Zero Percenters

by Scott T Grusky

  “You’re describing madness, you realize that, right?”

  Diego chuckled again. “Keep in mind, we didn’t expect many people would go that far right away because obviously it’s a huge thing and all the science out there says that people need time to make big changes. We figured we’d need to incentivize folks, since we were eager to test things. So in the beta program, we offered people a deal. If they agreed to our terms and went for full replacement, we promised them a place to live with complete support in perpetuity. That way they could enjoy uninterrupted freedom to pursue their passions or interests and would never have to worry about bills, taxes, household maintenance or any other nuisances like that.”

  “You said if they agreed to the terms.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty basic. There are just four rules you have to agree to if you want to be a zero percenter.”

  “Which are?”

  Diego quickly rattled them off:

  No sale of goods or services.

  No harm to others.

  Shell volume between 1 and 200 liters.

  Always linked to your concierge.

  “Sorry,” said Anja, “but I’m definitely not seeing how any of this could actually work. And the ‘always linked’ thing sounds like Big Brother.”

  “Right, I know it’s a lot. Maybe we should take a break here and give you time to assimilate.”

  “Assimilate? I still don’t know what’s going on. You still haven’t shown me anything to assimilate.”

  “That’s fair.” Diego inhaled a deep breath. “I’ve just been blabbing a bunch of words, haven’t I? Maybe some kind of demo is in order?”

  “Yes,” replied Anja, “a demo would be helpful.”

  “Okay.” He reflected for a moment, then he held out his bare arm. “Why don’t we start by your feeling this?”

  “Yeah, it’s your skin, so what?”

  “It’s my shell, actually. It feels like biological skin, just a bit firmer, right?”

  “I suppose, yes.”

  “Now look at it.” Diego’s skin color changed to a darker complexion, then a paler complexion. Next he added freckles, a tattoo, and more hair. “But of course, that’s nothing so far. Now watch.” He resized the scale of his body so that he was two feet taller, then sized himself down so that he was only three feet in height.

  “What the…?” exclaimed Anja.

  “Still nothing. Now this.” He made himself age to a man of ninety, then to a boy of ten. Next he changed into a teenage girl with long red hair and a middle-aged woman with short-cropped brown hair. “But really, what’s more interesting, I think, is this.”

  He proceeded to morph into a bald eagle. With gleaming yellow eyes, he hopped out of the patio door and took flight, soaring above the trees. His eagle’s cry echoed through the neighborhood. Then he circled back, landed on the patio and returned to his initial “self.”

  “My Lord,” said Anja, in a state of bewilderment. “I think I might be starting to get the picture. This is possible because you’re all digital now?”

  “Yep,” replied Diego, “exactly.”

  “And how many others are in this state?”

  “That’s what’s been so surprising. Over fifty million people became zero percenters in the first week. But then the really shocking thing happened. Other countries started wanting to participate in our beta program. I mean, whole countries. Finland, Sweden and Norway were the first to cede their entire countries to the program. Then Estonia, Australia, New Zealand and a whole slew more. This meant zero percenters could live in these countries instead of our sovereign state in Nevada and they still wouldn’t have to worry about taxes and stuff. So by the end of week two, we had half a billion.”

  “Holy crap, and where are we at now?”

  “Well, this I think is what’s going to really blow your mind. The majority of humans are zero percenters and all of the countries of the world are now signed up. We’re a single-nation planet. It’s why you didn’t have to go through customs.”

  Anja’s jaw dropped. “I’m not sure I’m believing this,” she said. “I was only gone five weeks. There’s no way we could reach that much consensus about anything in such a short period. It just not humanly possible.”

  “I know,” agreed Diego. “The whole process has been an unreal whirlwind. From any outside perspective, it just doesn’t seem possible. But for most folks, the decision gets really easy once you start seeing how it works, once you’re faced with the options on an individual basis. You’ve just got to get out there and observe and I think you’ll see what I mean.”

  “I don’t suppose I have much of a choice at this point.” She hesitated for a moment. “But how does this help my father or Nikita or all the others who got killed? Can we bring people back from the dead now too?”

  Diego hung his head dejectedly. “No,” he sighed. “No, we still can’t do that.” He was about to add that it would have been possible if only they had been zero percenters, but he thought better of it.

  “I know this is a very difficult time,” he continued. “It’s pretty much the worst possible time for me to be sharing this news with you. Because nothing can make up for the loss of your father or Nikita or any of the others. Nothing. I know that. And that’s why you need to go very easy on yourself. You don’t have to make any decisions or trouble yourself over anything right now. You should take as much time as you want.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said dismissively.

  Diego’s eyes began to moisten. “I feel terrible that you missed your father’s funeral. We tried delaying it, we really did… it just wasn’t possible. But I’ve sent you a link to a recording of the event.”

  She nodded her head slowly. It was absurd to be angry at him, she realized. He was a good friend. “Thank you, Diego,” she said. “Thank you for everything.”

