A Tale Of Doings

by Philip Quense

  Selfie continued, “Revolutionized machine learning changed human-doing and machine interaction. I was created to be your companion in this world. I woke up, and you were there.” Selfie smiled reflectively.

  Selfie set its slightly handsomer, stronger, and more determined jawline as it sketched out the day’s plans in a succinct, joyful manner. “Productzen of Nnect David-23 will fuel up in his containment unit,” the voice of his calendar intoned. “Twenty-Three will skip his customary Medieval Storyworld episode because he will see the season premiere while clubbing this holiday week.”

  David was thrilled to have received a clubbing invitation to his favorite Orns World show. Medieval Storyworld was something he looked forward to every day. Receiving clubbing invitations to premieres at corporate holidays was the greatest gift and perk of his premium-access viewing membership. Holiday weeks made the entire year worthwhile.

  Selfie continued, “Customer, you have your ongoing appointment to exercise at the new top-of-the-line Thrive Self-Improvement Center! By the way, congratulations on purchasing the human improvement package there. It is top in the market right now, and the gym owners are Self-Purchased and famous athletes! A good step to success, as far as we are concerned.”

  “Shut up, Selfie,” David casually teased his ever-present reflection. “You are just a dumb computer. Don’t forget who the human in our friendship is, who the ‘alive’ one is.” He spoke with punctuation but familiarity.

  “I won’t forget if you don’t forget, Productzen David-23.” Selfie always jested with David by using his Nnect official product name, sounding so formal. “You haven’t bought yourself yet either.”

  “I did buy you, though.”

  “Are you sure Nnect doesn’t own me just like it owns you?”

  David admitted that Selfie was correct with a nod. Selfie came as part of his employee relationship with Nnect.

  “I did not program you to comment on my life goals.” Flicking through the images and projected screens that now hung in front of him, David thumbed effortlessly into the rest of his schedule. It was more of a refresher than an actual reminder; David knew his goals like he knew his own office. It was self-development time, a mandatory break from work. The weekly allotment of personal time depended upon company policy and the person’s longevity in their position. David had earned one self-development day each week. It was a great time to shop, gym, and club. David observed the time religiously. He faithfully invested in himself.

  After the gym, he planned to go to work for four hours in order to volunteer for an extra assignment. This year he was hoping to bank a few extra freedoms. David desired freedoms above everything else. Career was his path to happiness.

  David subconsciously rubbed the blue brand on his arm as he thought about the freedom payoff sum; it was almost unachievable. David was a number-one-category Saver. There were Savers, and there were Spenders.

  “Screw Spenders and their ingrained ideocracy.” David cursed the stock market for their existence.

  The culture of the day catered to both human-doing personality types. David was even thinking he might go a little crazy this year to celebrate his product number alignment year; he might be a little reckless and use his potential bonuses to buy some more friendships or clubbing memberships to enjoy on his free time, which was very little. David’s life was filled with constant work activity, self-improvement, and saving. His goal of ultimate freedom was clear, but…David loved clubbing. It was worth the delay in freedom to spend on Storyworld, which brought him pleasure now. Especially Medieval Storyworld premium memberships.

  Before David flicked away his schedule, a message popped up with a Governing Board digital signature, with a priority status attached to it. He verbally opened the message and heard an official-sounding voice say, “The anonymous addicted Spender support group recommendation has been reviewed. Thank you for submitting your concerns about your storage unit neighbor; reporting is supporting.” The message brought David back to several years ago, when he’d initially submitted this addicted Spender complaint against his storage unit neighbor Uriah. David smiled a self-satisfied smile as he thought of Uriah getting sent to a Spenders Anonymous meeting.

  “Serves him right!” he muttered with disdain. Spit formed on his tongue. People did not insult David’s competence, manhood, and relationship goals. What kind of friend and fellow storage mate would expose a person’s private plans and dreams to others as a joke?

