Fiction, Prose, Cybernetics, Activism
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick. On went my bedroom clock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick. It was half seven. Hanging slightly askew on my overhead, the clock went. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick. For a room so stuffed with technology, the old fashioned instrument was out of place. Muted grey walls enclosed the four corners of my bedroom, gadgets and gizmos lining every inch of available space. Unblinking, crimson lightbulbs watched on as I rolled over, eyes blurring slightly as I tried to steal some final seconds of rest. It was no good. My body ignored my desire to return to hibernation. I guess it was time for me to start the day.
Right on cue, the silence was broken. Beep. Beep. Flashing on my watch was a single line of green text. ‘Version 7.0.’ Drate. It had happened again.
Untangling myself from a mess of chargers, I sat up, back pressed against the wall behind me. Eyelids whirring, I slowly readjusted. Dense air pressed against my cheeks as I slowly caught my breath. The nausea of it all wasn't something you got used to, no matter how many times you had to pull yourself back together. At least I'd been able to wake up on time— that was a first.
Beep. Beep. My thoughts were so enamouring that I had completely forgotten the sounds emanating from my wrist. In the instructions they'd suggested to change the ringtone to something really annoying. A week of listening to jazzy pop songs was about as much as I could handle before I set it back to default. Stretching my arms, I bopped the touchscreen ending the bleating alarm. Moments later, more text flashed onto the screen. ‘Download complete’.
Cogito ergo sum— I think therefore I am.
Why had Descartes come to mind of all people?
Nevermind. Time to get up.
Thud. Planting my feet onto the floor, I allowed my fingers to skate briefly over the duvet cover. Apart from the creases set heavily into the fabric, you couldn't tell that they'd ever been used. Around me machinery still buzzed and whirled, electronic little trinkets all haunting me with their flashing standby lights. Mounted to the wall, my flatscreen watched me. Black glass stared at me. Although it's speakers were silent, it was as if the imposing window to anywhere was trying to tell me something. Creepy. Breaking from my melancholy, I rose, joints grating against one another in anticipation for the new day. Thud, thud, thud. Door creaking, I exited the room.
Walking straight passed a collection of plates and utensils, I sat at the kitchen worktop. If it was not for the tablet sitting on the surface, the thick film of dust which coated the rest of the room would have long ago encroached into my favourite spot. Even still, my arm clunked against the marble as it attempted to sweep away the worst of the grime. Maybe I should have cleaned this place up a bit? Better yet, get someone to renovate the space and start from scratch. Rip out the oven and cupboards and there was probably enough space to fit in an entertainment centre. The couple down the hall had converted their old kitchen into a sauna, complete with massage beds. Now there was how to spend your evenings in style.
Stop getting distracted— plenty of time for that later. The tablet. That's what I was here for.
Deftly, delicately my fingers danced across the tempered plastic. Garish letters and numbers shone like tiny supernovas as I tapped away. Rat-a-tap-tap. Rat-a-tap-tap. Passwords were certainly getting a lot more complex. Wait… Bingo!
Swipe. The screen shifted, bringing up a list of names and places. Besides each, organised into neat chunks, were short descriptions. ‘Plane crash.’ ‘Heart attack.’ ‘Drowning.’ Eyes darting down the page, I scanned quickly for my own name. How did it happen this time? Something interesting would be nice. There was nothing more annoying than finding out a car hit you for the uptenth time. Seriously, would it kill me to just pay a little more attention when crossing the road.
Finally, I found what I was looking for. Noted next to my own name was a simple phrase. ‘Office fire.’ Typical. At some point everybody works themselves to death, but backing up was such a hassle that I hadn’t bothered in quite a while. Come to think about it, what even was the date? Surely I couldn’t have lost too many of my memories.
Dragging the top of the screen downwards, I confirmed my worst fears. Two weeks. That’s how much of my life I’d missed out on. Hopefully nothing important had happened. You always saw horror stories on the news from time to time, people whose deaths made them forget a promotion or their partner— nobody actually thought it could happen to them. With any luck the last fortnight had been nothing but boring meetings and online shopping. At worst, there were some boxsets that needed to be rewatched. At least that would save the hassle of having to find anything new to watch.
Beep. Beep. Glancing at my wrist, I caught a glimpse of a warning, of blinking red and orange. "Beep. Beep," the screeching siren droned on and on. It might as well just have yelled "time to go to work!"
Hastily, I sprang from my stool. Remember those old-fashioned jack-in-the-boxes with the cogs and handle that you twisted until the little toy bounced out. My body jolted exactly in that sort of artificial manner. As I staggered towards my front door on lead filled legs I couldn't help smiling at the irony. The longer I lived, the less I felt alive. That nicknack sat on Gran's mantle piece seemed more human than me nowadays.
Clunk. Slotting my key into the keyhole, I yanked at the chain for a moment, hands fumbling with the indifferent steel, before opening the door. Outside, reaching as far as the eye could see in either direction, were entrances exactly like mine. Cheap, white plastic laughed at me as florescent lighting flickered in and out of existence. Stale air brushed against my cold cheeks. As always, there was a hint of iron, a bouquet of earth metals that I could not seem to shake. Others, mostly middle-aged men and women covered in drab greys, already found themselves skuttling this way and that down the narrow passageway. One of them grabbed my attention. She smiled at me as she passed, a sweet greeting slipping through her lips. "Morning Joe."
Cogito ergo sum— I think therefore I am.
I am? They were?
It’s hard to tell anymore. After five other copies and one original, it was getting difficult to distinguish between selves. What happened to the first one again? Was that the bungee-jumping accident? No. The divorce had been finalized by then. The divorce… that was it. Perhaps some memories were better off being forgotten.
Sighing, I pulled the door wider and walked out into somebody else’s life. That was my fate as a copied man.