Contribute (Holo, #2)

by Kristy Acevedo

  The center of the TriCenter is dug into the ground, creating a concave middle with circular bench seating all around and a tiny middle stage. Reminds me of an underground colosseum. Or layers of Dante’s Inferno. It’s empty other than people like me and my friends standing idle, waiting for the meeting.

  “Where’s the meritocracy?” Dominick asks.

  “They’ll be here,” Benji says. “Alex, how are you feeling about this?”

  “Like I might vomit.”

  “If you can’t go through with it, I’ve been authorized to step in for you.”

  “She’s got this,” Rita says.

  Dominick kisses the side of my forehead. “She’s a fighter.”

  At the sound of a loud chime, like the one used during the Earth mourning sessions, the meeting begins. Holographic versions of every meritocracy member materialize in their seats wearing robes and glowing orb necklaces.

  Even if we want to attack them, we still can’t reach them. Tight holographic security using technological dopplegangers. For the one thousand and one elite, tested and chosen.

  The holographic meritocracy stands, bows, and recites the chant that I’ve grown to hate.

  “May your contribution lead to freedom.”

  Keron, the leader who spoke to us from the screen on the ship, spouts ration numbers, positive statistics, successful integrations, contribution goals, new technological advances that I can’t come close to understanding, never mind repeat. The statistics enter the nanoholocom network for CVBE bandwidth access. He clasps his fingers together like a yin yang symbol in front of his stomach the whole time he speaks. My hands shake.

  What will happen if there is an actual revolution here? How will we fight the invisible? Will we just turn on each other?

  “We will now hear from the floor.”

  The wait for my turn is endless. Person after person from Earth speaks. One requests for more Holospace time and another offers Earth food recipes for the HDP. I don’t see any vances at the meeting, either. Where are they?

  My heart pounds as I move up in line. I hand Rita my journal to hold, the speech crumpled in my sweaty palm. When I am waved forward, I step down into the dead center, with the meritocracy circled above me, to speak. It’s like standing in a bull’s-eye. Dominick and Rita wait in the lower audience with the other guests. Dominick touches his tongue to his nostril, and Rita smiles and thumps him in the arm with my journal. Benji stands with his arms crossed across his chest.

  I gather my thoughts, the ink on my notes smudged in sections. The Umbra and Geotroupes ensured that the meeting will play in every Hub they manage to notify in time. They are afraid the meritocracy might delete the recording from the CVBE history. We need people from Earth to witness whatever happens live.

  My throat swells with fear.

  Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

  Can you die of nervousness?

  The meritocracy waits.

  “Uh, my name is Alexandra Lucas. I have a complaint.” My voice echoes up through the circular seating, catching me off guard.

  “Voice it,” says a young boy wearing a kelly green stone. I wonder what his talent is that got him a political seat.

  “You asked us to contribute our deaths to Solbiluna-8 so that generations can experience leisure.”

  Keron smiles with a perfect set of huge white teeth. “Yes, we value contribution over currency, dreams over work.”

  “Uh, that would be a fair trade,” I say, “if we were all considered equal here.”

  “We are equal. Everyone’s needs are met, and if you choose not to contribute, you can serve in other ways.”

  He interrupts again, and it throws me off since I practiced the speech all at once. The next line of my practiced speech won’t work. I skip a few lines mentally to find a line that will work. “But . . .but no one from Earth serves on your meritocracy.”

  The child lowers his eyes, then stares back at the screen. “Pre-decided. The next round of tests are open to integrated Earth humans.” He sweeps his hand to dismiss me.

  “Wait, I know that,” I say, my voice shaking. I drop my paper and scurry to the floor to pick it up. My face burns with frustration and the room spins.

  The holographic meritocracy shifts impatiently above me. As if their fake bodies actually need adjusting.

  I stand, flustered, trying to remember what came next. Benji uncrosses his arms and straightens his uniform shirt to ready himself to step in for me. Dominick nods with encouragement. Rita holds up a closed fist.

