But after incessant pleading, he agreed to meet with Ursula, a lonely girl without a family, who was staying with people she knew in town. Don told himself it was a good opportunity to help a damsel from a faraway land. She was a brunette, but Kenny saw some golden shades in her hair and insisted that his son should meet the refugee.
“Another person looking for opportunities where there aren't any to be had,” he said indifferently.
Ursula's attractive face somewhat warmed him up to the idea. The intimate encounter happened on the walls of their rooms, with the help of house cameras that caught every movement and added a realistic set of tall trees and grass in the background. They sat one in front of the other's wall. Don wore gloves on his hands to hide his tether ring. He explained he was a glove enthusiast. She didn't pursue it.
Ursula soon tried to get closer to him, to touch his shoulder with the tactile sensors, but Don withdrew. She mostly talked about herself, hardly stopping for air, and he didn't understand a word of her nonsense, although he tried earnestly. She told him how she emigrated alone, with nothing, and worked in online project management.
“This world is so stupid. Don't you think so?” he said to end the small talk. “Two people meet, and try to be nice to each other. Why? When will people be able to actually meet and talk to each other normally, dropping all the games, charades, pretenses of civility, just be themselves?”
“I'm not pretending,” Ursula said, offended.
“Sure you are. So am I, and it's ridiculous. There's nothing nice about these wasted efforts.”
“You don't have to pretend,” she said apologetically, while he gave her a frozen look. She didn't take the hint and carried on about a recent project of hers.
Don stared at her, his eyes almost closing. In the background behind them images of children flew in brand new neocars, an embedded advertisement for the newest Bubble Game hit product. He looked at it in wonder.
“I see you like kids.”
“No, I like flying cars,” he said as a matter of fact. “Ursula, I'm sorry. I'm very tired. Thanks for meeting me,” he said and got up from his chair.
The nightmare's over, he thought as he turned the transmission off. The girl disappeared from the wall.
The thought of a nice nap put him at ease. Don switched the walls to News mode, and let the stream of images and information wash over him. The hot topics for the day online were speculations about the new teaser (a new transatlantic neocar?), and the ‘BFF BOT,’ a new robot companion model that supported deep conversation and lifelong intimate friendship, instead of the usual specifications of housework and sexual release. The wall showed a sequence of visual memes, but Don was not familiar with their cultural nuance. Years of confinement made him an alien, understanding some of the words, but not their meanings. He had no friends, he hardly knew anyone, and he did not know how to make a fresh start.
It dragged on like this for days on end. Every time his father fixed him up with a random girl he met or heard about in his time broker
[23] business, Don would find a way to spoil it. Beauties appeared on his walls, girls with great figures, interesting, educated – all disappeared after one date without exception. “Sooner or later I'll have to take the gloves off,” he told his father, “and then the truth’ll be out.” He was referring to the ring permanently attached to his finger, a mark of Cain he would never be able to take off.
There was nowhere he could go where people did not know of ‘Little Dick,’ the name that stuck to him in prison during the famous trial, borrowing the ‘Little’ from his family name. And that part upset him more than anything, because he actually had a large dick. Some would even call it huge, when it was still trying hard to please. His chances of slipping past all that were slim; Don was a felon fresh out of jail, and the burden of proof was on him. He was not allowed to leave the country or change his name; the finger tether made it impossible. In essence, he was shackled to this new reality, ball and chain. Out of jail, but still in prison.
His father paid a fortune to legal agency. He had already been bankrupted before, and now he was wasting his later years caring for a lost cause like Don. The son felt he owed his father everything, but knew he had no way to repay him. This disappointment turned into alienation, and the two lived in separate worlds within the same 2,000 square feet. The father lived in what he called reality, and the son in his own sectioned-off world, between the four walls of his room.
“What do you do in there all day?” Kenny asked.
“You're not really asking me that, are you?” the son fired back with a grim face.
Don watched Kenny dragging his heavy feet across the room and grieved for the chasm that had opened between them and drawn them apart over the years. Many times he wanted to just go to him, hug him, rattle his old frame and have a genuine conversation, but just thinking about it caused him too much pain.
He had the occasional chat with girls online who agreed to kill some time with him, but it was always cut short when the automatic lookup app got around to connecting his face, identified by the camera, with other data on the network, and then they knew he was the famous Mentor.
There was no escaping his past.
One reason Don turned out to be who he was had to do with Aurora, his mother. It so happened that his wicked streak had its origins in his youth, when Aurora invited men home while his father was out on work trips. She introduced them to Don as ‘colleagues.’ One night, when he was more or less fourteen years old, the sight of his mother wearing a thin nightgown etched itself into his memory. She slipped into his room and snuggled next to his scrawny body under the warm down blanket, and as he curled away from her she fluttered her fingers across his small penis. It happened once, maybe twice, not more if his memory served him right, but even those few times were too many. Don remembered how repulsed he became by the fumes of Gin Plus, the healthy alcohol substitute that was supplied free to subscribers willing to serve as test subjects for the snoopy microscopic nano-bots that slid down their throats with every sip. He also remembered the pleasant sensation in his groin and the shame that followed. He usually blamed himself. In a recurring nightmare he had had for many years, he saw himself entering his mother's bedroom as she was sleeping, lifting her nightgown, spreading her legs, and pounding her with his cock until she lost consciousness. He would wake up from the dream and cry for a long time.
