Qualityland

by Marc-Uwe Kling

  “No toxicity was established during feeding tests on rats,” says John.

  “Well, that’s reassuring,” says Aisha. “But I wasn’t planning on eating the stuff anyway.”

  She looks at her watch. Tony is almost finished with his introductory speech. John is getting ready to step onto the stage in the market square. Aisha grabs his arm.

  “John,” she says, “the secret services warned us that Machine Breakers could have hidden themselves amongst the audience.”

  “We’re in the countryside,” says John. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “Today it’s different. We received an explicit warning,” whispers Aisha. “We’re lagging way behind in all the opinion polls, but in the rural areas it looks downright catastrophic. Please don’t say anything that could provoke them.”

  “Hey, you know me,” says John with a smile.

  “Yes,” says Aisha. “Exactly.”

  John steps onto the stage, and Tony gives him the microphone.

  “My dear human beings,” the android begins his speech, “it’s a pleasure to be able to speak to you here in the country. As you may know, all other nations have to fight against the international brain drain—the emigration of their smartest minds to us in QualityLand. But there is also a national brain drain, from the country to the city.”

  “Did he just tell them they’re all stupid?” asks Aisha backstage.

  “Yeah, but the hillbillies probably didn’t get that,” says Tony.

  “Not just our industrial, but also the majority of our cultural production takes place in the big cities and revolves around the big cities,” says John. “Where do the decisive politics take place? In the big cities.”

  “Then go back there!” yells one of the listeners.

  “Please hear me out,” says John. “This big-city elitism threatens to divide our society on yet another level. What I’m trying to say is this: you have good reason to feel underrepresented, forgotten, and abandoned. And we must address that urgently! Why, for example, don’t we build smaller universities everywhere across the country?”

  “I think he just called the audience uneducated,” says Aisha.

  “I’m sure that wasn’t his intention,” says Tony.

  “After all, digitalization enables knowledge to be accessed from any given place,” continues John. “There are many ways to bring momentum back into your region, but believe me, the worst would be to fall for Cook and his right-wing rat catchers.”

  “Did he just imply the people here are rats?” asks Aisha.

  Tony remains silent, but the pinched expression on his face speaks volumes.

  The audience is restless. John does what machines always do when they’re not sure what to do next. He tries to reboot.

  “My dear human beings,” he says, “for generations you’ve been told that you just have to haul coal for another few years, then the train will reach paradise. Have you ever asked yourself whether perhaps you’ve already been in paradise for a long time and just forgotten to get off the train? Our productivity, in any case, has reached paradisiacal levels. But we’re failing to distribute the fruits of that labor in a logical way. And that’s why one of my first steps as president will be to finally introduce an unconditional basic income!”

  “But then who will collect the trash?” cries someone from the crowd.

  “Yes, exactly,” calls a woman. “No one does that kind of job voluntarily!”

  “It’s fascinating,” says John, “that this argument is still used even though the trash has been removed by machines in a fully automated process for the last thirty-two years. But of course I understand what you’re getting at. Work that no one wants to do must simply be so well paid that someone can be found to do the job.”

  “I used to be a garbageman!” calls an old man. “You power guzzlers stole my job!”

  “I know that many of you are afraid of us,” says John appeasingly. “And given the current economic structure, not without reason. But this is exactly what I’m getting at! The automation of work doesn’t need to be a tragedy. On the contrary, in another economic system it would be a blessing!”

  “You tin cans stole my life!” cries a woman. “I used to be a postwoman. Now I’m nothing!”

  “I understand your agitation,” says John, “but please listen to me. You need a purpose, a mission, a reason for existence that keeps you going. That’s clear to me. Without this life purpose, even a basic income won’t make anyone happy. That’s why I’m suggesting that we set a common goal. What about, for example, the goal of rescuing our planet from destruction? I think we can agree on that, can’t we? I suggest that it should be our communal project to make life as pleasant as possible for all living beings, in a way that isn’t based upon profit and return. I would like—”

  “Kill him!” yells someone from the crowd of listeners.

  “Yeah! Blow him to smithereens!” cries a woman.

  “There’s nothing for you here, power guzzler,” shouts a boy. “This is Machine-Breaker country!”

  “Destroy everything!” cries an old man. “Long live the FRFat-DotM!”

  John of Us sighs. He flees into the transport drone, inside which Aisha and Tony are already waiting. Two minutes later, Aisha looks down at the crowd from the air. The robocops are already in motion, confronting the rioters with clubs and Tasers.

  “Well, this should make for wonderful campaign pictures…” murmurs Aisha.

  “I have to admit, it’s more difficult than I thought,” says John.

  “What is?” asks Aisha.

  “Finding an answer to Bertrand Russell’s question.”

  “Who?” asks Tony.

  “A dead English philosopher,” says Aisha. “He said: the question today is how one can convince humanity to consent to their own survival.”

  “And it really is astonishingly difficult,” says John.

  WANKERS

  “You call that not far?” asks Kiki, once they finally arrive in front of Peter’s used-goods store.

  “Would you have come if I’d told you I don’t live that close?” asks Peter. “And besides, I was carrying all the bags.”

