The Dystopian Gene

by S. E. Meyer

  Cornelius scanned the screens before speaking. He rubbed his hands together. “Okay, so what does it all mean?” he asked.

  Richard puffed out his chest and cleared his throat. “It's what you wanted, sir,” Richard exclaimed. “This is Alex Johnson. An average citizen, but we now have the computing power to track, store, scan and save everything he has ever done, searched, said or written.”

  “That's nothing new Richard. We've been doing that since before the year two-thousand.”

  “Yes sir, that's not what's impressive here. In the past we had to copy all of the voice and internet data and then wait for the computers to mine it based on search criteria and key words. Project Shepherd was always about being able to herd all the sheep, simultaneously, in real time,” explained Richard. “Now that is exactly what we've accomplished.” Richard's voice climbed in pitch with his excitement. He walked closer to the second screen and pointed at the fist few lines of information. “You see here?” Richard Continued. “Mr. Johnson rose this morning with his phone alarm at six o'clock. He then showered, dressed and left for work. He stopped for gas and paid with his Visa. You see right here, a fifty dollar charge. This screen shows everything he bought in the last month, but goes back historically from the first day he received a credit card and a bank account twenty years ago.”

  Richard moved to the next screen. “This here shows all of his browsing history for the last month, but also goes back to his first computer at six. It shows every page he has ever visited, every link he ever clicked, and every search he's typed into any search engine.”

  Richard took a deep breath before continuing. “Now the number here in this corner is his Suggestibility Scale. His number is 366. The higher the number, the more suggestible the target is to whatever we put in front of him. Watch and I'll show you. Let's see where he is.”

  Richard scanned the screen. “See here? This video feed is the street level camera feed that uses facial recognition to track anyone, anywhere. This part here is a map showing us where in the city Alex is. He's heading West on tenth. Now with a few clicks I can run personalized ads for him on any screen, billboard, or even his own phone.” Richard clicked a few keys. “Or the city bus that's passing by him right now.” Richard continued clacking away at the keyboard. “We can blast anyone with personalized ads wherever they go. Now I bombarded Alex with coffee ads manually, but Project Shepherd is automated, it runs ads based on keywords taken from conversations, e-mails, texts and all social media.” Richard smiled. “Even when their phone is in their pocket or on their desk, the microphone is on. We're always listening. Ah, you see that?”

  The screen updated, displaying a new phone internet search. The screen read, 'coffee house near me'.

  “I guess he's grabbing a coffee on his way to work,” Richard said with a wink. “Oh look, the coffee house camera picked him up.”

  Cornelius and his grandson watched as Alex Johnson walked into the coffee shop.

  “Would you like to hear the conversation?” Richard asked.

  Cornelius nodded with a smile. “We can do that in real time?”

  “We can, now.” Richard motioned with his hand and the woman sitting at the workstation clicked a few more keys. Audio played through the speaker on the workstation desktop.

  “... double espresso with a shot of vanilla please,” came Alex's voice.

  Richard continued. “If his phone isn't working or if his battery is dead, the computer uses the microphone of anyone within earshot. In fact, we are recording and analyzing over one hundred thousand simultaneous conversations at this moment.”

  Richard nodded, and the woman muted the audio.

  “Excellent Richard,” Cornelius replied, licking his cracked lips.

  Richard continued. “And the great thing about all of this information is that we not only can process all of it, in real time, for profit, but also for control. Project Shepherd analyzes the lifetime of the target and also applies a threat level and score. Every bit and byte of information we have accumulated and stored on this man since birth, gets analyzed. You see here?” Richard pointed to the middle screen. “Alex is a low threat level and has a score of eighty-three. Which means he follows the rules, he has shown no sign of anti-government sentiment. He shops, he spends, he goes to church, he works two jobs, and he goes to treatments with no complaints. None of the tens of thousands of recorded conversations, e-mails or text messages over his lifetime have ever been flagged with the keywords we look for. He's never been in a fight. He's never been arrested. He's never had a speeding ticket. He doesn't even swear.” Richard laughed. “He is the definition of a good little sheep. And now we can pull up any citizen, anywhere, anytime. I can even tell you Alex's first word. Every minute of their life, almost every word they have ever spoken, it's all recorded.”

