《Network》 Prologue So it started simply enough. It¡¯s not as if there was some incredibly creepy organisation trying to crush us into a system that defined and quantified our lives. Like most things, we fell into it. Slowly at first but with increasing speed as it went along gathering speed. With the rise of the internet so many new ideas were captured. As it expanded though, it was only natural that we would try to monetise it. And we did. Incredibly. Overnight we organically created new jobs. Bloggers, social commentators, video feeds and gaming feeds, people commentating these things. We birthed celebrities out of social networking like expelling vomit. Suddenly there were scantily clad people making money from taking photos of themselves. Ad revenue fuelled it as we click baited each other into a maddening ¡®entertainment¡¯ world of superficial information. And we watched. Oh did we watch! Our new heroes were vapid, idiodic young people with trim physiques in rich locations with rich clothing and rich luxury. Substance gave way as our attention spans became shorter. Reality tv gave rise to even more vapid and ridiculous troupes. Then in 2024, one company decided to try and truly quantify this new idolatry into a reward based system. The ultimate monetisation of temporary fame. StarPower was born. StarPower took all those likes and shares and followers and built a rating system with rewards to those who garnered public interest. It paid the ridiculous and clueless celebrities directly who signed up with the initial website. Mobile app was introduced that served as the platform for fame. It linked into the general small offering of ultra-popular social networks and tracked their results to assign a wage. Soon, normal individuals were signing up to StarPower to create their own profiles for a trickle of the wealth being offered. Advertisers flocked to the company, paying ever increasing ridiculous amounts not only for ad-space but to have these celebrities passively endorse their products via placement or garish and obvious recommendations. The revenue generated far outweighed the payouts to their clients and the company expanded with capital. StarPower used that capital to acquire rich companies then advertised them to the general populace with thinly veiled smirk. Yet with more and more people signing up, the outcry was largely hushed. Why would you complain about a company that was supplementing your income? The average user spamming selfies and videos, mostly about the top one percent of users, received very little income but eventually it became easier for a commanding percentage of the population to use the company for their main wage. Slowly but surely, your StarPower became your defining trait. Technology and automation made it possible for factory workers and cleaners and cab drivers to leave their general occupations and involve themselves fully in StarPower. Augmented reality sunglasses allowed users to continue their usage when driving, walking down the street and shopping. You could see the people around you via their SP (StarPower) rating and associated stats. Here we were, getting coffee so as to be seen, taking selfies and uploading outrageously scripted monologues about our lives.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Soon the user base became so prevalent that it was easier to count the percentage of the population who were not on StarPower. The elderly for the most part and the objectors. Their voices were drowned out as newsmedia became intrenched in the system of likes and followers and SP ratings. The company bought out franchises and department stores. It layered the new system for its users, creating a caste system excluding those from certain products unless they had the required SP. Those products in turn were endorsed and advertised by the higher tiered SP users and the watchers watched that and coveted the position. Within 20 years of it¡¯s inception, SP accounted for the single largest economy in the world. Its income outstripped all other private enterprises and the top four GDP¡¯s of the richest countries. It became a power unto its own. Early adopters in politics found themselves able to easily become elected as they were able to use the platform to communicate their message to the populace using StarPower. They were beholden to the system for re-election and as a result, defended the company from all efforts made to curtail it¡¯s influence. Attempt to legislate against it¡¯s influence were blunted. Even anti-trust attempts were beaten down. StarPower closed it¡¯s iron fist and monopolised entertainment. With the stars of the day being paid to exhibit whatever talents they had through StarPower, films, books and television were produced, paid for and revenue received by the company. They were generous to their top clients. Showering gifts and money and giving top tier billing to these stars. Which of course, everyone watched and idolised. Rather than being sickened by their excesses, the new generations aging into adulthood clawed for more from StarPower. Government became the utility, making sure the lights were on and drones destroyed threats against them. It