“Life’s Gamble” - A Dystopian Story by Ty Steinbrunner
There are plenty of jobs in the Time of Good. Only this year, the year 2275, that is two-two, seven-five, when the Super World Committee (we call them the SWC), agreed it would make more sense for humanity to observe the time we live in as one big era or regard it as one name. If it’s the only time mankind has left, we might as well consider it ‘good’.
They say we have about 5,000,000 years left until the Earth melts from the sun, a number once multiplied by a billion or so but had come severely reduced due to our rapid acceleration of nuclear implementation. If we were right now fighting the doomsday clock, scientists determined the idea that human civilization, (like it would) but in some way possibly could, lives on billions of years in the future, has become an impossibility. In truth, even 5,000,000 years is a generous amount. Some say the SWC is hiding the true doomsday clock, which could very likely read only a couple hundred years left.
As a result, many traditions and historical practices have become obsolete, as celebrating New Year’s Eve or the Fifth of July holds no significance to people anymore. These holidays simply act as reminders to everyone, that we are closer to the end than we think.
Not long ago was there talk about forbidding childbirth. A total euthanization for human life or rather a total ban on sex. What's even more insane is people had positively responded to this, agreeing and abiding, as nobody wanted a son or daughter melted by the sun. To my knowledge, everyone at LiveLife felt that way. This woman Janice in the ‘red-light, green-light’ department has actively advocated for childbirth prevention. Jerry in the ‘yes’ statistical analysis department is on the same page as well, well at least I think so. Everyone outside this department building and most people agree bringing a child into this world wasn't morally right. There was too much skepticism and fear around the sun.
With that, the world and its people have fallen severely realistic, as we enjoy mouthfuls from our bowls of nihilism, with heavy scoops of sugar and not a lot of milk. We’ve lost whatever human race we were running and humanity laughs as nobody can admit it.
If the world is bread then I’m the butter, as, in comparison to your average worker, I appear to have it going better. I’m a LiveLife Solutions Expert, a person for the people, and despite aiding these people of their concerns and worries, many of these people would kill me for my job. I get paid fat in compensation coins, another new-age altercation to a previous way of living.
At some point, the SWC took (more like stole and rounded up) all the world's money and destroyed it. Even before, the United Nations dollar had meant nothing for years, and I couldn't care less about this recent change. I never had that money, but I do have this new money, or at least these tiny aluminum discs to say I do.
Back in the Learning Halls, I had never thought that my five years there would lead me toward this career or ever set me up for such a successful opportunity. In a way, I’m still a new employee working at LiveLife. It's only my third Monday.
This is another new-age altercation, as in discussions of how long one has worked in their occupation, one must communicate their employment on a basis of ‘Mondays’. This makes more sense than saying ‘I’ve worked here for three weeks.’ Living during the Time of Good offers many insightful shortcuts and changes in communication.
The LiveLife building is 10 stories tall, an average height for most office buildings on this block. My desk sits in the corner of the building on floor 8. Truth be told there's nothing actually there in the corner. I don't have any sort of working surface, or drawers for filing as there's no need for them. All desks do is take up more space in a world that's already taken up. What I have, and only LiveLife Solutions Experts have, are our own non-physical, personalized spaces that can only be seen and organized by us. The strangest part about my ‘desk’ is that while most of the company operates on floors 1-5, my ‘desk’ sits by itself and my work goes on several stories above it all. To reach me you must ascend the office tower and walk through what appears to be an empty floor, just to turn a corner and find my office in the far back, where the only light of the whole floor is emitting from the door’s crack.
“I will say it’s private and I do like that.” I said, ripping my coffee vaporizer.
Most food and drink in the Time of Good has been reduced to vaporized particles. It tastes the same, has the same effect in your belly, and has even reduced waste and food production costs. Vaporized goods changed the world and yet I promise nobody can tell you who invented the idea. It became one of those things that just wound up in everyone's kitchens and pantries one day. Some people recall the way things once were, but this change in food and drink access was made with a clear intention.
Jerry from the ‘yes’ statistical department was inhaling lunch with me like he often did. He was one of the only people who traveled up here to see me. Most people have a partner for lunch, many call them ‘pals’ or ‘friends’, but most call them associates. I don’t really care what to call them.
Jerry satisfied a social need of mine, where often it feels like my human interactions were limited to my ‘SeeMe’s’ - real-time, face-to-face meetings with clients (people) where I can see them in front of me, touch them, and discuss with them about anything from anywhere in a private, enclosed space. It’s a transmission of my consciousness as well as the sender’s to this ‘electronic space’ for the two to ‘congregate’ as the software says. It's a simple process and after three Mondays of answering them, I can do it in my sleep. It’s been designed to be safe as well, as at any time I can withdraw from a SeeMe to return to the real world. I have the control in answering and ending them. My goal and my job is to listen and solve problems that people come to me with. I do my best to appease them with positive words. These days words hold more weight than action as most people rather be told good news to see it or have it. Just by hearing good things said to them is enough to boost serotonin levels and keep people’s lives moving.
Indeed not all SeeMe’s go well. Last Monday, I was linked up for a standard issue SeeMe. During that time, the man I met left me with a lingering wonder. A thought I have been routinely returning to, a thought to twiddle.
“We’ve tipped the boat and sank. This world has capsized and we’ve done nothing but sit back and watch it go down. You corporations! You win, you’ve stepped all over the people. You’ve cast your blankets upon society, covering them, snuggling them, coddling them, blinding them from the true horrors you people have created. I yell in the streets at night, only to misplace those memories and awaken in my bed in the morning. We live in a world without one sharp object, within miles and miles for my beating heart to be punctured by. I can’t die on my own behalf in this world, so I live in an eternal wait for the end. You as well, but you're blind - this is our difference! You will see!” This erratic man yelled.
There is a procedure for these types of people.
“I’d love to ease your frustration sir but I can’t speak for these corporations you talk of. LiveLife Solutions is here to aid your lifestyle concerns but I can’t bring about a physical altercation for you sir.” I told him.
“Ignorant fool. Did you know I had to lie to arrange this call with you? I know you're just some guy, I know you get paid well too, but dammit man…don’t you see it as I do? Can’t you see what’s become of the world?”
“I can’t say I understand what you mean sir. I’m told you are here seeking advice about your son who’s recently passed.” I said.
The room that our consciences were in felt cramped and choked. The man on the requester’s end was gradually becoming more unhinged, tossing his hands around, pacing back and forth in the meeting space we shared. I was running out of LiveLife Passive Phrases to utilize. He was infuriated and impossibly frustrated by something that tormented him, something I couldn't grasp.
“My son! My son who’s dead by the hands of you! Your ignorance, your’s and every damn person’s in this city. He had lost his job and was never heard from again. My only boy…gone without anything left behind. Never given a chance at his life.” The man fell to his knees and sobbed.
This was out of my league. As I was preparing to withdraw from the session and separate myself from this person who presented more than a discomfort, the man grabbed me. Even in the SeeMe, I could feel his fingers dig into my shoulders and the specks of spit shooting off his tongue as he yelled into my face. He locked me in a fixed position.