  Cornelius's eyes widened. “Yes,” he breathed. “Who needs the thought police when everyone willingly shares every whim,” Cornelius laughed.

  “Thought police?” Richard asked while raising an eyebrow.

  “A reference to a book written by George Orwell. I banned it, but there is a copy in my study. I would recommend reading it.” Cornelius lit another cigarette and then clapped Richard on the back. “Amazing work Richard. I think you have finally reaffirmed my confidence in the decision to have you take my place after I'm dead and gone.”

  “Thank you sir,” Richard replied. “Is there anything else or anyone specific you would like us to pull up?”

  Cornelius squinted through reddened eyes, in thought for a moment, and then his lips formed a cruel smile. “Yes. Find me Montana Wool.”

  The woman at the desk heard the name and typed it into the keyboard. The screen refreshed with Anna's information. It displayed the threat level at the bottom of the middle screen in large red letters. It read 'Threat Level HIGH threat score 489'. 'Suggestibility Scale 18'.

  “Interesting,” Cornelius squawked. “Not such a good little sheep.” He continued to stare at Anna's picture on the screen. “Bring her to me Richard, but don't use the feds. I need you to keep this a secret.”

  Richard looked at the screen on the right. “That will be easy, sir. It shows here she's due for treatment this morning. We'll grab her at the clinic.”

  “Excellent,” Cornelius replied. He rubbed his wrinkled hands together again and then smiled. “It's time I introduced Anna Wool to the Chamber.”

  ◆◆◆

  After getting Delores checked in, Anna settled into her hospital bed and waited for the treatment to start. The weekly sessions bored her. Sitting in bed for an hour with a straw-sized IV stuck in her arm wasn't the most comfortable way to spend a morning. She placed her mother's tin box on her lap and leaned back against the scratchy pillow. She closed her eyes, shutting out the institutional-white walls and ceiling as the typical smell of sterilized air and industrial cleaning products filled her nose. Anna opened her eyes when she heard someone outside her room.

  “Good morning!” said a male nurse dressed in blue scrubs as he entered her room. His green eyes were the only feature visible to Anna, peering out from between his over-sized face mask and the scrub cap that rested low on his forehead.

  “Morning,” Anna replied as the nurse rolled the treatment machine closer to her bed. He pulled out several packages of sealed IV lines and opened them one at a time as he connected them to the machine.

  Anna wasn't paying much attention. Her focus was on the contents of her mother's tin box. She opened the lid and removed the letter.

  “Are you ready to get started?” the nurse asked.

  “I guess so,” Anna replied, shrugging. She tore open the faded envelope and slid the folded letter out onto her lap.

  “Wow,” the nurse commented, staring at the picture still resting in the tin box.

  “What?” Anna asked as the nurse leaned over inspecting the photograph.

  “Oh, nothing. It‘s rare to see an actual picture anymore these days, everything being digital now.”

>   Anna thought the nurse was a little too interested for the explanation he gave. She could see the intent look in his eye. Was it anger? Or maybe sadness, both? Anna couldn't be sure and she wondered why someone would be so interested in a group of strangers.

  The nurse picked up an IV from the tray table next to Anna's bed and moved next to her left arm. “Little pinch,” the nurse said as he slid the needle into her arm. She reacted with an involuntary jerk.

  “Sorry about that,” the nurse said.

  “That's okay, I never get used to the needle going in.”

  The nurse pressed a combination of buttons on the display panel and then gave Anna a wink. “There, the worst is over anyway,” he said. “I'll be back to check on you soon.”

