeter."

She looked down at a frayed appointment book and after locating my name, crossed it out with a red ink pen.

"Have a seat. The Counselor is very busy today. Your name will be called as soon as she becomes available."

"But I have an appointment for 1:00PM," I protested.

She snorted and pointed at the seats behind me that were filled with occupants.

"They all have 1:00PM appointments. We recommend that you come prepared for a long wait. You should have brought a novel as suggested in the brochure."

"Who's next?" She said dismissively.

I reluctantly sat down next to a young brown-skinned woman holding a baby in her arms. There were two other young children fighting for space on her lap.

"Have you been here before?" I asked conversationally. She glared at me while pulling a lollipop from her hair. "If I'd been here before, do you think I'd still have these brats?" she said throwing the sucker on the floor.

"What?"

She sighed. "I'm twenty-two and have three kids with one on the way. I have no job; no husband and no one to help raise my children. I want a second chance to better my life-a chance to start over with no one dependent on me. You know what I mean?"

"Well, I guess. "But won't you miss your children-that is assuming you're accepted as a "Second Chance" candidate.

"Of course I'll miss them!" Do ya think I'm heartless? I'm doing this for them and for me. This ain't no life for them. I can't get them the things they need."

"I understand. But you know the rules. You can only get a second chance if it doesn't hurt others."

"Look" She said her voice rising, "As far as I'm concerned we should all be given a second chance at life. You know what I mean brother? Look around. You don't see many of them here." She said referring to the dearth of white faces. "Their lives are so great they don't need to
change anything." She then looked at me suspiciously and said "You don't look like you belong here. I bet you have some cushy office job."

"I work," I said almost apologetically. "But I have my share of troubles too."

"Troubles? You're ahead of the game if you're working. Try begging for food for your kids or sleeping in doorways. You can't possibly imagine what that's like.

At this point she was beginning to shout and other people were turning to stare at us.

I flushed in embarrassment and arose to find another seat. I sat as far away from the other potentials as I could and began to ruminate on the events that led me here.

It was not too long ago that the world was celebrating medical miracles that resulted in cures for most forms of cancer and heart disease. With the introduction of a socialist form of government, the cures were made readily available, and the average life span was increased considerable. It was not unusual to find individuals still vital at 100.

Along with the increased health benefits however, came an increase in the population, and a resultant increase in unemployment and ironically a lack of health care benefits. Oh there were jobs-of a menial nature, but having a degree, even one from an Ivy League college did not guarantee commensurate employment.

Despite the benign nature of our government, minorities were affected to a greater degree than the population in general. Then the government developed the Bureau of Second Chances.

The Bureau is just what the name implies-it's designed to give individuals a second chance at life if they meet the strict qualifications.

The Bureau promises to send you back to a point in time of your choosing. The pamphlet extols the virtues of having a second chance at life. According to the information contained in the pamphlet, an individual is transported to an earlier time and merged with his or her earlier self so that only one person exists in the earlier time, and the person ceases to exist in the present.

The candidates are screened by a Restoration Counselor who makes recommendations to the Bureau. If an individual is chosen, he or she is provided with a small stipend. Since so many minorities were unemployed, we made up the majority of applicants.

Since the individual ceases to exist in the present time, the Bureau stresses that it will only select those whose removal will not adversely impact others. Generally, only those present a compelling or unique reason for wanting a second chance at life, are chosen.

I was not the typical applicant. I had a job that paid enough to prevent me from starving. At the ripe old age of 40, I was employed as a delivery man, delivering newspapers and magazines to customers who could afford the subscription prices. I felt lucky to have this job since very few of my friends were employed in any capacity.

The major drawback of the job was that it did not pay enough to support a wife and children. I remained unhappily single. I figured that since I had no dependents, I would be a good
candidate for a second chance at life.

After giving it some serious thought, I concluded that the only time I was truly happy was when I was a kid. More specifically, I remember how much I enjoyed the summer of my 10th year. Everything was perfect. I went fishing with my father, and played softball with friends. The
grass was greener then and the sky bluer. Everything was perfect-or so it seemed.

As I sat there reminiscing, I heard my name being called. My heart began to thump in my chest in anticipation as I arose and approached the desk.

The receptionist glared at me-"Are you Mr. Streeter?"

"Yes" I stammered. "I am."

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" she demanded. "You people are so annoying."

Before I could respond, she pointed to a door with a sign above it that read "Restoration Counselor."

I approached the door with trepidation hoping for a renewed chance at life and entered the room. It was dimly inside and I bumped into a chair before my eyes began to adjust to the dimness.

A figure clad in black was seated behind a desk. Her features were obscured by the darkness of the room. As I approached, she arose and extended her hand to me. I was surprised to find myself facing such a beautiful woman. Her skin was smooth and ebony. She had full lips
and a nice smile which suggested that she had a sense of humor. Her hair was worn in long braids that cascaded down her back. She pointed to a chair and motioned for me to sit down.

"Please be seated," she said in a sultry voice. "I am Restoration Counselor. Don't be afraid. It's important that you relax and answer the questions posed to you as honestly as possible."

"Your name is Restoration Counselor?"

"Of course not," she replied, "but anonymity is key to the operation of the Bureau. Now, tell me about yourself."

"Where should I begin?" I asked.

"Your record indicates that you were raised in the mid-west. You're divorced with no children and are the last remaining member of your immediate family. Is this correct?"

"Yes, but that information doesn't really explain who I am."

"Okay" she said smiling. "Then tell me who you are. You have ten minutes to convince me to recommend you to the Bureau."

I took a deep breath and made my pitch. I spoke for ten minutes without interruption and explained how empty and hollow I felt inside. I told her that if I disappeared from this reality, no one would really miss me. I thought I saw a flicker of interest in her eyes when I said this.
Her face remained impassive as I finished.

