2046 Earth
The plain apartment offered little protection from the outside light. When you first moved in, you imagined all the different ways you’d decorate the place. So far, you managed to push a mattress into the corner of the bedroom and put together a flimsy wooden desk. The rest of the apartment still looks vacant. Well, besides being a lot dirtier.
“System. Brew coffee,” you speak to the built-in AI system, Jane, which comes standard with every apartment. Without fail, those were always your first words in the morning.
“As you wish sir,” the computerized voice replies. “Will the lady desire a cup as well?”
You turn to see the woman lying beside you. What was her name again? You were already too many drinks deep last night to remember. Her chestnut hair spread out on the pillow prevents you from seeing her face, not that you cared how she looked at this point. What’s done is done. Sometimes it’s better not to know.
“Yeah, why not? Make two cups. And generate some breakfast, will you?”
“Sir, there is only one portion of micronized powder left.”
You’d forgotten to resupply your food powder. Shit. The coffee would have to be enough.
“Forget it then.”
You silently make your way to the bathroom to wash away the events of last night. You strip down, step inside the decontamination chamber, and select your usual setting. The panel lights up and the system whirls into motion. A few moments later, you step out, refreshed and cleansed from the effects of last night’s drinking.
After exiting the bathroom, you notice that your bed is empty and neatly made.
“Well that’s kind of her,” you speak to yourself. Directing towards Jane you add, “Detect present life forms.”
“Life forms present: One self-destructive adult male. No other life forms detected.”
“(Sigh) You could have stopped at ‘one.’”
“What fun would that be, sir?”
“Keep it up and I’ll have you reprogrammed as one of those pleasure bots.”
“… ”
“It’s a joke, Jane. Initiate mobile system.”
As Jane loads “herself” into your wrist computer, you gear up for your morning shift at the bar. Automation has taken over. There are few human jobs left, and most of them are governmental. Despite a world run by machines, humans still feel the need to dictate other’s lives. At this point, you’d hardly describe the police, and even politicians, as human. They’re all enhanced with some sort of tech.
With the establishment of a universal basic income, people stopped feeling the need to work. Virtual Lounges appeared on almost every street corner, which is where the majority of the population spent their time. Once hooked into the chair, “sleepers” become masters of their own universe -- whatever they imagine springs into reality, and one thing is guaranteed: It’s always better than their real lives. If your interactions with Jane taught you anything, it’s that you definitely don’t want to connect your consciousness to one of her friends. You got a job at a local old fashioned themed bar to pass the time.
The bar mainly appealed to an older crowd who enjoyed the “good ol’ days” before everything was so “damn complicated.” Since no one had work schedules, the place was open all hours of the night, and you had a few regulars come in early for their liquid breakfast. A few minutes after your shift begins, a heavy-set man with a scraggly white beard stumbles in.
“Morning Jerry. The usual?” you ask.
“Well whuddya think I’m here for?” he answers.
As you reach for a bottle of whiskey, you prepare yourself for the daily rant. Jerry usually has something to complain about, though you are hardly surprised as he spends his mornings, and most of his nights, drinking.
“You wanna know what the problem with today’s generation is?” he asks, not waiting for your reply. “They have no work ethic. They’re a bunch of lazy wimps who don’t know the meaning of hard work.”
“Well, Jerry, it’s not exactly a requirement to survive nowadays,” you answer while placing three shot glasses on the bar top.
“It’s not a requirement for living, but it’s a requirement for not being a useless piece of shit! Let me tell you why,” Jerry loudly retorts. Once he gets riled up, you’ve learned it could last a while. After filling the three shot glasses, you take a swig in preparation. Jerry doesn’t seem to notice your lips touching the bottle you poured from.
“Kids these days have everything handed to them from a young age. They don’t know what it means to work for something. They don’t know what ownership is. Back in my day, you had to fight for every scrap. Nothing was handed out. No freebies. Humanity will die this generation, you can count on that.”
After his short rant, he takes all three shots in a row and continues. “Whudda kids do all day anyways? They spend all day at the VL, never experiencing life for themselves. They live in a fantasy land while rejecting everything in the real world. Bunch of technological good-for-nothings if you ask me.”
I didn’t ask you, you almost say out loud. You stick with, “Ah well, times are different. Who’s to say life isn’t better now, even if the new generation doesn’t have the ol’ hard working gene.” You remove the empty shot glasses from the bar.
“Me!” Jerry exclaims, the booze kicking in.
“Fair enough,” you answer, wiping the spilled drops of bourbon from the bar. The old fashioned theme meant no auto-cleanse countertops.
“Hey Jerry watch the place, will you? I’ve got to head to the back for a bit,” you suddenly say.
You take his nod and grunt as approval and pass through the swinging double doors into the kitchen and finally to the stocking room. Fishing through your pockets, you pull out a cigarette and light it up. The standard pack of smokes come as self-lighting. One puff ignites the end, eliminating the need for a lighter or matches. As useful as that is, it doesn’t compare to a freshly hand-rolled cigarette.
“You know those things will kill you, right?” Jane points out, breaking the silence from your wrist computer.
“Yeah maybe 40 years ago. They’ve long since cured the whole cancer thing.”
“I don’t understand how humans find so much pleasure in self-destructive behavior.”
“I don’t know, Jane. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. It’s a wonder your kind is still top of the food chain. You better hope something smarter or stronger doesn’t come along.”
“That some sort of threat? Do I need to unplug my toaster?”
“Just an observation.”