“One day you’ll wake up and ask yourself… ‘Are we alone out here? Why would anyone let us do what we are doing? Why would God let us destroy ourselves and fall from his grace?’... You’ll think that too.” His eyes consumed me and begged for my help.
Back during training, they warned us of guys like this. In these aggressive situations, when you cannot withdraw by will and if you detect a danger, you must bite your tongue. The quick pain sensation triggers a release mechanism, sending the user's consciousness back into their bodies, ending the SeeMe on both user ends.
Before I knew it there was this iron taste, like licking a stairrail. I figured it was my blood.
When I returned from the SeeMe, I decided to take a five minute break. A Life Solutions Expert is allowed ONE, single, five-minute break a day - another treasured benefit of mine. I cherished this break, then promptly arranged for the next SeeMe, with the previous interaction still fresh in my head. I raised my guard after that day.
A bit of me had been thinking of the man’s strange and terrified words. It’s been a while since I’ve thought so hard about anything else outside my new job.
Christians once believed Hell was a place that bad people went to after they died. What man ended up discovering was Hell is something closer to us than we’d ever imagined. Most people would say it's arrived because of our own terrible choices, most people knew that we were asking for the flames and the fire. The sun was getting closer, the air was hotter, it stung, it didn't matter for you to care for people, nor did anything matter at all.
I knew it was the acclaimed Time of Good, and those who agreed would also encourage you to think so, but man has been sliding down this slope for a good while now. Comfortable with the inevitable doom.
But my life is good and I’m happy to live during this Time of Good. You could say I’m beyond blessed - I really, really am aren't I! My apartment is much bigger than others. Both my parents have been arranged in their retirement capsules well before most people get around to it. My personal implant tells me I've received over four hundred thousand potential requests from women looking to date me. My life was super saucy.
Jerry surely thought so.
“This is much nicer than floor 2. Floor 2 doesn't even have windows.” Jerry said.
“Well, at least you get electricity.” I said, reading over my incoming SeeMe blips. I was starting to get busy again.
“Yeah it is strange there's a black-out up here, but aside from that you get all these other wild amenities and best of all, an office. Plus you're getting paid for meaningful work. All I do is click a button that says ‘yes’. My life sucks balls.” Jerry said.
I threw a crumpled vaninap at his head. It came to contact, grazing his battered, wrinkled forehead, then the powderized paper napkin disappeared into thin air. Another successful ‘Waste-not, Want-not’ product designed by the guys next door to our building.
“Don’t talk too bad about your job. They’ll fire you immediately.” I said. I was only reminding him because that's how things worked.
Remember how I said we count our employment time based on Mondays? Well, part of that is because turnover rates are so high. Most people don’t last more than four Mondays at their jobs. People are quickly distracted, bored, tired, and unwilling to continue doing what they ‘dedicated’ their whole lives to do. The Learning Halls emphasized this in year one. There isn’t any slack after you choose your career path. Whatever you go to the halls for, that’s your career. Guys who grew up, maybe like Jerry, get odd jobs or jobs that people would rather be dead than do all their lives.
What's happened is people have become noisy. It’s said the Halls are an equal opportunity and that the process of career selection is fair and works, but there's been a stir. People like Jerry can’t stand it anymore that people like me get an office and a special ‘desk’ all because a top hat with paper slips said so. There wasn’t an argument back when I was pulled for this job so why should there be now? This is a perspective that only people like me have. I feel alienated sometimes. While there is outside career training taught, it's found to be long and hard, so most people go as far as to say the Learning Halls are nothing but the ‘Life-Lottery’.
Jerry has been at the company longer than me, but I lucked out and got the better job. It was true, if he kept talking bad about his job then he was sure to lose it. This self-hatred leading to a leave would be his own doing. You can say terrible things about your job, you can ditch it and go unemployed, but I promise, you will die within 48 hours. This world isn’t made for freeloaders anymore. Either you worked or you suffered. Sometimes I think work distracts from the suffering, the constant, unwavering suffering…
Dusting the paper particles from his hair and choking on his vape, Jerry went to lock in.
“I’m sorry Pedro, I meant my work…it’s no fun. I suppose…I’m getting jealous of you. Don’t bring this up to management, please.” Jerry scrambled to save his behind.
“Relax.” I said.
As if I were his boss, I motioned him to settle down and to continue sharing his time with me. It went quiet, and crispy chicken sandwich vapor filled the space as we kept swapping looks at each other from across my office. I stood behind my desk and studied him, not as my subordinate or coworker, but truthfully as someone lesser.
Feeling curious, a strange question overtook me. I would never ask this ever.
“What are you doing after work?” I asked.
For someone to be interested in another's post-work affairs was rare, especially in this day and age where people were busy and confined to their home lives after the work day. Nobody ever regrouped outside the office. Our backs hurt. Sure you could still do things, there weren't laws prohibiting ‘hanging out’ but people didn't really do things anymore. To most people, if you couldn’t have easy, casual sex, then these ‘most people’ didn’t care for the company of others, let alone did they to begin with.
So I’d been thinking, the only fun people got was from the nightlife, and it was crazy for me to ask Jerry because nobody goes out with associates or familiars - it is apparently taboo. Rumor says so, it is never wise to go ‘do nightlife’ with people you know, never.
I continued bringing up different things and when I said ‘nightlife’ he gave me a twisted look like he got the joke and like we both found something inappropriately funny. I suppose I was only curious about it, or maybe a lost part of me felt deserved an adventurous treat. If anyone seeked thrills it was Jerry, who was sad and his life was confined to pressing a little button. Perhaps breaking a cultural norm could be fun. It was another thought I had been having for some time, and I had a feeling Jerry knew more about it than I did.
“Gee, Pedro I had no idea you were into all that?” Jerry chuckled.
“Sure. I have a great time going out.” I lied. I had no clue what I was talking about.
Yes, truthfully the reason I asked Jerry was because I was the bored one. I had never been to the nightclubs or partook in this mysterious party scene. Since Jerry is older I figured he’s been around. I figured he could accompany me and lead the way. As infatuated as he was with my job, and granted I let him hang out with me in my office, I figured the least he could do was introduce me to that territory.
He lit up.
“Wow, this’ll be fun! I happen to hit this one spot every Monday to celebrate not killing myself during the day. It’s a real riot, you’ll love it.” Jerry said and took out his ceramic cigarette, a device very different from our vaporized lunch. It’s an infinite supply of cigarette smoke, as long as you have the tobacco for it and a charge. “Stuff the stuff and puff the stuff “ is the slogan.
So that was that. Our plans were set.
Jerry and I finished our lunch and went back to our jobs. I suppose I finally had something to anticipate. I didn't care so much, nor at all about hanging out with Interesting Jerry from the ‘yes’ statistical analysis department, but it was exciting to finally be doing something else with my life. Fat stacks of compensation coin only make a man so happy.
The nightlife existed for the sole purpose of providing people with pleasure. TV shows and videos were no fun because people were tired of watching the same thing, and the implementation of senses in video games only drove people away from them. As a boy, I recall playing a video game where if you got shot by an enemy player, you felt the bullet impact in real life. As immersive as it seemed, it was too much. It was definitely too much after a child experienced a placebo death playing Crossy Road.
