《REPORT: TRAITOR WER#-4533287; INVESTIGATION》 #01 It was cold today, like every other day¡­ The walls were thin. The blankets ragged and old. These disloyal thoughts passed over his head as the slow shrill beeps of the digital clock rang out; rising him from his slumber. The air was still, and he wondered if the air-cyclers had stalled again. Woe be the unlucky citizen sent to help out. Shaking his head to rid himself of these unessential thoughts, he dug through his refrigerator searching for any remaining nutrients-paste, his fingers eventually clutching the metallic cylinder. He stumbled through putting on his labour-wear and worked the mask around his face and mouth. Once he attached his identification tag, reading AED-#210-31570, he walked out the door, into the cramped and dirty hallway; the electronic lock beeping behind him. He made his way to the lift, the long hall stretching in front of him, as the doors opened he spotted a fellow citizen inside. A shallow breath. - AED-#210-31570 briefly looks around and heads inside. ¡°Greetings Citizen-AED-#210-59786, heading to the fagrotimas?¡±, he gives AED-#210-31570 a curt nod, before returning to his usual blank stare at the wall. AED-#210-31570 makes his way to the opposite corner, stopping only when he reaches the end. ¡°Could you press G3 for me?¡± AED-#210-31570 asks, to which Citizen-AED-#210-59786 nods. - The lift descends, slowly filling up as more and more citizens enter. 102: 3 citizens enter. 98: 4 citizens enter. 54: 10 citizens enter. And so on and so forth. A soft ding resounds across the enclosed space, and the tide of people departs from the lift, swelling across the room; before funnelling out the door. As he walked to the graviton-loop, the massive ceiling lights finally turned on, barely making their way to his location past the twisting paths and stacked upon buildings, all slowly built upon one another in the effort to maximize what little space they had, in the cramped darkened man-made cave, parodying a colony of ants. As he scuttled his way down the endless stairways and copious lobbies, he finally made it to the station. Checking the electronic sign, he realized the train would be there in 5 minutes. 5 minutes came, and the train arrived, on the dot as usual; he stepped in, in unison with the dozens of other citizens, he was alone yet surrounded. When he arrived at the side of the train, he grabbed the handgrip, next to the tinted windows. As the train departed and slowly sped up the coils The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. increasing its speed as it passed through one loop then the next, a break opened between the mechanical monoliths of residential building after residential building and the occasional megastructure, AED-#210-31570 noticed the massive uniform steel doors, towering like mountains, the only way for the city to commence its trade. He pulled his eyes away from the sight and gazed upon the countless line of hanging bodies, their skin pale and starting to decompose, attached to each person''s chest, a large sign listing their sins. ¡®Show no reaction to this¡¯ he thought, ¡®if you show emotion, they know.¡¯ After the sight had passed, he noticed a change, something different, the feeling of the place was off. But he was a loyal citizen, he paid it no heed and continued his vacant glance out the dark tinted window, as if a promise of what to come. As he stepped into the factorium, a variety of smells overwhelmed him, penetrating his nose through the gas mask and stinging his eyes. Dejected and grudging, he once more prepared himself to start his shift, the low hum of machinery putting him to sleep as he started his task. The drill went in. He heard a click. Drill goes out. Drill goes in. He hears a click. Drill goes out. Drill goes in. He hears a click. Drill goes out. A dozen hours passed with no respite, and he slowly grew fatigued. A shrill clanging bell rang out, jolting him from his near slumber, and he put away his devices and headed to the exit, the urge for sleep accompanying his every movement. He handed his tools in and made his way to the exit, stumbling onto the train when it arrived. He went past the platform, up the stairs, in the lift along with a hundred others. As his face caressed the pillow, he once again fell asleep. He woke up. He went to work. Drill in. Click. Drill out. Hand the tools in. Go up the stairs. Sleep. He woke up. He went to work. Drill in. Click. Drill out. Hand the tools in. Go up the stairs. Sleep. He woke up. He went to work. Drill in. Click. Drill out. Hand the tools in. Go up the stairs. Sleep. He woke up. He went to work. Drill in. Click. Drill out. Hand the tools in. Go up the stairs. Sleep. He woke up. He went to work. Thump. Drill in¡­ odd, there didn''t seem to be a click. As he stared down, two pairs of empty eyes pierced him, full of pain, staring into his soul. Dead from sleep exhaustion, His body had collapsed on the conveyor belt and had kept moving. The drill had borne a 2-inch hole straight through his skull, and the soft, wet liquid was already starting to ooze out onto the conveyor belt. Blood and viscera covered me where he stood, and blanketed his work equipment. The tangy metallic smell filling the air, invaded his nostrils, piercing through the cheap mask, filling his lungs. He looked and saw how various bits of unidentified meat had covered the already grimy floor. He stood at the scene, hesitating, before realizing what he had to do. He shoved his body on the floor, an unidentified greyish liquid bursting out once more, and called for an overseer. The only thought passing through his head, one of annoyance at the mess he would likely have to clean up. #02 AED-#210-31570 sat in an office, opposite another, albeit higher valued citizen. The only sounds filling the air were the slow intake, then outtake of the higher quality gas mask, the tubes from the sleek grey machine, running down the citizen¡¯s face before coalescing and entering his throat. AED-#210-31570 decided to speak. ¡°Sir, This citizen promises you they didn¡¯t kill him, he was already dead from lack of sleep!¡± The overseer opposite of him paid it no mind, slowly reviewing the footage, combing through his actions. The grand reverberations of the machine echoed throughout the room. ¡°This citizen has made up their mind, and has decided to declare you free of charge. Your incident has been deemed as a one-off accident resultant by AED-#210-36753 poor work ethic and unwillingness to contribute, his immediate family shall receive demerits for their inability to have stopped his transgressions. But, that is all, you may leave. And return to your station, you have delayed the quotas by two shifts and I expect you to make up for it soon.