Pump

by Gary Denne

  However, despite mass-market consumerism being relegated to history, in the years that followed, technology had progressed at a slow, steady pace, as it had done since the industrialized world. It’s focus, however, shifted from creature comforts, personal gadgets, and entertainment devices towards more essential equipment and tools required to adapt to the changing world. As Artificial Intelligence neared perfection, having reached the stage of complex decision-making, jobs for man became increasingly scarce. Computers and robotics reached a level of functionality that required little to no human intervention, and over three quarters of the population found themselves irrevocably dependent on government aid. This was, however, simply another domino to fall. Sadly, in this new-world economy, many countries collapsed under the weight of their financial obligations. Governments of the world were bankrupted by their debts and crippled by the skyrocketing costs of social programs and infrastructure for a population out of control. The United States, in particular, had long since cancelled assistance programs such as health care, food stamps and social security to its citizens, while most other countries around the globe found themselves in similar predicaments. From that moment forward, nations retreated into their own borders and each was left to their own devices. In the United States, it was every man for himself. And this is what created the unrest. The disintegration of society. The rumblings of anarchy. Class wars quickly broke out across the nation. As hard as it was to witness, many parts of the United States became war zones.

  The lifestyle man had long been accustomed to, a lifestyle that had slowly begun to erode in the first decade of the 21st century, had now vanished. The creature comforts that masses once took for granted were gone forever. Conflict and rage became common. Over money. Over water. Food. Housing. On the streets of many cities, there was an ever-growing sense of lawlessness. Apart from the most heinous, crimes were overlooked by skeleton police departments, no longer capable of controlling an angry population. Life was no longer shopping, eating out, and entertainment. It was survival. Shopping malls had become shelters for the poor and homeless. No longer were there flagship retail stores selling $500 pairs of jeans or $2500 handbags. Gone. Done. The unprecedented mass-consumerism of the 90s and 00s would no doubt be looked back on by future generations with great contempt.

  Needless to say, citizens had some difficulty adjusting to this new world order. The chain reaction of events was almost unfathomable to a soul who had lived in the decades previous. Many aspects of life had become harsh realities. It was no longer practical or even possible to spend thousands of dollars on the sick and dying. Medications had become scarce. Many emergency wards were shut down. Hospitals could not cope. Patients were left to die. The few pharmaceutical companies still left standing after the financial collapse had turned their focus solely towards those medicines essential for day-to-day living. Drugs for survival. Food supplements, powerful vitamins, and drugs to numb the shock of the times. In fact, this shock, or New World Syndrome, had already caused millions—no, tens of millions—to opt-out and end their own lives. Euthanasia was not only approved by governments world-wide, but drugs were freely supplied for individuals—and entire families—who wished to end their lives with dignity. Peace, known for its powerful and potentially fatal calming ability, was one of three designer drugs that had become commonplace. The U.S. government’s ability or even desire to pursue a war on any type of drug was history the instant they became the one thing keeping the population under a medicated and calmed state of being. In fact, it was the one program the U.S. government still administered; dispensing drugs to millions of souls who could not face the world without the euphoric high of a drug named Bliss. Since the U.S. border had closed and global trade shut down, drugs of the past … the heroins, the cocaines … had lost favor as supplies dwindled away until they were a rarity. Even cannabis was too costly to be grown when advanced designer drugs were readily available and provided a safe and greater high than ever imagined possible. Now, the world knew of only three drugs in wide distribution; Pump, Bliss, and Peace. Developed by the pharmaceutical arm of Maddox, each drug had been carefully crafted to deliver powerful, yet safe effects and was openly marketed to consumers much in the same way as cologne or personal products. Pump, an ink blue in color, was in essence brain food. A drug that opened up its user to greatly increased mental capacity, problem solving, and confidence beyond imagination.

  As Los Angeles lay in ruin with little hope of ever being rebuilt, other cities also crumbled, having been abandoned and left to turn into concrete and urban wastelands. Across the country, Detroit, Cleveland and St. Louis, among several others, lay in silence, idle and decomposing, allowing nature to slowly reclaim the streets back from man. There were only several pockets of population in the nation now; The West Coast, Texas, Florida, the Pacific Northwest, and New York. In between these mass centers fast became a lost world of deserted cities, decaying strip malls, and abandoned, suburban homes. Outside of the built-up population pockets, the nation was no longer a safe place to roam.

  Arguably, the most fascinating of change brought about by this new world order happened on the island of Manhattan. New York City had become a place for the rich to exclusively shelter the storm. It was not an exaggeration to state that most, if not all of the world’s wealthiest people now lived on the small slither of land surrounded by the East and Hudson Rivers. The seawall that had been erected around the entire island over a decade ago had since been extended to its full height of over 150 feet, not to mention modified to become fully electrified, with the ability to incapacitate a soul attempting escape or entry. This kind of security quickly turned Manhattan into a fortress—a self-sustaining city, removed and protected from the ever-increasing chaos outside.