is now the thirtieth year of StarPower¡¯s reign and this is where we begin this story. Chapter One Your SP rating is 7. Unfortunately, this guarantees you to only a universal basic income. Please increase your SP to benefit from a higher income. For suggestions on how to increase your SP, select the link below. He sighed, blinking resignedly at the slowly pulsing text in front of him on the flexi screen. The virtual tablet receded back into the halo band on his wrist. The logo and SP text on the band glowed faintly when off, reminding the customer who provided this technology to them even when not in use. Duncan knew that he had to increase his SP. Of course he did. He dragged over the plain cube of greyish jelly that served as his meal and dragged the spoon through its gelatinous, spongy texture. The tastelessness of it in his mouth somehow felt like it had the flavour of ashes. All in his mind, he knew. Yet it served as a reminder as to his station in life. ¡®Like I need one.¡¯ He noted aloud to himself. The screen on the wall of his apartment also featured his SP of 7 as its virtual surface displayed a multi tiled rolling update of his top ten StarPower feeds. The 1 through 5 slots were locked by the system, generated by the universal rankings. The next five were of his choosing. The last showed his ex-girlfriends feed occasionally shifting to different updates she had made in the past twenty four hours. With each iteration, the displayed ended with her ranking of 26. He took another spoonful of his meal cube and gazed at the shut curtain of the tiny apartments one window. Like every other occupant of the standard tenement, Duncan enjoyed a one room living area including kitchen, dining, lounge that converted into a bed with a small door leading to a bathroom. He hadn¡¯t seen out of the window since he¡¯d moved in one day, three years ago. His workstation butted up underneath the window and his virtual monitor when powered on would contrast against the dark fabric of the curtain. He¡¯d long given up surveying his domain with disgust, sinking into a self-defeated apathy. His main screen blared an advertisement about increasing his StarPower despite the muted setting. He sighed and gave up, leaving the half finished cube to be reclaimed by the wall mounted server unit. It would be broken down into its constituent parts and then recycled back to some other tenement dweller to be consumed while their eyes were glued to their screens. Time for work. As an average to poor rated user, Duncan worked to receive his universal income. Voluntarily, of course, as StarPower would provide him regardless due to his being a user. With 86% of the world¡¯s population using StarPower, there was a lot of content requiring constant maintenance. His above average computer skills at least allowed him to keep busy, assisting those higher than him to produce their own content. These average-Joe users relied on their friends and families for their StarPower and couldn¡¯t afford dedicated technicians to produce their feeds. Enter Duncan, knight to the masses. Cutting together their lives into bite sized chunks for the world¡¯s entertainment. He didn¡¯t communicate with the ¡®Clients¡¯. That would be far to personal. Simply took their raw footage or photographs and spliced it into sensical formats. He truly witnessed the best and worst of people and in return, the company paid him regular bonuses above the Universal income line. He could use this extra income to purchase products and to travel to locations to produce his own content. So often however, he used the money to provide food with actual flavour. He did buy clothing on occasion and to be fair, better quality garb was a sure fire way to make your content more interesting. When everyone on Universal looked exactly the same, anything that set you apart (or more importantly above) the general populace guaranteed more interest. Interest was supposed to generate SP and therefore income. Duncan was smart enough to realise that this was a plateauing benefit that would do little after an initial bump. He might get a few more friends from school checking his feed and liking his posts but it would bottom out, reducing him again. He didn¡¯t have affluent parents able to send him on holidays to important places to generate his content. He was an everyman, faceless and winless. Duncan supposed he could go the shock-jock line, espousing ridiculous theories about the SP rankings conspiracy or spewing hateful venom about the top SP users but he didn¡¯t have the stomach for it.