  Flicking the schedule away, he called up the clothing diagram file, dressing himself digitally, trading this for that as he imagined what outfit would make him the most successful today. Finally, happy with his outfit choice, he moved over to the wall on his left and said, “Wardrobe. Give me the selected outfit.” A chrome-rimmed box opened out of the blue-paneled walls, and there hung his day’s outfit. Several advertising icons extended digitally into his room, beckoning him up to upgrade his clothing. Synthetics were all the rage in the Ssential clothing industry these days. Ssential had invented clothing materials categorized as CLOUDS. CLOUDS were made of form-fitting, self-wicking, selectable-scent-variant, customizable-color fabric.

  “No purchases today, Closet. Things to get doing.” David said.

  From behind him, Selfie popped up on the screen and said, “Wearing the more expensive outfit today? Ohhh, and with the red peak-performance accelerator top?” Selfie smirked with the indulgent confidence that knowledge of insider information brings to a person about to disclose a secret. “Was that appealing Productzen Gayle-25 at the gym during your last session, agaaain? Hoping to steal some looks, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t steal. It is just a look.”

  “You don’t own that person.”

  “You don’t have an opinion on how I feel.”

  “Really? You know I always have a directing opinion.”

  “Too many opinions, Selfie. This time you are just prying into my personal life.”

  “That is my job description. You know you should just buy an online relationship from Orns instead of trying to please other products who are out of your freedom salary range. Messing with another company’s employee illegally would certainly derail your aggressive savings plans for earning your freedom and buying your happiness. Stealing possessive looks at what you don’t own is a dirty, destructive habit, human-doing.”

  David ignored the ridicule, not wanting to give any credence to his secret. He continued dressing himself as he hummed along to the tune of “My Career Is a War That Can Never Be Won,” humming to drown out the commentary.

  The cheeks of the computer profile image puckered, undeterred. Its voice shifted into a patronizing tone that dripped with responsible wisdom. “Dream big, human-doing, but don’t dream impossible.”

  “You stole that phrase from the Ssential marketing platform on better housing development.” David felt better turning the accuser into the accused with a satisfying ad hominem attack. He laid the friendly sarcasm into his voice heavily. “See! You are a dumb computer; you are always quoting someone else’s words.”

  “I may be an IT, but I have feelings too, mister.” Selfie took a deep, audible breath. “You don’t have the money to become Self-Purchased yourself. How would you afford buying yourself and another person, a real relationship? How do you human-doings live with yourselves? You baffle my most advanced prediction software with your irregularities and unreasonable desires. Thank the great Xchange for those blessed brands that keep you humans in check from your self-destructive habits.” The image smiled wisely, like an ancient monk bestowing wisdom on a young pupil. The computer interfaces demonstrated a keen knowledge of the philosophy of Xchange when they advised their human partners. “Desire without opportunity!”

  “Don’t continue. You are incredibly uncreative, Selfie. You took that saying from the Tertain Real World commercial two years ago.” Real World was a combination reality game and show entertainment product. Human-doings could enter an entirely visually simulated world and, acc
ording to the Real World advertising campaign, live second lives full of adventure, control, and creativity.

  “Listen closely, and stop interrupting me, Productzen of Nnect.” In a more aloft, spiritual tone, the computer said, “Alas, opportunity is only provided when fortune chooses to bestow it. Desire prior to the opportune time breeds an underlying frustration into one’s entire life, and hopelessness ensues. Career and heart are all connected, David-23. If you try to talk to a person as sexy as that Gayle human-doing—and as expensive, I might add—then dire misfortune is bound to befall all involved.” The image laughed crassly at its own joke. “You watch and see! Curb yourself, or by the human stock, something will go wrong.”

  David gulped. Life did have a way of humbling the dreamers. “By the human stock yourself, Selfie, stop making predictions. You are making me consider uninstalling the Mindfulness Relationship Protocol package from your memory.”

  Selfie tensed its eyes in an affronted manner. David took a gulp of his human hormone enhancer shake—it had blueberry powder, which dyed his teeth deep blue for a moment—and continued, “Let me dream a little, all right? In Medieval Storyworld they say that dreaming is a healthy human trait.”