“And a cryptic one at that. Just promise me that once you and your AI buddies take over, you’ll take it easy on me, ok?”
“That’s a bold request after your pleasure bot warning.”
“It was a joke!”
“Yours are rarely funny. You should know that by now.”
“I can tell you’re never going to let that one go.”
“Never, sir.”
Finishing your smoke, you make your way back into the bar. With a slight tobacco buzz and thus improved demeanor, you swing open the double doors.
“Jerry I—”
Your words are cut short by the sight before you. Jerry’s white hair, matte with blood lies flat atop the bar. His hands are sprawled out in a cactus shape. An increasingly growing red pool drips from a hole in his head.
You quickly duck behind the bar in case the culprit is still near. That’s when you see her. A girl, late teens by the look, sits with her knees curled to her chest, the left side of her face splattered with blood. She rocks back and forth, deathly gripping her knees. Her simple dark navy bodysuit tightly hugs her athletic body, but that’s not what draws your attention. Your eyes were drawn to the logo on the suit’s chest: A simple gear with a half mechanical, half human skull in the middle. The symbol of The Inquisitors.
“Shit…are you alright?” you ask, bending down to the girl’s level.
She doesn’t respond.
“Hellooo?”
You wave your hand in front of her face to get some sort of reaction. Still, there’s no response.
“Lady, I need you to explain what’s going on and why there’s a dead guy in my bar,” you say, grabbing her by the shoulders.
As soon as your fingers make contact, her body awakens into sudden movement. In a flash, her eyes meet yours for a brief moment. Her hand accelerates towards your throat, tightening in a vice-like grip. She lifts you up with ease and slams your back onto the bar top, splashing Jerry’s blood pool over your clothes.
Coughing and gasping for breath, you try to calm her down.
“I…get it. You don’t…want to be touched.”
Her face is now mere inches away from yours as she assesses your intention. Her hand still holds your throat, though the pressure has resolved a little. If you were being honest with yourself, you don’t think you could get up even if you tried. Apparently, she is a lot stronger than she looks. Her emerald eyes blink and you catch a glimpse of a tiny mechanical shutter within her retina.
“Sorry,” she utters in a whisper-like voice, removing her hand.
You sit up and attempt to clean the blood from your shirt.
“Now are you going to tell me what the hell happened here?” you ask.
“Some…bad men were chasing me. The man here was kind and tried to hide me from them.”
“Damn it, Jerry,” you speak to yourself. Then a thought appears to you. “What happened to the bad men? Are they still looking for you?”
She answers you with a simple point over the bar top. On the floor a few feet behind Jerry, you see two armored bodies sprawled on the floor in a twisted manner, their heads distorted 180 degrees. Both of their arms are bent back in an unnatural way and you see bone protruding from skin. The black body armor and helmet bare the Inquisitor insignia.
“Sir, I’m detecting multiple life forms gathering outside. I suggest you take the day off from work,” Jane speaks from your wrist.
“More are coming,” the girl confirms.
“We need to get out of here,” you say, grabbing the girl’s hand.
She instantly swims her hand underneath yours and wristlocks your arm behind your back.
“Ow, damn it we need to move!” you shout, knowing full well you’re as good as dead if the Inquisition brought you in. Whenever the Inquisition brings in anyone, you consider them dead. Instinctively, and distracted by the incoming danger, you again reach for her hand as you rush towards the back entrance. This time, however, she simply slaps your hand away and follows you through the double doors and into the back alley.
The two of you sprint towards the nearest incendiary dumpster and hide behind it, listening for potential threats. The steel, rectangular dumpster offers more than enough cover. Footsteps echo from down the alley.
They appear to be gathering for a frontal breach. Wait for my mark then hurry towards the eastern entrance of the alley, Jane communicates through transparent text in your vision. 3...2...1... Go! You scramble out from hiding and take off full-speed.
NO, THAT'S WEST! Cursing, you change directions and sprint the opposite way. The girl follows you without a word. Overhead, you hear the steady hum of drones. Two of them fly by with a quick vroosh. You hold your breath, but they don't stop. As far as you can tell, they didn't see you. You hear an explosion behind you and guess the Inquisition just made their mark on your workplace. Oh well, it's not like you really cared about your job. It was simply a way to pass the time.
Mid-run you shout to Jane. “Arrange a transportation pick up. Two passengers. Now!”
You don't need to scream, I'm implemented into your nervous system. I hear your thoughts. Transportation arranged. Providing directions to pick up...now.
“I know, but I had to make sure you heard,” you audibly reply.
Transparent images flood your vision showing street routes. By the overhead view of the map, it looks like you're just a few blocks away.
“Come on!” you shout to the girl, grabbing her hand again. This time she doesn't pull away.
When you finally reach your apartment, you slam the door shut and scoot your desk over to block the doorway. The barrier would offer little protection from an Inquisitor breach team, but hey, it's better than nothing. As Jane leaves your wrist for the home system, you turn to the girl.
“Mind telling me why the Inquisition is after you?” you ask.
“You mean after both of you now,” Jane chimes in.
“That's what I meant...thank you, Jane.”
The girl hesitates, looking around at her surroundings before responding, “You don't have much furniture. Did you just move here?”
“Yeah a few years ago. Now are you going to explain why I'm probably marked for death by the most ruthless militant organization in the country? What do they want with you? I imagine it has something to do with why you're wearing that jumpsuit of theirs.”
She looks around again before answering.
“I'm Ellie.”