  The smart door opens for its master and his visitor.

  “What’s all this junk?” asks Kiki, her mouth gaping open. One object in particular has grabbed her attention. “Is that an iPhone X?” she asks. “People still buy that ancient crap?”

  “No,” says Peter. “If they did, it wouldn’t be here.”

  He leads Kiki through the scrap-metal press to the small kitchen-cum-bathroom at the back.

  “This just gets better and better,” says Kiki.

  Peter climbs onto a chair and searches for something in a cupboard above his kitchen unit.

  “I don’t want any coffee,” says Kiki.

  “Hm?” asks Peter. “Oh. Well, that’s good, because I don’t have any.”

  “I’m warning you,” says Kiki. “If you’re planning to attack me with a sex toy again…”

  “I didn’t attack you,” says Peter, climbing back down from the chair with a candle and a packet of biscuits in his hands.

  “Is that your romantic plan?” asks Kiki. “A dusty packet of biscuits and an old candle?”

  “Hey, I’m improvising here,” says Peter. “I wasn’t exactly expecting you to come.”

  “Listen up, master of improvisation,” says Kiki. “I think you’re kind of sweet, but also totally weird. Coming with you was a batshit crazy move and therefore unpredictable, hence why I did it. But now I’m here it would be much too predictable to sleep with you. That’s why I can’t do it.”

  Peter is speechless. Kiki can see him thinking intently.

  “But isn’t that actually very predictable in itself, not sleeping with me in order to stay unpredictable?” he asks eventually. “Wouldn’t it be much more unpredictable to sleep with me?”

  “Nice try.”

  “You’re totally crazy.”

  “Of course,
” says Kiki. “It’s the only way to be free.” She looks around the kitchen. “Do you have a high-speed internet connection here?”

  “What? Oh, yes. From the shop.”

  Kiki pulls a notebook computer out of her jacket pocket and unfolds it four times.

  “Do you need the password?” asks Peter.

  “No, thank you,” says Kiki. “I can manage.”

  Peter sits down next to her at the kitchen table.

  “You went to see the old man…” says Kiki.

  “Yes.”

  “Did he tell you his horror story about the super intelligence?”

  Peter nods. He glances at the screen of the notebook. There are thirty-two little videos playing on it. All of them show men. Sixteen sitting, eight standing, eight kneeling, and every single one of them has his penis in his hand and is masturbating.

  “What in God’s name are these recordings?” asks Peter in confusion.

  “They’re not recordings,” says Kiki, smiling. “Not yet. It’s live.”

  “And you said I was perverted…”

  “I’m not perverted,” says Kiki. “This is how I earn my money.”

  “Well, that makes it much better!” exclaims Peter. “You run a porn site?”

  “No, no. It’s not my site. I just hacked into it.”

  “Why?”

  “Have you ever heard of revenge porn?”

  “No.”

  “How sweet. But you’re familiar with sexting?”

  “When people send revealing pictures or films of themselves to their partner?”

  “Revealing?” Kiki laughs. “Fuck photos, you mean. Yes. And revenge porn comes about when these photos and films are put online by spurned partners.”

  “And what does that have to do with the masturbating men on your screen?”

  “What does that have to do with the wankers? Well, they’re currently getting their kicks by looking at the biggest revenge porn site. What they don’t know is that I’ve written a small program that activates the internal camera of their QualityPad or computer, and as soon as they visit the site, it streams the recordings to me. My program automatically recognizes when the wankers spurt their mayonnaise—it’s easy to tell from the facial expression—and immediately sends little e-blackmails with the video and the threat of publishing it.”

  “And that’s how you make your money?”

  “Amongst other things, yes.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of getting caught? What happens if it gets traced back to you?”

  “I’ve taken precautionary measures, of course.”

  “Oh yes?”

  “I always use other people’s internet access, for example.”

  “What?! Now, hang on a minute—”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t leave any tracks. Presumably.”

  “Isn’t it impossible not to leave any tracks?”

  “It’s not about committing crimes that can’t be traced back. The trick is to commit crimes where there isn’t enough interest in tracing them back. And besides, I wouldn’t exactly call this a crime. It’s more of an educational measure.”

  “So what does your silence cost?”

  “It depends,” says Kiki. “An algorithm calculates the probable bank balance of the wanker in question and establishes an appropriate punishment in digicoins. I don’t ask for much. The equivalent of 10 Qualities. On average.”

  “That’s very cheap.”

  “Yes, but that way they don’t need to think twice about whether to pay. That’s the great thing about digital crime. Whether I steal 10,000 Qualities from one wanker or 10 Qualities each from one thousand wankers, for me the result is the same. But one wanker who’s robbed of 10,000 makes much more of a fuss than 1,000 who only had to pay 10 Qualities each.”

  “But what about the operators of the porn site? What if they track you down?”

  “Them? They have enough skeletons in their closet already. Do you know why these porno sites are free?”

  “Because of the advertising?”

  “No. Well, that too. But the main reason is that all the wankers unknowingly solve CAPTCHAs for the website operator’s bot armies.”