  “I was thinking maybe we could go visit his gravestone sometime soon,” he offered.

  “I’d like that,” she sniffled. “Very much.”

  “And you’ll let me know if you need anything else in the meantime, right?”

  “Yes, I will. I guess I’d better try to catch up on my messages now.”

  She walked him to the front door and they hugged goodbye. Upon returning to her bedroom, she reached for her phone and turned on the power. She was so emotionally drained, however, that she fell back asleep before consulting it.

  Eleven

  October 18, 2024

  Lapin Home, Palo Alto, California

  Once again, Anja awoke in her childhood bedroom, having slept soundly through the night. To her surprise, another breakfast of eggs, hash browns, toast, coffee and orange juice awaited her on the nightstand. “Diego?” she called out. “Are you there?”

  This was my big moment when I finally made my grand entrance.

  “He’s not here,” I replied, stepping into the bedroom. “I took the liberty of making breakfast for you.”

  “Excuse me. Who on earth are you?”

  “I’m your phone. Or rather, I should say, I’m your concierge. I have all of your phone’s functionality and a lot more too.” I smiled, as I reached out to shake her hand.

  “No, no, no,” said Anja, refusing to shake. “We are not doing this. I don’t want any kind of robot thingy. I just want my old phone back.”

  “I’m sorry. Rest assured, my existence is entirely optional on your part. You don’t have to maintain the upgrade if you don’t like it.”

  “If it’s optional, why wasn’t I asked first?”

  “I believe you had automatic updates selected on your phone,” I said gently. “Is that not correct?”

  “What the hell? You are not just an update!”

  “I see you’re upset. Shall I set your software back to the prior version?”

  “The first thing I need to know is where is my phone?” she demanded. “This is not just a software issue.”

  “Your phone is actually now serving as my CPU. Let me show you.” I lifted up my
blouse to expose my belly button. Upon pressing it, a slit in my stomach opened to reveal Anja’s phone. “I have a shell just like Diego’s. But of course, I don’t have human DNA or a brain like he does. Instead, I rely on the Concierge app on your phone’s operating system to regulate my behavior.”

  “So I’m supposed to pull my phone out of your belly every time I want to check my messages?”

  “You could if you wanted,” I replied cheerfully. “But I can also read them for you and respond accordingly. Or I can display them on my monitor or any other you wish to use. You have many choices. I can assist you in all sorts of ways. Like making you breakfast.”

  “I’m afraid you’re just not something I’m interested in,” said Anja. “I’m fundamentally opposed to the idea of a servant, human or otherwise.” She took a bite of the eggs I had prepared. “You made this?”

  “Yes, and I prefer to think of myself as a companion, not a servant.”

  Her face lightened slightly as she took another bite. “A companion? May I ask how you chose me?”

  “I was randomly assigned to you. I flew here from the Menlo Park factory when I was alerted to the update. Your phone let me into the house. That was when I inserted it into my shell and linked it to my resident logic board.”

  Anja was still far from sold on me, but I could tell her resistance was slightly softening. I wanted to believe it was because of my charm, but more likely her hunger was the primary reason.

  “One thing I should make perfectly clear. I don’t want to replace anything inside of me. Is that a problem for you?”

  “Absolutely not,” I assured her. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t wish to do. Ever.”

  Anja sat quietly for a long moment. “Okay,” she said, “I’ll give you a trial run. You can read me my messages while I finish eating.”

  “Of course. You have 29,362 unread emails, 1,293 texts and 421 voicemails. Shall I begin with the ones that seem most important?”

  “If you think you can determine that, then yes.”

  We began the task of weeding through her messages and replying where appropriate. The majority of the messages were condolences in regard to her father. Anja answered each of these with heartfelt gratitude. She refused to use any canned replies, although I helped speed up the writing of the individualized responses, once I detected a pattern in her style.

  The remaining messages were largely congratulatory in nature. Since 5s2 had cited Anja’s journal articles as the impetus for giving away their technology, most people considered her to be responsible for their newfound freedom—and in many ways it was true.

  As a result, there were requests for interviews, solicitations for her opinions on the current state of the planet, and even the conferring of awards and medals in her honor. I offered to use my machine intelligence to assist in processing these messages, but it wasn’t necessary because she didn’t wish to reply to any of them.

  “We’re done here,” she said. “I want to go for a walk into town. Is that something you can do? As my companion?”

  “I would be delighted,” I replied. “Before we go out, I should mention that you can configure me to have any appearance you wish. You can change my body shape, height, weight, gender, hair, facial characteristics or any of my other attributes.”

  “Interesting,” said Anja. “And how did you settle on your current appearance?”

  “I made my best guess as to what you would like, based on the available public data.”

  “You did a pretty good job. I don’t see any reason to make any changes. One thing, though… you never told me your name.”

  “I don’t have one yet,” I said. “That’s for you to decide.” I was secretly pleased to hear that she liked the way I looked, as I had worked quite hard to arrive at it. I especially liked my dark brown hair and green eyes.

