"Achromatopsia," an excerpt of a short story

Rich stood outside the men's room on the promenade level at the southern end of the Battlestar Resort and Casino. That wasn't the casino's actual name – that was Skyy or Cloud or something stupid like that. Rich had sneaked in with the use of an access pass he'd found in a garbage can on the street level near the escalator taking those who were lucky enough to access the casino, which catered to only the high rollers and where Rich had once been a bathroom attendant. He had been replaced by a Furman Service Aide. A robot – although no employee is allowed to call them robots because the customers don't like the term.

The pass was found under an uneaten boat of nachos that Rich saw a frat boy throw in the garbage before heading up. Rich wasn't normally in the habit of digging food out of the garbage – he hadn't thought he was that desperate. His empty stomach told him otherwise as he stood guarding the trash can so that no one else could grab the nachos. In his mind, a debate raged. He knew a line would soon be crossed, a line into poverty. It wouldn't be long before someone threw something else in the can, pushing the nachos further down.

He made a quick grab lest anyone see him. Stuck to the bottom of the boat was the coveted pass. He saw what it was and quickly pocketed it, moving away from the bottom of the escalator. The nachos were cold and the cheese nearly solid, but he ate them without much thought of their condition. As he ate in the shade of fake tree, he suspiciously looked around. People with lost passes usually came looking for them.

When he felt it was safe, he pulled the pass from his pocket. It was embossed with the Battlestar's name, but looked different from the normal employee or visitor passes. It was dark blue with a cloud on it. Having worked in the casino, he knew the pass had a limited lifespan and once was discovered missing would be deactivated. He would have to act now if he hoped to gain access to the promised land.

He looked above to see where the Battlestar was, and spied it about a mile to the north, hovering 450 feet above the Strip and supported by its five-foot thick rails on either side of the empty 8-lane road below. The hotel and casino moved on 20-foot wheels at a nice 1.2 miles per hour. It only stopped when it reached its northern and southern terminus twice a day, and then only to change directions and go in the opposite direction. Rich could see why it was called Battlestar; it looked like one of those space ships he saw in movies when he was a kid.

How long had it been since he'd seen a movie? Probably a decade or more.

The decision was made and he moved to the escalator. It took him up 100 feet to the first platform – anyone could go that far. At the platform he boarded another escalator, then another and another until he found himself at the entrance of Ceasar's. It seemed hotter up here, if Vegas could get hotter.

Rich had two choices – wait until the Battlestar made its way back to this platform, which would be about 10 hours, or enter the upper level of Ceasar's and make his way north on foot by going through all the casinos, which were connected in various manners – walkways, shared doors, bridges that crossed the street below. Keeping a brisk pace, he could catch the Battlestar within an hour, quicker if he ran. Although running might attract attention in a different situation, it was not uncommon to see someone running to catch the Battlestar. If they were really rich, customers could catch a people mover designed to take you to the casino.

“Pass please,” the greeting robot at the door of Ceasar's pleasantly demanded. It was similar to the one that had replaced Rich at his job. He swallowed his anger, he wasn't the only person to lose his job thanks to the robot revolution in Vegas. He should have seen the changes coming, but he was incapable of too much advance planning.

Rich handed over the pass to the robot and swallowed a dry stone in his throat, afraid of what this simple act might alert security forces.

“Welcome to Ceaser's Palace, Mr. Parker. Your 300,000 Battlestar credits are welcome at any of our tables,” the robot said. “Enjoy your stay.”

It handed the card back and gave a subservient bow and extended three of its six arms in a welcoming gesture.

“Uh … thanks,” Rich said, trying his best not to act suspicious. He made it into the casino, and quickly – but not too quickly – made his way north. It was nice to be in the air conditioned comfort of the casino. He gave little thought as to who Mr. Parker might be, but was tempted by the amount of credit on the pass. That temptation would not be satiated, though. Rich knew enough to know that security would easily catch him if he tried to use the pass at a table or in slot machine. His hope was that he would be able to make it to the Battlestar before it was deactivated and security hauled him out.

He had no problems though as he made his way through six crowded casinos, crossing the Strip twice. He made it to the platform at the Sahara in time to catch the tail end of the Battlestar, but was again surprised when he was welcomed in. Only this time, the greeter robot offered to call a transport for him. It was being much more subservient than the others. He turned down “the usual transport” and lost himself in the crowd on the casino.

Rich did not normally attract much attention, he was neither handsome nor ugly, short nor tall, thin nor fat. Despite his dire financial condition, he was still well groomed, as a man who had made a living doling out advice on such things to other men could be. But now he was standing outside the men's room where he had worked for seven years and he didn't know why he was there. That's not quite right, he wanted to destroy the robot that had taken his job. That was the extent of his thoughts – there was no political agenda, no solidarity with his fellow bathroom attendants who were thrown out of work, or even the larger number of dealers, cocktail waitresses, maids, bell boys and such who were displaced by the robots.

“You need to go back to school and learn a new trade,” the HR director had told him when handing Rich is severance check. Rich tried, but he knew that he was nothing more that what he was – a guy who handed out towels and made suggestions on cologne in the men's room. For that, he was paid well enough for a man of his limited intelligence. It was a living.

He was already 56 years old, what else could he do? All of the service jobs were gone or disappearing, replaced by a mechanized workforce that didn't ask for days off. He wasn't smart, had no depth of character and didn't understand much of what he saw of the world. He'd never really had a conversation of any substance in his life, he had no depth. He'd never felt a lover's kiss and never realized he had been missing that until he felt a hand on his arm while he was standing outside the men's room on the south end of the Battlestar casino.

Rich didn't normally care for anyone touching him, but this touch didn't bother him. In fact, it felt good, and nice and warm and if he could have found the words to describe it, it would have been joyous. How do you describe the feeling of love if you've never known it before? It was as if Rich had spent his life only being able to see in black and white and then … bright, vivid color.

In his ear, he felt a warm breath that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“I'm glad you made it,” a light female voice whispered. He didn't have to look to know who it was, her touch told him. But he had to see her. Holding his arm was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen – maybe 30 or even younger. Her hair was as black as a raven and her eyes as blue as the sky.

He knew her, but didn't know how he knew her. Her name was Parker but Rich didn't know her first name. He looked into her eyes and was lost in the possibilities of the world with her flashed through his mind. He knew what she wanted him to do.

“Make it stop,” she whispered in his ear. “You understand?”

He nodded and she was gone and he already missed her.

Two thoughts entered his mind, but only one became an obsession. Rich had never known love until that moment and he would do anything to get it back.