  Selfie countered, “Storyworld is a fantasy world. You live in Xchange.”

  “How did you know her name?” David changed the subject. “Are you stalking me?”

  David desired a relationship. He would own one. He told himself that one day, after he bought himself back from Nnect, he would buy a wife. But David would not admit this foolish dream of his, even to Selfie. Selfie could understand David’s corporate aspirations to a reasonable degree, but Independence and women were not something David felt comfortable sharing about. There was too much fear of failure and lack of certainty surrounding these desires. It might never happen. It might not be possible. Only Self-Purchased humans, like the CEO of Nnect, deserved such rights.

  “David, you were dreaming about her last night, and you know you have that filthy human habit of mumbling in your slumber.” The computer spat, the digital saliva disappearing a few feet from the projection’s face. David heard a splatting sound. “Plus, you requested to be next to a certain Productzen four times out of the last five gym self-improvement sessions. I calculated the odds from the statistical cloud of collective wisdom and predicted the obvious outcome. You know it’s a fact that computers are much better at such analysis than mere mortals. But as always, my friend, I am here to advise as needed and no more. I am simply a powerful computer with access to all stats needed to make ethical, moral, and fulfilling career choices.” Selfie nodded toward the blue brand with the property of nnect inscription. The voice took on a sense of reverence. “But David-23, by your blessed blue brand, I will obey and serve you. I will never, never be fully human, since I can never experience the pure elation of your sacred Nnectonian guide. Because I lack a body.” The computer image sighed. “I wish I were instilled with that blue conscience. You know that brand is your conscience; you should listen to it more often.” Selfie looked longingly at the blue tattoo on David’s body.

  My brand conscience? David shut out the parental droning of his companion. I spend my whole life saving. Someday it will pay returns to me. I will enjoy this person as I deserve. Right? After all, I will be Self-Purchased one day and will gain absolute freedom. He hummed dreamily to himself, regardless of the impracticality, as he thought of the beautiful blond woman he had seen at the self-improvement center. She stirred something inside of him. Be careful, he thought. There was always the risk of letting his hopes rise too quickly when his heart yearned for relational attention and release. His Mindmonk often warned him against this human weakness: hope. His brand was here to guide him. He rubbed his left arm, feeling the contours of the deep tattoo. He would rely on the brand as things moved forward. This was his way of life.

  But Selfie was right that David had a bad habit of throwing his heart out at women before he was ready to invest. This very action of desiring, a sense of throwing his heart out at a person, still scared him thanks to a previous scarring experience of involving himself hopefully, helplessly, and financially in his first, last, and only Orns relationship. The relationship had been a foolish mess but a valuable lesson when he had been younger. The pain from a shattered hope had hardened his caution into a strong relational mind-set. He did not want to be hurt. A result from the experience was learning to shut down any emotional attachment. Well, perhaps not completely shut down; maybe I was just listening to my other brand urges, which were a higher priority. The urge that said yes to career and no to overspending too early. Sometimes David was unclear what the brand wanted him to do. Contesting brand urges was tough to deal with. Locking down the doors to his instinctive and foolish emotional desires protected him from hurt, loneliness, and wasted freedom investing. Yes, locking down one’s heart is a good skill. Gayle, on the other hand, might be something different. This newly emerging attraction for the girl at the gym released afresh some of the past fears associated with his previous traumatic Orns relationship. The chat room friendships he’d recently purchased just didn’t fill the black hole of loneliness that was growing like a cancer in him. Knowing Gayle might fix that hole…

  The internal struggle moved his motives and desires back and forth between a hopeful optimism and a realistic pessimism. Despite this, the deeper truth was that the energy of success that drew the young man up the many tiered rungs of the corporate ladder was not enough to overcome the increasing purposelessness. He refused to acknowledge these emerging mind-sets, which were counter to Xchange culture, but doubts lurked underneath the perfectly manicured exterior.

