A Tale Of Doings

by Philip Quense

  He walked soundlessly toward the lab exit door marked lab 56. An open lab door off to his left, designated by a glowing neon red X, drew his momentary attention. Inside, a woman in her early thirties with no brand was being strapped forcibly onto a unique restraint-enabled branding table. A Brand Doctor, designated by a red needle patch on a bloody green lab coat, was yelling orders at an army of assistants.

  The Brand Doctor yelled, “This one has been off the brand for five years and went undetected. QC just found her hidden in a computer storage closet. We need to dose her slowly and increase the injection’s potency progressively or the rebranding will kill her. We will bring her to her managers for a personal objectability review to see if she stays with Nnect or…”

  One of the men in the room looked up and saw David dumbly staring into the room, trying to make sense of what was going on. David’s confused mind did not grasp details or piece information together in its depleted postoperative state. The Brand Doctor waved hurriedly at the open door. A bulky assistant stepped ominously in front of David and motioned for him to move on.

  “This is a level-three restricted area, employee. Please continue with your business.” Seeing the innocent look of confusion on David’s face, he added, “The emergency health unit brought in a potential heart attack candidate; we are going to stabilize her.”

  That looks like the jogger fanatic from my gym who is always at the window unit, David thought. The door slammed in his face, and the resounding bang ended any desire to investigate further. David moved on with his day, heading out the door and past the line of waiting Nnect employees, none of which he knew well.

  David noticed, in the hallway and heading in the other direction, a particularly high-ranking QC captain, one who’d publicly received a medal of valor from the CEO of Nnect himself. This man oversaw the Nnect division of QC.

  “I wonder why he is here.” The man stood with his arms clasped behind him, feet spread shoulder width under him, and he watched the crowd as if they were lab rats. The powerful-looking man was in a private discussion with another green-robed Brand Doctor. David caught the words, “Hmm, odd indeed. And there might be others.” It made no sense to David, so he moved on. It seemed that QC was very active today. With that thought he headed back to his workstation to finish off the day so that he could make it out to the evening’s festivities. He was excited about clubbing. Clubbing, especially Storyworld clubbing, was his favorite activity aside from saving and sculpting his body at the gym. “It’s my favorite. You deserve it. You earned it,” he sang in his out-of-tune manner, quoting a popular song from a recent news commercial.

  Hours later the celebrations began. And Xchange knew how to celebrate. The Core Government Buildings, the Mega Consumption Malls, and the Majors’ campuses each held festivals, which included free food and drink—the only time anything was free—and free advertising. All the new products were brightly displayed and stood as beacons of human accomplishment.

  David was out clubbing. The world seemed to slow down for him; he was in what the Mindmonks called “flow.” He would be clubbing every night this week.

  “By the human stock, hurry up and finish that promo game already, Twenty-Three. We do not want to miss the Orns Medieval Storyworld season five premiere, ‘In Their World, History Relived.’” Meagan, Bill, and Christian waved at David as he stepped out of the buzz visual display booth. The booth was a sensually stimulating journey into the theoretical heart of a Freedom Mansion.

  As he stepped out of the buzz booth, his shaking legs tripped over a jobless man who groveled with outreaching arms toward the richer and younger human-doings. David brushed the man aside like a scrap from a finished meal and kept on toward his acquaintances. “Who let him out on a night like this?” David complained to his group.

  Christian agreed. “QC should do a better job keeping the streets clean, especially during holidays.”

  Meagan said in disgust, “Gross, did that crap touch you?”

  David nodded with bile in his mouth. Don’t let one human like him take away the pleasure of your evening.

  “Happy thoughts, Twenty-Three,” Bill reminded the group.

  David smiled as he recalled the buzz booth experience. David loved learning how the other side lived. It fueled his desire for freedom. Meagan waved toward a Storyworld poster. She was the head of David’s favorite club, Storyworld Exclusive. Three years of David’s precious savings were invested in this particularly expensive entertainment club; he was a premium season ticket holder this year. He loved stories.