¡± AED-#210-31570 deeply thanked his superior before exiting the dreaded room and returning to his station, continuing his dull task until the work shift ended. He left confused and a tad bit saddened. No matter what he said in the questioning, he had just killed a man after all. Why was it, that in the few moments where the man gained clarity, that there was a hint of relief in the eyes of that day''s unfortunate statistic. It gave him and small amount of relief, and he hated himself for it, for running from the guilt. A true citizen is supposed to face all troubles head on and all that, and yet the man¡¯s expression at the end, by abandoning his work, he seemed happy to give up. Was that right? Abandoning your duties like that? AED-#210-31570 continued his melancholic walk back to his small lonely dorm as he went along with the tides of workers returning from the day shift, a small tsunami of people, overflowing into the station as the doors to the train opened and the night shift poured out, making their way past the already crowded station, gloom in their eyes and their steps heavy as another shift awaited them. AED-#210-31570 managed looked at the signs and was the closest to happy he could get that the train was his, and he no longer had to wait. He got on, minding his step. He had seen enough work weary citizens fail to realize it was there and step right through the gap, the train simply leaving, passing over their broken bodies behind, he never wanted the next one to be him. As he got on and waited for the train to fill up, unwashed bodies pressing tightly up against one another in an effort for as many people to enter as possible. The grey monotone doors hissed and the doors shut, luckily, this time, no one was in the way. AED-#210-31570¡¯s train continued onward past the hanging bodies, new ones today. That was the only change. It was always a guess as to who might be the new unlucky citizen. If it ever was someone he knew, he might not even be able to tell. Not without their voice, although the personalities of these dead criminals and his adjacent work partners may as well be the same, for all he knew. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. What an awful joke, he thought to himself, this train of thought is entirely too demotivating and grim for a citizen to have, think of more positive things. There was always the worry that they would be able to tell if he disliked his life, he could imagine the condescending stares he was already getting for questioning the wonderful life of a citizen. His mind attempted to steer him back towards happiness. If I work for another week, I¡¯ll be able to obtain enough merit for some flavour on my next meal! Yes, that thought worked fine, he was excited about it too, some flavour for the dreary days ahead. But what flavour to get? There were three whole flavours to choose from with his position and merit, and didn''t know which generous offer to obtain. Slowly, the train hissed yet again to a halt. He departed, making his way back to the massive super-construct, going along with the stream of people, through the red glowing lights of the lift and back to his dorm. The door sealed behind him, and he took off his mask and began to clean it. Taking care to clean the parts that had gotten dirty with blood, he wiped and wiped with the corner of his blanket, examining every part and making sure the filtration had nothing blocking it. As he laid down onto his bed and popped a nutrition pill into his mouth, his service screen beeped, as he read what it said he sighed, then immediately corrected his posture to be as joyful as possible. To make up for his infraction, starting tomorrow, he was going to have to work two extra night shifts. He went to sleep ready for another day of rewarding, important contributions to his homeland. As he would the day after and after that, forever until he was no longer able to function. He woke up again, at first, his thoughts were muddled and hazy, but the nutrition pill helped, or it would¡¯ve if he could find it. His hands dug around the empty canister, desperately searching for the small white pill that kept him functioning. Alas, it was not to be found. He checked the time ¡®06:50¡¯, he still had time to make an order. He pounced at the tablet which was inbuilt to the wall, frantically he swiped past the merit options, the overlays of his personality and his citizen satisfaction score; scrolling down past the war developments at cerblume 5 and entered the citizen needs section. Some button presses later and after only the smallest amount of identifying information, he had ordered his nutrition pill and all that waited was collection. AED-#210-31570 made his way up the steps, the bright artificial lights blinding his eyes as he climbed one step after the other, throughout the air was the sound of an omnipresent hum which set him slightly on edge. He swallowed and moved through the tide of fellow citizens to the train, its massive length running up and down the station in the same monochrome hue, And what a station it was. Massive waves of citizens and workers crashed against the platforms and walkways that infested the place, the same pleasant feminine sounding voice announcing in a dozen different places which of the trains were present and where they were going. The top of the station was raised so high that he would have to crane his neck all the way to actually see where the top was, not that he would, Given how it would make him stand out. Where detached, hovering, concentric rail lines ran through to dock the larger hyperloop trains carrying the cargo needed to keep the factories supplied. They were brutish, ugly things, meant to maximize as much space as possible, enchanted with larger dimensions inside than out and lacking any sort of human carrying capacity in the slightest. They fulfilled the same purpose as the passenger trains, though, for all their extra expenses. To transport as much material as possible to where it could be the most useful. Now that was a good thought, AED-#210-31570 thought, his usefulness was his purpose, and the thesis to his happiness, because that¡¯s what they said, and they couldn¡¯t be wrong. He made his way inside the train, as well as with every one else, and grabbed the first handhold available. Off the train went, although this time there was no window to pass the time, just the huddled bodies of other citizens pressed against him. He was grateful for the mask in situations like these, its processed air, and acrylic aftertaste masking the stench of the unwashed masses. He noticed the similarity of the citizens surrounding him, the identical wear and uncompromising sameness beating a hammer against his tire mind, before the voice announced his stop and he pushed his way off. #03 AED-#210-31570 was working, he wasn¡¯t sure what exactly it was he was supposed to be making, but he knew his purpose, just drill in, wait for the click, and drill out¡­ Yet why did every time he hear that click was he reminded of the sound of breaking bones? Why was his arm shaking when he was only 2 hours into his shift? That face haunted him, but it neither appeared angry with him, nor sad, and that¡¯s what scared AED-#210-31570 the most. With these thoughts in mind, he continued his work. He slowly staggered out of the factory, he had about 10 minutes before the morning and night shifts switched, his mind was exhausted from the prospect of uniquely more work to be complete. He was still not done, so he waited outside the massive doors, their width, and height spanning the breadth of the road. They were incredible, he realized, his fatigued mind trying to pay any complements possible towards them, they represented the gate to success and happiness, built by all before him. He LOVED these doors, he was ELATED to pass through them every day, and so he did. He had never worked the night shift before, but it was comforting in a way, to know the process was the same. He was assigned to the first empty slot, and finally, for the first time in his life, had something new to do. The novelty of his new position wore off as the night dragged on. His task was simple, he extended his arms to get one of the various ¡®devices¡¯ and then put them on another conveyor belt. As he stared down at them, he felt a sense of futility, ¡®why were they grey?