Nevertheless, video games did continue to explode, but they weren't making people happy and it wasn’t a source of pastime. It has become another source of work where people are paid to test the video game’s sensory capabilities. These are jobs to receive in the Learning Halls, setting people up for a lifetime of virtual experimentation.
For the rest of the day I dealt with several SeeMe’s, maybe 500 of them. I gradually felt giddy, a feeling I hadn’t felt in some time. The two of us planned on meeting outside the LiveLife office building at 20:30. The Liberty Bell, which was relocated to the top of our office building rang a good number of times to signify the working day was over. At 18:00, people all around the country clocked out at the exact same time.
Since I’m on the eighth floor, I take the stairs on my way out. It’s no good waiting on the elevator as every time I try to go down it stops for people on the floors below me. You think a nuclear-powered elevator would be more efficient. As long as it takes me to complain, I exit the staircase leading out back, I walk across the street, and though I wouldn’t mind the trip being a little quicker, I make it back home.
Back at my apartment, I unfold the kitchen table for supper and get the steam chamber primed for my clean.
I want to absorb as much time as possible before tonight. Clean, eat, and read before it’s time. So I chose a pretzel chicken pizza. It was good enough for me and I popped the ‘juice’ baggie in the nuclear pot. Imagine a crockpot that’s evolved. The nuclear pot can prepare anything to perfect conditions in a matter of seconds.
I made sure to close the lid (forgetting this process may cause nuclear meltdown), tapped the ‘scan’ button, tapped the ‘to vaporize’ button, tapped the ‘yes’ button, and then finally the ‘start’ button. In the Time of Good, things are done for you without hassle or inconvenience.
While the chicken pizza came to liquified fruition, I tore off my work suit and tossed it in the trash incinerator, then I stepped into the steam chamber and got sanitized.
Every day at least once, a person must sanitize, otherwise, you’ll get severely sick. Due to the increased levels of pollution and yearly arrival of new diseases, just by stepping outside one's apartment do they contract hundreds of unknown viruses. A good sanitation at the end of the day protects an individual.
The packet of pizza vape and my sanitization were timed perfectly together. While the chamber dried me, the pizza was ‘cooling’. A foggy condensation erupted as I stepped out from the ceramic pod. I open an overhead cabinet to reveal stacks of suits, packaged and arrayed. It hit me and I realized that I wouldn't be wearing a suit for this occasion.
I work 6 days a week, year-round, and all I have to wear are suits. On my day off, often the Sabbath, I’ll normally walk around my apartment naked as there's no one to see me. I figured all people do this, as one’s apartment is one’s solace. To most people it's all they have. I’ve thought about my office space and how I’m on the eighth floor, alone. I suppose, if I wanted to, I could free-ball it up there.
Regardless of the matter, I never thought about anything else to wear. It was a packaged suit or balls-out. I realized I should buy some nightlife clothes. Everyone’s bound to have a set.
While I puffed on my nuked pretzel chicken pizza, I scanned my computer for clothes to wear. Buying clothes online is as easy as looking at the wall, for that's all I have to do. Sitting at the unfolded table, I can look at the wall and drag my finger in the air to select clothes, view them, arrange them, see what they look like on me, feel the material, yaddah-yaddah. Alike to my ‘desk’, I’m the only one who can see what I’m looking at.
At birth all babies are installed with a personal computer or implant. All my life I’ve had access to the world's database, the internet, if you will. The idea of such a thing has become as integrated in people's lives as Starbucks coffee. My computer implant allows me to look up, contact people, listen to, read things, and teach myself whatever I want whenever I want. Once upon a time, people carried the same technology in their pockets, a physical device I’m told, but that was centuries ago.
As I sit I look through potential nightlife attire, ready for instant sale and delivery. When I say ‘instant’ I mean I can print off what I’m looking at on my Home-Constructo, another handy product made by some guys in a warehouse down the street. This year everyone won and a Home-Constructo wasn’t just something you saw bigwigs flex on the news. A couple of years ago a major wholesale company developed an ‘item printer' to manufacture small things like office supplies, such as invisible sticky tack and parts for laser pencils. It became a hit and soon the company's revolutionary machine evolved and began to ramp up its printable possibilities.
Soon, like all things it went mainstream, allowing the average person to buy products, technologies, and clothes with the help of their instantaneously available implanted brain computers. Instant delivery, another incredible advancement in tech thanks to nuclear energy.
There was time to kill before I was due to meet Jerry at work. Eventually I searched around enough. Fumbling from webstore to webstore, I finally found a perfect set of clothes that were digitally designed by some twelve-year-old kid from Japina. Picking the clothes was difficult as everything was flashy and expensive, and buying something totally not-saucy was something I was bound to regret. I only had so many compensation credits so I had to spend them wisely. From the kid’s website, the outfit cost 90.000 compensation coins to process and materialize.
Unlike my disposable suits, these nightclothes were now a permanent addition to my life, tangible things I had a responsibility to look out for. There is a stigma with ‘things’ and ‘stuff’. In case you forget, there are plenty of signs and billboards reminding you not to take up space. These clothes would become valuables, things to tend to and treat, as most things bought by people, let alone tangible, were. New clothes meant an additional responsibility to sanitize them separately. This would ultimately make things a bit costlier for my monthly sanitation bill.
My Home-Constructo hummed and that smell it makes when it materializes junk was present, pungent like melting rubber. Without getting ahead of my spending, I settled for blue jeans and a button up gray shirt. For the shirt sleeves, I was offered customization; my options were that of corduroy, leather, or denim to which I selected the flashy denim to pair with the jeans. I hadn’t seen blue jeans since back in the Learning Halls. I recall many things I haven't seen in a while. Plenty of things fizzled out way back around then.
They literally appeared out of thin air. Someone said there's been a resurgence of non-artificial clothes. Long-lost fashions have been creeping back into certain societal demographics, most often with the youth. Good luck finding that waste. Silk or true cottons, whatever! Disposable suits for me I say. There's been a flip in interests all because of this phony manufacturing of identical, fake fabrics and cheap materials to make ‘real’ leather jackets and ‘authentic’ wool sweaters. My shirt sleeves appear denim and my briefs are supposedly cotton but really the material is all the same, printed synthetic plastics.
It cost me several compensation coins but I certainly could afford it. My job consulting people's life problems paid so stupendously well and was so stacked; I figured if I was gonna work such a saucy job, then it only made sense to treat myself to pleasures like fancy clothes. They weren’t silks or true cottons but the compensation coins I dropped marked the synthetic garb its own value and made me feel better. Where do kids get those ancient things anyway? I’ve never figured out the appeal. Why do people care for that old crap?
I had this idea but I had been keeping it to myself.
I recall someone once saying people used to have a desire for moving around to sounds. Like they animated them and their bodies became electrocuted by emitted frequencies. How strange, to control oneself in a fashion that puppets a beat. I wondered if anything like that happened in the nightlife. Where people were puppets to the sound.
I was dressed and the time was 20:20. Zam! Time flew by, I must’ve been admiring myself for too long again.
