by DeVere, Taya
Her car travels past the Vertical-Farm-Center, past the Chip-Center, further away from the old town where some small shops and cafes still stand. Samantha clearly doesn’t want to meet up in the heart of the city. The map pin she sent is as far as Jenny’s ever traveled inside the city limits. There aren’t many reasons for her to come this way. After the old town, there’s only apartment buildings and old solar buildings for miles and miles, until the high-rise fencing appears, separating the green city from the wilderness beyond.
A minute later, her car comes to a full stop.
A ping sounds from her glasses.
A tiny, green-glowing pin on the map jumps up and wiggles.
She’s arrived at her destination. She looks out the window. No other people around. No other vehicles either.
“Open door.”
As she steps out of the car, an uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. Her own breathing is heavy in her ears as Jenny spins next to the car, looking around for Samantha. Or someone to ask where she is. But all she sees are empty buildings, most of them not even shining green. What is this dumpy place doing in the wealthiest city in the world?
“Call Samantha A, City of California.”
White dots appear but then fade away. The smooth AI voice speaks in her ears as Jenny leans against her car.
UNABLE TO CONNECT WITH SAMANTHA, CITY OF CALIFORNIA.
Why? Because they’ve never spoken over an AR-call? Because Jenny doesn’t know her last name? Because Samantha only sends short messages through the emergency message app, using just her initials?
Just as she’s about to get back into her car and drive off for a tofu salad and calming herb water, a familiar voice rings out. She spins around.
“There she is. Did you miss me?”
The shakiness of Jenny’s breath changes into an effervescence that takes over her whole body. While taking deep breaths to steady her wildly beating heart, she waves at Samantha. Should she take off her glasses? Is it safe here, wherever they are? Overwhelmingly worried about doing the wrong thing, Jenny’s forgotten about her hand. She’s been waving at Samantha all this time.
But Samantha shakes her head and laughs, waving back. When she reaches Jenny, she folds her up in a bear hug. Then she carefully removes the AR-glasses and tosses them into Jenny’s car. “There, much better without those brain-rotting things covering your beautiful face.” She turns and gestures Jenny to follow. “Besides, there’s no need for those where we’re going.”
“Where are we going?” Jenny asks, hooking her arm through Samantha’s when she offers it.
“See that gray building with no lights?”
“Ugh. Yes. Looks like one of those things they used to keep criminals in before The Great Affliction. What are they called again…?”
“Prisons?”
“Right, yes. Those.”
“It’s not a prison, Jenny. It’s an old conference center, now a warehouse for damaged drones and tiles and CS-keys.”
“Okay…” Jenny’s too happy to be anything but cheerful and excited. She holds on to Samantha’s arm while matching her footsteps. “But why does that matter? An old warehouse in the middle of nowhere?”
Samantha nudges her hip playfully. “That’s where we’re going, silly.”
“To a dump like that? Why?”
Gosh, that laughter. It’s dreamlike. Like three glasses of apple cider, bubbling inside Jenny’s brain, body, and mind. But she’s as sober as she’s ever been.
A cracked open door creaks as Samantha pushes it open. “You said you wanted to belong.”
“I do.”
They walk into a lobby where white sheets cover couches, armchairs, tables, and lamps. Endless rows of CS-keys and other screens decorate the walls. “You said that you wanted to find a cause. Something to fight for?”
“I do.”
Samantha turns around and nods at another door across the lobby. Low chattering and the sound of chairs pulled against the floor reaches Jenny’s ears.
“Well, I have one for you. A cause. And it’s better than gluing stickers and drinking booze with goddesses. Here, you can do some good. Here, you can change the world.”
***
Legs wrapped around the legs of the plastic chair, Jenny stares at a man speaking at the front of the room. Samantha’s right beside her, nodding and whooping whenever the man raises his voice and says words that Jenny can’t quite comprehend.
Plugs and helmets.
Stasis something-something.
Pills and capsules.