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. He finished cutting together a birthday dinner video created an hour earlier. Looking at the locations specifications, Duncan realised this person actually lived in the same building that he did. This wasn¡¯t as surprising as it initially sounds, given that his apartment was one of 1500 in this building alone and geo-location was quicker for delivering the user data. Still it wasn¡¯t entirely common for him to be working on content from so close. Generally in the same city, but not same building. A quirked eyebrow was all the reaction it caused however. He checked his edit and replayed it from the start. The video was fairly short. An hours¡¯ worth of video compressed down to 45 seconds of usable content. Studies showed that anything beyond this sort of time frame and the watcher would become disinterested. An unknowably frequent sigh passed from his chapped lips and the video began. The birthday girl grinned widely at the camera, her pretty face initially taking up the frame before she directed the hovering camera-bot to move backward and bring her apartment into frame. A carbon copy of Duncans own home came into view right down to the short benchtop and server unit. Hers however showed efforts of decoration that his utility did not. A cake bedazzled with holo candles and miniature fireworks took pride of position and the young woman announced it was her 22nd birthday. Many hoorays and energetic pronouncements of happiness were made. She ¡®blew¡¯ out the candles and the footage quickly cut to a cute still of her nose lightly dusted with icing. He watched her exclaim over a small present provided by her parents. She held up the second generation holo-screen emitter that far outstripped his own but was lightyears behind the top technology of today. Making a point to show its brand with her carefully placed fingertips she grinned with joy. The video ended with this moment, fading into the familiar StarPower screen with her rating of 11. Duncan shook his head slightly in sadness. He had given her what she looked for, portraying her as a cheery and upbeat young woman enjoying her birthday. There were many moments he cut where he could see her glassy expression that gave him the impression of vast loneliness. His workstation displayed both the StarPower screen and her forlorn expression with a stark cut between the two. He shrugged to himself then published the video to her feed. Feeling hollowed out, he folded out his converting sofa-bed and lay down praying tonight would give him sleep. Chapter Two He woke what seemed early, though he¡¯d long ago disabled the clock function on his screen. The top five feeds showed different footage from yesterday so he assumed it was new. He fullscreen activated the sixth option on his screen and watched the recap of the latest news. A man with the predictable look of a news-entertainer sat on a couch with affected nonchalance next to a pert and perky younger and equally typical female new-entertainer. ¡®Our top story today is of course the epic news that our top two SP users are expecting!¡¯ he said while airily waving his right hand, his left casually draped over the back of the couch behind the female news caster. ¡®Right on Sandy!¡¯ she said with a crafted enigmatic grin at the man. ¡®Now Sandy, as you know, Roy and Amelia have been our top two SP for over five years now, a super record! That seems likely to continue as we are updated with their pregnancy and expectant joy!¡¯ Sandy nodded stuidiously at his co host then took over, ¡®I do know Annie. A recent decline in their numbers has buoyed to new heights in the wake of the announcement. Amelia has gotten to SP 1,481,221 which is the highest recorded ever. With Roy¡¯s SP 1,111,665 this baby will have the life of incredible luxury that only two of the richest users in history can provide! I suspect their baby cart will be made by Enigma Motors!¡¯ a momentary slip in the mask of enthusiasm from Annie showed her discomfort that he¡¯d been able to slip that product placement in but she recovered before anyone who didn¡¯t work splicing edits together wouldn¡¯t have noticed. ¡®Oh yes indeed! A lavish life indeed.¡¯ She stated with a conspiratorial edge. The two proceeded to continue for the next half hour discussing the top ten SP rankers with gusto. Duncan sipped the coffee dispensed by his server at his short counter watching half-heartedly. He tried not to think of the central server room for his level producing this coffee at an unknown time and storing it at temperature until it was consumed by him and his neighbours on this level. Finally, with the top news dispensed, the last few minutes were non-SP related news. Scratching furiously at itchy three-day stubble on his face, Duncan saw the top outside news. A different and less attractive news caster sat in an upright chair with a blue background while text that took up a quarter of the screen scrolled about the miscellaneous rising SP personages. A bored tone took up as footage overlaid the man. ¡®In outside news, an earthquake has hit the South American continent affecting Venezuela. Approximately 1.1 million people are believed to have died. Local SP rankings have skyrocketed in the wake of the disaster with first hand footage accounts being shot and commentated.¡¯ A selection of locals paraded across the screen for a few seconds then cut to an obvious StarPower spokesperson. ¡®We regret the tragic loss of life for Venezuelans and StarPower is offering aid in recovering the injured and ensuring they have feed access constantly despite infrastructure outages.