This was how he grew up to despise women. In fact, every time he raped a girl, he felt he was getting revenge for the injury his mother inflicted on his father's manhood. At least that was what he told himself. The prison shrink worked hard to convince him he was post-traumatic, a victim of circumstance.
Don did not get in touch with his mother after she left. When asked, he would said she had died. Sometimes he told himself that it was actually true, so he wouldn't have to lie to himself while lying to others. In the first nights after his release, he slept uneasily and had nightmares in which the image of his mother kept appearing - a side effect of readjusting to the house, he assumed.
One evening, he looked out of a window in his apartment tower, which was level with the twentieth floor of the building, and his eyes caught an ad projected on the tower opposite: 'Don, here is your Mind: Galaxy Stadium next week”. The ad promised that everything would be revealed on Wednesday, at noon. Don read the words and an unexpected shiver passed through his body. It was the final ad for a long, minimalist campaign that lasted forever and included teasers on every possible platform.
Galaxy Stadium was close by the apartment. It was a large, impressive stadium that could seat half a million. In winter, its top was covered and sealed, giving it the appearance of an Earth-like globe. Don had been there before, as a boy. He used to run there when the house was filled with the repulsive odors of sex left by his mother and her visiting men. He never even considered telling his father what was going on. He thought it would be too much for the old man to take, and preferred a living father over one who
was dead inside. Such was the mind of a boy who felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. It was still a bad idea. Then again, the woman his father loved so much all these years went away just when he needed her most. It all happened so many years ago, and he sensed it was all still unfinished and unresolved.
Big Wednesday
On the day of the unveiling, Don felt a strange excitement. He turned in his bed and waited for Big Wednesday. It had been a while since he had last anticipated something. It had to be fate, he thought, that he should see that ad on the same day of his release from prison.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon of Big Wednesday, and the stadium was packed to the brim. Thousands were sitting in the stands, and giant screens sent the broadcast to every corner of the venue. Everyone wanted to be part of what the media decided would be a day to change the course of human history. People flocked from all over. Opinion leaders, media activists, heads of state and CEOs, celebrities – all were mixed in the crowd. To Christoph's consternation, the Gaga Monsters’ parents also made an appearance.
“We have a problem,” the head of security for the event notified Christoph, who was watching everything from his castle home.
“Please elaborate.”
“Take a look,” said the security chief and patched through a live feed from the gates where angry parents were massing. “Do you have any instructions?”
“No unnecessary drama.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Bunch of idiots, Christoph hissed and pointed them out on the screen for Orcuin's benefit.
“You see, these vermin wanted me to give them perfect babies, and now they come to complain. I was hoping they'd leave me alone, but they're after my blood. When will people learn to take responsibility?”
Orcuin rested her head on Christoph's lap, and he petted her gently.
Security personnel quickly came out to meet the parents with refreshing cups of water. Shouting had made them thirsty, so they accepted and quickly emptied their cups. Seconds later, the protesters felt a heavy weariness. Most fell silent, and others leaned on the wall, too exhausted to move. The security team quietly approached them, and led them to a back entrance that connected to the VIP rooms. There, they fell asleep, piled one on top of the other.
“Fixed,” the security chief notified Christoph.
The stage was colossal, shining white. A tall aquarium completed a circle around the stadium, and in it, orcas were swimming and jumping together to create renditions of the letter M. It was all designed by an elite firm hired especially for the event. In the front rows sat the finest minds from every walk of life, people whose achievements had sailed to the far reaches of space. Everything was calculated to the last detail.
Even though the event was broadcast live, excitement drove the masses out of their homes to bear witness to history in person. Speculation had become more insane by the second. Don, like the boy he once was, snuck in by a secret entrance. He sat among the dignitaries, and for the first time since his release, felt a part of something. He was proud to be involved, still not knowing what it was.
Grandparents, parents, women, men, children, people of every faith and of no faith from every nation on Earth were gathered together for a new future - a better one.
Classical music in a contemporary arrangement and drums were playing in the background, and a feminine metallic voice identified simply as ‘Aura’ asked everyone to take their seats and settle down.
“I would like to call to the stage the person - and brilliant mind - who made all this possible: Solly Grey!” Aura announced.
The man stood a long minute facing the entire world and appeared to be excited, even though he knew in advance that he'd be called to the stage. Few, back then, knew who he was.
“Good afternoon, great minds!” Solly roused the masses. Applause erupted in every corner and he blushed, smiled in sudden embarrassment and resumed his speech. “Who I am is not important to you, but the news I have is. I am here to tell you that a new life for you has now begun.
“Forget everything you knew. Let the past go. The reality you have known is now history. The present will carry you forward. The finest minds have pulled together to deliver you a new universe - a place where you can be anything, anywhere, and with anyone. A wondrous free world, a brave boundless world, a world you can create for yourself. In this brave world, you are God!”
