Plugged In: A Short Story

by Natasha D Lane

  Plugged In: A Short Story

  By Natasha D. Lane

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Text copyright 2015 by Natasha D. Lane

  About the Author

  Text copyright 2015 by Natasha D. Lane

  First copyrighted as Plugged In

  All Rights Reserved

  Plugged In: A Short Story

  Cover design by Natasha D. Lane

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except in the case of a reviewer, who may quote brief passages embodied in critical articles or in a review.

  The information in this book is distributed on an “as is” basis, without warranty. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this work, neither the author nor the publisher shall have any liability to any person or entity with respect to any loss or damage caused or alleged to be caused directly or indirectly by the information contained in this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  TED WALKED ALONG THE aisles of the Global Progress Corporation, checking the inventory.

  “Row A, number 36?” He looked up from his clipboard. A36 was motionless in his incubator with the black rimmed Progress glasses placed over his eyes.

  Ted checked his vitals. As always, there was nothing to be concerned with. He looked at A36’s brain activity. There were frequent waves spikes on the monitor.

  He turned to the television screen above A36’s incubator. A36 was running through a forest with an enticing redhead following behind him. She was limping behind A36 as he ran ahead to fight off a group of men. He pulled out a simple hand gun and took aim. In five seconds, A36 took out six of the twelve kidnappers with one bullet to the head each. He tried to shoot again, but the gun had jammed.

  A36 threw the weapon to the ground and pulled out a machete. The men raced toward him. He swung out the machete with skill and took off their heads. Blood splattered all over the screen.

  The enticing redhead fell to the ground. A36 ran to her side and pulled her into his arms. She moved his lips to her own...

  Ted smiled and shook his head. He looked away and turned back to his clipboard, knowing what would be coming next.

  “A36, check!” He swiped a quick mark next to the name.

  “Ted, where are you? Where are you, Ted?”

  “I’m here, Lenny. In Row A.”

  There were shuffled footsteps. Lenny, an old man with a slight hunch, appeared around the corner.

  “Are you doing the inventory?”

  Ted nodded. “Yup, just started.”

  “Good,” he said. “Make sure you check everyone. If they get out, they’ll hurt themselves.”

  “I will,” said Ted.

  “And not just their vitals. Check the incubators, too. Make sure they’re sealed. Breaking the seal will wake them up.”

  “And waking them up without using the proper procedure could cause neurological damage,” said Ted, reciting the line from his Global Progress Training Manual.

  Lenny shook his head. “Exactly. You gotta keep them plugged in. It’s—“

  “For their own safety.”

  “And why is it for their own safety?” asked the old man, eyeing Ted.

  The young man sighed. “Because Plebeians cannot function in the real world which is why the Elite created Global Progress Corporation.”

  Lenny smiled. “I’m glad to see you’ve been studying.”

  The young man shrugged. “There’s not much else to do when you have the graveyard shift.”

  “There’s always something to do,” said Lenny. “Here, let’s go check on the children and teens. Do you want to meet A36’s son?”

  Ted’s eyes grew wide. “He has a son?”

  “Yes. We allowed him to choose a mate last year. Follow me.”

  Lenny walked down the aisle and through two double doors. The next room was dimly lit with blue bulbs. Ted and Lenny stepped across a tiled floor and onto a gated, rectangular platform that carried them across the room. The platform came to a stop in front of another set of double doors. Ted and Lenny opened the platform’s gate and stepped through the doors. They were greeted with the sound of rattles and soft cooing.

  Ted raised his brow. “No crying? Our babies cry all the time.”

  Lenny shook his head. “That’s because mothers can’t get inside their children’s heads the way these computers can. They know exactly what the child needs.”

  “Where is A36’s son?”

  “Right here.” Lenny turned down a corner. “A36.2.”

  A small baby lay inside an incubator. His eyes were covered with the black-rimmed Progress glasses, just like his father’s. The child moved his legs and arms in crawling motions.

  Lenny looked at Ted. “Do you know how to work the system?”

  The young man nodded. He touched the left bottom corner of the monitor’s screen. A list of options popped up. Ted tapped the option that said ancestry. Immediately, a family tree appeared on the screen.

  Lenny double tapped on the screen to zoom in.

  “Who was the original?” asked Ted eyeing the diagram. “The originals kept their birth names, right?”

  Lenny scrolled down the tree to the very bottom. He narrowed his eyes. “His name was Edward. Edward Armstrong. He and his wife, Marie, came in together.”

  “What did they do before plugging in?”

  “Why are you so curious about Plebeians?” asked Lenny. “They’re not like us, you know? That’s why they got hooked so easily. Their brains are small.”

  “Well, I know that,” said Ted. “I guess I...I just never saw one before. By the time I was born, the last of the Plebeians had plugged in and gone to the other world.”

  Lenny scoffed. “I told you they’re weak-minded.” He clicked on Edward’s name and quickly read the man’s biography.

  Ted joined him. “He was a computer engineer...no wonder he plugged in. Basic jobs like that aren’t very useful.”