¡¯ Duncan snorted in mild derision at the man¡¯s words. ¡®Well at least they¡¯ll be able to post about the deaths of the friends and family¡¯ he scoffed quietly. He then realised that doing that would likely provide these people with the ranking points to get out of the Universal they were stuck in, if only likely temporarily and wondered if that was such a bad thing. After several hours of editing Duncan found himself listless. He went to the level gym and found it near empty. The faintly illuminated far end of the gym showed him that there was only one other person at the gym running one a treadmill. Uphill, he noticed, the surface of the treadmill rising and creating a textured surface to simulate what he guessed to be a forest trail. He saw her augmented reality, AR glasses lit slightly as she likely saw a scene complimenting the treadmills simulation. Duncan turned and swung his slightly over six foot frame onto the bench and started to bench press the weight already on the machine. It was set to what he¡¯d left it at the day before yesterday. Not surprising. Gyms all over the world were provided by the housing buildings and anywhere but the tenements, they were constantly filled with athletic people jockeying for angles to show their incredibly happy faces while they worked out in outfits crafted for maximum skin exposure. This building however and all the others like it, housed only Universal receiving users and these populations generally did not go for self-improvement in order to garner more rankings. He had seen the other users here putting together the standard batch of reactionary videos to famous feeds, shows, movies and entertainment casters. They did their bare minimum if at all and simply ate what was provided and accepted their entertainment as a way of life. Duncan was a rare guy here with his fitness regime and disinterest in popular feeds. When he¡¯d first moved in he saw his neighbours¡¯ discomfort with him and they¡¯d showed no interest in friendship. He¡¯d given up any pretence of civility, instead adopting an air of disinterest. This had faded as his energy felt sapped away by the world though and now he simply barely noticed anyone in his brief forays out of the apartment. He ate, slept, worked out, did his minimal efforts on StarPower and worked, watching the world through holo-screens.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. With his googles showing a hazy overlay of his eighth favourite feed, a music channel devoted to revival of heavy metal from the end of the last century, the music being delivered by vibrations against his skull, Duncan failed to notice the woman from the treadmill finishing her workout and watching him. The presence of others was so alien to him though, that it wasn¡¯t long before he felt her regard and removed his own goggles to look back. For a moment he was stunned as he realised this was the woman he¡¯d cut footage for last night. He was so taken aback he stared openly at her and realised he was making her uncomfortable. Duncan tried to recover by speaking, ¡°hey there¡¯ but his voice was too quiet, given he was used to speaking to himself when he even spoke aloud, ¡®Hey there.¡¯ He managed to get out at a reasonable volume. The woman blinked and said, ¡®Hey¡¯. Her halo was still lit up and he realised she had been filming herself to show her post workout sweaty face. He could easily imagine her smiling stoically while extolling her latest personal best time for her SP 11 fans. ¡®Hey!¡¯ she said back brightly smiling. Figuring on making him one of those fans, he supposed. Duncan struggled for something to say, ¡®Good run?¡¯ he asked, then berated himself wondering if she thought he was watching her like a creep. He wasn¡¯t a bad looking guy or anything but real life interactions were fraught with confusion for Duncan. She smiled again and nodded. ¡®Yeah really great. I want to get as fit as possible, you know, SP.¡¯ He did know. The terse way of saying she was doing her best to raise her SP for a better life. He nodded and affected the best smile he could back at her. His mouth went dry and his brain felt tumble weed barren. Thankfully, the woman had more social grace. Her hands came down to lightly slap her thighs and she stood from the bench with grace and ease drawn from her athletic form. ¡®Well good luck with your workout.¡¯ She said and offered him her wrist. Unconsciously Duncan tapped his halo against hers and a trill sounded simultaneously from both, the exchange of feed information. She walked past and he remembered his voice finally. ¡®Duncan!¡¯ he blurted, cringingly loud in the empty gym. She turned back to him and stated blankly. ¡®I¡¯m sorry?¡¯ she asked, clearly confused. ¡®That¡¯s my name. I¡¯m Duncan.¡¯ It was rare for two adults to exchange names or details. Generally, a Halo tap would be all and they would use each other¡¯s feeds to find out information. ¡®Oh, uh¡­I¡¯m Layla.