  I close my hands into fists and ball up the speech. Remember what they did to us. They fucking stole us from our planet. From my home. From my parents.

  I spin my lit up clouded bandwidth, hoping the BME doesn’t suddenly electrocute me as I say what I’m about to say.

  “The problem is there’s no way Earth refugees can compete with you. Our people are three hundred years behind yours in all areas of knowledge and skill. Our best knowledge is obsolete here. We demand new tests be created which measure our talents equally with yours. To make things fair. I know how much you value fairness.”

  I smirk. I can’t help it. Keron, the leader, unclasps his peacekeeping hands. All fidgeting stops.

  “We will not contribute our deaths to your world until such tests are made. Any contributed Earth deaths prior to this announcement are automatically rescinded as is only fair until this matter is resolved. We are so very grateful to be here.” I try not to vomit in my mouth. “We don’t want to abuse our welcome, but we need our cultures to merge without unfair practices.

  Otherwise, it’ll seem like you brought us here to fail. It’ll seem like you brought us here to use us. The choice is yours.”

  Keron stands. “We will take your concern under advisement and respond through the CVBE. Thank you for bringing this issue to light.”

  As I leave the floor, all hell breaks loose in the meritocracy as they scramble to find a fast solution to a problem that will take time to solve. They naturally wanted us to adapt to their specifications, lure us with luxuries and make us forget about leadership. They don’t want to have to change. But they know I’m right, and if they don’t address my issue, they will be admitting to unfair practices in setting up terms in our new world. And they believe in maintaining a public sense of false equality.

  Small acts of rebellion. This is how we win.

  Every utopia has a breaking point.

  CHAPTER 21

  DAY 37

  THE MERITOCRACY WILL RECONSIDER THE EARTH REFUGEE TESTING REQUIREMENTS. ALL CONTRIBUTIONS HAVE BEEN REVOKED. ALL CONTRIBUTION ASSIGNMENTS ARE POSTPONED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

  THE CVBE REPORTS that the contributions are “revoked” and work “postponed” indefinitely while the meritocracy designs new tests. All our bandwidths change to clear. Dominick and Benji are free from their death pledge. Checkmate holosuckers.

  When we get back to headquarters, people congratulate me. I’ve never had so many people waiting for me. Staring at me. Patting my shoulders. I want to hide in a PSF.

  Marcus greets us. It’s great to see him back in action. The HME works magic.

  “Excellent speech, Alex,” Marcus says.

  “Thanks. You look better than the last time I saw you.”

  “Feeling much better, thanks. I haven’t had a seizure since I was a kid. Stress must’ve triggered it.”

  I wait for Benji’s criticism.

  “You did good,” Benji says. “Aside from dropping the paper.”

  I smile through the silent screaming in my brain. “Yeah, well, we can’t all be perfect like you.” Dominick and Rita both nudge me from either side.

  Penelope interrupts our conversation and hugs me. “Alex, I’m so proud of you. My grandchild sticking it to the man.”

  I stare at Benji over her shoulder until he turns and leaves with Marcus.

  “How did it feel?” Penelope asks, “being up there to represent Earth?”

  Earth? I was focused more o
n my family and friends. If I had realized that I was representing Earth, I would’ve crumbled.

  “Er, terrifying?”

  “You didn’t look it. You have never looked more beautiful.”

  Beautiful? I haven’t brushed my nest of hair in forever. It might be untamable at this point.

  “Let me ask the three of you something. Do you know that man?” She points across the outdoor area. “The one sitting near the new firepit?”

  I trace her line of view and see Doctor A. He stares off into the trees, lost in thought. He’s never looked so unfocused.

  “That’s Dr. Aiyegbeni. He goes by Doctor A. He was a pediatric surgeon at Boston Children’s Hospital.” I cringe at the word was. He always says it in present tense.

  Penelope runs her fingers through her skunk-colored hair. “He can be my doctor anytime.”