  Leased from the U.S. government for an undisclosed sum several years earlier, Manhattan Island was run by none other than the Maddox Group, who had easily won the bid for what was a vastly complex and highly controversial deal—unthinkable in decades past. Interestingly, it had been the one transaction that saved the United States from complete and utter ruin. If the tiny piece of land once known as the ‘Capital of the World’ had to be leased to a corporation in order to save the country from complete collapse then, ‘so be it,’ was the view of many commentators at the time. Thus, the island of Manhattan from that moment forward became private property, to be run as a commercial enterprise and world headquarters by Maddox Group and its subsidiaries.

  While it was inevitable that Manhattan saw many of the same changes as the rest of the planet, it was one of the last cities on Earth that was able to preserve aspects of life and appearance from previous decades past. One walking the streets of Manhattan would be quite oblivious to the outside world. There was still a thriving goods and services sector. Nightlife was one of the most exciting and sought-after experiences on the island. Central Park was as beautiful and peaceful as ever. Food selection and quality was still considered excellent. Compared to the rest of the country, it truly was a lost paradise. Birds still sang, children still played, and crime was virtually nonexistent. It was like the city had been cast back in time, to perhaps a 1950s or 60s mindset. A place most outsiders would never see, hear, smell or touch again.

  Aside from the vast wealth required to pay for Manhattan’s life of privilege, there existed a way a normal citizen could taste this world and call it home. This method had become known as ‘The Lottery’.

  As Manhattan grew in size, so too did its resource requirements, and as a result, a program was created by Maddox Group and launched on a trial basis as a U.S. government-sanctioned commercial enterprise. From the outset, it was not without controversy across the country and entire globe for that matter, but most voices of reason had long since disappeared when the new world landed upon us all. The morals and standards upon which we held life in decades previous no longer applied in these strange and modern times.

  Aimed at giving citizens the chance to live on the privately run island, at first
glance, this lottery sounded too good to be true. Housing, healthcare, food and beverages … even a modest monetary allowance, all provided to the individual in return for their services. Whilst the program consisted of several different objectives, its main goal was to provide the ongoing supply of human resources to Manhattan to be deployed in the many number of required positions. Depending on an applicant’s skill set, one might be assigned to work on city infrastructure and services that machines could not yet manage. Other ‘entrants’, as they came to be known, might fall into pharmaceutical testing, hospitality, security, janitorial, or simply to live on the island and produce children. A lottery winner would be able to enjoy a standard of living that billions around the planet could only dream about. It was not, however, without a catch.

  A project called PUMP, named after the drug of the same name but expressed in capitalization, was introduced as a subsequent offshoot to the lottery, perhaps the most alarming of fine print an entrant would have to agree to. PUMP was introduced to a select group of residents as ‘Entertainment for the New World … for the modern man … bringing pleasure, excitement and satisfaction like never before’. Simply put, it was a game reserved for the world’s richest gentlemen providing a legal, government-sanctioned experience to hunt and kill a human participant in cold blood. And even more enticing to some was the fact that this ‘kill for thrill’ game did not take place in a virtual-reality world, a stadium, or warehouse. No, the playing field of this game was the entire island of Manhattan, on the streets, right in the thick of daily life.

  Upon being selected in a random monthly draw run by Maddox, a lottery winner would be rigorously processed, interviewed, and undergo a series of tests and procedures, one being the implantation of a microchip known as a MET chip (Maddox Embedded Tag) before being free to begin a life in the city as an entrant. Despite the PUMP program’s potentially lethal price, entrants were assured that most likely, they would happily live in Manhattan for many years, and any possibility they might be selected to take part in a game would be slim, given the high population of entrants on the island. To most, this became an acceptable risk when weighed up against the quality of life that could be achieved there—a city of several million souls and growing.

  If, however, an entrant’s MET was randomly selected by Maddox to become a game participant … well, needless to say, it was most certainly their unlucky day. The rules were simple. If one entered Manhattan as an entrant, they could be chosen for participation in the game at any time. Their wits would be their only defense. Even Maddox-run security, the extremely capable but largely unnecessary force in the city, would not help a participant. Residents knew to look the other way. No sirens would sound, and no good guys would come. No one would answer their pleas. Once an entrant’s MET chip was activated, it was simply the price they would pay for their life of comfort, however long or short it had been.

  In the year the PUMP project became active, a total of seven games had taken place, all ending in the removal of an entrant. Public reaction was lukewarm, despite a widespread informational campaign by Maddox, explaining every aspect of the program and the ‘changing morals of the new world.’ No participants survived, and in particular, the first two games had been both messy and shocking. There had been teething problems.