¡¯ He watched her walk out, berating himself again for his social stupidity, then returned to the weights. Chapter Three The narrow corridor was dimly lit and Duncan counted his steps in a half conscious way. He couldn¡¯t help his natural inclination to attempt to walk into the four turns that made up his trip with perfect arcs, accounting exactly for the fastest way to enter and exit his turns. He had always been a deep thinker and reasonably analytical. Simple things like perfecting his walk from the gym back to his apartment were trivial yet natural for him to do. His mind whirred with his brief encounter with Layla but he made an effort to push her to the back of his thoughts. He needed real coffee and food that didn¡¯t taste like ashes. He needed to focus on getting some work done today, not rehashing a brief encounter with a girl. He slowed into the last corner and accelerated out, walking the last few steps to his door quickly. His Halo band touched the sensor by the plain brown wooden door and it swung open with a perfectly cheery tone that grated his nerves. He was greeted by Sandy pontificating to the audience about something or other. ¡®Jerk¡¯ Duncan muttered and muted the audio before waking up his workstation. He spent several hours cutting together people¡¯s feeds until he came across a particularly vitriolic speech from a 40 year old man with an SP of 14. That was his highest user for the month. The man¡¯s monologue was more of the standard shock intended half ended statements. Throw away lines about how ¡®these individuals are soaking up the sympathy of the masses and trading in for free SP.¡¯ The cynical part of Duncan explored this idea. It wouldn¡¯t be so hard to believe that some might be doing that. He wondered aloud, ¡®I mean how many. Is there a reasonable expectation that a small percentage were cashing in on the unfortunate situation? By what percentage? Is it unreasonable for them to do so? These are people in a country that isn¡¯t well loved by the SP system. Shouldn¡¯t they do all they can.¡¯ He felt his words enter the empty air of his home and wondered about their content. He finished watching the man¡¯s video and cut it together. He blinked at the unappetising nutritional cube and smiled suddenly. His SP was ranked at 7, wasn¡¯t he just as hungry? With a sudden influx of energy, Duncan called up his own cam and opened the angle wide. No users did this. They stayed in tight on their faces to give the illusion that the uniform drab apartments that the vast majority of users had wasn¡¯t there. He took a deep breath and began. ¡®I am a Cutman. Those of you who are family and friends that see my feed will already know this but in the unlikely this goes wider and you don¡¯t know, my job is to cut together footage that you want on your StarPower feeds. I see you at your best and worst and all the parts in between. I know your struggles and experience your pain with you. I celebrate your joys and lament your losses. I do this for the same reason you post what you do. Its our occupation. Its our way of life. Today I cut together footage of several local reactions and postings about the earthquake in Venezuela. To be fair, most of my work has been regarding your feelings towards Roy and Amelia¡¯s announcement but I don¡¯t want to talk to you about that. Unsurprisingly, the reactions to Venezuela have been of two types. Shock and awe disregard and callow quasi-racism and overtures of immense grief and consolation. I¡¯d like to give a partisan reaction to both. I¡¯d like to make it simple as say to both you, ¡°Fuck you¡±, but that seems a bit simple and maybe even unfair. Some of the outpours of sadness were without doubt genuine. But what you don¡¯t realise is what I cut is still seen by me. After extolling your virtuous expressions of grief, I saw you turn your lips in distaste. I saw your nonchalance as you exited the recording. I saw how little you truly cared by and large. To the others, I watched a man with an SP14 just now spit absolute caustic abuse regarding what he claimed was obvious cashing in on a situation. No expression of sympathy from this man who most of you would likely regard with envy for his higher SP. What you wont see when that goes to his 1400 followers is that this man cried solidly after he had finished his hate filled monologue. He turned to watch the coverage from Venezuela and wept then realised his cam was still on and shut it down. I did what this man wanted, what his followers wanted and what this system demanded. I cut that footage down to the speech alone and deleted his self-hate filled tears of genuine remorse. I thought a lot about whether any of it was right. Where was the authentic from either side of these common reactions. That cut speech will win this man applause and SP and he will eat better, dress better and he might even feel that strange elation we all get as we recognise that something we did won accolades from others. Yet he was absolutely horrified at what he had to do to get it. I am a Cutman and I see what you are. You are good and bad people. You are sad and disinterested. What we all are is disingenuous. I am an Cutman and I will be honest. I will be honest for all of you.