  “Grandma, eww!”

  “Oh, stop grandma-ing me. You know I hate that. Come introduce us.”

  “Eww times a thousand,” I say.

  “Oh grow up, Alexandra,” Penelope says. “A woman needs to have a little fun at any age.”

  Dominick rubs his eyes. As if her words are making his corneas dirty.

  “I’ll do it,” Rita says, grinning widely. “I love a good romance.”

  Rita and Penelope lock arms, and she escorts her over to Doctor A. Dominick and I watch from a distance as Rita plays matchmaker. Doctor A. perks up like a dehydrated plant given water.

  BACK AT THE Hub, Dominick, Rita, and I enjoy the Skylucent as celebration. Rita holofies her uniform to all black, and soundless fireworks fly up from her boots and explode over her chest. She’s already breaking her rule about staying out of bandwidth nanoholocom range to join us. Guess without mandatory work, it doesn’t matter anymore. Around us, the golden hue from all bandwidths has gone dormant. I did that. I freed them from making a terrible, irrevocable decision. Despite the Skylucent feature above us, my thoughts return again and again to the vertex and possibilities of going home to my parents. So close and yet so far.

  It’s funny how much change can make us realize the things we should have valued before when we were taking them for granted. All I know is that the people who are always there for me, who care about me the most, I need to fight to keep them as part of my life. I used to think I needed to push them away or break away completely in order to function. With Dad, I need to focus on the good and separate when it’s bad. I’m not responsible for the bad. My mother was good at that. I didn’t get that then.

  When the Skylucent goes dark and people sit up from the soft grass to leave, a beeping sound stops everyone in their tracks. Our bandwidths flash with a new CVBE meritocracy update. Several people tap and toss screens for public viewing.

  On screen is Keron, the speaker of the meritocracy with other members in the background. My heart thuds in my chest, my palms itch with pins and needles. A biological red flag.

  “Good evening. We would like to extend our apologies for not recognizing the meritocracy testing problem sooner, and we thank Alexandra Lucas for bringing it to our attention. We request your assistance in solving the issue. We would like help in the creation of new testing programs in the Holospaces that reflect Earth expertise. Please input possible test subjects and sample questions into the nanoholocom network to compile.”

  Dominick touches my shoulder in the dark, either to make sure I’m okay or to congratulate me once again. I can’t tell the difference.

  Keron smiles and clasps his hands. “In the meantime, in all fairness while we are creating these new testing programs, ration amounts must be lowered to counterbalance the lack of contributions and working humans. Our system works on a give and take. We cannot have take only without a natural consequence. We hope you will understand. Lower rations are only temporary until we figure out a more viable solution.

  May your contribution lead to freedom.”

  It’s the first time that their statement feels like a punch in the gut.

  The screen vanishes.

  In the dark, voices grumble and mix and turn on me.

  “You. You’re that girl.” A lanky woman points her finger at me, her long nails like talons capable of decapitation. “I watched the VID. You are the one who complained about the tests. Why are you messing with them?”

  “Me? I, er . . .” As I look around for allies, the crowd encircles my friends.

  “Look around. Everyone’s happy. Well fed. No violence. Why are you messing with a good thing?”

  I pull a pebble from my pocket and rub my thumb against its smooth surface. “Cause it’s not fair.”

  She gets in my face. “Oh, and Earth was fair?”

  Rita pulls me back and pipes in. “You don’t even have the whole story.”

  “Which is?” a father asks from the side, with his young daughter under his wing.

  They still don’t know about the comet, and I don’t know if it’s the right time to tell them. The anger building on their faces targets me as the enemy. It reminds me of when the looters turned their anger on my dad.

  “People like you, you’re, like, never satisfied,” the woman with the long nails says. “Can’t leave well enough alone. Have to ruin it for the rest of us.”

  “Screw this. I’m contributing again right now,” someone says.

  “No, please,” I say. “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, we understand,” a teenager pipes in. “We understand you don’t care if we eat.”