A lot of words about the Unchipped and chipless people. That’s what he talks about the most—those living outside the green city’s walls. But aren’t most of those people dead? Shaking her head, Jenny tries to focus. The man has a thick accent, one that she has never heard before. Maybe that’s why she struggles so badly to understand what this meeting is about. There are five rows of chairs, a dozen people sitting in each row, give or take. Not a big crowd, but it’s clear Jenny is the only one who is here for the first time. Just as it’s clear that she’s the only one who doesn’t understand exactly what this cause is.
“And, therefore, it’s up to us to fight for those babble babble, and take back babble babble babble…”
Should she ask Samantha? Well, she could. But then her new best friend would come to realize how uneducated and simple Jenny is. Or not simple. A simple person would never score a job with the most powerful man in the green city. And it doesn’t matter if they met in an AR-dating room. They never dated, never even kissed. Dennis Jenkins had given Jenny a job for some unknown reason, but it wasn’t to have Jenny as a personal sex assistant or anything like that. Their relationship is purely professional.
But would Samantha believe that? Would she understand? Jenny hasn’t told her new friend anything about Dennis, or about the fact that she lives in the most important building in the green city. She doesn’t know anything about Jenny’s job. About her life.
“The time has come. The time is here. Time to babble babble babble and show them that we’ve babble. Who is with me?”
They all applaud, some standing up. Jenny claps her hands together, scanning the room silently. It’s hard to see in the dim light and without the AR-glasses, which have prescription lenses made for her eyes specifically. She should really go fix her eyesight in the Chip-Center. It would be an hour trip, two hours max. And as Dennis Jenkin’s personal assistant, she’d be treated just as well as anyone who’s a part of the Happiness-Program. A VIP.
A cardboard sign leans against the back wall, where the man with the accent keeps babbling. Three white letters decorate the black sign; CFU.
“Sam?” she whispers and leans closer to Samantha.
The woman doesn’t take her eyes off the man in front of the room but leans closer to Jenny so she can hear better. “Yeah?”
“What does CFU stand for?”
A quick, amused glance is all she gets. Then Samantha’s gaze turns back to the front of the room. She continues to clap her hands together. The man is now shouting shorter sentences and single words.
“Chipped for Unchipped.”
“Oh. Right.” She waits for the fiercest applause to fade, then leans in again and continues whispering. “So we’re fighting for the Unchipped? What about the ones with no chip at all?”
“The chipless?”
“Yeah.”
“They are considered Unchipped as well. Or the Unchipped are considered chipless. Either way, the terms don’t matter. What matters is that they are being murdered outside the city.”
Jenny swallows painfully. “Murdered?”
“That’s right.”
She has always thought the Unchipped were somehow indestructible—part human, part machine. Every now and then, the building Jenny lives in is switched off, and none of her AR-devices work unless she overrides the CS and manually turns them back on. That’s a sign that one of these Unchipped individuals is visiting Dennis Jenkins. That’s also when Jenny i
s not allowed in the penthouse, or on the staircase, or anywhere else in the building where she could bump into one of these visitors. Maybe that’s why she’s always thought of them as dangerous.
“Who’s with me?” the man shouts. Now they all stand up, Samantha too. They yell and smile, clapping harder and harder.
“I said… Who is with me?”
Jenny gets up from her seat, clapping along. The energy is fierce, unstoppable. She feels as if it’ll lift her up and carry her around the room like a real-life leaf in the wind. Grinning, she looks at their faces, all determined, all belonging. When Samantha whoops and raises her hands in the air, Jenny places two fingers on her lips and whistles loudly. A few men and women in the row in front of her turn and grin back at her.
Dizzy, bubbly, but strong, Jenny closes her eyes and lets the atmosphere sink in. This is what she’s been lacking all this time. Good people, fighting for… something. Someone out there, beyond that high fence, is murdering innocent creatures, and the people in this room are about to stop them. And now—she gets to be one of them.
“Okay, babble babble. That’s it for today.”