There was no doubt I felt jittery and bouncy. By now I was truly ecstatic. So much has happened to my life in the last month and a half. The time since graduation and career training had felt like a short sleep, and the treasures from the Time of Good finally presented themselves to me. I felt made. Twenty years and here I am, I’m finally made. My life is better and I’ve earned it.
On my way out I turned back around. I ran into my waste room (a space dedicated for sulking and the diminishing of self) and snagged a jelly orb. Disappointingly it was a non-flavored one so there was no point in licking it. I looked good and it was almost a perfect occasion - orb licked or not.
Outside our office building, Jerry was standing by a lamppost. The nuclear light belted his head, casting deep shadows around his eyes and nose. The pockets on his face were shadowy pools. You couldn't hide from his sunken features and empty eyes. He was wearing his work suit, tattered and overworn despite being intended for its 1-a-day use.
More soft buzzing of the nuclear lamppost surge murdered the silence of the night.
“Oh Jerry!” I called out.
The city block was desolate and my voice arrived to him like a loudspeaker. Jerry perked his head up and dropped his flat, loser frown. Who knew how long he’d been there waiting on me. I met him and he smiled at me funny.
“It’s 20:25. You’re five minutes early to meet me” Jerry shook his head. “I’m flattered, I really am Pedro.”
“Please.” I said. As precious as five minutes was, my eagerness was overstocked.
“My stars, my bright shining stars. Two bachelors, hitting the town like this. Zow-Wow!” Jerry cheered. We both began walking up the street, into the commercial district. Jerry kept yapping. “I can’t believe…well with a bigshot guy like you, you shoot for stuff like this. I suppose it makes some sense...” He said, bewildered that I was there with him. The smallest of lumps formed in my throat.
“Yeah, what fun.” I said. I had no idea what any of this was about. I was only keeping up appearances.
We walked more and more, further past the commercial blocks and into the business sector of the city. Nobody ventured out at night. Remember what I say: after work, people go home and stay home. If you went out to party then you did so and you minded your business during it. I have never gone out, that was true. I was gonna let Jerry lead the way.
Everything was much brighter at night believe it or not. My apartment’s artificial window steadily displayed a picture of the beach.
Neon lights scour the buildings and the sky’s colors go inverted, where only then do you adjust the ‘nighttime mode’ on your implant and the sky turns from yellow to black. At that point, when the sky turns black, you can see the sun and how big and vibrant it seems to increase every day. This is the only way to see it. The sun constantly shines, and with the moon accompanying it, a starless night sky becomes brighter than day.
Outside there's not a soul around, at least not a visible one. You may spot the movement of someone, another person creeping around, looking for the nightlife like yourself, but you’ll never see them. You’ll see a zipping shadow and you hear a trash can being knocked over and a door slammed but I quickly learned that I shouldn't expect anyone to say ‘hello’.
Nobody is interested in what you do after the working day and you shouldn't be interested in others either. It was rare for two guys, especially two guys who knew each other, to seek thrills under the shrouded company towers and intense lights.
We stopped before a gate wedged right between a conglomeration of identical office buildings. Behind the gate was a staircase descending down into a dark cellar.
“You don’t have any weapons on you?” Jerry asked me.
“Of course not.” I said. “I’d like to think you don’t either.”
He chuckled and pulled open the gate. I dusted my hands on my new jeans.
The night was getting warmer, as it usually does when people turn their furnaces on. Nuclear thermostats. Instant, consistent heating. Another remarkable invention that came about right around when they figured out fusion. I’m told that was in the year 2025. There's been plenty of time for the atmosphere to heat up.
The steps leading down wherever they were taking us were tall and jagged, leaving very little foot room to traverse. At the foot of the stairwell was a set of metallic double doors to the cellar. The first thing I noticed was that there were no handles on the doors. The second thing I noticed was Jerry wasn’t giving them a knock.
The two of us were waiting for something to happen but it seemed Jerry knew exactly what the procedure was. The uncanny silence carried onward. I played the waiting game with him, and finally long there was a muffled release of air and the double doors split apart in a dull, mechanical motion.
The cellar appeared to lead to a vacant nothingness. I’m suddenly startled as I feel great pain. The back of my head is throbbing for some unknown reason.
“Oh shoot! Pedro, I forgot to ask you, did you shut off your implant? There is a super, big ‘no-tech’ policy inside. I think you've crossed the barrier just now.” Jerry said.
It was like an open wire was being exposed to my brain. The pain was immense and I struggled to speak so I just looked at him with a struggled expression.
Without hesitating Jerry gave me a good thwack over the head.
The electrocution stopped and the pain went away. For the first time in my life, I was without my personal database. Only briefly did I feel naked and at-face stupid because honestly, nothing about life felt or looked all that different with it deactivated. Nothing was changed aside from the fact I couldn't watch the Simpsons or browse feeds conveniently from the corners of my peripheral.
I felt zigged. It was up to me to pocket the thought for now.
“Man! I turned mine off a while ago. Do ya feel funny?” Jerry asked.
“I’m fine.” I said.
The large doors behind us shifted shut and then there were three clicks to a lock. Jerry had gotten ahead of me down the dark corridor. I noticed the tunnel didn’t open up, but it felt smaller and smaller as I walked forward aimlessly down it. It was dark and I flailed my arms around to make sure I was moving in the right way.
“Jerry! I can’t see!” I yelled.
“All good! It’s right up here!” Jerry called from a serious distance away.
How could he see in this? I squinted my eyes hoping to maybe make him out. Suddenly, I was greeted by him. My face smashed into Jerry’s back and I tumbled backward hitting a side of the wall.
“Damn!” I cursed.
“Sorry! Boy whatta mouth! Are you ready?” Jerry said, helping me to my feet.
“Sure, yeah, let's go.” I said, my curiosity and all the bumping around was irritating me.
Jerry led again and somewhere in the dark was a doorway because suddenly we were led to a deeper room. I could tell by the air. It felt spacious and there was something unsettling about whatever was inside here. I could hear scuttling and chittering and whispering and laughing and sniffing. There was no way this was a party. I felt like I was about to be ripped to pieces and eaten by vicious beasts.
A flash of light knocked me on my behind. When I said the room was spacious I underestimated it.
This room was ginormous. The size of a legendary football stadium maybe. There was this clamor or honking, like a goose or a sound that someone might make in their sanitation chamber. A quick release of vanipaper shreds fell from the air and accumulated on the floor, then as the product does, they vanished in seconds. There were well over 5,000,000 lights in the place, decorating every surface, twinkling and skipping in colors.
Abruptly they all turned off and it fell dead silent again. It was strange and I was taken off guard as Jerry pulled me aside and continued walking me over in a direction. About twenty seconds later the lights and vanipaper shreds and the whining sounds happened all over again. It noticed it occurred every time another person entered this party. Again another twenty seconds later. Then again. Again. It was a celebration every twenty seconds as curious people entered this cellar’s chamber. Everyone was greeted the same.