¡¯. He was certain more colours existed, so why did he have to see the same one over and over and over and over and over. His eyes glazed over as he took the device and put it somewhere else. ¡®The device¡¯, as he began to refer to it, was a strange thing, a sort of elongated cube with various knobs and creases along its length. For the life of him, which wasn¡¯t worth much, he couldn¡¯t figure out what it was for. So, he decided to employ another first of his life and asked the person besides him. ¡®Greetings citizens, do you know what we¡¯re assembling?¡¯ All AED-#210-31570 got back were cold stares, suitably chastised AED-#210-31570 returned to work, an interminable amount of time passing before, eventually, finally, someone responded. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡®Computer parts.¡¯ The person who had responded was a portly fellow, round and tall, his outfit of course being GREY, dressed like a typical worker citizen. Slacks, buttoned up shirt, gloves, shoes, and a ventilation mask. He had piercing brown eyes that the mask only served to exemplify, and an auburn shade of hair, regulation short, of course. AED-#210-31570 nodded at the man, glad that someone had at last given him context for AED-#210-31570 tasks. It was becoming harder and harder to stay awake, AED-#210-31570 noticed. Eyes becoming drowsy and at the verge of closing, to distract himself, AED-#210-31570 asked. ¡®Fellow citizen, may I inquire as to your designation?¡¯ The man promptly responded, in a terse tone. ¡®AED-#211-25687¡¯. Silence returned to the assembly line, each worker distracting themselves with the little brainpower required of their task, AED-#210-31570 felt even sleepier, beginning to drowse off. The hours passed, AED-#210-31570 was counting them down, trying desperately to remain awake, but deep down, he knew it was futile, for after this shift, there was one more, before he could finally reach his long desired sleep. _ _ _ _ _ The bell rang, for the last time he had to hear it, and he stumbled out, bumping into citizens and tripping over his own feet. AED-#210-31570 drew irate stares where he passed as he tried to make his way to the station, as he lurched along the path following the crowd onto the nearest train. He waited and waited until enough time had passed that he felt it was his station. Nearly falling out the door, he walked all the way up staircases and through corridors, making his way through the endless maze by pure habit, until he took a right and¡­ He was not supposed to be here, where there should have been a staircase leading upwards, there simply was a wall. On this wall lay a massive mural, it was beautiful, and most importantly, it wasn¡¯t grey, he had never seen something like this. The sheer variety of scintillating verdant colours was impeccable. Each one layering with the next to form a complete image with verdant reds and shimmering blues and bright yellows and greens, purples and pinks and turquoises, colours he didn¡¯t even know the name for combining. Creating one image, each stroke leading to the next, seeing something new each time you looked at it. It was marvelous, incomprehensibly perfect. The image formed a simple, clear thought in his mind, breaking past the drowsiness and igniting passion long thought lost. He stared at it. For hours and hours, soaking in every expression, every colour, every message conveyed by the painter. He wondered who it was, who had made such a wonder. Surely the creator must be as beautiful? #04 He woke up with a start, the mural burnt into his mind. It was intangible, ethereal, yet ever present. And he wouldn¡¯t waste it. His monitor, beeped, informing him that his pills were ready, he simply had to pick them up. He memorized the address before parting once more on his shift. He was back to drilling in and out, in and out, however this time, he had something to drill for. He examined the mural in his mind the way one might swirl a particularly succulent dish in their mouth, passing over every inch. In what seemed like record time to him, the shift had ended and he left the factory. AED-#210-31570 checked the digital clock mounted above the exit door, ensuring he had time before having to pick up his nutrition pills and set off to see the mural again. He passed through the train, past staircases and inspection blocks before ending up at the wall. But there was nothing there. Just an empty, GREY, wall. AED-#210-31570 felt calmer than ever, climbing up the stairs to get his nutrition pills. As he reached the top step, he passed through an entranceway and into a mass courtyard. The area was in the shape of a hexagon, with each side having a section with a hole, a glass wall, and a citizen opposite that desk registering, and documenting the proper information. AED-#210-31570 went up and stood in one of the long stretching queues, waiting his turn, as he slowly got closer and closer to the register. He was standing in front of a smaller man, dressed the same as him, clearly, but with longer than regulation hair. It was enough of an oddity for him to stare, and so he did, gazing at the non-conforming hair as he got closer and closer in line. Eventually, he reached the register, giving his details, so his form could be processed and his food dispensed. Wordlessly, he snatched the small cylinder before once again embarking back on his path home. Once there he opened it up, took one, then quickly fell asleep, wondering if that mural, had been just a dream. It was AED-#210-31570¡¯s night shift as he staggered through the factory door¡¯s, this time taking care to stand next to the massive body of AED-#211-25687, he thought of something, then asked The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡®Citizen AED-#211-25687, you eat the same nutrition pills and nutri-paste as every one else, correct?¡¯ AED-#211-25687 glanced at him before nodding and grabbing another of the computer cubes and putting it on the opposite assembly line. AED-#210-31570 continued ¡®I hold no intentions of being rude, but if your sole meal are nutrition pills, and paste, how is it that you hold such an irregular physique? It is true that through the various megacities, the lower class had a penchant for being on average, stout, and short with pale skin, due to the lack of nutrition and sunlight. AED-#210-31570 suspected that AED-#211-25687 had once been a member of a higher importance job, that was regulated due to ineptitude and was attempting to find a topic of conversation, just to have someone pay him the slightest bit of heed. AED-#211-25687 shrugged and said ¡®Never thought of it, most likely slow metabolism.