  For a PUMP participant, there were two ways they could avoid their fate. One was to become the hunter and eliminate the player, thus turning the tables on the game. The other was the almost impossible task of escape. Difficult to accomplish due to the fact that a participant would not be aware they had been ‘activated’ to participate until it was most likely too late. There would be no warning until gunshots had already rung out, their blood already spilt. Not to mention, despite long being rumored in the bars and clubs of the Underworld district, no obvious ways off the island had yet been uncovered by the entrant population. The bridges and tunnels that once connected Manhattan to the neighboring boroughs had long been sealed and shut down, all highly electrified and a definite no-go boundary. Besides, the sad reality was that most souls, once they experienced the comforts and pleasures the city offered, would probably choose to accept their destiny over an escape back to the harsh and ugly landscape that had become the outside world anyway…

  Board Room

  On the 77th floor of the Maddox Park Central, a group of executives sat patiently in a plush boardroom with a ceiling-to-floor wall of glass offering sweeping views over Central Park. Dressed in suits of various shades of gray, they sat back in oversized leather chairs, four to a side, at an impressive conference table, stretching a good length of the room. The men wore shirts and neckties, the women, suit-pants and blazers. Each executive looked sharp and at the top of their game. The men were young, confident and well-groomed. The women had an understated glamour that in any business environment would be a dangerous distraction to any red-blooded male. It was not often such grooming and tailored fashions were seen in these modern times. For a long time now, fashion had taken a backseat and placed in the same pigeonhole as several other over-indulgent industries of previous decades.

  “So ... did anyone see the tape?” one of them said discreetly.

  “I heard it was awesome,” a man gushed back.

  One of the women warned, “If Sheppard finds out you’re watching those, he’s gonna have your balls.”

  “Trust you to be thinking about my balls at a time like this, Jen,” the executive said back with amusement.

  “Hey, it’s your funeral,” replied another of the females. “Besides, how the hell do you watch something like that and not feel anything?”

  “I know I felt something,” an executive interjected with a sly smile. “Did you see the ass on her? Those black tights? Damn … what a waste.”

  “David!” one of the women snapped, slapping him softly on the arm to get his attention. “Show some respect…”

  The door to the boardroom suddenly crashed open. A sharply dressed man walked in, no time to waste. He had short brown hair, crows-feet wrinkles, and bags under his heavy eyes. He glanced out the windows to a polluted grey sky before looking back to the beautiful wood panels and recessed lighting, bringing such a contrasting warmth to the bleak outdoors. The casual banter amongst the young execs stopped and they all looked down at their Quartz devices to appear busy. Using their fingers, they clicked and scrolled, reading messages and memos on the tablet, or at least, pretending to. Some discreetly straightened their posture. One poured a glass of water from a carafe; a common thing to do if it wasn’t for the fact that clean, crystal-clear water was a luxury few on earth could now afford.

  “How we all doin’?” Shepard blurted out as he dropped himself into the head chair and grabbed a Quartz from the table. He lent back, allowing the chair to support his weight, going through messages on the tablet as if precious seconds were being wasted while he waited for his team to get themselves ready. He wiped his finger across the screen like he was wiping away a series of smudges. He looked up, unimpressed by what he read, and dropped the Quartz onto the table, now impatient.

  “Alright … go.”

  One of the slick young hotshots took the lead and started a pitch with enthusiasm and vigor. “We need to do a better job at convincing people this is entertainment. It’s always going to be our biggest roadblock in taking this thing to the next level. We still have that perception problem out there, despite everything the world’s seen these past few years,” he said. “The question is, ‘How do you convince someone that taking a life is not really that bad?’”

  “I think what Andrew’s trying to say,” one of the women explained, “is we have to emphasize to both the client and to potential viewers that a lottery winner accepts it as part of the deal. I mean, look at the players so far, they each had at least five years of quality living that would’ve been impossible out in the real world.”

  Several of the executives agreed and nodded. One added, “That’s the kind of message we need to deliver. Players acknowledge qual
ity over quantity. They’re willing participants.”

  “Exactly,” added one of the males. “We all know the real world ... we’ve seen the images. Stepping foot inside the sea wall, escaping the shithole that used to be America is, well, I guess being born in the city, I can’t even imagine what it’s like. But this kinda lifestyle doesn’t come without a price. There’s no free lunch, and if someone’s number comes up and they wanna get in here, one day they’re gonna have to pay the bill.”

  “Next,” Sheppard said.

  Another of the group chimed in. She had short-cropped blonde hair and cleavage peeking from her buttoned business shirt. She was the type of businesswoman men often nodded politely to and smiled at, as they fantasized about having their way with on a boardroom table.

  “I think we should consider moving away from randomization of the player,” she said. She commanded everyone’s attention and spoke with passion using her hands. “We’re selling the thrill to kill. Take the Saunders case in Central Park; a woman in her prime, highly educated, beautiful, married with one daughter. Sure, okay, she had four years in the city and that’s all a winner could ever ask for, but where’s the challenge for the client in tearing down a highly educated woman, who by the way, was doing solid research for Maddox? Did anyone else look at her file? She was heading up one of the teams working on Ignite. I mean, is it just me, or is that absolutely insane to be having someone that valuable and skilled randomly chosen to be a player? And where are our morals for taking away a little girl’s mom, anyway? She had a daughter, a husband … I don’t know, I just…”

  “You’re not getting emotionally invested, are you Elizabeth?” warned Sheppard.

  She paused. They all did.

  “If anyone feels the work we’re doing here is something they can’t handle, speak up and you can be reassigned without prejudice,” Shepard announced. He waited for a moment. The executives sat in silence.