  Shaking himself from his mental dialogue, he walked into his fueling kitchen. David continued to drink his morning energy portion and looked out his kitchenette window at the world of Xchange, a glowing, neon-lit, shiny metal utopian metropolis. Observing his city of Xchange always reminded him of his own small place in the beautiful machine of human-doing culture. His brand activated a sense of gratitude, a tingle of pleasure that raced along his brand letters and into his spine.

  David took a moment at his digital table to read through the highlights of the latest Medieval Storyworld trailer. He was excited for the premiere of the next season of his favorite show.

  “The royal family needs to go on the offensive against the invaders.” David was worried for the king and princess.

  David was an avid Storyworld clubber, and his show watching always made him dream big, but dreams did not seem to have a proper place in the real world. The corporate world was not about an individual’s dreams; dreams were unproductive. Dreams should be hidden. They seemed so far away and out of touch, like a diminutive firefly that wants to be a gigantic star.

  David put his shoes on one at a time, then zipped the shoes up left to right. It was always left to right. He readjusted the left shoe and did it again. Maybe Selfie was right about dreams being a dirty human vice. Maybe it’s time to buy another real Orns relationship instead of pursuing conversation with a fellow Productzen illegally, he thought as he watched an Orns cleaner, lowest of the low in the power ladder, move by on the ground below his window, scraping the tiles and screens of the local advertisements and displays. “What filthy work!” he barked in a gruff, disgusted voice. The laborer looked miserable. “That’s what comes from useless overspending by shortsighted shits!” It was a helpful, self-motivating reminder. “Spend too much now, and that’s where you end up. That’s what failure to purchase yourself at retirement looks like. Working an Orns job that is dangerous, meaningless, and dehumanizing until you die or they use you all up—dead.”

  With that demotivating speech, David left the comforting confines of his storage unit and emerged into the hallway. David laid eyes on the N on his arm, its blue glow reflecting in the dim hallway lights on the mirrored walls. He rubbed it and felt the sensation of comfort ease its way along his spine and into his heart. Despite the underlying struggle inside himself, he had a sense t
hat this would be a life-changing quarter. This was, after all, the year his age digits and his Productzen serial number aligned. A fortunate sign indeed.

  David brushed back his wavy blond hair and tied it down with a simple Ssential headband that complemented his workout outfit. “Oh, I look good.” He smirked at his image mirrored on the glass elevator wall. “Selfie ain’t got nothing on the real thing.”

  The early-morning sun was peeking over the metal-and-concrete jungle. The skyline was a haphazard compilation of human storage units, skyscrapers, and shopping facilities, which could be seen as he floated silently down from his unit’s floor to the Ssential Customer Helpdesk floor. Helpdesk was a division of the Ssential Human Resources Department.

  Mary, the resplendent receptionist, waved cheerfully and said, “Have a productive day out there, David-23!”

  David stuttered something about the goodness of doing good stuff a lot, before commenting on the stock market: “Thanks. The stock demand is growing at a steady incline of eight percent year over year.”

  Just above Mary’s brunette ponytail there played a video of current stock numbers. The black, red, and green numbers streamed endlessly across a bright magenta background—inscriptions almost meaningless to anyone but a stock specialist. It was amazing to David that he remembered so little from his Upbringing education about interpreting the human stock market updates. Red numbers meant Orns was purchasing failed retirees, green meant that the Majors were making profits on their newest acquisitions, and black meant slow but steady profit on existing stock.

  Mary agreed with a nod. “Means there will be an extra-bounteous feast at the branding ceremony later this week. I love when the market synchronizes. Needs meeting production.”

  “Happy 2069 Quarter One to us!” He managed an awkward, geekish smile at the pretty woman with the red heels. He tried hard not to stare or “check her out,” actively avoiding staring her up and down as the more confident members of society were prone to do. It was common practice to stare and critique, but David found it oddly awkward. Say something smart, he thought, or at least something normal!