All smiling, people start taking steps sideways to leave the rows of seats. Samantha and Jenny sit back down, letting everyone else leave first.
“Just grab a leaflet by the door,” the man says, now standing right next to Jenny. “Read it, then burn it,” he says. When he’s close like this, talking with a normal voice, it’s much easier to make sense of his words. When the last people leave the room, all carrying an old-fashioned white paper in their hands, Samantha stands up and hugs the man who leads CFU.
“Wonderful speech, Ef,” she says, her eyes glimmering with admiration. “Truly inspirational.”
“Thank you, Es.” The man lets go of Samantha and turns to face Jenny. “And who do we have here, then? New blood?”
“Yes,” Samantha says and turns to get a leaflet from the table next to the doorway. “This is Jay. She supports the cause one hundred percent.”
Jenny shakes hands with the man. When she tries to release her grip, the man keeps his hold.
“Nice to meet you, Jay.”
“You as well,” Jenny says. The uneasy feeling she had when first arriving at this location creeps back into her stomach.
“And what brings you to us today, Jay?”
Jenny pauses to gnaw on her lower lip. This is it. Time to be honest. No more lies. “I guess…” When Jenny looks at Samantha, her friend nods at her and smiles. “I want to be seen. Not labeled.”
“Hm.” Ef gives Samantha an amused look. He clearly doesn’t understand, but doesn’t ask Jenny to elaborate either. “And have you been anti-AR for long?”
Her swallow is too loud. She takes too many seconds to clear her throat. Why does she still feel like a con-artist?
“For, umm… for a while now.”
“And you’re ready to fight for the cause?”
“Fight? Oh, yes.” She nods rapidly. “Definitely not cool with murder.”
Ef laughs briefly, his almost-black eyes drilling into Jenny’s.
“Good, then. Welcome, soldier.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenny tries to let go of his hand but fails again. “Soldier?”
Finally, his grip loosens. She can’t help but rub her palm, which aches a bit after their prolonged handshake.
“Why, yes. A soldier. That’s what we call anyone who is willing to fight the good fight. Anyone ready to bring down murderous scumbags like Dennis Jenkins.”
***
7
DENNIS
May 2089
West-Land, City of California
CHAPTER 1 — THE ROOMS
“And that’s how I got the promotion, so I’m now the highest-paid AR-catalogue model in City of California.”
Covering his mouth the best he can, Dennis yawns. He leans over and lifts up a whiskey glass from the table, only to realize it’s empty again.
“Perfume design has really come a long way in this city. And just you wait until the AR-perfumes get onto the market! Some say the first versions could be added as soon as July of 2089.”
“You don’t say?” Dennis says, turning on his barstool to look for a bartender. The VIP members have recently requested for the SIM rooms to be updated to resemble reality more closely. Still, he wishes they hadn’t included lousy service.
“No, Dennis,” the woman sitting next to him says, “You don’t get it. That’s this year!”
He turns to look at her, forces a smile. “I know what year it is, baby-doll. And I think it’s great that you’re getting new lipsticks on the market.”
“Perfumes.”
The bartender seems to appear from nowhere. More realistic, my ass, Dennis thinks and points his finger in the air, indicating that he’d like another whiskey. After the latest update, it’s nice to be able to taste and feel the alcohol while in the simulation.
“Dennis?”
“Huh?”
“You’re not listening at all. Am I boring you or what?”
Yes.
“Of course not, baby-doll. Just trying to get another drink, is all.”
As the bartender finally strolls over to fill his drink, Dennis takes a good look at his date for the night. Long legs, great curves, wavy blond hair reaching all the way down to her waist. Red, skin-licking dress, high-heels. It’s all so perfect. Flawless. Boring. Dennis can’t help it when another yawn escapes his lips.
“Really?” The woman—whose name Dennis has forgotten—runs her hand up and down in front of her perfect AR-created body. “You’re yawning at this?”