  “You sure you don’t want to come see the daredevil showdown, David?” Bill was a member of several clubs and tried frequently to get David to come watch the Battle Games and air-surfing events with the Adrenaline Junkie club.

  “Bill, I watched both shows live several times prior to my Storyworld club engagement. You remember.”

  “Still, they are worth it.”

  “With my Storyworld membership, I get access to Medieval Storyworld’s new releases prior to the public episodes.” David would not miss this for the world.

  “Nerd. Come with us instead.” Bill was insistent. “Justin.” Justin was the Adrenaline Junkie club president and a fellow commuter from the Flock Block. “Justin said he would extend a five percent discount if you order now!”

  “Nah, I am going with Meagan, Christian, and the other readers to watch the story. I will be going to the air-surfing competition later in the week, so this is more important now. Tell Justin’s crew I say hi. This Storyworld stuff feels so much more intimate than those predictable sports competitions. Real people living real lives.” Real heroes. It’s realer than life. But he did not add all his thoughts. Don’t want to sound like a nerd.

  “Fantasy hero nerd alert! Life is good with all these options. Working hard does pay off, don’t you agree, Twenty-Three and Seventy-Seven?” Before they could reply, Bill moved off, disappearing into the swirling maze of people who were excitedly clubbing and noisily shopping. David and Christian jumped on the nearest Gravetless with Meagan.

  “Maximize living, I always say.” Meagan waved a sarcastic goodbye to the groveling jobless man. David was drawn to her magnanimity. So full of life, she beamed at her fellow readers riding the Gravetless. “We have just club members here, yay.” She lit up, excited to nerd out on the upcoming season’s premiere. “It’s nice to have fellow readers and intellectuals in a group. What do you guys think of the new Storyworld rumors? What will happen, do you think?”

  “You think the rumors about Orns adding new Storyworlds onto the already successful Medieval Storyworld are true?”

  David knew the rumors. “The sources have been very unreliable in the past. It is probably not true. Medieval Storyworld is such a huge expense and production. There is no way they will create other full worlds.”

  “Well, whatever the case, what do you think will happen in season five of Medieval Storyworld?”

  David, Christian, and Meagan analyzed the new plot twists and character developments and potential pitfalls as they approached Human Theater #2 on the Tertain campus. There were five massive human theaters composing the Citadels of Tertain. Each seated comfortably five hundred privileged human-doings in the front sensual boxes, seat sections that interacted with the occupants’ senses as the show progressed. Another five thousand standard seats were above. With only five hundred allowed into the lower participating theater sections, tickets were a privilege and an expense. But vacation and entertainment were all a part of a healthy lifestyle. This was both of those things for David. Worth the investment, without a doubt.

  “I am so glad I got into this club. Hobbies are so important. I would get burned out at work if I did not have some of this other-side-of-the-brain time.”

  The group chatted as they met up with another hundred members of their club and sat in the Storyworld club reserved sections. The crowd was excited and pulsed with energy.

  A pretty woman with buzzed brown hair came up to the
group and sat in the floating seat between Meagan and David. “Are you guys suckers for medieval stuff? I see you already have Medieval Storyworld logos on your chat room settings—nerd alert, hahaha.” She showed her phone to the friends. “I am Helan; I added you to my contacts.”

  “You know we are into this stuff! What is your favorite season?” David said, excited that someone was preemptively stalking his social profile.

  “Humm. How rude,” Meagan huffed to herself. “Nice to meet you. What do you doooo?”

  “Oh, sorry. Not meaning to be rude. I am an administration officer for the housing accounting department of Freedom Purview. We are a division of Ssential Building Repairs and Gardening Machinery. What do you do, and then who is your favorite Storyworld character?”

  It was common courtesy to let someone know what you did first. But sometimes the excitement of the moment carried a person away.