¡¯ And like that the conversation was finished, fading into the din of clanking machines, buzzing blades, and whirring belts. As well as the occasional scream of pain from someone who hadn¡¯t realized how close their hand was to something violently spinning. Time passed and AED-#210-31570 once again attempted to strike up a conversation, this normally wasn¡¯t like him, he thought, but the mural had breathed enough energy and life into his mind to try something new. ¡®So, uh¡­ how¡¯s uh life going for you currently?¡¯ AED-#211-#211-25687 stared at him for a moment before returning to his task, nonetheless, AED-#210-31570 persisted. ¡®What would you do, if you saw something beyond your reach, and knew you could never achieve it?¡¯ If you didn¡¯t even know such a thing was possible, and you¡¯re unable to go back to the time without it? AED-#211-25687 simply shrugged and responded ¡®If I thought that I wasn¡¯t able to do something that I wanted? I¡¯d simply work until I could.¡¯ ¡®But what if that wasn¡¯t an option¡¯, reiterated AED-#210-31570. ¡®I¡¯d make it one. No matter the odds, you can only ever complain if you have truly, given everything you¡¯ve got, if you haven¡¯t, you¡¯re simply a failure.¡¯ AED-#211-258687 returned to his work, leaving AED-#210-31570 to ponder over the answer he had given, and finally, silence returned. #05 AED-#210-31570 stood in front of where the mural should have been, of course, it wasn¡¯t there, but he could imagine. He mimed the brush strokes needed to create such an image, as intangible in his mind as ever, and so he stood there, staring at the wall. Seconds passed, then minutes, and as it was approaching hours a loud metal stomping broke both the silence, and his delusion. He crept to the side of the wall, pressing against it. Sure, he wasn¡¯t technically doing anything wrong, but standing in a dead end, looking at a blank wall was a sure sign that even if the sickness hadn¡¯t gotten to you, something was broken. AED-#210-31570 stared across the road as the thumping grew louder and louder, until eventually he could see what had made the noise, he knew what it was deep down, but there was a difference between knowing, and realizing. They were massive, towering at 11 feet tall, 4 sturdy metal legs supporting an armored boxlike form. Cylindrical protrusions extended from each side, emerging behind the dense foliage of shifting machinery. The cylindrical devices being massive autoguns of course, meant for ¡®keeping the peace¡¯ among (UNJUSTIFIABLY) disgruntled crowds. Everything was clad in the same gaudy grey chrome as everywhere else. However, the twin behemoths weren¡¯t alone, accompanying them were a varied force of heavily armed cops? Soldiers? AED-#210-31570 wasn¡¯t sure what to call them when they carried so much potential for violence. The only thing that was certain was they had loose morals, and looser trigger fingers. They were dressed in mixtures of grey, blue, and white, undershirts overlaid by heavy plates and grenades, sporting long military briefs with inbuilt padded armor and muted white boots, sleek and angular with technology to allow brief propulsion. Their faces were left bare to the world, as the heavy technological implants and augmentations obscured them and blended their individualism much better than helmets ever could. He observed, with growing horror, as a passing citizen made the unfortunate decision to stare at them, his gaze unabashedly straightforward, before he turned to run. The loose convoy ground to a halt before slowly starting to approach him, and AED-#210-31570 slipped out in the distraction, ignoring the screams as he made his way back to his megastructure. At least he was certain about what one of the new additions to the ¡®hang-out¡¯ would look like. He gave a brief, remorseful chuckle at his terrible pun before grabbing one of the pills that kept him nutriated. And eating a bit more of the slop he called food. HE WAS GLAD THAT A CRIMINAL HAD BEEN JUSTLY PUNISHED. AED-#210-31570 didn¡¯t sleep, he simply lied there, staring at the ceiling, which seemed to be in a constant state of closing in. All citizens had the option to be given ¡®rejuvenation¡¯ pills to aid their bodies in the obscure art of sleep at the slight cost of some merit. He had never needed them, they were always an option, and he didn¡¯t wish for that to change. He checked the clock with a groan, noting the current time and the start of his shift shrinking and sighed, before rolling back around on his bed, it was still cold. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. AED-#210-31570 walked his way up the stairs. The train. The drill. The same, the only thing remaining was the mural, it was on everything, was everywhere, just out of reach but still in sight. He worked and worked and worked, the only breaks present being the slight taste of flavour his nutrient-paste had to accompany the heavy pills. It was an endlessly debatable choice, commonly argued on The Source between whether Meat or Plant tasted better. He believed solely in the validity of Meat, Plant was a choice for those who enjoyed sucking the star-mold out of the abandoned reactors. It was a meal for the unemployable, in his opinion, Even as unlikely as it is someone would ever ask for it. Maybe AED-#211-25687 would put a facade of interest, but that was all he had. His fist clenched as a surge of previously unknowable emotions ran through him, he stared at the grey of his hab, of the scarcity, the emptiness, the worthlessness. He realized his lack of importance, at that moment. There was nothing to define, nothing to differentiate him, the most important thing he had ever done was watch other people die. It was maddening. AED-#210-31570 persisted, with shifts, with routine, with the sensation of cloth on skin, he noticed the cameras now, what had always been hidden finally revealed. As he drilled in, then out, then in he forwarded his gaze towards the ceiling, scanning over its breadth finding cameras everywhere. They weren¡¯t hidden, discreet of course, but not hidden. For why would a proper citizen ever bother to notice? He knows, they know, everyone knows. There is no hiding. As he gazed at the cameras, a memory returned to him, staring at the camera recording they had given him presented a clear view of what had happened, but was it the same on the other side? A thought occurred to him, not a particularly smart one, nor one expected of a ¡®model citizen¡¯ but a thought nonetheless. It drifted through his mind, wandering where it shouldn¡¯t, overstaying it¡¯s welcome to the point of consideration, then, action. #06 From AED-#210-31570¡¯s internal clock he understood the work day was still far from over, and so he plotted. Pursuing potential paths of action, running through the steps he might take, his gaze wandered, for the first time, in a while, he truly attempted to look. His eyes, already starting to be covered by the dirty brown hair which had begun to exceed