  “Yup. It doesn’t take much knowledge and there’s no money in it,” said Lenny.

  Ted nodded in agreement but his eyes remained fixed on the screen.

  Lenny sighed and placed his hands on his back. He stretched and there was a distinct crack that echoed throughout the room. He massaged the back of his neck.

  “We should be getting back. You still have to finish the adult inventory and I need my two hour break.”

  They left the room and stepped back on to the platform. It started to move when sparks jumped from the platform’s belt. Suddenly, the platform came to a halt.

  Lenny cursed and stooped down to examine the belt. Ted watched him pull back the leather to look at the wiring.

  There was a light humming sound. Ted looked across from the platform. He was surprised to see a steel door. The door did not have a label like the others in the building.

  The room became momentarily dark.

  “Shit,” hissed Lenny. “I think I got it.”

  The platform sped off and the room was illuminated again.

  “Did you see that door?” asked Ted.

  “What door?”

  “The one across from the platform when we stopped. It was a single steel door...”

  The old man shrugged. “I don’t know what you think you saw.”

  “It was a—“

  “Finish the inventory, Ted. I’m taking my break.” The old man left the ro
om.

  Ted started on the inventory again.

  “A47?” He checked the incubator and monitor screen. “Check.”

  A light rain began outside. Ted finished the inventory and headed to the main office. He flipped on the television screen and propped his feet up.

  The local news station was on with a man on the screen. His eyes were wide and there were tension lines in his forehead. He was banging his fists on the table and Ted could see his lips moving rapidly.

  He turned up the volume.

  “I know I’ve been laughed at and ridiculed,” said the man. “But what I am saying is true. I am a member of the largest Elite group, the Sub-Elite. What we Elites did to the Plebelians, the Deluxe-Elite will do to us.”

  “And what evidence do you have to support this, Mr. Grines?” asked the reporter.

  “Haven’t you heard about the missing families? They all were from the Sub-Elite. Technology is advancing continuously. They no longer see a need for us.”

  “Mr. Grines?”

  “I—“

  “Mr.Grines!”

  “Yes,” he said, hands still clenched in fists.

  “You claim that the Deluxe-Elite are disappearing your kind.”

  “We are Elite, as well! We aren’t Plebelians—“

  The reporter held up a hand. “But what you failed to mention was your group’s growing dependency on the virtual world and social media.”

  The reporter picked up a few sheets of paper from his desk. He cleared his throat. “A study done by Global Progress Corporation has concluded that in the last five years members of the Sub-Elite have increased their time spent online by 30%.”

  “I would like to examine that study,” said Mr. Grines. He reached for the sheets of paper, but the reporter snatched them away.

  “Then, Mr. Grines, could we not say that it is safe to conclude that perhaps the Deluxe are not trying to get rid of the Sub-Elite, but that evolution, once again is taking course.”

  Grines narrowed his eyes. “Evolution has nothing to do with this.”

  The reporter smiled. “Perhaps the Deluxe aren’t disappearing anyone. Perhaps, the Subs—“

  “Sub-Elite,” Grines corrected.

  The reporter’s smile only grew wider. “Perhaps, the Sub-Elite, are giving into their natural instinct and turning to the virtual world because they can no longer survive in reality. This is our environment and it seems you all cannot survive in it. Darwin said it himself, didn’t he?”

  Grines shook his head. “This will never stop. Not until there’s no one left, but them.”

  “Natural selection, Mr. Grines,” said the reporter, straightening out his papers. “It’s all natural selection. We’ll be right back with the evening news.”

  Thunder boomed in the sky causing Ted to nearly jump out of his skin. He shut the television off and realized that sweat was dripping down his face. He tried to wipe his face dry, but the sweat wouldn’t stop nor would his hands’ shaking.

  “Could they really plug us in?” he asked himself. “Have we really devolved?”

  Lightning split the sky making Ted’s hands tremor. He went to stand only to realize the tremor had traveled into his legs, as well. He settled into his chair and tried to monitor his breathing. Eventually, his breathing slowed. His hands and legs stopped shaking. Still, his heart trembled in his chest.

  SHE STARED AT HER REFLECTION in the mirror while sitting on a plush white, flower print cushion. She raised her chin, noticing the sharp curves in her face that moved upwards into a diamond. Her hair was the color of sunflowers. It was kinky and short, only a few inches in length, purposefully kept close to her head. She had never wanted to grow it out, though some had suggested she do so.

  She closed her eyes that were the color of violet and counted.

  “One, two, three...”

  Someone knocked lightly on the door. “Ms. Oceana, are you awake?”

  Oceana looked at the clock to her right.

  9AM. Same time every morning.

  “Yes, I’m awake,” she replied.

  The door creaked open and Martha stepped into her room. She looked at Oceana, examining her silk night gown for any wrinkles. Finally, she smiled.

  She will ask if I had breakfast. Then, the cook will stumble in with my porridge and fruit.

  “Have you had breakfast?” Martha asked.

  There was a light humming from the hallway. A short man with a round belly stepped into the room. “Good morning, Ms.—“ He tripped over his own feet. The whole tray of porridge and fruit fell to the floor.