  Anna nodded. Her focus was on the letter, still folded on her lap. She unfolded it and read:

  Dear Montana,

  Happy birthday! I wanted to write you this letter to go with your card and present. As busy as everyone is, it's tough to get the time to talk, one on one. I am so proud of you! You've accomplished so much, finishing school early, becoming a fine police officer. Maybe next you'll become a Detective like me? Wouldn't that be something, mother and daughter working a case together? I would love that.

  I included a picture with this letter. Hold on to it dearly! It's the only one I have of the group. I'm giving you this picture so you know where to turn in case anything should happen. Now, or sometime down the road.

  You can trust everyone in the picture, implicitly.

  I love you, honey!

  Mom

  The letter shook in Anna's trembling hands and the tears that filled her eyes blurred the last few lines.

  “I love you too mom,” she whispered and then blinked, releasing several drops of pain onto the hand-written note. She dropped the letter onto her lap to stop it from fluttering in her hand.

  Anna turned to the picture. The faces jumped out at her from the tin box with new meaning. She trained her eyes on her mother's face. Then she noticed Atticus in the back row next to her. Next to Atticus was a tall slender man she didn't recognize and standing next to that man was Damarion. You can trust everyone in the picture, Anna repeated the words from the letter.

  Her gaze drifted back to the man in between Damarion and Atticus. Anna pulled the picture closer to her face, studying the man's features. She cocked her head to one side and squinted in thought. It can't be, can it?

  Anna swallowed hard. “It is,” she whispered. “The murdered reporter.”

  While he still had a tongue.

  An elderly nurse with puffy cheeks and midsection waddled into the room, unnoticed. “Are you okay dear?” she asked.

  Anna jumped, startled from her thoughts by the nurse that seemed to appear out of thin air. “What? Oh,” Anna mumbled, realizing that she must look a frightful mess. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and sniffled. “I'm okay, yeah,” Anna replied.

  “Are you sure dear?” the nurse asked, raising a drawn-on eyebrow.

  Anna nodded, glancing down at the picture again.

  “Okay well I'll be back in a minute to get your treatment started.”

  “Okay-” Anna stopped. “Wait, did you say get started? I'm already all hooked up,” Anna explained.

  The nurse moved next to the bed and peered at the machine next to Anna. “That's impossible,” she said before making eye contact.

  The fear in the nurse's eyes made Anna squirm. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  The nurse held her gaze. “I'm the only one working this side of the hall this morning. We had a nurse call in sick.”

  Anna's head swam. “Well, if you're the only one doing treatments then what is in my arm?” Anna asked. She shook her head, trying to get her bearings.

  Nausea crept up Anna’s throat. She fought her gag reflex and swallowed hard. “Oh my God, no. something's wrong,” Anna yelled out in a panic as she fidgeted with the needle. “Get it out. Get it out!” she yelled to the nurse.

  “Yes, yes, I'm coming,” the nurse replied. “I'm sure everything is fine,” she added trying to calm Anna as she made her way to the other side of the bed.

  Anna couldn't wait, energy draining with every second. She grabbed a hold of the needle and ripped it out of her arm. “Something is wrong,” Anna whispered.

  “No, don't, let me help,” the Nurse urged.

  Her vision blurring, Anna tipped to one side and fell off the bed, landing hard on the floor along with the box and its contents.

  I've got to get out of here, Anna thought.

  She placed one hand on the bed, and with the Nurse's help, pulled herself up.

  “All right, let me have a look at you,” the nurse said.

  Anna ignored her and rubbed her forehead with her palm. “I feel dizzy,” she said.

  “You should lie down,” the nurse replied.

  “No!” Anna yelled again. “There's something wrong. I have to get out of here.”

  Anna turned and staggered out of the room. The Nurse called after her, but Anna kept going, fighting to fill her lungs.

  I can't breathe. I need fresh air.

  Anna shuffled towards the rear exit, bouncing back and forth between the hallway walls. Spots appearing in her peripheral, she struggled to push each foot in front of the other. Like lead weights she drug her heels, trying to focus on the exit sign at the end of the hallway. Anna arrived at the door and pushed through it, staggering out into the back alley.