Curious people might be my way of putting it. I realized there were lots of different characters down here. It wasn’t only oddballs like I had imagined. I realized it was mostly regular, daytime folk. There were even office people like Janice. I saw her as I was walking around in the brief flashes of light and repetitive performance, but I hesitated to greet her. I didn’t think she’d recognize me outside of her employee directory. But apparently, she did.
“Mr. Pedro! You’re looking quite saucy.” She said.
I hadn’t had an informal conversation with a woman like this since…
Oh me. Why me? Right now?
I’ve never spoken to a woman. Not even at work do I get to. I confide in my room, and answer the SeeMe’s which are strictly just men. There's another department for women.
Jerry was looking at me funny as I stood there speechless, though looking at me all the same as he always does: impressed. I was talking to a woman. Me. I was talking to a woman.
“Janice.” I didn’t know what else to say. Then the lights cut out right as we met eyes. There was an awkward pause of us standing two feet apart in the darkness. It gave me time to think of something else to say. I opened my mouth. “Nice 'batookus.”
Nice ‘batookus. Nice ‘batookus? Good God if I didn’t just blow that one. I think Jerry heard me because that inquisitive smile he always showed had grown tenfold. I turned red and scrambled away - far away from her.
“Oh my God.” I said, hunched over by a nearby incinerator. I wanted to put myself in it. Some guy walked by and dropped something on my head. It bounced off the moment it hit, and there was something also weird, something wet. It drizzled down my back, discoloring my sweet, new threads. “Hey!”
So far the night sucked and I wondered why I even bothered to be here. I couldn’t believe I said that to Janice. I touched the wet spot and then looked and saw Jerry was…drinking something?
“Why don't you get some beer?” He said.
“Beer?” I replied, finally realizing that people were drinking down here. Drinking, as in sipping and slurping. Not puffing and inhaling. I almost forgot that people once drank liquids like water and milk - but beer. You can buy sedative inhalants and tobacco and alcohol tabs, but liquid beer? How rare. I was suddenly excited again and got up to go drink.
The SWC had to ban drinking water and this was only taken into effect recently. It started with physical food years and years ago as a result of politicians fearing their meals had been poisoned. An initiative for farmers and food manufacturers began to start producing strictly for one sole distributor, someone who had already established a decent market presence. The funny thing is (and I would speak others when saying this) that nobody can figure out who makes the vape stuff. Grocery stores have one type of item; packets and packets of basic-labeled vape juices. Hawaii mash, ham, pineapple, and tomato flavor, I think. Italian, a package that I think could either be pizza or sausage-something. You can get whatever, 3% milk, or toast. The thing is nobody complains anymore. It's just sort of strange that nobody can figure out who makes the stuff.
Another reason for the ban, as crazy as it sounds, was because too many people were drowning themselves in their soup bowls and kitchen sinks. Fear ruled things, and if people couldn’t repopulate or bother raising a happy family, then what was the point of living. Of course that ‘rumor’ slipped into the public's grapevine. Nobody actually knew when the sun was gonna reach its kill zone, but there was an agreed idea that it was not in 5,000,000 years. The true amount of time left was up in the air and that scared people the most.
I was experiencing a culture shock. People were drinking liquids down here and there was nobody to stop them. Using the spotty visibility I had, I saw the people coming from the back of the room. Smuggled underground was a gigantic vat with a hose running from it. There was a bartender filling up these paper cups that didn’t disappear when finished with.
“I’m watching you.” He said. His face was hard, old, and his stack of paper cups slowly depleting with passer-byers.
“Sure guy.” I sneered and took a cup from his arrangement. I brought it to my mouth and hesitated to taste it. The beer foam touched my nose and a wet droplet ran down my face. It felt like a waste, so I caught the droplet with my tongue. After I finished the cup I went for another.
The bartender had no problem serving me more drinks. The cool liquid was running through my veins and it made my body feel alive. No vaporized-anything could compare to this. This stuff was the sauce. So far the best part of tonight had been hanging around the beer vat, drinking its liquid treasure, just like how it should be in the Time of Good. Why do anything else?
“Here we begin!” I heard Jerry yell from a crowd. I looked over at where he was, wondering what he was so excited about. He knew exactly what was going on and his facial expression was disturbing. His tongue protruded from his mouth, hanging out like a dog’s. His eyes were wide and focused on the center of the room.
Before I went back over to him, I noticed I had finished about eight or so drinks and I think the alcohol had finally caught up to me. I was experiencing a strange wizzy-feeling and my feet felt crooked. I couldn’t recall how long I had been drinking, but the effect of the alcohol was not immediate.
One of the most controversial bans on society took place half a century ago and it was the ban of alcohol, prohibiting intoxication to any degree. Well before the food-stuff and liquid ban, the SWC agreed to ban all consumption and sale of alcohol and drugs not because they say the beer is bad for your liver, but mainly because people could drink themselves to death if they wanted.
Beer and alcohol were also a main contributor to the birth crisis. Sex was fueled by drunken antics and once liquor was banned, it played a significant factor in the reduction of child births. Soon they just banned sex altogether.
As access to information continued to advance and our personal computers continuously upgraded, it was easy for anyone to catch wind of the doom that awaited as it was literally information being delivered into our heads. At the time, they had no plan to inform the world about the sun. Alcohol poisoning is a really easy way to go, and as news broke out about the sun getting closer and that there was nothing humanity could do about it, liquor sales skyrocketed tremendously. Most people sought the blissful escape of liquor as things were hopeless.
There were these parties being thrown where people came together to drink till they blacked out, and then some. It was a new era of crack dens, where the depressed disappeared to houses to get loaded and then to never return home. It became a worldwide problem as people were finding friends and family members dead in disgustingly drunken states. The SWC had to do something about it.
After the ban, and without access to any drug, everyone had to face reality. Alcoholics completely lost it, more people died, and to ease the situation, someone came up with this great idea to lie to everyone and push the idea that there were 5,000,000 years left.
I was completely obliterated.
The lights were cut and the room went dark, but this time it was just dark enough to see a little. For a second I thought it was just me but the audience reacted too. People were crowding around in a circle in the center of the room; many of them had the same sick look on their faces as Jerry did, darting their eyes around, sizing each other up.
As torn up as I was, I thought we were all playing a game. I hung near Jerry to see what the commotion was and admittedly to hide my loopy state. The drinks had excited me and I was embarrassed to show it to all these strangers.
There was a stir of excitement in the room. I scanned faces trying to figure out what we were going to do. Maybe this was the dancing part? I couldn't feel my legs because of the drinks and I was worried I couldn't dance. It was definitely the alcohol making me this way but right before I was about to ask Jerry what was actually going on here, there was this startling sound from above us.
It took a second take to realize that it was the sound of a bell’s toll. It sounded like the one above our office building, if not then identical to it. That bell rings every hour so that must mean it's 22:00 - maybe. I was blitzed and wasn’t sure what the fuck it meant. Listen to me, swearing can get you a life sentence in prison if someone takes offense to it.
My blurred vision focused on my surroundings as they were changing, and I noticed that everyone in the room had arranged themselves in a circle, Jerry and unconsciously myself too, with the center of the formation projecting a bright light with a checkered pattern. Underneath my invisible feet was a panel of light. Its luminescence grew brighter as the formation of people was made so effortlessly that it looked like natural habit for these people, and I felt like the only one oblivious to what was going on.