  Someone bumps into me, and Dominick pushes back.

  “Wait, don’t! The vances scammed us,” Rita blurts out. “The Earth is fine. The comet was a hologram the whole time. Do you understand? It wasn’t real. The whole damn thing was a trap. We don’t know why yet, but we shouldn’t be contributing anything to them. They stole us.”

  Their faces change and twist as their minds fight the truth and grapple with fear. My mouth drops. Not because Rita blurted it out the truth, but because she’s willing to stand up for me, share my story, without evidence.

  “We want to help get everyone home. Back to Earth,” Dominick says.

  Laughter erupts from one section. “You’re crazy. Earth blew up.”

  A teenage guy gets loud. “Alright, fine. Let’s pretend what firecracker here said is true even though it makes no sense. Why the hell would we want to go back?”

  Rita steps in his face. “Because this place is built on a lie. We will never know who or what to trust. With holograms, everything can be an illusion. Most of the stuff here is fake.”

  “Honey, we were already living in a fake world,” an older woman in a bright floral uniform says. “Why not live in a better, fake world?”

  “You can’t mean that,” Rita says.

  “The hell I can’t. This place is paradise. I don’t care how we got here. We’re here. Why would we go back? Here we get food, shelter, fun, and we don’t have to work until our minds go numb. Being here is the first vacation I’ve had in fifteen years.”

  “But don’t you think the future should be earned instead of handed to you?” I ask. “If you don’t earn it, it becomes meaningless.”

  “No, the future happens regardless of effort,” the teenager says. “Good, bad, miserable—it all just happens. If I can skip all that for this, I’ll take it. Why wait? You’re an idiot if you think life is still about working hard for your future. That shit’s broken. It’s about taking advantage when the opportunity arises. It’s a rich eat poor world. At least on Earth. I’d take this place any day.”

  My brain hits frustration levels. Waiting is the absolute worst, but sometimes, waiting is necessary. As corny as it sounds, waiting builds character. And God knows the world could use a little more patience.

  I squeeze the pebble in my hand.

  Images of science fiction flash through my head. “So you’re willing to contribute yourself at death? Haven’t you ever heard of the Borg? The Cybermen? Doesn’t that scare you? Do you really think the vances want to give us all this,” I
point at the LU building, “because they simply care? Come on, no one is that nice.”

  A twenty-something girl flips her long ponytail and rolls her eyes. “It’s just our mind. It’s not like it’s our bodies.”

  I want to smack some sense into her. “Can you imagine how the people on Earth are feeling? They think we’ve been kidnapped.” The words stick to my ribs as I imagine my parents suffering.

  “Oh please,” the girl says. “Like you can fake a comet.”

  The crowd chuckles at us. We are outnumbered.

  The woman in floral speaks again. “If Earth is still there, so what. They’ll figure it out and move on and we can chill in paradise.”

  “Are you willing to give up your freedom?” Dominick asks.

  “Yes. Absolutely,” the woman in floral answers. “Let the vances rule. They’re smarter than we are anyway. I don’t want to take any tests. I just wanna live my life in peace.” Other shout in agreement with her.

  “It’s pointless,” Rita says to me and Dominick. “They’re not listening to reason. They barely flinched when I told them about the comet.”

  The truth hits me. This was the holograms’ plan all along. Entrance. Evade. Entrap. Evolve. They knew we would accept it once we were here because that is our nature. Path of least resistance. Consider. Contribute. Converge. Control. Again and again we’ve been warned by philosophers and writers against combining technology with the human body. We just assumed it meant we’d be fighting against enforced assimilation. But we are not fighting an external war; we are fighting our own eventual willingness to become Cybermen, to assimilate, become technology, to upgrade and forget what it means to be human. What it means to be real. What it means to want to be real.

  My hands won’t stop shaking. I don’t know what this emotion is, but it’s not anxiety. I think it’s hopelessness. How do you help people who won’t listen to reason? Who crave what will destroy?