regulation, and was now encroaching on the pale white visage of a face which had never known the kiss of the sun. Solely the touch of the unbelievably large lights, which shone a garish brightness over the breadth of the land he trotted upon. Wandered across the factory floor, his work was so engraved into his bones he no longer needed to pay attention to what his hands were doing, it was routine. The first thing to notice, of course, was the sheer mass of bodies present in this sole section alone, the air was choked with people, all identical in dress and wear, as well as the emptiness in the eyes. It was a factory run by machines to simply build more. The only sparks of emotion appearing and vanishing just as quickly as the massive contraptions broke bones, neither knowing the difference between metal and flesh, nor having the capability or emotion to care. As the crowd shuffled on, oblivious to the world around them, numerous yet isolated. It was a frightening thing, AED-#210-31570 realized, to lack a sense of purpose, a sense of urgency, of want, of need beyond existing. For how was one supposed to justify their existence if it had no meaning. This horrible life was a kindness, he realized in a flash of horror, a mercy to devise their time and simulate productivity. He didn¡¯t need to press the button and make the machine click. The machine was able to do it on its own, but in a way, this horrible, awful occupation that stole life as it did soul was the sole thing keeping them going. The driving force keeping his society running, the semblance of importance they assigned to their meaningless, fruitless lives became their reason for living. For the society they had created had not allowed one. Past the smoke and fog, AED-#210-31570 finally saw truth. There was no meaning beyond what he attributed to it, and all he knew of life, was that one mural. And he wished to recreate it, even with the sparsity of materials he was sure to find a way. So he worked and worked until the bells rang and the people parted. He remembered when he watched that tape, there was a spot where the camera was This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. unable to see him. So he slowly crept over there and surveyed his surroundings, his eyes checking for any possible tool he could use to create. He was running out of time, and he knew it, however, any second now the odds that the night shift would enter increased exponentially. On the wall outside the camera¡¯s view were a rack of various types of liquid coolants and other oils to help when the machines got¡­ fussy. He snatched a couple bins and hid them under his shirt before hurrying out, passing through the bottle necked crowd of people struggling to enter the opposite direction. In times like these he was glad for the loneliness and the lack of connection which drove everyone. No one paid attention to the strangely box like lump under his chest, no one cared for the near wild look in his eyes as they darted around. He ran out past the stairs and down the halls, and through the lobbies until finally reaching the station. He was late unfortunately, and the next train would only arrive in 20 minutes, so he sat down to wait; still panting from the anxiety and anticipation of what he had and was planning to do. Time seemed to stretch on as he sat there, slowly waiting for the train to arrive. He glanced left and right, back and forth waiting for something to happen, for someone to notice, for the authorities to arrive. But nothing happened. He was alone in the midst of the crowd, countless people waited for the same reason as him. He purveyed them, eyes glancing over their forms, suspecting each one to suddenly turn around. Maybe, he thought, it would be the man to his right, lithe and well built with a face burnt from some long ago chemical accident his broken eye replaced with a glowing light, his face supplemented by metal. Perhaps the eye could see through what he was wearing and find the sin stashed within. He was spiralling, getting more paranoid and fearful until finally, blessedly the train arrived. He proceeded into his hab before locking the door behind him, removing the container from his shirt and onto the counter. Furthermore, he reached inside the cooler for the metallic cylinder filled with the nutrient paste he needed right now, not for consumption however, but for something else. He opened the cap of the container, his fingers briefly struggling with the tightness before gaining a proper grip. AED-#210-31570 started pouring it into his thermos. It was fine if he was unable to eat for a day or two, he had been through worse. He put the cover of the nutrient-paste container back on before vigorously shaking it, then leaving it to rest. As it settled there, mixing in, he made his way towards the screen to acquire more cylinders with his merit. Flavour was unimportant now. Only his true desire remained. He swiped through the options until he requested the necessary cylinders. His merit was deducted as expected, and he received the confirmation notice as well as when he would receive them. Satisfied, he returned to his bed to start the next day anew. #07 He lay there, unable to sleep, 2 hours in, and the hab seemed smaller than ever. He worked tirelessly and without rest every single day to afford not to be deemed as ¡®unproductive¡¯. For those, individuals had the distinct and subtle honour of joining the military. Either as servicemen on the massive starships that linked the broken worlds and ruined star systems of the consortium together, or serving on the frontline as the rank and file infantry that were so commonly lost, then forgotten about. It was a brutal life, endless work supplanted by the endless war needed to justify such a monumental task. Every waking moment he thought, a dozen different border skirmishes started and stopped amongst rival powers in places so far away he didn¡¯t even know what their people looked like. He was stuck like that, staring at the ceiling, in that depressive bubble, spiralling. At least when he held fear for his superiors he could concern himself with consequences, he gave value to what little he could provide! Now he had rendered himself apathetic in his thoughts, and hardened in his resolve. He returned from his cycle, again and hurried down the long corridors of the residential megastructure, there were people watching, of course, but like they were born to, they faded into the background. He rapidly swiped through the options on the small screen mounted on his wall, the ¡®materials¡¯ he had ordered were due to arrive in 2 hours, so he would keep himself awake until then. He considered that it had been a fair bit, as in ever that he had wandered the bustling halls of the city he resided in, never taking the time outside going from point A to point B, and there was nothing stopping him from doing so. So why not? He once again exited the building, his grey cladded boots taking him among the habitual route before he stopped, and departed in the opposite direction. As he wandered, he took in the variety of wondrous and beautiful sights present within the generous and loving government he worked