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Duncan posted his video, abusing his privileges as a Content Producer to not pare it down in the slightest and did something he hadn¡¯t done in a long time. He took out a book and whiled away the hours of his day and went to bed. He didn¡¯t look at this workstation or his screen. He went to sleep, woke, ate and showered the next day.He did think about Layla and as he left his apartment into the slate hallway, he didn¡¯t see the icon on his mainscreen showing a flashing personal SP16. Chapter Four He felt light. Not something so exciting as a new lease on life but he did feel light. Duncan could feel a sense of quiet elation as he replayed the moment his post went up in his mind. He took the last corner perfectly with no hitch in his stride. As he entered the more heavily lit gym he found himself wondering if it was sunny outside. To accommodate the massive amount of humanity held within the StarPower sponsored apartment complexes, the vast majority of the population were encased within the structure of the building. His own apartment was at least 200 meters within walls and he¡¯d have to walk that far to get to an outwards facing window. The gym was near to the centre along with the hidden facilities within the level. Artificial light mimicked the outside word, likely some scientist decided this was for assisting circadian rhythms or something. As such, like most occupants, Duncan rarely had occasion to leave the building. He could, he supposed to himself, go and look. Maybe take a walk outside. Most occupants rarely ventured outside. There was little need. All their food and entertainment was within the building. Rarely did people have actual jobs that required travel. It wasn¡¯t unusual that Duncan hadn¡¯t stepped outside in three months or more. He thought to himself, ¡®it might not be unusual but it certainly seems unnatural now that I think of it¡¯. The generally silent gym thrummed with the low, methodical stroking sound of the treadmill. He saw her there and felt a near physical lift in his abdomen. After a mental eye roll at himself, Duncan settled into his stretches and began barbell squats. He tried to focus on his exercise, but his gaze betrayed his minds true intent. He watched her run and admired her form. Not just the aesthetics, but also her economy. No wasted motion, no effort that was unnecessary. She had a perfect stride that gave nothing away from what she was doing. She looked like the professional soldiers that ran in lines and were trained relentlessly. He paused as he racked the barbell and she finished her run. Barely out of breath, she extended her halo band monitor and prepared for a post. He disabled his music and picked up some dumbbells while listening. ¡°Hi everyone!¡¯ again enthusiastic and bright but somehow not the usual plastic. ¡®just finished my run. No PB today but keeping at it! I hope you¡¯re all having a great morning and enjoying yourselves.¡¯ He thought he saw her focus in on the top of her self facing monitor screen and realised he was just barely in the shot. In a moment of panic he considered jumping backwards and sideways out of her cams sight. Then realised that would be even more obvious. It seemed like today was a day for self aimed eye rolls. Layla turned and smiled sunnily at him and grabbed her towel and water bottle and started towards him. ¡®Duncan, man. Stay cool. You¡¯re gonna be witty and down to earth and totally in the game¡¯ he coached himself silently. And immediately upon her arrival, his mouth betrayed him. ¡®Oh hey hi hey there!¡¯ he half shouted, his face immediately and likely obviously reddening. She grinned impishly back, ¡®Hey hi hey there yourself.¡¯ Duncan died internally. He dumped the dumbbells a little too hard onto the mat and straightened up. ¡®might as well own it dumbass¡¯ he thought. ¡®How¡­are you doing.¡¯ That hitch was noticeable but he felt himself gathering a small bit of confidence. ¡®I¡¯m doing good. How about you?¡¯ she replied. Duncan attempted to affect a casual air but in his haste to act casual and listen to her, he¡¯d grabbed the heaviest dumbbells. ¡®Nice day.¡¯ He crashed and burned again. She laughed lightly and said, ¡®Yeah it is. Weather is great here.¡¯ He relaxed a bit more and smirked back. ¡®Rain has made it all a mess though.¡¯ Her impish grin reappeared then she threw her towel around her neck. ¡®Listen I got to run, my parents have scheduled a video chat with me. I¡¯d like to learn to do some weights though. Would you meet me tomorrow same time and give me some lessons?¡¯ His heart leapt. ¡®Absolutely!¡¯ he replied with significantly too much enthusiasm. Layla appeared not to notice. ¡®See you then¡¯ she winked before walking out.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. The rest of Duncan¡¯s workout went by in a mixture of excitement and self recrimination. With a Herculean effort of will, he pushed Layla and their meeting out of his mind and made his way back to his apartment. The many panelled mainscreen on his wall caught his eye for a moment. A mirror filmed scene of Roy and Amelia shopping in a babywear store caught his eye momentarily before he looked back to the server unit and the waiting cube of snot. He ate mechanically, gazing up at the screen and seeing some footage breaking in of the Earthquake aftermath. In bold type print a scrolling tickertape gave different numerical information about deaths, injuries and missing persons. The ash taste came back into his mouth. He finished up and blinked