Right Girl

by Ellie O'Neill

  ‘We know this government is bullied by BBest, and we are building our case piece by piece. We can only look after our own region, and our brothers and sisters around the globe are watching theirs too. We must remain strong and focused. Some members of our organisation were questioned by guards in Dublin last week. All were released without charge; guards had nothing, our members were clean. But the guards sent us a strong message: they are watching us, they know who we are. So I ask you all to be extra vigilant, no meetings of more than two people and cover your mouth when you’re speaking. Absolutely nothing sent via your phone or computer, stick to the Tolstoy books. We will contact you when things have calmed down a little.’

  The speaker looked into the crowd, searching for someone. ‘Jonathan, are you here?’

  There was a small sound in response.

  ‘Come out and tell them what happened with the self-drive taxi.’

  A few people stepped back and a middle-aged man in a brown jacket shuffled forward, his head down. He played nervously with the glasses on his face.

  ‘I em . . .’ He coughed and cleared his throat, composing himself. ‘I ordered a BBest taxi last week, to get to work, I had tripped on the stairs and my left ankle was sprained so it was difficult to get the tram so, as per instructions–’ he rolled his eyes skyward, ‘–a BBest taxi was summoned. It pulled up in front of my house at the right time, and it was then that I noticed that it was self-drive, which is fine, I know over fifty per cent of them are. That wasn’t my problem. My problem was–’ he wrung his hands together, ‘–that when I checked, this taxi had been programmed by BBest to protect the passenger at all costs.’

  There were a few grunts from the crowd.

  ‘You know what that means? A child runs out in front of the car, the car will brake but won’t swerve into oncoming traffic for fear I would be injured, even if it meant it could skid and kill that child. The car had decided before I even stepped into it that my life was more valuable than anyone else’s because I’m the one paying.’

  ‘What did you do?’ asked a voice from the crowd.

  ‘I hobbled down to the end of the road and took a tram.’

  A slow clap erupted, and the man patted the air down and shook his head sadly.

  ‘I have ethics and morals. I will not be part of a life-altering decision determined by a machine, by a computer program. That’s why I am so grateful for this movement, that we haven’t forgotten our humanity.’

  There were nods and sounds of agreement.

  The speaker remained stony faced. ‘So what was the fallout for not taking that taxi, Jonathan?’

  ‘Bizarrely, my car insurance premiums are going up. I think the idea is that I will stop using my car and eventually have to use the taxis. The message is clear that they’ll get me one way or another.’

  ‘Thanks, Jonathan.’ The speaker, looking more determined than ever, said, ‘Never forget our cause: we’re not against technology, we simply want discussions involving the public; healthy competition in the marketplace; real choice and not an illusion of choice.’

  A voice the other side of the crowd said, ‘The courts, what’s happening with the courts?’

  The speaker paused momentarily, and with jerky movements raised his index finger in the air.

  ‘It’s getting closer, yes. They’re hoping to trial the program in County Monahan early next year. Our courts, our justice system, will practically disappear. The foundation of our free society is cracking. In no time at all, a judge will be handed a piece of paper with a defendant’s history and predicted future behaviour. The judge will then decide whether or not a case needs to go to trial based on that information. Same with criminals looking for release, the percentage probability of whether or not they will reoffend will determine their release and the length of their sentence.’

  A shout from the corner: ‘It’s a police state.’

  ‘Not quite, but not far off. I ask you, who decided what factors were considered in that algorithim? Not me. I wasn’t asked. Were you?’

  The group shook their heads.

  ‘Our society is slipping away from us. But rest assured, when we bring down this government and their corporate bedmate BBest, we will win this war.’ He pumped his fists in the air, and I was mesmerised.

  There was a loud screech of wheels and a siren roared. A garda van raced through the car park towards us. It came to a dramatic stop and doors slid open. What seemed like an army of stormtroopers hopped out, their large boots stomping hard on the cement. Their visors were pulled down fully over their faces and they carried batons as they ran towards us aggressively, ready to let them fall. I felt like I was watching this happen to someone else – it did not register that they were running at me, that in an instant one of those batons could crash down on me. I was frozen.

  Closer, closer . . . they were seconds from me. I crumpled, fell to the ground and placed my arms over my head. I didn’t know if I was screaming. I waited for a baton to land on my skull. I heard the footsteps, I saw the soles of the boots going past me, one after the other, blowing up dust from the concrete floor. Terrified, I peeped through my fingers. I saw a man. His head was on the ground, the knee of a guard was pushing down on his neck, another had a baton poised over his chest, a third was holding his legs down. My heart had stopped. His face was turned towards me, his eyes achingly full of fear, baring the impact of what was happening. He bellowed from his gut, and it was laced with rage and courage and it was directed at me: ‘Run!’

  Fired by his cry, I was up. My legs moved and then collapsed again. I straightened myself in a nanosecond. I heard another siren – there must have been more guards coming. A green car suddenly stopped in front of me, and my palms fell onto the bonnet. The speaker was driving, and he opened the passenger side and shouted at me.

  ‘Get in!’