“No, no. Just had a long day, is all. Let me get an Irish coffee, I’ll be as good as new—”
But she’s already clicked her way to another room. “Not a fan of coffee, then,” Dennis mumbles and takes more than a sip of whiskey. “Fuck it.” He taps on the side of his AR-glasses and opens a menu.
THE BEST OF ME (default)
COWBOYS AND COWGIRLS
SENIOR ROMANCE
EXOTIC SINGLES
GAMES & ROLEPLAY
REALISTIC & OLD TIMES (before TGA)
LGBTQ+++
AR-DRUGS & HALLUSIONATIONS (new)
QUICK & DIRTY
VIP ONLY
After another sigh, Dennis chooses the next room on the list.
ENTERING — COWBOYS AND COWGIRLS
An entry hall appears. The CS asks him to choose his body type, clothing, Stetson, and cowboy boots. Rolling his eyes, he picks whatever is first on the list.
Country music plays from invisible speakers, or maybe there’s a band playing somewhere. The bartender waits for him by the empty counter. Near the other bar, many of the tables are occupied by women sitting alone. The reality upgrades haven’t reached far; except for the bartender in front of him, Dennis is the only man in the whole joint. He can’t help his smile. Good, good, he thinks and nods at the beer tap. Soon, a pint with a perfect foam layer is fitted into his hand. He taps his glasses, pays the man fourteen CC’s, and walks toward the tables.
“Howdy,” he greets a few of the ladies sitting at the nearby tables. Maybe the admin had finally approved his suggestion—that the room should only show the gender the user is seeking. It’s more private that way. Who wants to see their competition when looking for a companion? Such a waste of time.
Dennis spins around, sipping his drink, wishing something would catch his eye. He tilts his Stetson to a few beauties but doesn’t walk over. Long legs, bold curves, perfectly symmetrical faces line up in front of him, all nice and young, but who’s to know their real age? But it’s not a specific age he is looking for. It’s something else entirely.
A scar.
Wrinkles.
Crooked teeth.
A flaw. Any kind would do. Something that would catch his eye, make the woman more real. Such a rare thing to find these days. Now that everyone gets to decide what they look like with a couple of taps and maybe a purchase or two in the AR-store.
No such luck here. No flaws, no glitches in the system.
Dennis taps his glasses and picks the next room from the list.
ENTERING — SENIOR ROMANCE
The beer in his hand, Dennis looks around. Oh, lordy…he thinks and waves back at the crowd of women on the dance floor. None of them look like seniors. Most don’t look a day over forty years old.
“Defeats the purpose…” Dennis mumbles and taps on his AR-glasses.
ENTERING — EXOTIC SINGLES
Music he’s never heard before reaches Dennis’s ears. The bar seems empty, but it’s too dim and smoky to really get a good look around. Across the room, a blinking sign with a martini glass flickers its neon light. Dennis starts toward it, setting down his empty pint glass. With his VIP pass, he’s able to bring drinks from one room to another. This is normally a useless privilege, since most nights he never leaves the scene at THE BEST OF ME.
“Can I get a whiskey, doll?”
A purple-skinned woman turns around to give him a nod. When she smiles, her pearly white teeth glimmer in the dim light. Wearing a skin-tight suit made of a shiny fabric Dennis has never seen anyone wear before, she strolls down the bar and reaches for a bottle on a high shelf.
Refreshing? Yes. Flawed? Not in the slightest. This creature—a woman or a man in real life— is surely exotic, but still perfect in her own way. Dennis taps the counter with his fingertips. Flashy colors and glitter come to life in front of him. The bar he leans on is also a screen. He taps around, not understanding what the options are. When a smooth voice echoes from the invisible speakers, Dennis pulls his hand away.
PLAY — LICK MY FROG
A new tune booms in the bar now. Music that Dennis isn’t familiar with. Instead of singing, the lyrics are frog sounds, while strange instruments play in the background.
“Didn’t peg you for a frogger, hon.” An oversized whiskey glass in her hands, the purple bartender returns to Dennis. Once he gets his drink, he holds it up at eye-level. The liquid inside glimmers in shades of gold.