so hard for. Grey, dark grey, light grey, grey with a tinge of beige, and many other wildly similar sights. He descended the massive stairwell connecting the platform he was on to another, nearly identical platform, past two patrolling militia members and through an exposed walkway, in which he saw the vastness of his home. The point where he looked stretched out beyond the reaches of his eye, his point of view sandwiched between too buildings; one he assumed was for production based off the distinctive sound of machinery within, and one he assumed either residential or administrative given he had no context as to what it would be. He saw that he was located within a massive cavern which seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions. The ceiling of this space was simply more grey infrastructure, a mass of shifting concrete and blinking lights. While wondering why this one expanse of space was so empty and not built over itself a thousand times like everywhere else, he received his answer. He heard it before he saw it, a low whining pitch that seemed to grow in volume as it approached. It was moving parallel to him, but from a large distance that stretched over kilometres. Seemingly from nowhere, although most likely from a logistical orifice from out of view, a gargantuan agglomeration of metal and steel glided into the range of his eyesight. It dwarfed the surroundings, towering over an energy plant he had missed earlier, the silos darkening from the growing shadow the cargo ship produced, from its back end emitted waves of fire propelling the looming metal beast forward. It was one in a parade of many, this wide expanse was in actuality a lane for the lifeblood of the city to flow, an endless conclave of food, machinery, and men. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Slightly disheartened by the sheer volume of what he was seeing, and his place in it, he continued on, keeping in mind to look for a place he could find to safely start his work. So he trudged on past the expanses of factories and offices and residential zones. Until he, lost in thought, ran face-first into a broad back smelling faintly of ash and cinders. Looking up, he saw a towering man? Woman? Person, who was staring dead ahead, a grim look portrayed on their admittedly ugly visage. He followed their line of sight past a crowd of workers, noting an official, guarded on both sides by massive centurions, giving a small talk. ¡°Citizens, I am here today for a simple purpose, to ascertain your individual quality, and what you may contribute to society as a whole, and I have done my best to do so.¡± There were no murmurs from the crowd, nobody was dumb enough to entertain such an idea, not with the guns and cameras of the centurion recording them. The gathered crowd waited on bated breath for an announcement they knew would be negative. The man continued, his voice carried out in a monotone hue. He was dully dressed, keeping in the theme of productiveness, his clothes conformed in a manner of trench coat tightly buttoned up with beige slacks and gleaming, pressed black boots. Upon his oversized coat proudly rode several stars of commendation. The man himself had a face nearly lost in modifications to match the endless competition and one upping present within the higher ranking of the administration. An action which the toadies and lackeys had chosen to follow as well. His face was a mess of steel and circuitry, from the top of his head ran pulsing glowing blue cables down the length of his back and disappearing into the coat as if a sick parody of a ponytail. The depths of his eyes had become pitch black with a crisscross of golden lines in a simulacrum of veins, the dilation of his pupils replaced by the expansion and contraction of the lenses of a camera; his mouth was forlorn and had become a mess of interlocking metal plates upon which jutted out a metallic speaker. The man continued his speech, his silence had only been a pause for dramatic effect, as well as to satisfy his own ego. ¡°We have found your best efforts or, lack thereof wanting. Your products are both increasingly and consistently falling to a standard previously thought unthinkable, due to these repugnant results, several changes shall be made in how things are run. Firstly, and most important of all, high speed machines which are still in the development phase shall be brought in to increase both productivity and competition, given that shift slots shall now be more contested. As such, only the highest productivity citizens may be allowed access to work.¡± The man continued on for some time about this and that, but AED-#210-31570 was no longer listening, he had heard enough, the idea that they were bringing in machines to supplant workers was a joke. The wars must be getting worse if they were ¡®drafting¡¯ citizens by stretching the pretense of productivity even further. Having considered his trip finished, he turned around and head home, hoping that two hours had passed. On the way back to his sleeping quarters, he finally found what he had been looking for. An out of view space, with no visible security, it was a dead end alley that ran for 10 metres before abruptly ending. Everything was coming together. He returned home to a package on his front door, two brand-new cylinders, gleaming in contrast to the gloomy lighting of his hab stood waiting for him. He filled them up halfway with the paste, took a pill to keep him going, then poured in the different oils. After days of anticipation and weeks of worry, it finally came time for him to start what he dreamed of, he grabbed the bottles and tucked them into a bag before setting out. After a fair bit of anxious, arduous walking, he finally arrived before the wall he had chosen. And so he got to work, coating the walls in the mixture of oil, diluted with nutri-paste and water, he started finger painting, or hand painting for lack of a better word. Reaching in different containers to mix colours, ever drawing inspiration from the mural that started his path in the first place. It stood out, what he was doing, shining amongst the grey sameness. What he was creating was something not ever seen before, it was new, it broke the status quo made him wonder and think and dream and imagine. He continued, long trails of red blending with yellows as he continued to mix and add and change, he was attempting to draw a person. A person of conflicting colours all melded together on a grey background. As he finished and took a step back to admire his work, only one thought ran through his mind. ¡°This¡­ is terrible.