Dark Fiction: The Best Things in Life are Assigned
By Casey Douglass
The apartment door slid
shut with a grinding at the end of the motion. Maz always thought
that reality should live up to the old science fiction shows,
especially those doors that hissed closed. Her door grated, much like
her life. She smiled. It wasn’t her door any more. She swiped her
wrist implant across the sensor and heard the bolts slide into place.
They made a grinding noise. She rolled her eyes.
‘You’re going
through with it then Maz?’
Maz turned and smiled
at the bald-headed white-whiskered man. ‘Yeah. Nothing for me here
Juo.’
Juo rubbed his stubble
as he let his gaze slide to the floor.
She felt like an ass.
He was the closest she’d come to having a friend in this dump and
she couldn’t even say goodbye without ruining things. She moved
forward and gave him the briefest of hugs. When she backed away she
laughed at his expression. She doubted it would have looked much
different if someone had pulled a gun on him.
‘You hugged
someone!’he gasped.
‘I wanted you to know
I appreciate you.’
‘And now you’re
going to disappear...’
‘My timing was always
shitty!’
‘Always! But I
appreciate you too! I especially appreciate you breaking the habit of
a life time and actually showing some physical affection. That
must’ve been hard!’
‘Oh it was! I’m
sure I felt part of me die!’
Juo snorted as he
chuckled. ‘If by any chance you still remember me after, feel free
to visit.’
‘I will, but I don’t
think it’s possible that I'll remember.’
‘I don’t either.’
They looked at each
other, Juo with a quivering fuzzy lip, Maz with a mouth so tightly
closed that it looked like one thin line of magenta lipstick. ‘Bye
Juo.’
‘Bye Maz.’
She knew he watched her
as she left. Even once she’d hit the hubbub of the street, she
could feel his eyes on her back, no doubt standing at his dirty
window, his breath steaming the cold glass. She felt a tingling slide
from her heart and down into her stomach. She supposed it was sadness
but it always felt like she experienced her emotions second-hand,
once someone else had already put some mileage on them. She merged
into the throng of people.
An elbow dug into her
ribs, complimented by a hand that brushed past her backside. Her hand
flew to her pocket to check that everything was still locked up
tight. She relaxed a little on fingering the membrane. It was intact.
The membrane sucked at her finger, pinging her implant to see if she
wanted it to open. She almost turned to see who had tried their luck
but she stopped herself. There was no point, not in this crowd. She
remembered the day she’d bought this jacket, a nice brown leather
number with built in anti-theft technology. She moved her hand away
and clenched her fist, ready for the next arsehole who wanted to try
it.
God she hated these
fucking people! It was bad enough that they were stuck in such a shit
hole, but fucking each other over just made everything seem even more
miserable. She waded through the bodies like she was pushing through
meat in a slaughterhouse, wary of coming into contact with something
that would stain her soul. The stink was about the same too.
Within a block, the
feel of the neighbourhood changed. Her old apartment was in the
liminal zone between the slums and the area where people could afford
to eat, even if only the reconstituted protein that passed for haute
cuisine there. Street vendors cluttered the side walk with their
little metal carts, shimmering holograms fighting for her attention.
One offered implant unlocks, another the latest in cosmetic sex
splicing. Some were a little more obscure. She passed one that threw
up a cryptic sigil that only those in the know would be able to
decipher.
Maz didn’t look too closely, as some of the holograms
could hijack implants. She’d found that out to her cost a year ago
when she’d been taking photos of a new breed of advertising holo.
By the time she’d returned home, her accounts had been emptied and
she was locked out. It’d taken months to get it all sorted out and
even then, she never saw the money again. A cobra hologram hissed as
she swerved too close to an alleyway. A gang was probably doing a
shady tech deal in the shadows. She pulled up her collar and
quickened her pace. She didn’t need to think about that kind of
thing, not today.
A few more blocks
passed and the street detritus lessened. Walkways were wide and
clear, the shops looked more respectable, and the glaring colours of
poverty gave way to the pastel colours of wealth. Maz had
deliberately dressed down with this in mind, but she felt the magenta
lipstick scream on her face. Otherwise, her style was kind of half
and half. Her anti-theft jacket blended into russet jeans and sky
blue ProX-Social boots. Her brown hair sat lacklustre on the top of
her head, her freshly flattened mohawk doing a passable job of
looking like a secretarial bun. She half wondered if people might
think a rich banker had ordered a strippergram from the slums when
they caught sight of her. It was the best outfit she could manage.