"Thank you for coming." she said. You'll receive a letter from the Bureau within five days. If selected, you'll have 24 hours to prepare for your departure."

"Can you give me a hint?" I implored. "I know there are a bunch of applicants, but I really want a better life."

"I sympathize with you Mr. -uh Streeter but you have to realize that we get so many applications and are only able to take a handful of cases each year. If we don't select you this time around, you can re-apply in another year."

I left the Bureau feeling utterly dejected-like my world was coming down around me. I passed by the many people who lived on the street. It was especially sad to see the dull-eyed children who were probably born into families that had no homes.

"Do you have some food mister?" Asked a little girl of indeterminate age. She hair was matted to her scalp and she was so skinny that her bones were visible through the thin dress she wore.

I didn't answer but continued walking at a steady pace. I walked past the people loitering in front of my tenement and entered my one room apartment. Once inside, I headed straight for the liquor bottle, intent on drowning out the reality of my life.

I pulled out the sofa bed, lay down fully clothed, and tipped the bottle to my lips.

I must have fallen asleep because the insistent ringing of the telephone aroused me.

"Hello," I mumbled.

"Is this Mr. Streeter?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"This is Restoration Counselor. Did I call at a bad time?"

I was fully awake now-my heart began to thump erratically. I felt dizzy.

"Yes-I mean no. This is Wary Streeter and no it's not a bad time."

"Good. Then can you report back to the Bureau in the morning? I have some information for you. Is 8:00AM good for you?"

"Sure. In fact, I can come right now if you'd like."

"That's not necessary Mr. Streeter; 8:00 will be fine. See you then."

After hanging up the telephone, I took a deep breath to slow my heartbeat.

"They must have accepted my application. Why else would the Restoration Counselor call me personally?" I thought.

I began to realize the full import of the call. I was going to get a second chance at life! I would be a child again.

I didn't get much sleep that night and kept tossing and turning and thinking about my new life. Finally the alarm clock sounded and I rushed from my bed, took a quick shower, dressed
and ran from my apartment.

The same sullen receptionist greeted me when I arrived at the Bureau, but I was so happy I could have kissed her on the lips. "I'm Wary Streeter. The Restoration Counselor asked me to come in today."

She looked at me without interest, flipped through her appointment book,and checked off my name.

"Have a seat Mr. Streeter. The Restoration Counselor will be with you shortly."

I took a seat facing the office of the Restoration Counselor and anxiously waited for my name to be called. I didn't have to wait long-only a few minutes passed after my arrival, before I
was called to her office.

"Hello again Mr. Streeter. Thanks for coming so quickly," she said. "To use a cliché, this appears to be your lucky day. One of our candidates was unwilling-that is unable to comply with our terms at the last minute. Therefore we have an immediate opening. Since you have no
ties here and can leave immediately, the candidate's spot is yours if you're interested."

"Well yes, but first you have toe execute a notarized document stating that you are not leaving behind any dependents and releasing the Bureau from all liability as a result of the the-
um procedure."

I smiled, reached into my pocket and handed her a sheet of paper. I had these prepared just in case I was lucky enough to be chosen."

She accepted the document and smiled. "Everything appears to be in order. I just need to make sure that you aren't leaving anyone behind that we should know about?"

"No. As I said before, no one here will miss me."

My answer seemed to satisfy her because she nodded and led me to another room that contained a laboratory table.

"Just lie down on the table" she instructed. "Someone will be with you soon."

"Shall I undress?"

"No-Just relax and think of your new life."

I grabbed her hand, raised it to my lips and kissed it. Was that pity in her eyes? Too bad I'm not sticking around. Maybe I could get to know her better."

I'm not sure how long I lay on the table fantasizing about Restoration Counselor but I started as I heard the door open and a male in a lab coat entered. He appeared to be in his early
forties and had a balding pate. He wore horned-rimmed glasses and looked like the stereotypical scientist.

"Hello Mr. Streeter. I am Restoration Counselor. I will be conducting your-ah- second chance."

"Your name is Restoration Counselor too?" I asked.

"Of course it's not my real name, but it simplifies things for the clientele. Now if you would just relax and extend your arm, we can begin."

Restoration Counselor then took a needle, filled it with a colorless liquid and inserted the needle into my arm.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Don't worry. This will just put you to sleep. When you wake up you'll be a happy, vital 10-year old.

The drug was making me drowsy but I smiled knowing I was leaving this life for a better one.

"Is he completed?" asked Restoration Counselor as she entered the laboratory.

"Dead to the world" answered Restoration Counselor. "Poor sucker. At least he went peacefully with a smile on his face."

"Yes" she replied looking down at the prostrate figure. "The Bureau will be pleased. That makes 70 this week alone. I bet we get bonuses at the end of the year."

"Maybe" he replied solemnly. "I just wish there were another way to reduce the population."

"Oh there you go again. The system works. Besides it's not like anyone's going to miss him. He told me so. Well I better get back to work. There are so many candidates just waiting for a second chance."

"I'll walk out with you", he said.

As they left the room, the woman said "Don't forget to turn off the light. We want him to be well rested when he returns to his childhood."

They both laughed as they walked away from body of Wayne Streeter awaiting the beginning of a new life.

Discuss this story at our forum!
Send your comments on this story: Your Name:  Your E-mail:	Did you enjoy this story? Show your appreciation by tipping the author! Enter your tip amount. ($1.00 minimum) Then click on the tip cup!

| Home | Alternative | Fantasy | Science Fiction | Artwork | Editorial | Submissions | News |
| Discussion Board | Recommended | Merchandise | About Us | Links | Webrings | Archives | E-mail |