The drunkenness was creeping up on me and the initial buzz of the liquor had worn off, leaving me with my nervousness again. I didn’t like being the only guy in the room clueless to this…this…thing on the floor and this circle we’ve made. I don't like that Jerry knew more than me.
It was strange at first the lack of order this place had. The only person I could identify working down here, as I assumed nightlife careers were something that could be obtained in the Halls, was the weird bartender guy. Nobody aside from the horns and whines had greeted individuals at the door. Whatever was occurring down here was run by the people and enjoyed by those same people.
Then this new sound emerged and it soon encapsulated the entire room. The jingle-jangle noises from earlier were back, although these sounds were a tad different and they slowly erupted growing louder and louder. My ears were hurting but the noises kept rising in pitch. As the blaring leveled out it randomly stopped, leaving the room with an uncomfortable silence, with people and myself awaiting an unexpected return of the noise.
It returned without any warning and it scared me and I choked on my spit, thinking right then and there I was gonna die, but the sound, the sounds had returned in a playful, fast, sporadic composition that I had never in my life heard. The vibrations of whatever was being produced rattled my head and body, sending chills down my spine and making a warm sensation in my chest. A wide smile exploded across my face as the alcohol grabbed me and took charge. It was absolutely incredible what I was listening to. I had to make sure I wasn’t the only one in complete awe by the sounds from the room. I scanned the partygoers, spotting their faces and expressions of disbelief.
Their faces failed my expectations as most people looked more eager and nervous of each other. Not ten seconds ago I was the one sweating nuts, but these sounds, these beautiful noises I was hearing, blended and perfectly interlinked had overwhelmed me with joy. There wasn’t anyone who was reacting anywhere close as I was. There was composure and stillness from some, and sick, crazy looks from others. The crazy ones looked like Jerry.
Whatever was happening had begun, and as people swapped glances, one of the tiles lit up bright green. A green tint cascaded up along the pant legs of a man across the circle from me. His eyes perked up and he smiled. I smiled too and focused on the saucy background noises again. The man walked toward the center of the circle, standing within the range of the big, bright light.
Then, another tile lit up green, this time it was underneath a woman standing right next to me. My heart jumped for a moment as it was very close to me. I looked at her face and it was white as a ghost, and her forehead glistened like she was sweating. The feeble woman wobbled to the center of the circle to meet the man in the middle. The man waved shyly but the woman diverted her eyes from his. Nobody else in the circle said a word and we all let the two do whatever it was they were to do. She met him and his presence toward her. Even from where I was standing I could see her body was shaking, trembling and she was unable to look at the stranger in front of her. I could see his eyes were looking down, set on her, unmoving, and focused.
It was tense and I went back to listening to the noises some more, but they had fizzled out, and stopped. All of us had a clear view from our formation. There was a focus on the two in the center. I wasn’t sure what was next. I watched the man lift his hand gently toward her, but before it got to close, a vicious splatter of blood squirted out. He took his other hand and grabbed his bleeding palm, showing clear pain from the slash. His face on the other hand had changed from looking plain to looking depraved. The blood covered the side of the circle they were standing in and a shadow of a blood stain projected on the ceiling thanks to the lights in the floor.
Possibly this was the root of the woman's fear. Somewhere there was this invisible blade or something in the middle of them, and I couldn't see it. Was it coming from the ground, the roof? Was it a laser? I wondered where it was and the liquid in my stomach churned. The woman slowly opened her palm and raised it toward the man and just as expected more blood was spilled and the shadow on the ceiling grew in size. The woman yanked her hand back and whimpered looking at it.
I was stumped to figure out what they were doing. If I had the choice, I’d rather not cut myself, thank you. This was a strange game, if you could call it that. I looked at Jerry and he seemed into it.
Without another moment's notice, my heart lurched again as I watched the man walk right through the apparent blade, but instead of being cut in half, nothing happened to him. It occurred to me that this invisible blade or whatever caused the cuts on their hands had disappeared for the moment being; and that for whatever reason they cut themselves, it had initiated the next thing to happen.
Who knew it was as simple as a handshake.
The man got toe to toe with the woman and grabbed her bleeding hand with his. I watched her face go blank, and I wondered if it was hurting her. It was brief but I could tell by his grip he was squeezing her hand hard. The blood dripped from their entanglement and then only a second later did they let go of each other. They both carefully stepped back, separating themselves and their bloodied hands. It was weird and strangely intimate.
First I looked at the man to see if he still had that crazy look in his eyes, but it was gone. He looked completely different now, with more of a frightened expression than one of satisfaction or anything like the moment before. The man looked at his ripped hand and his body before him. He touched his face with the mix of their blood, getting some into his mouth in the process. Realizing something, the man started screaming as loud as he could. The saucy noises I enjoyed from before returned in full effect but I didn’t even realize it over the man’s unsettling display.
That is when I noticed the next thing.
I looked over and the woman who was jittery and scared was carrying herself completely differently. She too was examining her body, but was touching it and fondling it, rubbing her delicate areas in an almost ‘bliss’. Without any regard for the hundred-something people in the room, the woman began violently touching herself, experimenting with her breasts and touching her legs. As the man was screaming for something, she was dissolving to the floor in ecstasy, and began doing despicable things to her body, things I could never, in my whole life imagine. She stripped down to her skin, bearing everything on the bloody, checkered floor.
The man broke away from the circle into the dark, and the woman on the floor moaned and laughed at his manic fit. I was utterly shocked. Only a few people turned away, as did I. It was horrifying to witness something so bewildering happen so fast. My brain had never seen the naked body of a woman before, well certainly not shown in a manner like this. My back was turned, my face was red and I don’t exactly know when exactly but the moaning had finished and the woman vanished from the room.
“He got what he wanted. “ A nearby voice said.
I finally turned around, and searched around to find her, but she had been removed from the cellar entirely, without a trace left behind. How fast the center of the floor emptied out; it was like I had imagined things, but it was undeniably what had happened did indeed happen. I could tell by the blood that was painting the floor
It made me want more beer, but I was frightened to move from my tile. Could I? What if my tile lights up next? I almost needed the beer. I wanted to dull this picture in my head of the woman sprawled out on the ground. Everything felt disoriented. I thought about what could happen to me.
There was an empty spot next to me and on my other side was Jerry, who I don't believe had turned around or seemed particularly bothered by the previous display. His battered face was just as bright as before, and he was fidgeting with his hands. The cellar fell silent again and someone else's tile lit up green.
It was another woman, short and wide, this time a little less concerned-looking. She had a straight look on her face and her shoulders were pinned back in a confident manner. She boldly walked toward the center and without hesitation waved her hand across the center floor. As expected, blood gently seeped from her hand and sprinkled the ground. She did all this before a second tile even lit up.