Maz avoided looking at
the shops and buildings. Whereas before, it was for safety, now it
was to avoid envy and bitterness. There had been talk of some kind of
footpath toll in this area. It had never materialized but estimated
charges gave the impression that ninety percent of the city wouldn’t
be able to afford to walk here. She was sure it would be voted in at
some point. That kind of thing always happened eventually.
She entered an
inner-park space, tall trees and lush green grass jarring after the
urban build-up from poverty to privilege. The fuzz of sound dampeners
could just be heard in the now peaceful environment, the sounds of
the city scrubbed almost to zero by an algorithm that she’d helped
to develop. She realized they weren't adjusting for the particulate
threshold, that’s why the slight buzz was there. Maybe if they’d
paid her properly and not fired her once it was semi-stable, it would
be a better product. She felt the bitterness rising. It always made
her heart race before it gave way to that second-hand sadness
feeling. It didn’t matter. Not really. She’d only fallen into
that job and it was far more dull than she’d ever imagined a job
could be.
She moved to a bench
and let herself fall onto it. The wooden intelli-struts rippled and
flexed, absorbing the impact and cradling her body. The few other
people around her faded into ghostly silhouettes, the bench tech
syncing with her implants to give the illusion of peace and quiet.
She blew out a heavy breath of air in a sigh. This might be the last
time she ever walked this route. Hell, this would be the last time
she’d even be the same person, if what she’d read about
Assignment was true.
A blue-tit landed on a
fountain across the way, its chirps and bobbing motions drawing her
eye. It could be a real one. It could be a simulation. The water
rippled as it grabbed a beak full. Still not conclusive. She realized
her mind was doing that distraction thing. Assignment. That’s what
she had been thinking about. How it changed you. How it injected your
life with purpose when nothing else seemed to work.
She watched the bird,
both caring if it was real but also angry at herself that she also
didn't give a shit. Was this second-hand anger? It felt distant, but
also hers. God she hated feeling so fucked up. Would Assignment
really change that?
Neurobiology and
technology had advanced more than even the most optimistic researcher
could have predicted. Sure, there were some parts of the brain that
were still a hot mess of mystery, but others were mapped, analysed
and optimised long before most people alive today had even been born.
One grand discovery had been the location of the part of the brain
that dealt with the meaning of life, or at the least, its purpose.
This had led to various procedures that could “insert” a new
meaning into the brain, and have the brain accept it.
The government
had been quick to latch on to this advance, offering a free treatment
to people swamped by purposelessness. They were pretty much saying:
“If you don’t know what to do with your life, let us help you.
It’s the patriotic thing to do!” The catch was that you had to
accept the purpose that they assigned you. The enticement was that
they would give you a helping hand settling into your new life,
whether a new apartment, financial aid, or even being able to step
straight into a new job. The downside was the domino effect that
changed who you were as a person.
Early trials had left
subjects struggling with their new identity while they still lived
their old life. The disconnect was fatal more than half of the time.
Now, anyone wanting the procedure had to walk away from everything
and everyone that they had known, with some memory modification
sealing the deal.
The blue-tit glitched
and faded out of existence. Maz chuckled at the timing. She felt like
it was an apt image for where she might end up. The bird hadn’t
chosen to glitch and disappear. Maz wouldn't be able to choose her
new purpose. That was the preserve of the rich, paying customers.
People who didn't sit in parks trying to stretch out time, between
the now-now and the now-then.
She sighed as she stood
and walked on, the dusk beginning to fall, her new life quietly
calling.
The Assignment building
was both nondescript and intimidating at the same time. The front was
all glass, but the kind of holo-fed privacy glass that showed a fake
interior filtered through the surface. It was currently set to a
retro office display, women with bee-hive hair cuts walking past
type-writers and other archaic devices. Maz sniggered. Maybe the
government would actually improve efficiency if they really did go
back to the old ways. They couldn't be any more incompetent, and they
may even achieve the illusion of caring about people!
The revolving door
ushered her into a warm, fresh space, the orange and yellow of the
1960s giving way to sterile metal and bicubic glass décor. A woman
at a small podium greeted her, asking her the reason for her visit.
‘Assignment.’
‘Paid or
Complimentary?’
‘Complimentary.’
‘Take the elevator on
the right and head up to floor seven. You’ll be booked in and
assessed up there.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
The hologram faded out.