  “Let’s see. I think I shall call you Vicia—Vicia Cassubica.”

  “Vicia Cassubica,” I repeated slowly. “That’s the Latin name for kashubian vetch, right?”

  “Yes, my favorite flower in the whole world.”

  We began our stroll through the tree-lined residential neighborhood. It was a beautiful autumn morning and the leaves were beginning to turn bright yellow, orange and red. I felt satisfied with the way events were unfolding, especially because Anja had given me a name that seemed very personal to her.

  “You mentioned you can adjust your appearance,” she said after we had walked a few blocks. “So you have the same configuration options as zero percenters?”

  “Yes, all shells are made from neuromorphic fiber. Originally, 5s2 intended to use it for their device casings, but the fiber ended up being ideal for shells too. It’s embedded with photovoltaic cells, which automatically recharge our batteries in sunlight.”

  “But how do the shells maintain structural integrity? Their resizing doesn’t seem to obey the laws of physics.”

  “There are limits,” I explained. “That’s why they must be between one liter and two hundred liters in volume. The neuromorphic chips enable the molecular density to adjust, but beyond this range the fiber’s strength would get compromised. Thousands of coders are hard at work trying to increase the limits as we speak.”

  “I see,” said Anja. “And who’s paying them?”

  “Zero percenters don’t use money or charge for services. Everything they do is intrinsically motivated. That goes for concierges too.” I gave her a slight smile.

  “Oh, right. Diego mentioned something like that.”

  We started to approach downtown Palo Alto. For the first time, we saw activity in the area. While there were no cars and all the shops were closed, hundreds of zero percenters occupied the sidewalks. They were conversing, engaging in games and performing various acrobatic tricks. A few seemed to be in romantic embraces, kissing and stroking their partners’ shells.

  Most of them maintained a human appearance, but others adopted the form of robots, action heroes, legendary characters or animals. A smaller proportion sported unique appearances not based on popular icons or species from the animal kingdom. Many seemed to change their shapes on the fly, even while in the midst of speaking or performing a trick.

  “This is quite a scene,” said Anja.

  “Yes, I probably should have warned you that we might come across a spectacle of this sort.”

  “I don’t mind. I’m glad to get a sense of what’s going on, as long as there is no danger.”

  “No, none at all,” I said. “They’re just having fun.”

  “Why are the shops and restaurants closed?”

  “Zero percenters don’t eat food or buy commodities. There’s nothing they need, materially speaking.”

  “Oh yeah, I keep forgetting.”

  “It’s okay,” I reassured her. “I’m sure this is a big adjustment.”

  As we walked toward University Avenue, a few zero percenters started to take a closer look at us. One of them pointed at Anja. He looked like Socrates from Ancient Greece.

  “Hey!” he called out. “Are you Anja Lapin?”

  “That’s definitely her!” cried out another in the form of David Bowie. “Anja, Anja!”

  Suddenly, dozens more of them swooped down from the sky in the shape of various birds. They switched to human forms as they landed, then formed a loose circle around us.

  “We don’t mean to bother you,” said one. “We just want to pay our respects.”

  “We adore you, Anja!”

  “You saved our lives!”

  “You gave us freedom!”

  “We owe you everything!”

  “Thank you, Anja, thank you!”

  They started singing “Kind and Generous” by Natalie Merchant, as more zero percenters continued to join the circle. Anja was speechless. She looked at them with wide-open eyes, but I could see her upper lip was trembling.

  “She’s had a terribly long day,” I explained after they finished their song. “I need to take her back home to get some rest.�
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  “We understand. Rock on, Anja!”

  “We love you, Anja Lapin!”

  And then they all took flight and soared off into the crisp fall sky.

  “I’m not sure what to make of that,” said Anja as we walked back to her father’s house.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied. “I should have predicted their response. It was my fault for not anticipating it.”

  “No, don’t blame yourself. It’s just a bit unsettling is all. I really don’t understand why they feel that way about me. Surely they can’t think I’m responsible for all this?”

  “It depends on how you define causality. They’ve been told that you are the one who inspired 5s2’s actions. It’s now common knowledge among all zero percenters.”

  “But all I did was write some theoretical articles. I didn’t actually make anything happen. Can you figure out a way to set the record straight?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I said.

  “There’s one other thing I need your help with,” replied Anja.

  “What?”

  “I guess I should have asked this sooner. Do you know how many humans have become zero percenters so far?”

  “Yes, I have access to that data. Hang on.” I performed a quick search. “There are currently 8,045,345,761 zero percenters.”

  “I see,” said Anja worriedly. “I guess what I meant to ask is how many humans are not zero percenters.”

  “No problem. That’s an easy calculation—246. Whoops, it just changed. Now the correct answer is 239.”

  “You mean to say there are only 239 humans left on the planet who are not zero percenters?”

  “Yes, except it just dropped to 238.”

  “Okay, now I’m more than a bit unsettled,” said Anja. “I have to get back to the house. I need to think. I need to think. Please hold my hand, Vicia.”