  He didn’t need to tell me twice – I jumped. Before I had closed the door we were careening down the car park ramps, the car lifting and falling over speed bumps. I found I was clawing my way to the back of the car, and my hands were on the back window.

  ‘Go back!’ I shouted at the speaker. ‘Go back for him.’ My voice was hoarse, there were tears streaming down my face. ‘Go back.’

  ‘We can’t, we can’t. They’ll take us all.’ He was hunched over the steering wheel, his shoulders touching his ears. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t believe they found us.’

  The car was travelling so fast it scratched against a wall and the force bounced it halfway across the car park. The speaker slammed on the brakes and the car slowed slightly but didn’t stop. We raced down another ramp. I saw a barrier in front of us and I knew he was going to smash through it. I could feel the force of the impact before he did.

  ‘Brace yourself!’ he shouted. But it was too late, I flew against the back of the seats as we came out into the street. He immediately dropped his speed, took a left turn, and then a right. He drove into a suburban area where I could see the tops of houses from the floor of the car. I must have hit my head, because I was starting to feel sleepy. In fact, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Sleep was washing over me, coming heavily. I was gone.

  35

  ‘You okay? Hey? Hey? You okay?’

  My shoulder was rocking and a man’s voice echoing, so I opened my eyes. The light was blindingly bright and my head was pounding.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  I was on the floor of a car, my knees bunched up to my chest, my back contorted. The car smelled like feet. There was a man standing over me. The speaker. He was prodding my shoulder with his finger. It came back, a flood of images: the sirens, those boots, the batons. I started to sit up, slowly, my head hammering, fighting back at every gentle movement.

  ‘Come on.’ The speaker took my hand and coaxed me up.

  I felt lightheaded and dizzy. I stepped clumsily out of the car as he guided me.

  ‘Here.’ He walked me to a waist-high wall and I sat down. I was shaking but beginning to feel a bit strong
er. I took a deep breath and looked around. It was dark, pitch black in fact, but from the light of the car I could see that we were in the countryside. The air tasted different here. Cleaner.

  I licked my lips. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Wicklow Mountains. We had to move.’

  ‘Was I out for long?’

  He was pacing up and down in front of me. ‘I don’t know, we’ve been in the car for about an hour, so maybe that long.’

  ‘What will happen to everyone at the meeting? That man on the ground?’

  ‘The guards will have roughed him up, a few digs, they’ll take him into custody. They’ll bring a few of them in. They won’t have anything on them other than attending the meeting.’ The speaker was talking to himself now, more than me, but I was taking some comfort in his words. ‘It’s another bloody warning, letting us know they’re onto us.’

  He said some more things I couldn’t hear clearly.

  ‘I’m Freya, by the way.’ My voice was a breathy whisper.

  He stopped walking and shook his head at me. His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes shouting at me to shut up. I felt like an idiot. I didn’t know what to do here. I couldn’t tell if he didn’t want to know my name, or if he already knew my name and remembered me from the last time. I wanted to push the rewind button. I stuck my hands deep into my pockets.

  He resumed pacing. He talked fast. ‘I know who you are, and I thought you knew what was going on, and that was why you came here before. But now I understand that you don’t, you don’t know what’s going on.’

  ‘I don’t know anything. My head hurts.’

  ‘I’m going to talk fast, so keep up. We’ve been off the radar for long enough. I need to get back to the city before my absence is noted. What I’m about to say will shock you and you may not believe me but it’s all true.’

  The road we had stopped on was deserted, there was nothing but silence.

  ‘We got information about two years ago on a top secret BBest project, Ananke. BBest took a selected group of people and constructed their lives: through clever manipulation they invited friends into their circle, made romantic connections, steered their career paths, reorganised their health and finances. This was done without the individuals knowing about it. They altered their preferences and made slight changes initially to build trust, which led to bigger changes down the line.’

  I was trying hard not to stare at him and to focus on breathing and feeling okay. I wanted to interrupt and ask questions like: What does this have to do with me? But I stayed quiet, hanging on his every word. He looked straight ahead at all times.

  ‘Ananke is introducing a one hundred per cent certainty. It’s removing any question of doubt, human error or free choice, the idea being that choosing the BBest option will give you a better life.’

  A better life according to them, I thought, and I wondered where this conversation was going. My headache was clearing, my senses heightened.

  ‘These people are BBest puppets. Unbeknown to them, they haven’t made an independent choice in two years. Ananke is a pilot project, set to run over five years. So far it seems successful. The plan is that BBest will roll this out to all users, ultimately controlling all of their lives.’ He stopped pacing and caught my eye. ‘Freya, your grandfather found your name on the list. You’ve been part of this project for the last twelve months. Your history, your relationship with BBest – you’re an ideal candidate. You’ve been living a simulated life, Freya. Nothing has been of your choosing.’

  I couldn’t move. Did he just say what I think he said? That I had been living a simulated life for the last twelve months? That everything that had happened to me had been a construct? What did he call me, a puppet? Was this what shock felt like? I closed my eyes and felt dizzy again.

  ‘Freya, Freya.’ The speaker was shouting my name, his face inches from mine, his steely grey eyes filled with intensity. His voice softened to a whisper. ‘Freya. Get it together.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ My voice sounded weak.