  Martha sighed. “For goodness’ sake, Thomas. Can’t you walk?”

  He smiled shyly. “I’m sorry. I was just so happy to see the Lady today. I must have temporarily forgotten.”

  Martha shook her head before turning back to Oceana. “He will fetch you more, while I help you prepare for today’s activities.”

  “Which are?”

  “A walk through the garden, a visit to the sea side, lunch with your parents, knitting, tea and dinner.”

  Lunch will consist of salmon and asparagus. I’ll ask her what is for lunch and she won’t be able to remember the correct pronunciation of the fish.

  “And what will we have for lunch, Martha?”

  “Asparagus and...samon...no, I mean salmon. Yes, that’s what it’s called.”

  “Of course,” Oceana replied and turned back to her appearance in the mirror.

  “Here let me dress you, Ms. Oceana.”

  Martha ran to the closet and pulled out a white gown with too many ruffles and fluff. She presented it to Oceana, but did not ask if she liked it. Oceana stood still as Martha undressed her. Martha placed the silk night gown aside and helped Oceana step into the dress. Once that was done, she sat Oceana down in front of the mirror again. She brushed her eyebrows, curled her lashes, added a light blush and mascara, before running her hands through her dense curls and pushing her hair outwards.

  Martha framed Oceana’s face with her hands and smiled. “You look beautiful, Ms. Oceana. Ready for a walk in the garden?”

  Oceana nodded. She rose from her seat and followed Martha to the back of the manor where a group of women and men waited. They were all decorated in blush and white cover-up with pretentious white suits, gowns and wigs. They whispered quietly amongst themselves, but stopped when Oceana entered their view.

  Their thin lips stretched into fox- like grins. The men greeted her with theatrically low voices and the women with exaggerated high pitches. Oceana bowed, smiled and walked into the garden. They followed her from a distance carrying fans and small umbrellas to keep cool.

  “You look ravishing today Ms. Oceana,” said one man.

  “Yes, just ravishing,” said a woman.

  Oceana ignored them and continued to walk ahead. She was approaching an intersection when she slowed her pace.

  A orange striped cat will appear. They will jump and scream, “Wild beast!”

  She reached the intersection. A big ball of orange padded over to her on all fours. The cat stared at her before saying, “Meow.”

  Her followers jumped back from the cat. They screamed and simultaneously yelled, “Wild beast!”

  “What is that sort of thing doing in the garden?” a plump woman with a smudge of red on her nose asked.

  “Someone call the fields’ man. This is ridiculous,” said another woman.

  Oceana bent down and took the cat in her arms. She turned away from her followers and walked down the passage from which the cat had appeared.

  “Ms. Oceana, where are you going?”

  “Tell Martha I don’t feel up to a visit to the sea side,” she replied.

  “But—“

  She ran away from their words, so that they became faded sounds on the wind. Once she was alone, Oceana breathed. She sat down on a nearby bench partially covered in shade and stroked the cat, which had now fallen asleep in her arms. She stared down at the fluffy creature.

  “Do you think I
’m crazy?” she asked.

  The cat responded with a twitch of the ears.

  She smiled. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  No response.

  She sighed. “Well, I think I might be going crazy. I even had the doctor look at me, but he said I’m perfectly healthy. Still, all day I’m stuck in this manor, repeating the same cycles every few months. I have the menu memorized, you know. Today is salmon and exactly a month from now we will be eating salmon again. Tomorrow will be quail.”

  The cat shivered. She put one arm over his back and moved into the sunlight. The cat calmed.

  She began to stroke his back again. “I know what outfits Martha will pick out for me on what days and I know she’ll never ask my opinion. This is all just planning I suppose... but you...you’re not planned, yet every Wednesday when I walk through the garden the same thing happens. You appear. They scream. I run away with you and then...I don’t remember what happens after that. I think...”

  The world faded. There was nothing. It reappeared.

  Oceana blinked as her eyes readjusted. “What happened?” she asked herself. “Where did...where did it all go?” She moved her arms to embrace the cat, but the cat had vanished.

  Oceana stood from the bench and looked around. “Kitty?” she called. “Kitty?” The cat was nowhere to be found.

  She looked down at her empty arms. “He was here...he was—“ Her arms became scrambled images of black and white. There was a loud booming noise like thunder followed by a steady beeping sound...

  The world refocused. Oceana blinked, still staring down at her arms. The colors scrambled and then merged again.

  “Oceana! Ms. Oceana, where are you?”

  “Martha?”

  The young woman appeared from the garden, only a few yards away from Oceana.

  Martha smiled. “Ms. Oceana, you had us worried. I think a storm is coming. We should get you inside and...”

  Martha scrambled into a mess of colors. “...then, we can have some tea.”

  Oceana shook her head. “Martha, you-“

  “Ms. Oceana, I know you like the outdoors, but please...” Her words trailed off into silence. Then the whole world became void of noise. Martha continued to approach, her mouth moving with no sound escaping.