  Anna bent over, panting, trying to catch her breath. She fell down onto one knee as a black van sped down the alley, slamming on the brakes in front of her. She struggled to maintain consciousness as two men wearing hoods grabbed each of her arms. One man fished Anna's phone out of her pocket and tossed it onto the ground. He brought his foot down, crushing it with the heel of his boot.

  Anna's thoughts were spinning out of control, her vision blurring close to darkness as the two men slid her limp body into the van. They moved into the front of the vehicle and Anna lost consciousness, her body lurching backward, as the van jack-rabbited forward and belted down the alley.

  CHAPTER 8

  2 YEARS EARLIER

  Anna's phone chimed.

  She set her police cap on the desk in front of her and leaned back into her chair. Picking up her phone, she glanced at the screen.

  Billy

  Anna read the text, smiling.

  'Are you getting off work on time today? I need you to be at the second street light heading south from the corner of Washington & 5Th, before sunset.'

  'What's all this about?' Anna typed back.

  'A treasure hunt.' Billy replied.

  Anna's smile broadened.

  What is he up to? she thought, shaking her head.

  'And I suppose you're the treasure I need to find? Is that it?' she replied.

  'Just the opposite. You're the treasure. Get there right after work. It‘s next to the wall.' Billy replied.

  Anna stiffened.

  The Wall

  'Okay, I'll be there.' she typed with a frown, the color draining from her face.

  Anna hated the wall. She always avoided it. Taking longer routes to crime scenes or driving six blocks out of the way to go to Sara's school functions. The uneasiness the gray partition surrounding the city gave her was uncomfortable at best. Other days, the wall filled her with a dread so intense she struggled to take a breath. Like a caged animal, she felt backed into a corner while under its shadow. For her, the only thing more terrifying than that of the wall, was the fear of being sent through it.

  Anna swallowed hard.

  This better be good. She thought while looking at the clock. She wiped the sweat from her palms onto her uniform pants.

  “Almost time to go.”

  Anna donned her cap and then headed out the door. Dragging her heels down the street she turned the last corner bringing the wall into view. Her heart hammered into her breast at the sight. She filled her lungs and then picked up her pace, arriving at t
he street light Billy mentioned in his texts.

  The street was deserted with the exception of a late afternoon breeze, toying a few stray leaves. The light wind tossed the street clutter, scratching it across the pavement.

  Anna shivered.

  Glancing down, she saw a bottle of champagne sitting on the concrete in front of the iron light post. She bent over to pick it up and noticed a note attached.

  What in the world is he up to?

  Anna unfolded the note and read:

  'Walk another hundred feet south to the next street light. And bring the champagne. With all my love, Billy.'

  The worry of the wall melted away and Anna touched her chest in response to a different flutter.

  A smile pulled at her cheeks as she walked to the next street light and found a small box with another note. She unfolded it and read: 'Walk thirty paces away from the wall and turn around. Bring the champagne and the box with you. With all my love, Billy'

  Anna counted out thirty paces holding the champagne in one hand and clutching the box in the other. She scanned the street as she walked looking for any sign of Billy.

  Twenty-nine and thirty, she counted, spinning around.

  Anna's eyes widened. Someone had painted a large heart on the wall. The bright red color jumped out at her among the neutral gray tones of the concrete.

  Anna couldn't contain her grin. Inside the heart were the letters W.W. & M.M.

  What did you do Billy?

  “Well, what do you think?” Anna heard Billy call from above. She looked up to find him sitting on top of the fifteen-foot high wall.

  “I think you're going to get in trouble,” Anna replied.

  “Nonsense. I took every precaution.”

  “Why aren't the alarms going off?” Anna asked, feeling less romanced and more scared for Billy.

  “I told you. I took every precaution. I figured out how to fool the weight and proximity sensors. Anyway, never mind that and open your present. But close your eyes until I tell you to open them,” Billy urged.