¡± It made sense, as much as he hoped for it to be a masterpiece like the mural, the first rendition was awful. It would be expecting a bit too much if an untrained, uneducated worker using materials one could barely describe as paint began creating photorealistic work on his first day. But he had time. Time to learn, to grow, to improve and innovate. Each wall, ceiling, and floor in this city were the canvas, and he was the only artist. SECTOR ADMINISTRATOR Sector administrator #354-777-EH or simply ¡®sev¡¯ to his closer coworkers awoke with a start. He scanned the room, quite literally, as the biometrics in his eyes began compiling all available information about the where he lived. Sev took his time preparing a small cup of tea. It held genuine leaves which had costed him no small amount of merit, but the taste was always worth it. He swirled it around the cup as he made his way across the room, stopping only to adjust the mess of wires and cables he called his hair. He walked in a leisurely gait to his office, for convenience¡¯s sake, management had put both rooms in the same building, so one small stroll later he had arrived at his workspace. It was a small, near pitch-black room, with the only light coming from a bright, white, man-sized pod in the center. He made his way to it and neurotically told it to open. When he first received that specific implant, it was confusing, to connect his mind to a piece of technology. But he mastered it, he always perfected everything, it¡¯s what separated him, elevated him beyond the lower classes. He could still remember waking up and feeling that drowsiness, that sense that he had become more than before, but thoughts like that were useless. Inside, the pod was filled with a gel meant to reduce his senses as much as possible, and incorporate him fully into his work world. He lied down on it, letting the soft sensation envelop him as he sank to the bottom, a cable emerging from a hole deep within and linking itself into his brain. When he opened his eyes, his actual, virtual office stared back, a burgundy wood desk sat there in an endless grey void. With a single thought the space enclosed on itself to be a room of small dimensions, three metres tall, seven long, and ten wide forming a boxish rectangle. The walls and ceilings themselves were grey, of course, and there existed sparse decoration safe for a digital clock embedded in the wall and a stack of papers, the tops of the important or urgent ones being coloured red. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. With a sigh, he sat down on a chair that had just appeared from seemingly nowhere and started his shift. Much of his job consisted of the endless repetition of signing off on documents. He rarely read them in full, only casually checking them to make sure that they contained no glaring errors or changes, and trusting in his subordinates and the system that taught them at large to perform as expected. There was no time to truly give each request the time and care it needed, he reasoned to himself, as he had done many times before. Although the time dilation within this virtual world was high, something he had come to learn were that there would always be more problems. When he had first started, it had seemed that every small issue was a catastrophe that threatened to break his planet apart. Nowadays, however, it became more about sorting through which issue could be delayed the longest and identifying the most pressing task at hand. He let his brain transcend into the same gooey substance he was lying in, the process at this point had become automatic. And so he worked, signing off on projects and ideas and adjustments, barely considering their effects, trying to work through as many as possible. He purveyed a report detailing a biohazard in sector 8 and possible solutions. What were the solutions? He held no idea, but he hoped that they were effective. For hours on end it was endless skimming as the implants kept sending only the most necessary of information for his brain to work out. Continuous streams of pure data kept pouring and pouring in, giving him details and details about different cases and issues and problems. It was overwhelming, it was too much at once, but it always was, and he could not show it. A haze set upon him as the hours began to slip by, document by document, signature after signature he worked and worked and worked until eventually he was down to the least important quandaries. The minor stuff about allocations of resources towards some obscure branch of government he had never heard of before, or minor issues with vandalism and defacing of public property. He genuinely held no clue as to why they gave these issues to him, all they had to do was send some cleaners instead of worsening his workload. It was frustrating to say the least, but Sev persevered, past the doubts that one day they¡¯d discover what it was he was doing and how ineffectual his administration had become. It was fine though, no one would check up on him unless he missed quota, and the way things were running that wouldn¡¯t happen for a long, long time. #02 SECTOR ADMINISTRATOR Sector administrator #354-777-EH once again opened his eyes, and only darkness returned. He closed them again and listened to the telltale hissing as the pod doors opened. Sitting up to a stretching darkness, the area close to him only being illuminated by the faint glow of the lights on the pod, his ears accompanied by the humming of the machine. Sev stepped out of the pod, as dry as when he entered, and made his way back to the room he called home. That was, in essence, the way his life went. He woke up, walked down some hallways, did administrative work for as long as required, then read a good, policy compliant book. It was simple, mundane, boring. It was his life. The automatic doors whirred to life when he got in front of them, sliding out of the way as he stepped through the door. Everything was so simple and regulatory, it was strange to preside over affairs sent by people you would never meet. But again, that was his job, and he was simply going through the motions. Sector administrator #354-777-EH woke up, and opened his eyes and went to work. Sector administrator #354-777-EH woke up, opened his eyes and began signing papers. Sector administrator #354-777-EH awoke, opened his eyes, and trotted to his workstation. Sector administrator #354-777-EH was in the midst of puzzling out a very specific issue relating to a sewage leakage, the report wrote that: ¡®In sector AED, there are currently complications with multiple sources of water. Through means, we are as of yet unknowing of, it has been found that multiple sources of water designated for consumption, have had the filter-pumps fail, resulting in raw sewage arriving in direct contact with otherwise untouched water. So far, it has been confirmed that 3 different sources have had the filter pumps fail. Wide scale investigations are being considered, and repairs are underway. The damage to individual citizens is still undiscovered. But it is unknown both the Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. severity of the outages, and their cause. Optimal considerations would be updating all systems of a certain age damaged or working, however this citizen notes it is unknown the magnitude of such a cost given the multitude of filtration models currently under use.