again at the screen, his heart seeming to stop dead. There in the corner where is personal stats showed a flashing green up arrow nestled next to the bright, bold SP17. He remembered to breath. ¡®What the¡­SP17¡­¡¯ he wondered aloud, ¡®How the hell is that possible. Ten levels¡­¡¯ he trailed off, his voice echoing once more in the room. Using his halo band monitor he changed the screen to show his personal StarPower stats. His video from last night had increased his personal views from 210 in the last week to almost 3000 in the past day. He wondered to himself if a year would have him receiving that many. While his ranking of SP7 nominally informed him that he had 700 or so followers, that didn¡¯t guarantee that he would receive that many views. He rarely broke quadruple digits in a month! Those 700 or so followers were a lifetime of acquaintances, from family to school mates. In a system that rewarded influence and contacts, everyone within it would tap bands to swap contact information. This usually led to superficial friendships that wouldn¡¯t even progress to conversation even when meeting again in person. It just simply benefited everyone to follow each other so that they would be followed in turn. Content driven views generated real income though, not just a guarantee of Universal. In his life, Duncan wouldn¡¯t imagine that anything he posted would generated even a thousand views. ¡®I¡¯m in the money!¡¯ he announced to no one, the echo barely chilling him for once. Chapter Five It¡¯d be several days before he saw any income from the massive influx of his rising rank and many new content views. He checked the comments and his excitement was tempered somewhat by the reactions. Despite his many new followers, a good percentage of the comments were less than flattering. -Where do you get off riding in on your high horse you freak watcher? -How do you become the judge of us? -By what right do you sit back and tell us anything while you creep our content, fuckhead? The variety of insults and demands for him to defend his position continued onwards for several pages. A massive amount of comments for a single feed post. He would have to go to the top 10,000 users to find similar levels of content replies, albeit only within the lower ranks. Between likes and comments, the top 1000SP users would generate hundreds of thousands of replies. Not to mention the literal millions on the top 100. He could easily imagine Roy and Amelia¡¯s postings to range in the hundreds of millions. Calmed slightly by his thoughtful comparisons, Duncan focussed in on the positive replies. -A new voice from the watcher is welcomed -The fresh perspective of Duncan is a delight -I was genuinely moved and couldn¡¯t help but to consider my own reactions and posts! He briefly considered recording a post reply to all the comments then disregarded it. He didn¡¯t want to be drawn into a back and forth. He wasn¡¯t even certain how much income would be generated by his meteoric rise in rank. Duncan decided to bring himself down to Earth by working for a while. His workstation felt like home all of a sudden. He quickly edited together an SP9¡¯s post about their new kitten named Emerald. Then a SP5¡¯s comments about Duncan himself. It was not flattering but he did his job. After several hours and many glances at his personal rank and constant checking of new remarks he couldn¡¯t help himself. The cam swung up, defying gravity and settling itself in the same wide angled shot of Duncan. He made no effort to correct himself, keeping his slightly gym mussed hair and relaxed posture.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡®Hi Everyone, this is your Cutman. Well, I guess I¡¯d be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t overwhelmed. I have been called horrific things and praised mightily. I am trying to remain unaffected. I know this flare up in my popularity is likely temporary but I feel I should at least make some effort to continue this. Today I cut together a cat¡¯s arrival and several videos from within my local area calling me various things. Some like I said running me down and calling me names. For the record, I am not in judgement. I am simply highlighting what I witness. Some of you praised me, again I am just telling you what I see. There is nothing heroic or demonising in what I do. After all, I did just tell you someone got a cat. I came across a recording from a SP7 today. He lost his aunt in the quake recently. He¡¯d posted about it over the past few days. For the record, it hadn¡¯t won him an increase due to sympathy likes. His baseline hasn¡¯t increased from his 650 followers from the last two weeks. Today¡¯s post, however was centred on his reaction to the Roy/Amelia announcement. He gave us a cheery well wishing response to their happy news. He expressed a seemingly genuine excitement. I¡¯ll admit, the cynic in me looked for the tell-tale or even obvious signs his post wasn¡¯t genuine. Instead he turned to a friend that was out of shot and spoke to them. The friend, clearly a cynic too, scoffed at him for his video, asking how he could give a shit after losing a family member so recently. The man simply