  Then something clicked in my head and somehow I was propelled awake. I wasn’t sure how much more I could hear, how much more information my brain could take in. But the speaker continued.

  ‘You do. You know something isn’t right, that’s why you came to the last meeting, that’s why you investigated your grandfather’s bookstore and decoded the Tolstoy. You know that something is very wrong with BBest. Your grandfather was working hard to get you out of the project. We have a number of connections on the inside, they were getting close, they had hacked into the program and weren’t too far from altering your profile but then Maurice was arrested.’

  Boom.

  ‘Was he arrested because of me? Because he was trying to get me out?’

  ‘No, the guards don’t know Maurice is one of us.’

  ‘So he wasn’t arrested for being a Luddite.’ I thought hard. ‘There was something about customs, some delivery, is that you?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. What’s great about you from our perspective is that you will never ever be suspected of any wrongdoings. As far as BBest is concerned, they know you better than you know yourself. Not only do they know what you’re going to do next, they know what you’re going to do next year because they’ve organised it and set the wheels in motion. You are perfect to help us. At least they can’t get into here, hey?’ He pounded his chest over his heart. ‘Even though your grandfather has been arrested, you don’t show any rebellious characteristics. It’s going to be nice to prove them wrong.’

  ‘How has this happened?’

  ‘It would have been subtle initially, your second and third choices would have been something you didn’t like particularly, suggesting kippers for lunch, that kind of thing, until it just became a no brainer to take the first option every time.’

  ‘Everything has been a construct? The last twelve months of my life?’ I was stuck on the conversation from a minute ago.

  He looked at me, a little frustrated. Clearly I should have moved on.

  ‘Pretty much, yes, any major decisions, even many minor ones, have been orchestrated by BBest. They’re steering your life in the direction they want it to go. Not the way you want it to go, the way they want it. I don’t know why this is a surprise, BBest plays everyone. You’ve just never thought to question them, they’ve sucked that out of society, our ability to ask why. Wake up, Freya, you’re not the only one being played.’

  My life was flashing before my eyes: my business, my shop, my contract at BBest, the bank loan. And then a thought that caused my heart to leap into my throat.

  ‘People? What about people?’

  ‘Yes, anyone new in the last twelve months, they may have been manipulated by BBest too.’

  ‘Mason,’ I whispered. ‘Mason, my fiancé, we’re a ninety-three per cent match but we’re terrible together, we don’t work.’

  He turned and looked at me, smiling knowingly. ‘There are some things a computer program will never get right. Love is one of them.’

  I felt myself brighten up considerably. ‘But this is amazing news. I mean I know it’s bad news, what with me being – what did you call me? A puppet? But it means that Mason and I were totally manipulated, we’re not destined for each other. It’s like BBest are doing arranged marriages. What a joke.’ I was so delighted I could have kissed him.

  The speaker wasn’t listening to me. He handed me a water bottle that he dug out of the back of the car.

  ‘Take a drink.’

  I did what I was told and barely noticed the feel of the water sliding down my throat.

  ‘Let’s walk. You should move after a concussion.’

  I followed him slowly up the road.

  ‘Look, help us out and we will get your name off that list for good. Your grandfather was just there, we can get back to that point. We can give you back your life.’

  My legs wobbled under me. The speaker grabbed my elbow to steady me.

  ‘If I got myself off that list
it would take away that ninety-three per cent, wouldn’t it? Mason and I would be free agents again.’

  He made a noise of agreement. ‘Come on back to the car, we need to leave. I have to get back and find out what’s happened. I’ll drop you at a tram on the outskirts.’

  We walked towards the light of the car.

  ‘We have people working on the inside at BBest but we have nobody that has the clear access you have to the fourth floor. BBest are extremely careful and they don’t make mistakes. We know that the government and BBest are in a partnership of sorts, and we’re sure that BBest are paying them off. They’re in breach of all kinds of international laws, but nobody will prosecute without particular hard evidence. We need you to get it.’

  ‘Me? What?’ I was still in shock, my brain packed full of information and questions. ‘How? I don’t know how to do that.’

  ‘Use your brain, Freya, they haven’t managed to fry that, have they?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know.’ I was taken aback by how abrasive he was.

  He walked around to the driver’s side and hopped into the car. I fumbled with the handle, and fell in, happy to be in a comfortable seat. I clipped my belt on and took another sip of water.

  He started the engine up and we drove off.

  ‘What if I say no? This sounds dangerous.’

  ‘You can go on your way, continue living a fake life. Marry that guy . . . Mason?’

  Not fair, I thought. This was not fair.

  ‘We’ll crack them eventually, but we’ll do it quicker with you. Please, Freya, help us.’

  ‘What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘There’s a meeting on Tuesday, it’s in the Bondi meeting room, fourth floor. We need you to place this in that room for the meeting.’

  Somehow he had slipped a black tile about the size of a postage stamp into the palm of my hand.

  ‘How do I do that?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’m sure you can figure something out.’

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘It’s a surveillance device, a tiny camera, we’ll be able to see and hear everything that goes on at that meeting.’