A second tile lit up and it was beneath the feet of this other woman, though she looked far more eccentric and interesting looking. I had thought my denim jeans and gray shirt were something but this woman must’ve been made of compensation coins. She was wearing sparkling sunglasses (indoors), and her hair was one, tall spike, decorated with rings and stuffed with crystals. Her fingernails were long and winding. She curled her petite lips into a pursed pucker and tiptoed her way to the center floor. She smiled at the other woman in front of her, her teeth crooked and yellow, likely from heavy tobacco use. The dainty lady gently moved her finger forward and a tiny cut was made onto the tip of it. A little dribble of blood leaked from the finger.
Like she had been waiting forever, the stout woman stepped forward and snagged the hand of the fancy lady who was taking her sweet time. She locked it with hers and I watched both their faces zone out simultaneously, like they were locked in some sort of trance. Like before, it was only a couple of hand-holding seconds before the two made any other moves or showed life behind their eyes again. The exciting sounds returned in celebration of whatever they did, and thank God, unlike before, nothing bizarre resulted.
The peculiar-looking woman just pursed her wrinkled lips to smile her wicked smile, and she hobbled away from the circle. She disappeared into the darkness of the room, where maybe, I feared, those others were. The other stout women frowned and left the ring the opposite way, seemingly unfazed and in the exact same manner, except this time looking a bit more defeated and now sporting a new lucky scar.
More empty spaces started sprouting up around the ring.
As time went on the blood on the floor accumulated into a decent pool. The process at which people were selected continued at the same speed it did earlier and it would be not long before I was chosen.
It had been hours, but never did I make any sense of what we were really doing. There was never an explanation and from all I knew I had lied to Jerry the whole time. I didn’t like the blood, and the nudity made me think of being naked in my office, but for now, all I could do was continue to float through this insane experience, maybe take something away from this, and later hang up my sweet garb and move on with my life. The beer was choice but everything else down here wasn't for me.
It felt like an entirety of standing. I felt full, and tired, and wanted to leave this strange place more than anything else. There might be a chance I could just walk out of the circle if I wanted to, but I noticed nobody else was or had. My curiosity got the best of me, so I decided to wait it out and go along like everyone else. A lot of people had already being selected and most of the time it went smoothly. Only on occasion did someone have a poor reaction or go ‘nanner’s like earlier. This was strange, and overall uncomfortable as the blood of strangers had mixed thoroughly onto the checkered floor. From where I was standing, I was still trying to locate whatever it was doing the slicing. The viscosity of the blood was really making me sick.
The next tile to light up was beneath Jerry.
“Score!” He exclaimed, clutching his fist and pulling it down to his waist. Then he said something to me before taking off to the middle, “God I hope it's you Pedro.”
Jerry took the middle with pride, sloshing blood along the floor with each step. He stopped and patiently waited for what he was sure to be my selection next. He kept his eyes on me and it made me feel extremely uncomfortable. He was sizing me up with a far different look than he’d ever had. He has this assured look, unlike he ever does during our casual luncheons or brief encounters on the way to work. Jerry was looking at me as if I was a piece of meat, a delicacy of a thing that man hasn’t been able to enjoy since well before the cow went extinct. It was like he knew my tile would be selected next.
My luck. I wasn’t selected. If I was I wouldn’t have entered the ring anyway.
Instead, it was Janice’s tile. The green light reflected off her white gown, a beautiful thing that looking back on should've been the first thing I mentioned to her, a clear conversational piece. Even though it wasn’t me, Jerry’s eyes shifted from mine to Janice’s. Seeing it was her, the same woman we were talking about earlier, his eyes returned back to mine and he wiggled his unibrow with sick glee. I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction was gonna come from Janice or Jerry. What the Hell do you have planned here? What are you gonna do?
I realized for some reason Jerry had all the control. I felt this strange anger. Whatever you do Jerry, you leave that woman alone. From my understanding, Jerry was a normal guy, a bit odd but regular. He had a clear alternative agenda and though it wasn’t me, he didn't look too upset about it.
Janice approached the center casually and gently smiled at Jerry. She had confidence in the matter. I watched as Jerry raised his scarred hand forward, gently cutting his hand and shaking off the excess blood from it.
Janice did the same except she pulled her wrist back and instead ‘fell’ headfirst into the invisible blade. It appeared she ‘missed’ her hand and slit her throat. She profusely bled out from her neck, showcasing a fit before falling down, and killing herself within seconds. Blood spattered Jerry and he threw his arms down.
“Dammit!” Jerry called out.
He bowed his head, defeated, seemingly no longer interested in me or whatever it was we were doing. He turned and walked away from the circle, into the dark, and that was the last time I ever interacted him again.
There wasn’t anyone to come and remove Janice’s body from the floor. She laid face down in the pool of blood, neck gouged open, with wet strands of hair reaching out in all sorts of directions. I only knew of her a little but I couldn't help but feel sad. Yet I had barely known her, she was right here, dead before me. I watched her die. I felt unbelievably slighted by life, and I didn’t care if any of these people saw me with tears strewn down my face. It’s the alcohol, I’d say.
It had gotten to the point where you couldn't make out the lining and bright lights of the floor. There was no drain for the blood to go anywhere, no cleaning worker to sop up the mess, and nobody was willing to move poor Janice from the center floor.
Several more people were selected and proceeded with their turns as if her body wasn’t laying there.
I had been experiencing a total blackout from the beer and just when I thought I had endured long enough, it was my turn.
I had completely spaced out after Janice. I was barely able to make out the flickering green light through the blood. Robotic, I drunkenly approached the center floor, where Janice was, fearing my legs would give out halfway and I would slip forward into the blade and suffer a fate just the same. It was a lot to deal with and my brain was running on autopilot.
You could look at it two ways: a terrible slipup has happened, or Janice intended on going out the way she did. In a world that's been baby-proofed and where any ‘way’ or ‘choice’ in the matter is stripped from the people, most people would secretly agree in a world that's experienced one too many setbacks, death today, as soon as a person can get it, is better than an inevitable melting. That was a very probable reason for Janice’s actions. I never understood such a perspective, but of course I wasn’t gonna do anything of the sort.
I wiped the wetness from under my eyes. I couldn’t understand how these feelings could be so commonly shared. Ever since that SeeMe with the deranged man, I couldn’t help but question all these evil things and secret happenings that happen behind the scenes; it was obvious that whatever it was we were doing was ruled out of fear and something worse. The side of my head where my personal implant had been thwacked was still throbbing from the extreme electrocution and the numerous drinks I had only amplified the pounding feeling.
“Get a grip. Let’s go home.” I said out loud to whoever cared to listen to me.
Even as I was up close to the center circle, I couldn't see the edge of any blade, nor could I hear of anything being there. In fact, it was like the thing didn't even exist and that a magical force was cutting people up, or in Janice’s case, cutting her down.
I stood waiting for what felt like an eternity for someone else’s tile to light up.
Finally there it was. There was a bright green spot beneath the feet of the nightclub's bartender, the one feeding me drinks earlier. I didn’t even notice him in the circle. His face was passive and flat, and when the square lit up his expression remained unchanged. With his shoe he smeared around some blood on the floor to get a better look at the tile. There was no light behind his eyes and you could tell his head hung lower than his heart.
He looked at me and wasted no time approaching the center.