  “Well, I love, love, and adore season three of Medieval Storyworld. The disappearance of the princess still has me baffled. I don’t buy the academy bit. Other than my obvious wholehearted obsession with this show”—Meagan pointed at the stage—”uh, in addition to this, personally, I love watching the struggles of Real World.” Real World was another huge entertainment offering. “Sometimes I see people I know and work with, and it fascinates me to watch their decisions and characteristics coming out in the alternative reality. It is like opening a window into another world. Seeing the real side of people.” She paused. “Thank the Doers that those people don’t act like that at work. Things would be chaotic. Pretty messed-up people.” Meagan jiggled her locks.

  “So, do you have memberships to Real World and Medieval Storyworld as well?” the newcomer asked David.

  He shook his head but did not say anything because the show onstage was beginning.

  With that, the lights turned off, and the room went silent as the stage in front of them began to hum and glow. Flash. The lights came on again, and a well-known emcee voice sounded through the stadium. “Five minutes for personal and group selfies and profile updates. Please only use high-quality devices tonight. We do not want our venue or customers looking bad in the electronic world.”

  David rushed around frantically with the others, taking videos and pictures, making new profile friends, and tagging others in memes. The social media frenzy looked like sharks rushing in and about a pool filled with injured prey. Anyone following his life story online could see all the cool things he did. Connections were how you survived the business world, after all. He also wanted to promote the great Nnect Connect products that allowed him and others to continually post their lives in the digital world. He would have quite a collection of cool selfies ready for National Selfie Life-Story Day.

  After five minutes, a loud siren sounded, and the crowd robotically settled down into their seats. The lights went out, and a figure walked onto the stage. A single beam shone mysteriously on the person.

  The Orns CEO stood onstage, shrouded in anonymity. The man was of average height, and his face was hidden in shadow, as always.

  “No one knows his name.” Helan nudged David in awe.

  “Rivals the CEOs themselves,” David gossiped.

  There was much speculation about the powerful figure and owner of the Orns conglomerate. But his voice was melodious and appealing. The voice’s magnificence filled the room, and he said, “Welcome, Storyworld subscribers. We at Orns offer the best in entertainment. Our stories are worth all of your freedoms!” The crowd erupted as the enigmatic CEO spoke. The enigma’s voice was soft, deep, rich, mysterious, and inviting. He continued when the cheers settled to silent anticipation. “I welcome you to invest your freedoms in the newest Storyworld season. I present to you Medieval Storyworld, season five.”

  Lights flashed grandly, and piercing horns blared. Cold, wet fog issued forth and filled the stage and the seating area where the awed spectators watched. Haunting music and daunting hoofbeat sounds surrounded David and the other startled fans. Suspense hung in the air. He smelled mold and plants. He heard the whistling of night creatures around him. The moon rose over them from the back of the transforming stage.

  The stomping grew louder, and horses raced out from the gateways behind them. A black steed with a savage metal-coated rider reared ten feet from David, like a demon issuing from hell’s gates to enslave the world of the living. David clenched his fists tightly in fear and sank farther into his seat. The giant reared in front of him again. David’s seat rotated and kept him watching. The horse’s nostrils expanded, and the white teeth shone in the moonlight: ivory. The man on the beast blew a horn, raised a shiny, deadly sword, and charged toward the stage below. The horse leaped over David and two other viewers. The audience seats shifted unexpectedly and moved out of the rider’s way. Other riders appeared off to the side. Seats slid aside, anticipating the riders’ paths. David vomited as soon as the flying hooves went over him.

  As his seat rotated to view the stage, David noted that a troop of silver knights and white horses waited, their white banners and red crosses standing in defiance of the night. The army of black horses and knights racing out of the crowd attacked.

  Bloody death ensued. Screams and shrieks rose up from the front of the crowd as several spectators were dragged onto the stage and killed during the mayhem of the battle.

