Revenge of the Gamer

“Good morning citizen Larry Smith,” the irritatingly cheerful voice cut through blissful sleep, hauling me up into the unfriendly halogens that suddenly flooded my room.  I blinked away the cobwebs and tried to focus on the smiling face staring down from the ceiling over my narrow plastisteel bed.

                “Your toxisity report detected a two percent increase in body fat.  A copy has been forwarded to the department of health and well being.  You have been assessed a fine of four hundred and twenty six thousand dollars,” the woman’s modular voice purred.  It didn’t quite match the artfully curled hair that spilled down her shoulders, or the sultry cast of her perfect sapphire eyes.  She wasn’t real of course.  Nothing that symettrical had ever existed naturally.

                “Your sleep cycle does not meet health department minimums,” the cheerful blonde continued.  God I hated her. “A sedative will be administered at 9:30 PM to ensure a proper night’s rest.”

                “Mute,” I growled even as the bed began to shift beneath me.  The soft plastic molded itself into an armchair, tossing me about like a ship in a storm.  I wondered briefly what it would be like to sleep in.  To ignore the alarm and doze until my body finally decided I was ready to get up.  The thought was as deliciously wicked as it was illegal. 

                Surveying my tiny apartment filled me with despair.  Living in an six foot cube was bad enough, but the faded plastic walls were paricularly depressing today.  I wish I had a window, not that I would see much except for neighboring buildings and a dirty sky.  At least it was better than the coffin I’d been assigned in D block when I’d first started working for SomeCompany several years back.  A lot of people had it worse than I did, I reminded myself.  Still I could at least dream about a better life.  If I worked hard enough someday I might be able to afford a one bedroom apartment, complete with it’s own kitchenette and bathroom. 

                “Coffee, setting one,” I ordered.  The LED on the front of the food center flashed green, but then turned an ugly scarlet.  Had my account been declined again?  I was sure I had a little money left.

                “Unable to comply,” the blond woman shimmered into existence on the wall next to the food center. “The department of health and well-being has placed you under dietary restriction.  Now preparing soymeal supplement.”

                The green light winked on and the food center emitted a pulsing hum.  The timer on the LED counted down from fifteen and a pleasant ding sounded when it hit zero.  The aroma of burnt plastic filled my little room, and I popped open the door with a sigh.  Soymeal tasted like cardboard and smelled like melted plastic.

                I removed the tiny styrofoam bowl and downed the soymeal in one fast gulp.  It was better to get it over with quickly.  The acrid taste made my eyes water, but I forced the disgusting mix down while silently wishing sugar were still legal.  I had fond memories of donuts and chocolate from my childhood.

                “Work begins in four minutes,” the blond’s too cheerful voice reminded me. “The health act of 2063 requires that you keep good hygeine.  A shower is mandatory.”

                I stepped into the far corner of the room with a sigh.  Twin plexiglass doors descended until I was boxed in, and a moment later lukewarm water began to fall from the nozel set in the ceiling.  It smelled like rusted metal and it left a faint oily feel on my skin.  I wondered for the billionth time what the point of requiring showers was if they couldn’t even give us clean water.

                 I frantically rubbed cleanser on my skin and hair, but about half way through the water abruptly stopped.  The plexiglass walls rolled back into the ceiling with a tortured whine, and I was left standing in the corner with half my body still covered in soap.  I took the a worn brown towel from the rack set into the wall and toweled off as best I could.

                “Please take your seat.  Work will begin in sixty seconds,” the annoying blonde ordered from her digital image on the wall. 

                If I owned anything to throw at her I would have.  Unfortunately the apartment was barren.  The appliances were set into the walls.  Once upon a time people had owned all sorts of knicknacks, decorations, books and other items that filled their homes.  Now just about everything was digital.  I vaguely remembered what it had been like to have possessions, but that was over fifty years ago when I’d been a child.

                I settled back into the foam which molded itself to my body.  It was comfortable enough, though it smelled faintly of sweat and less pleasant things.  I took several deep breaths as I prepared for immersion.  Within moments a black cable snaked from the head of the chair and plugged into a matching socket set just beneath my temple. 

                Blinding pain washed through me, but it was gone a split second later.  The newer models of the datajack suppressed surges, but I wasn’t able to afford anything that fancy.  Mine had been installed nearly two decades before as part of a contract with my employer.  I was still paying it off.

                Brilliant white light surrounded me, eventually resolving into a stunning city skyline that stretched into the distance.  A perfect sunset bathed impossibly tall skyscrapers with a rosy glow, and millions of figures flitted between them like swarms of fireflies.  It was breathtakingly beautiful, even if it was an image projected directly into my mind.

                I glanced between my feet at the cityscape thousands of feet below.  I’d done it enough times that the vertigo I’d once felt was a vague memory.  I willed myself towards a huge spire that stabbed into the sky several miles north.  It was emblazoned with a huge BP logo, the mark my employed had chosen to represent the hundreds of brands they controlled.

                The sky blurred around me as my consciousness was routed to the holding area just outside the the building.  There was a pause as I zoned into the new area.  I experienced a moment’s vertigo, and then I was stairing down at the BP building below me.  I zipped down towards it, experiencing a freedom I never could have in the real world.