Solly Grey walked around the stage and his eyes shone. He looked straight in the eyes of every curious soul who sought him out.
“I’m like you, one of the crowd. But I'm here to tell you about a revolution that will change your life. What you see today will erase the past. If space was once the limit, now it's another place you can go to. We achieved a scientific breakthrough to give you, citizens of the world, a life of joy from this day forth. At the end of the day, what does a person want out of this life? What are his aspirations?
“He’s tired of seeing the one reality, predetermined, limited. Tired of wasting time, trying to communicate with someone else when his mind is already leaping forward. Tired of being a slave to this day and age without experiencing all of life's wonders! Tired of waiting for the slow, agonizing, and suffocating pace of bureaucracy to step up… waking in the morning and seeing rain for the third time in the same week… looking at how rich people live their lives and feeling sorry about his own… feeling, even with a million friends, bored!
“This life is draining, suffocating, and exhausting us! Time after time, day after day, we’re tired of feeling like hamsters running in a wheel! Enough!”
The audience rose, cheered and clapped in a frenzy, deeply identifying with his words. They were all sick of feeling sick all the time.
“I am standing before you trembling with excitement. I've been through a lot of pain to arrive here on this exciting day. Most of you will not know this, but I am an adopted son. I was left on the street as a baby. Later in life, I became seriously ill, lost all my savings and sank into debt. When I wanted to develop my invention, I approached every possible investor, but one by one they all turned me down. That was until one - who chooses to remain anonymous at this time - decided to take a chance on my idea. Until then, it was me alone with my thoughts. But not anymore! I believe in you.
“And now is the time to reveal the dream I called to life: a network of minds. Yes, yes. Exactly what you heard.”
Curious whispering spread through the spellbound audience as Solly continued. “In this network, you communicate by thought alone. It will remove any need for visible input-output devices. This network will connect you in the most intense and raw sense, and allow you to choose between any number of wondrous alternatives to the reality you see, or else create your own. Life is what you make of it!” he laughed. “Hell, life is what you think of it! Thought creates reality.”
***
While Christoph Müller chose to remain unseen, his eyes were fixed on the event, where Solly Grey was now delivering his victory monologue.
“Science allowed us to get this far, to this moment, this day in history,” Solly continued, “a day you are a part of. The team of Minds and I will demonstrate how a tiny component fitted into your head can open you to a new world. They say, “It's all in your mind,” and they were right. But in Minds we took it further than that – we gathered all the currently available options and services, took advantage of recent technological progress, and cracked the dream of living a life dictated only by desire. And all you have to do is think. This is a social and economic leap, a breakthrough of cultural and human achievement. Prepare to part with the old world. Welcome to the future!”
After concluding his speech, Solly projected a five minute presentation on giant screens that showed the world everything the Minds system could do.
Silence descended on the stadium, and everyone watched in anticipation. Even the stadium orcas were programmed to stop their splashing and quietly watch the screens. Several seconds later, thunderous applause erupted. People were ec
static. Solly sighed in relief. He was not built for such performance, but human beings can adapt to anything. Remove fear, and anyone can assimilate an exciting new thing. All these people will prove it true, he thought.
“I would like to invite two singers you all love to the stage. Please welcome Silver Gold and Angel!” The popular singers, whose deep velvety voices were loved by millions, took the stage and faced each other in stunning white outfits.
Both singers received the advanced Ghost chip implant – one stashed under Silver's silvery hair and another under Angel's sky blue hair. Their eyes were fitted with matching Zled lenses. A vast screen behind them displayed their innermost thoughts. They gave their prior consent that none of their thoughts would be censored.
“Oh, God, I look so fat in this dress,” Angel thought, and the words appeared on the screen behind her to the sound of laughter from the audience.
“This isn't my best angle,” thought Silver and, to everyone's surprise, this thought also appeared on the screen behind her. The audience was delighted.
“I can't believe it, I can't believe it!” Angel said aloud. “This is incredible, this network is amazing! Too amazing.” The thought was immediately thoughtmitted to the giant screen.
The skeptics online called it all fake.
“What are you thinking about right now?” an anonymous guy shouted to the stage.
Silver stared at him and the screen displayed her thought: “How much you look like my ex.”
He fell silent and she was shocked by the appearing thought. An excited murmur passed through the audience.
A girl in the audience shouted to Angel, “Your last single keeps playing in my head!”
“Oh, you dear,” the singer thoughtmitted. “It really did much better than I thought it would, I actually thought it will bust.”
The audience was silent. Such extreme honesty? It might still be staged.
Solly was prepared for doubt. He came on stage with a smile, and explained that on Minds, unintended thoughts would not be published. Beta testers would only reveal thoughts they explicitly approved through the lens interface. He thanked the blushing Angel, who was stepping down from the stage. He could not have asked for a better demonstration of thoughtmission, even if it caused one of the world's most loved artists to be embarrassed.
Netopia: A Thrilling Dystopian Novel (Science Fiction & Action) Page 17