  David and his fellow spectators watched in fascinated rapture as the story makers unfolded the premier before their very eyes. The new Medieval Storyworld. A world of two kingdoms, slave trade, sea wolves, valiant knights, dangerous foes, kings, queens, fair princesses, spies, battles, and much, much more. As a pack of dogs chased a peasant off the stage, the curtain fell. David sat back, emotionally drained from the revelations. The new Storyworld season was full of chivalry and bravery, with characters fighting to overthrow the ever-growing evil forces that were invading the once-peaceful kingdom of Alexoria.

  “By the human stock. Orns has set the bar high. I need to buy an autorenewing season subscription!” Meagan rasped off to David’s left, her voice shakily mimicking David’s thoughts.

  “They took the front row of Productzens as slaves.”

  “Slavery is new.”

  “Did you see that black knight execute the first three he pulled onstage? They are serious about this show.”

  And so the first night of clubbing ended. The week went by in a blur of events, investments, and selfies. David’s subscription to Medieval Storyworld was the most expensive investment the avid Saver made during the week, and he continued to watch the show religiously. Not all addictions are depravities.

  Chapter 6

  Bands of Uncertainty

  Quarter 1, Day 3

  The weekend holiday was finished. Weary with joy and adrenaline, the young Nnectonian finally retired to sleep at his storage unit to recover for the new work quarter. A pounding headache, cluttered in-box, and smaller freedom bank total all indicated a fulfilling and rejuvenating vacation. David had loved every minute of the holidays. Well, that was an exaggeration. There was one regret.

  Over the weekend, Gayle’s note did not produce any further interaction. He did not hear anything after the handwritten note. The crumpled white parchment stood starkly out of place amid the high-tech items that dominated David’s storage unit work space. The Gayle note. Gayle, he thought with disappointment.

  Patience was not a virtue in a world of instant messaging; keeping someone waiting was selfish and rude.

  Now that the busy schedule and emotional stimulus from the festive week were over, David desired further interaction with Gayle. Prior to the holiday, he had politely extended a virtual invite to his clubbing, but she had not showed up. Emotionally investing in the courage to ask her to share his only guest pass had taken a toll on him. He had felt drained and disappointed by the rejection. It had felt almost as bad as his experience at Orns.

  He finally had asked Meagan, the Storyworld club president, for advice about his Gayle predicament. She had recommended investing in
an online connection with Gayle. No good human-doing would turn down a friendly Nnect connect invitation.

  For the past three fruitless and restless hours, when he should have been sleeping, he eagerly watched the blink blink of a green light to see if his invitation would be answered. Blink after unrewarding blink, the notifications taunted his tortured soul mercilessly. David was exhausted and out of sorts. The Nnect communication interface allowed users to receive live status updates of sent messages. In a moment of helpless and frenzied panic, David followed up his simple chat request with a paid friend subscription request; the cost was equal to almost two weeks of pay. The plan included a high quality six-month video chat room feature. It was a foolish, expensive shot in the dark.

  “Never extend your wealth without some sort of positive feedback. That’s normal good sense,” Selfie moaned. “Why are you so foolish human!”

  “Don’t berate me. I want to impress Gayle with my willingness to spend freedoms on her. So she will notice me.”

  And then a cruel red glowing message appeared.

  Selfie read, “Rejected by user Abigayle-25.”

  To David’s horror and deep shame, his heartfelt message was denied, and then a further notification of deletion chimed. Deleted? “How could she do this to me?”

  “Further shame,” Selfie laughed. “She blocked your account.”

  “Rex take you. I can read,” David yelled angrily. His face turned the color of a tomato. Being blocked was a social punch in the face. The gut-wrenching feeling of innate worthlessness clung to the shunned man.

  “Better make your response good—you only get one rebuttal message to give Gayle feedback on the rejection,” Selfie explained.

  “I know how it works. Do you forget I program these things at work?” David took a moment to think about how to respond.

  “Don’t be pitiful,” Selfie warned.

  David could not help himself. Selfie moaned in disgust. David begged—yes, begged—for an explanation for the rejection. How could she block me after writing that note? A handwritten note must mean something, he thought. He counted the number of handwritten notes people had written to him.