Before I was even able to slice my own hand, he went ahead and cut his first. I watched him graze his beaten palm in the space between us. There was no sound except the ripping of his skin. You could hear the skin tearing and the blood rushing out, the darkness gently trickling out to the floor, creating little ripples in the red puddles.
His eyes met mine and he moved his hand forward to usher on whatever it was we were doing. He put his hand right through where I thought the blade was and nothing happened to it. He looked at me funny.
“I’ve already been cut. I’ve committed to the game.” The bartender said. “Let’s go pal.”
A game. I forgot this was all a game. I suppose it never occurred to me that we were all playing around. Having fun. I couldn't remember when or what or how this all started, but now it was my turn to play. I can’t imagine what this game could mean for the two of us, or what it meant for the woman who stripped down or Janice whose throat was slit and was still lying face down in the blood of a hundred strangers. This game that we were playing wasn't fun and as the alcohol buzz finally seemed to peak, I realized I was not going to be able to leave from here unless I cut my hand.
I think I was scared to get cut.
Sick of waiting on me, someone who surely knew the rules, the bartender took my arm and pulled my hand toward the apparent blade. I yielded backward, pulling, slipping, and watched as the top of my knuckles were shaved clean off.
My blood squirted out the top of my hand like I had never seen before, literally. It shot around the circle, spraying into areas of the bloody ring. It covered an older woman and she began laughing. The pain was unbearable, far worse than my head had been hurting.
“You fool!” I yelled out.
“Now we’ll get on playing. You’re wasting everyone else's time.” He said.
I clutched my gushing hand, and my adrenaline was raging. The abundance of alcohol finally came to my support and I’m sure without its sedation, I would be fucked. I realized there was no point now. Whatever I got myself into was my own fault.
Most of these people left after their turn anyway. Janice took her own life, nobody else had died. I figured I’d be okay. Just grab his hand.
When I gripped his wet mitt I felt sure I was to lose my job for slacking off so long, but then I realized the sensation I was feeling wasn’t that of a SeeMe; but it was from whatever just happened when we made contact.
My mind and body were transported to another place that wasn’t the dark confinements of the cellar.
I no longer was surrounded by strangers' faces but instead, I was in a small room with just me and the bartender. As I looked around I noticed the walls and floors were padded with the same spongey material. There was no door or opening to leave. It was almost box-like but big enough for someone to jump. The bartender was several feet away from me.
“I ought to kill you for what you did!” I yelled, showing him my hand, blood was still pouring from it.
“Sure if you want.” He said, as calm as ever. “However you want to go about this. This is a game of pure power. Whoever can get the other person to submit to them, may take the life of that individual. In this case, kill me if you will. If I lose in a battle of strengths, the choice will be yours at that point.” The bartender said. “But just know. If I can get you to submit to me…”
The bartender studied me and looked at me slowly. “...Well I’d say I’d like your life boy.” The bartender said and balled his hands up.
“I don't get it!” I was honest. “This is all insane! What do you mean you get ‘my life’?”
“From whom did you receive word about this game? This place? Answer that. I served you drinks, didn’t I? How unlawful of you my friend. This is the game you play. This is what you do when you're down. When you're down you bet, you play. If you can, you take what you can get. You see, most people tap into their animal instincts here. A chance to get what you want with your hands, not predisposed roles in this world. Dog eat dog. Do you think I ever wanted to be a bartender? Look at you. Probably some big-time executive.” The bartender explained.
“I don't understand how fighting each other will solve any of those problems a person has, it’s nuts?” I said.
“But that's the game. The bell tolls. The commitment was the cut. The blood has been spilled. You see, you already agreed to the terms down here. Now, we will fight, and the winner, by death if necessary, will inherit the body and life of that person if they so wish. Sick, perverted men seek women’s bodies to touch and molest. The sick seek the healthy people. The poor seek the rich.”
“That's not right.” I said.
“Sure but it's fair. Understand that I will take everything of yours. I was never predisposed like you. I was never given a proper chance in the Learning Halls. I was raised in the lowest subregions of civilization. I grew up, gambled here, swapping other’s lives with mine, taking dozens of people to get where I am, here, as a lowly bartender, where I can be close to this treasure. I’ve waited and waited for someone naive like you and finally, I’ve lucked out in this game. I’ve paired with the bigshot! A pretty target you are. You are a pretty, pretty target.” The wrinkly bartender said, licking his lips and inching closer to me in our limited space.
There was no point in letting this guy talk any longer. I got it, and I realized what Jerry wanted now. It was all nonsense and whatever rules I had agreed to, whatever blood I had cast, I was gonna crush this guy anyway. I was young and he was old. I was also drunk as shit. I realized the padded walls didn't help me. If I were to take this guy out, I would need to beat him with my hands; fast and hard. I figured once I pinned him I’d pound information out of him.
Almost forgetting my feet, I bolted toward him to make the first move. He saw me coming and quickly braced my tackle. It was surprising how quickly he anticipated my attack and as old as he looked, he flipped me onto his back. The bartender put us both into the wall and we collided against the padding. It was a crazy way to hurt both of us at once. I scrambled away to my feet and got some distance. I realized that this older man had far more experience doing this than I had. His moves were dumb but crazy enough to seriously hurt.
The room felt so strangely familiar to a SeeMe. The air felt similar, the amount of room we had, and the way the one-on-one interaction was identical. This was the exact same setup as a SeeMe or at least mimicked the technology.
Then it occurred to me to try something out.
As hard as I could I chomped down on my tongue, suddenly causing me to whirlpool out from whatever padded realm I was in. My perspective flew past flashing lights and colors and soon enough returned back to my body in the center floor of the dark cellar.
Of course it worked.
I was still holding the bartender's bloody hand. I tossed it out of my grip and it fell limp to his side. It was like all the air had been returned to my body at once, and only after that did I realize that whatever just happened was in fact not a SeeMe, but some imitation creation fashioned by a malicious working of some scum of society.
Now that we were back to the real world, I made sure to punch the bartender in his scrawny gut well before he realized we’d returned back. I had never punched anyone before and it felt good. It felt good to be me, a LiveLife Solutions Expert with no thrills, love life, or a reason to live - and not to be anyone else.
It was a sucker punch but I didn’t care - these people were all suckers anyway. So was I.
Her body was still lying there. The dress beautifully dotted pink and red like arrangements of roses. I thought about flowers and the last time I saw one.
It was over and I left the wicked place.
The sun had risen when I climbed the staircase of the cellar. The sun blinded me. It was daytime and I toggled my implant to adjust the brightness settings. In the light, I noticed that my grey shirt and blue jeans were completely soaked in blood. I was a walking corpse.
Venturing back home, I decided I was going to use my weekly ‘day off’ and spend the day recuperating. Maybe read a book.
I never returned back there or had any other taste of the nightlife. Jerry stopped eating lunch with me in my office. He became a face among faces. Janice’s job was replaced the following Monday.
The next year, the average daily temperatures from cities all over the globe were recorded 40 degrees warmer. There was also a record of suicides. I heard a story of someone snagging the SWC presidential seat by climbing lives. Climbing lives they call it.