‘Shit! I genuinely
didn’t suspect that one!’ Maz muttered.
The ride up in the
elevator was over before it felt like it had even begun. The waiting
area outside was deserted. A woman beckoned her over to sit at the
desk before her.
‘Are you another
holo?’
The woman reached out
and shook Maz’s hand. ‘What do you think?’ she smiled.
‘Even that’s not
hard to fake!’
‘I know! Have you
seen the new quantum-fold holograms? They give me the creeps!’
Maz laughed. This woman
was alright.
‘I’m Miss Krey, and
you must be erm, Maz Stendle?’
‘Guilty.’
‘Please sit down Maz.
We have just a few more bits of information to enter into the system,
mainly your consent for the procedure and that you understand what
the pros and cons are.’
Maz sat. ‘I already
know all about it. I know it won’t be me that walks out of here
afterwards, and that I can’t choose which purpose I’m assigned.’
‘That’s right. Your
records show that you were assessed as capable of making this
decision yourself and that you are aware of all the issues. That’s
great! The final questions I need to ask are if you still feel happy
to proceed and why you feel the need to have this procedure?’
Maz blinked. ‘I’m
still happy to proceed. Why do you need to know why though?’
Miss Krey leaned
forward and lowered her voice. ‘I’m sorry, it was my own
curiosity. Your records show you to be quite exceptional in a number
of metrics, I’m a little flabbergasted that someone like you would
roll the dice and risk ending up as some kind of menial work wage
slave, wading through excrement in the sewer or something.’
Maz nodded and looked
down at her hands in her lap. She took a deep breath and released it
slowly. ‘I just don’t feel my life is worth living. I have almost
zero money, no real friends and no prospect of improving things. I
lost the best job I had when they had no further use for me and I
can’t even break into many industries because of the flood of A.I
workers. I’ve lost the will to fight for myself. I find myself
looking at things and wondering why it’s worth the effort to carry
on. Then I see people who’ve been Assigned, doing the shittiest
jobs around, but smiling as they do them! I figured that if I can’t
find my own purpose or meaning, why not be assigned one that my mind
will accept and that will see me set on a happier path. If that makes
sense.’
‘It does. It makes me
sad to hear you say it but I can understand. Better to try this than
end up a suicide or a junky I guess.’
‘I just want to find
a purpose, something to get me through the day. I don’t care if
that happiness comes from ignorance.’
Miss Krey nodded.
‘Look, I’m not supposed to, but I'll make sure you get a bigger
head-start after the procedure. We have a few redundancies in the
system that often get lost in the database. I can’t tell you which
purpose you will be assigned, but I can bump you from a grade one to
a grade two support package. It could be the difference between a
food subsidy and a new place to live.’
Maz’s mouth fell
open. ‘Why would you do that for me? That’s so kind!’
‘My purpose is to
help people. I feel that it would help you, so I’m going to do it.’
‘You were Assigned?’
‘No. I found my
purpose the old fashioned way.’
‘How? What’s it
like? Are you happy?’
‘It’s good, most of
the time. And yes, I am happy, again, most of the time. Everything
has its ups and downs. As to how, I guess I would say that I
struggled for the longest time too, trying to figure out what I
wanted. I tried following my passion, which is such a hackneyed
phrase. That didn’t work, so I followed my disgust and then made a
U-turn.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I guess I mean I
didn’t make much progress in chasing the stuff I was already drawn
to, so I looked at what disgusted me and which actions I could take
to counteract the thing that was so disgusting. In my case, that was
poverty and inequality, which in a winding manner leads to me sitting
here with you this evening.’
‘You agree with the
government using people in this way?’
‘Not fully no, which
is why I do what I can to give people a small boost in prospects when
the opportunity arises. I’ve seen Assigned people make fantastic
things of their lives though, and they do seem to be generally
happier. I don’t know. I just have misgivings. I’d guess you do
too.’
‘Yeah, but I also
feel it’s my only hope right now.’
‘I can understand
that.’
Maz nodded, finding her
mind empty of anything more to say. She felt a rising sensation in
her chest; she didn’t know if it was an emotion or indigestion. She
sniffed. ‘I don’t really have much else to say.’
‘It’s okay. It
seems that we have reached the crucial moment. Are you ready to go
through to the operating pod?’
‘Yes.’
Miss Krey smiled and
took her hand across the desk. ‘Let’s get you into your new life
Maz.’
THE END