¡¯ This, was troubling. Upper Management had conveyed him to keep the budget this quarter as low as possible. A massive resource intensive project which commissioned not only engineers from the front, but workers, officials, city planners and an ungodly amount of paperwork because it was estimated that some systems *might fail* and kill an unknowable amount of people. If he signed off on burying the issue, and it emerged again, it would be his head later. But if he attempted to fix it now, it would severely damage the good graces he had managed to land himself into and may have management necessitate a thorough investigation into his work. Decisions, decisions. He was stuck at a dead end, and stewing in it certainly wouldn¡¯t make it any better, so Sev moved on. Working through, simpler, lower priority issues, that people had already solved and just needed some higher authority to fix. He went through page after page of reports and plans until finally, one caught his eye. It was a simple vandalism issue, someone had managed to disfigure a wall where there were no security cameras. What they drew was both crude and unusual, it was a manner of humanoid form colored in presumably whatever the person could find. Which according to the reports was a mixture of a large amount of things, but the main ones were oil, water, and the nutri-paste they serve to the lower classes. How peculiar, Sev couldn¡¯t even tell what it was trying to tell or show, was it a self-portrait? It was crude and unsightly, parts were falling off, colours had mixed poorly. The work, if you could call it that, was misaligned however, at the same time, at its core, it was bright and varied. The figure held a sort of depth he hadn¡¯t seen before in the endless machine generations that played in his mind to help him fall to sleep. It was human. He paused over it, his fingers hesitating, until he eventually gave an order to clean it up. The vague visage crept in his mind, and lingered, and with a heavy heart, and heavy hands he signed off on the order to commit a mass repair, retrieval, and removal of all purifiers. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small, multicoloured figurine standing tall on his desk. #08 AED-#210-31570 sat in his bed and stared at the wall, it was not grey, he had made sure of that. He had not left his hab in three days, and the amount of changes he had made to the colour, as well as the defacement he had done to a multiple of the outside walls when found out; would drop his already plummeting merit to below the acceptable threshold. He had rebelled, and it would cost him, but only in time. He still had time, it was finished, he had made something wholly original for himself. It didn¡¯t matter if it was expunged by cleaners or that barely anyone had seen it, he was starting to run out of patience, and paint. He couldn¡¯t depart to the outside, he told himself, it was too dangerous, too foreign, there were too many risks. Already he imagined a centurion tearing open the door, bursts of concentrated fire popping his head like an overripe grape. So he sat there and waited for anything to happen, anything at all. Nothing did. Finally, he stood up, he had waited for days on end for something, anything to happen, he knew that if left unattended the nutri-paste would begin to rot. He didn¡¯t know how long it would take, he barely even knew what it was made of, but he didn¡¯t want to have odor complaints from separate citizens. Scrutiny of any kind would not be ideal. But to order something to clean the ¡®paste¡¯ pasted onto his walls would take merit, merit he was currently missing. He checked the time, it was well past the day shift for his factory, and most others had already started as well. He scrolled through the available job listings, looking for anything nearby. His fingers hovered over a particular option, and he intrinsically knew he had found it. The moment before his finger hit the pad, he heard a knock on the door, every single hair on the ends of his arm stood up, his sense heightened, his breath grew shallow. He grabbed one of the containers and crept towards the door, he flinched as another series of knock rattled against the metallic door. ¡°Citizen AED-#210-31570 we know you¡¯re inside, open the door and follow regulations, and we can promise you that no one will bear unnecessary harm.¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. He didn¡¯t believe them, he didn¡¯t want to end up like those hanging bodies he saw every day, returning to serve as a sign of fear, eyes as devoid of colour or life like he was earlier. It seemed like hell. ¡°Come in! The door isn¡¯t locked.¡± He raised the canister as the door widened, drawing from their shadows that there were two of them. The moment the first one stepped into the door, AED-#210-31570 swung with all his might, the cylinder smashing into the first unprepared exposed face, they never expected fighters, just people resigned to their fate. It collided with him with such force that his teeth flew, his body jerking backwards, head tilted at an angle. For a second, there was a memory of another person, another individual dead at his hands, but it lasted naught but an instant. AED-#210-31570 rushed up to the second one and tackled him to the ground, his cylinder continuing its bloody rampage on government faces. He heard a crunch and a nose caving in before the man shoved him off, retreating backwards, his mouth being held by the hand. AED-#210-31570 took one look at this scene and ran away as far and fast as possible. It was likely there were others that were arriving this minute, he had to leave. He sprinted down the hallway, pushing past others as he went, arms pumping, drawing strange looks as a man without a mask carrying a blood soaked thermos in his hand. One of them had the presence of mind to trip him, and he fell down, hard. That didn¡¯t stop him though, as he got right back up as fast as he had fallen and listened to the message repeated all his life. Carry on, past the pain, the anguish, the hate, to keep moving forward. His adrenaline seemed to give him boundless energy, and he kept running, down sets of stairs, through corridors and hallways, his lungs burned with exhaustion, but he kept running. He spotted an exit, on his left, leading to a walkway he hadn''t gone through before; and turned towards it. He ran the distance, his body heaving with effort, contemplating stopping before the buzzing hum of a patrol craft that was now following him made him redouble his efforts. He leapt into a more cramped space, a twisting maze of enclosed stairwells and grey corridors connecting to different habs. AED-#210-31570 ran further and further down, the directions twisting and turning as he became completely lost. Seeing a bench nearby he stopped to take a breath, his body heaving forwards and expelling the remnants of the paste that had been consumed for his first meal. Eyes focused on the floor, body rocking back and forth, his panting grew ever louder. After a small portion of time had passed, and the rocking stilled, and his breathing became quiet once more, he made way to stand up. Looking around, he noticed a complete absence of people, no noise was heard the lights flickering. The room he was in split off in four different directions, not that it mattered given that he had nowhere to go. The crashing weight of reality hit him as he stood there, but he resolved, he took one step forward, it didn¡¯t matter what direction he was heading as long as he moved forward.