Syndicate Dystopia – A Sci-Fi Short Story
I woke up to the sound of an advertisement. It played bracingly loud in my head, forcing me to pay attention to it. Begrudgingly, I got up out of bed and listened to the ad in its entirety. I had to give it my undivided attention. I knew from experience that it would scan my brain waves. Then, it would advertise on a loop if I didn’t give it my undivided attention. It was, of course, disconcerting. Still, I wasn’t the only way companies watched us and gathered data. Large corporations monitored anyone with a smartphone, a smart fridge, a smart toaster, or any of the hundreds of other smart appliances.
Our brain implants were just a logical extension.
It was something you had to get used to: “Welcome to the world of Big data.” “The future is now.” “Corporations bringing you a brighter world.” You know, all that BS.
Still, life wasn’t that bad. We weren’t in a cyber dystopia. At least, it didn’t feel like one. And even if it was, what did it matter to the everyman walking down the street?
Well, that everyman was me one evening. I was hungry and was looking for a place to eat.
As I walked, my stomach growling ever louder, I was inundated with thousands of different things that all vied for my attention. My implant sensed my hunger and produced an unending stream of 5-star reviews on every restaurant I passed. It also showed me: places my friends ate, restaurants similar to ones I’d been to recently, restaurants it thought I would like.
I choose nearby O’Ronalds. Was it because my neuro-implant had displayed an advert for it that morning? Highly likely. But, even knowing this, I still decided to eat there. I may have disliked their form of advertising, but even I had to admit that it was effective.
I entered the O’Ronalds, and my implant immediately displayed every item on the menu, from the O’Dog to the O’Rib. These choices were more or less the same, O’Ronalds having pumped every last modicum of flavor out of their food long ago. And they had removed nutrition long before that – if it had even been there in the first place.
Even so, I bought the O’Steak, the most expensive item on the menu. There was still the social aspect. Of course, no one actually watched what I ate, but my every purchase was recorded and could be looked up by anyone. The last vestiges of privacy policy had long since vanished, ‘the future is now baby!’
When any purchase, every action, was recorded, it became necessary to keep up airs and appearances. You could never know who would look into your past – employers, dates, governments, companies, parents, friends, strangers. You could never know who would judge you.
That was what I told myself as I gazed down upon my unappetizing yet expensive meal.
All too quickly I was, not satisfied, not full, but done. I put the uneaten half of my O’Steak into the trash and left the O’Ronalds. I passed many people, all staring at their plates. They were all in their own worlds. It was so lonely, to be around people yet to be alone all the same. I took a deep breath as I exited the building, left the stale air, and went out into the open. There the air was fresh and cold and real.
And it was good.
“Clark!”
“Hey, Lucy.” It was my turn behind the bar that night. The job didn’t pay much, or at all. But, despite what the corporations thought, things weren’t always about money. “What do you want?”
“I’ll have the usual. I don’t trust whatever you’ve made.”
I laughed as I poured her a drink. The beverage consisted of some carbonated water along with some mint and sometimes a few strawberries. Good tasting ingredients were hard to come by corporations not wanting anyone to provide any form of competition. Most likely, they allowed our technically illegal bar because we only served drinks, and because they kept us happy.
And it did keep us happy.
I hummed while preparing the drinks, being careful not to mess anything up. This bar was everyone’s one reprieve from the burdens of everyday life. I didn’t want to taint anyone’s time here. So, I worked hard that night, feeling more fulfilled than I ever did at my desk job working for one of the corporations. Things were somewhat relaxing here. I had friends and company.
Eventually, the lights dimmed. I was grinning like an idiot as it happened. Around me, people were turning in their chairs, wondering if something had gone wrong. And then the movie started.
Now, the corporations weren’t all bad. Sure, most were corrupt. But you had to admit that some made good stuff. So, we rented one of their movies. (We had to rent a movie because a full access account was too expensive for any s to reasonably afford.)
Everyone enjoyed the movie. We laughed, we cried, and we were together. It was good. But, suddenly, a flash of blue light split across my vision. I felt an ear-splitting headache as if my head was being rent in two. Pain. Agony. Darkness.
I woke up by myself in my room. A not was on my table, saying that someone had taken me back to my small apartment and that the medic couldn’t find out what was wrong. I sighed. Hospital visits were much too expensive, also being part of a corporation. I’d have to figure it out myself.
Thankfully, the problem was relatively easy for me to see. No add had played when I woke up, so my implant must have glitched out. Most likely, my implant was broken.
“What are you doing at the cafe this early?” It was Lucy again.
“I need your help. Could we go to a back room together?”
A concerned look flashed across her face, “Of course.”
So we headed into one of the back rooms. “You got a good deal of tech-knowledge, right?”
“Yes,” Lucy said, shifting uncomfortably from side to side. “But what do you-“
“Good,” I turned, giving Lucy a good view of the circular black device on my neck that was my implant. Usually, people kept it hidden. The implants were one of the only personal things lift in the modern-day. They contained every little thing about you. “It’s broken. Can you fix it?”
Slowly, a series and determined expressions replaced her usual bubbly, if a bit awkward, demeanor.
So, she worked.
There were sparks and plashes and strange whirring sounds. But, every time I tried to crane my neck, she uttered the same phrase: “Hold still.”
She was meticulous in her work and didn’t dwell in small talk. So, I was surprised when she asked: “What model is this again?”
“Model?” I replied blankly.
A sigh. “When did you buy this.”
“Just under a year. It’s the second newest model?”
She froze. “Really?”‘
I nodded.
“Shoot, I need to get out of here.”
And then the beeping started.
I awoke in a dark room. Then the light flicked on, pointed right at my eyes, just like in an interrogation scene in an old cop movie. Despite my predicament, I chuckled. The corporations were in love with themselves and their style. It was absurd to the point of hilarity.
But I couldn’t continue my light tone for long. I was arrested, and corporation police were infamous for their high incarceration rate. “What am I in for?”
A voice came over the loudspeakers. “Clark Russel Kay, you are here for violating the terms and agreements of your neuro implant. It clearly states in section 31c that you are not allowed to fic, mod, or tamper with the implant in any way, shape, or form.”
“What is the punishment?”
I could almost hear the speaker grinning. “Whatever I want it to be.”
“And what do you want it to be?”
“Well, you could have a life in prison. Or-“
“Or?” I wouldn’t settle for life in prison.
“You’re data, all of it.”
I laughed. “You can have it! You already have most of it anyway.”
“Not all of your current data – or your future data. We want all possible data. So, we need to be able to influence your actions, to be able to get all the necessary data from a single source. We call this process ‘branding.’ I assume, that’s you’re choice.”
“Yes.”
My week had been hard and rough. I had done errands and tasks for various corporations, all of them grueling. But I was about to go back to the cafe. I was whistling while I walked, ready to let my troubles fade away. Then a voice rang in my ear.
“Turn left. We want to test something requiring your presence at block 28c level 19a.”
I sighed. This world was just a game to these people. It wasn’t pay to win – it was pay to play – and pay keep on playing. I was currently paying for the ability and dignity to stay alive and to breathe.
I drew in a sharp breath. The air was stale.