  “I didn’t understand a word of that,” says Peter.

  “A wanker? It’s a man who takes his penis in his hand and…”

  “Yes, I get that. There were just a few words I didn’t understand.”

  “CAPTCHA stands for Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart.”

  “What?”

  “Those little pictures with the distorted letters. Or the nine images of gross-looking lunch plates, and you’re supposed to say how many have chips on.”

  “I’ve seen those!” cries Peter.

  “There you go!”

  “Though I have to admit that I’ve been failing them more and more recently.”

  “Indeed, because the better the algorithms’ pattern recognition became, the more difficult the CAPTCHAs became. Eventually, they didn’t work at all anymore. Until someone came up with the idea of reversing the operating principle, so that a CAPTCHA solved without any errors whatsoever means that you’re a computer. After that, they were reintroduced everywhere. For example, when you want to open up a new account somewhere. And from my own experience I can tell you that CAPTCHAs are really annoying if you’re planning to set up a few thousand zombie accounts.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Luckily some smarty-pants came up with the idea that these CAPTCHAs could be mirrored in real time on porn sites. Unsuspecting wankers solve the CAPTCHAs in order to access the pictures and videos.”

  “Fascinating. And you’re really not worried that all your trickery will land you in court? That’s so…” Peter interrupts himself and stands up. “Me! I could go to court. Of course!”

  “You’re going to sue me?” asks Kiki.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. TheShop.”

  “You want to sue TheShop?”

  “Of course. Because of the dolphin vibrator. To make them take it back.”

  “Got it. But how exactly are you planning to pay for that? Even the most reasonably priced lawyer must far exceed the means of a Level 9 machine scrapper.”

  “Come with me,” says Peter. “I’m going to show you something I’ve never shown anybody before.”

  Kiki gives him a half concerned, half amused look.

  “Are you still a virgin?” she asks.

  “What? No! Of course not.”

  “Good. Because I’ve seen a lot of embarrassing attempts to hit on me in my time, but that would be by far…”

  “Point made,” says Peter. “Now are you coming with me or not?”

  “Where am I supposed to go?”

  “Into the cellar.”

  Kiki laughs loudly. “Of course. Into the cellar…”

  “It’s nothing perverted,” says Peter. “I promise.”

  “Well, that’s okay then. If you promise…”

  Kiki pulls something which looks like a plastic prong out of her bag.

  “This is an electro impulse weapon with 600,000 volts,” she says.

  “Is that a no?” asks Peter.

  “I didn’t say that. I’m much too curious about your model railway for that. But you go in front, and if you make any sudden movements then: bzzzzzz. If the lights suddenly goes out: bzzzzzz. If you even think of doing anything stupid…”

  “Bzzzzzz,” says Peter.

  “I’m glad we understand each other.”

  New Film Recommendations For You

  Star Wars—Episode 16

  The Empire has a new sinister plan! It’s another Death Star! Luckily, budding Jedi knights Ro-Pu-Ni and Ching-Chong-Chang have the dynamic support of Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock, who have ended up in a galaxy far, far away because of some time-space-vortex thingie unleashed by a time dilatation—but who cares about the technical details anyway? The more exciting part, after all, is how our four heroes are dealing with what they found out in
Episode 15: in other words, that they are all related to one another. Captain Kirk is the father of Ching-Chong-Chang! Wow! No one was expecting that. And who’s the bad guy with the comical mask? A long-lost cousin? Perhaps even… a GIRL cousin?

  The Fastest and the Most Furious Ever

  The latest blockbuster, with a digitally rejuvenated Vin Diesel! The high point of this ninety-minute action film is the spectacular one-and-a-half hour car chase in the middle.

  The Coca-Cola Movie

  “Another remake of the Coca-Cola Movie?” you may ask. “Is that really necessary?” It might not be necessary, but it’s fun to watch these slim, trained, healthy young people as they drink sugar water on the beach or laughingly spray themselves with sugar water in the city. Everything is perfect! But then, all of a sudden, the damn wasps appear! Does one of our heroes get stung? Oh no!

  Frogger—the Film

  The successful trend for filming computer games has finally rediscovered this classic. A family of cute little frogs try to forge their way across a motorway. Will they make it? And what will they find on the other side? From the makers of the highly-praised suicide drama Lemmings—the Movie.

  The Object of My Affection

  Comedy classic with Jennifer Aniston! A pregnant New York social worker falls in love with her gay best friend. So many clichés in just one film. Amazing stuff!

  Hitler—The Musical—The Movie!

  The tragic love story between two controversial historical personalities: Ado & Eva. The critics are in raptures!

  “You will Nazi a better movie this year”—NazzFeed

  COLLATERAL CONSEQUENCES

  Arriving in the cellar, Kiki is speechless. And that is a rare occurrence for her. She stares for a long time at the partially defective machines chilling in front of a television. The machines stare back. Only Romeo is unable to tear his gaze away from the screen. Juliet Nun is looking even more captivating today than normal.

  “May I introduce my friends to you?” asks Peter.

  “I have to admit,” says Kiki, “you’re even more unfathomable than I thought. In a pleasantly unperverted way.”