blinked and said he felt lucky to live in a world where he could share the joy of others when he was sad. He went on to say that he felt a tiny part of Roy and Amelia¡¯s world, that he had watched them for so long they felt like family too. I wanted very much to leave all this together but that¡¯s not a cutman¡¯s job. We have guidelines as you all know, you¡¯ve seen the results of our work in what we allow to be posted and the times permitted. So I cut it to the moment he¡¯d finished with his best wishes and left it at that. The most important moment caught candidly, with only the sad profile of this man, poorly caught with bad lighting and a shitty angle need to be cropped out. Make what you want of it. I¡¯m not going to draw any conclusions for you or offer opinions. I leave that to you if you¡¯re seeing this.¡¯ He drew a half breath then spoke again to finish the video, ¡®I am your Cutman, I¡¯ll be honest for all of you.¡¯ Then Duncan shut off the recording. Hours later and a reflective mood had consumed the rest of his day. Duncan swallowed ashes off his cube and stared at the night newcasters discussing things that no longer seemed to hold his attention. Duncan had minimised his personal SP counter after posting his video, which had gone up unedited again. He felt like a bit of a hypocrite, talking about cutting down footage then not cutting his own. Then a thought surfaced. A memory of an impish grin and a promised meeting. He chided himself for his too high expectations, which of course resulted in his hopes rising higher. ¡®Sleep you damned tool¡¯ he told himself. He didn¡¯t bother to fold out the couch. Laying there with his eyes on his darkened ceiling, Duncan wondered for the first time if he¡¯d been sleeping this whole time. Chapter Six ¡®You¡¯re cool, Duncan. You got this, man.¡¯ He told himself for the dozenth time that day. It was about a half hour before his meeting time with Layla. He had felt full of restless energy. Even dismissing the auto-clean robots to do his own floors to keep busy. He didn¡¯t let himself get distracted with his SP or his many post responses. It was time to go. He had a carefully considered genius plan to arrive early to alleviate some nerves with some light weights. Duncan barely took in the bland corridor as he marched through, counting his steps. He was relieved to be off and on his way to the gym and very relieved he¡¯d be there first and able to relax. Suddenly his brain started giving him the visual information of his surrounds as he peeked through the doorway into the gym. There she was. She¡¯d beaten him there, damnit! ¡®Of course!¡¯ he muttered to himself then immediately regrated it. Layla had been standing strangely silhouetted between the overhead lights in a random dead spot of light. His mutter recrimination must have been louder than he thought as her head whipped up. The change of her position in response to his arrival, brought her eyes into the light and he noticed how astoundingly blue they were, as if they¡¯d captured the oceans light. Then she smiled and all his careful plans for today evaporated, fled like a forgotten rain. Duncan walked over and suavely said, ¡®Uh. Hey.¡¯ ¡®Hey yourself.¡¯ Layla replied, the smile widening. The silence was momentary but somehow deafening in his ears. ¡®So I was thinking, we could start with some basic lifts and¡­yeah¡­¡¯ he trailed off lamely. ¡®No witty lines about the weather today? OK great, tell me what to do?¡¯ It didn¡¯t fail to register with Duncan how she was totally at ease with things and he was nervous as hell. He took her through some basic exercises. She took to it like a duck on a pond. He couldn¡¯t help but notice her hands nestled perfectly in the middle of the dumbbell bar. She seemed an uncanny natural. They chatted a little, at first about the lifts themselves then about broader things. ¡®So I was thinking, we should all get together on this level and pool our income to get a coffee upgrade.¡¯ Layla stated, racking the dumbbell. Her voice was steady and only the lightest sheen of perspiration was visible. Duncan found that immensely distracting and gazed a little off into the distance. ¡®Yeah that¡¯d be great. This stuff just tastes like someone waved something coffee flavoured over some hot water.¡¯ Her laughter in response was easy and infectious. Duncan found himself relaxing and grinning. ¡®Maybe we could save up and see if we can get some third rate coffee from somewhere together as a upgrade?¡¯ she asked. He blinked, wondering if she¡¯d asked him out. His smile was shy and genuine as he said, ¡®I¡¯d like that a lot.¡¯ She raised her hand for a high five and he met hers with his own, her warmth pleasing to his skin. ¡®So do you work above Universal?¡¯ This was a fairly common getting-to-know-you question among adults so Duncan had expected it. ¡®Yeah I¡¯m a Cutman.¡¯ Layla nodded, her face interested. ¡®Wow ok. You know I was just talking to a friend and she was saying some guy who¡¯s a Cutman has started putting out commentary on his job. Apparently he¡¯s not preachy but makes points about it while letting people make up their own mind. I was going to look him up later.¡¯ Suddenly, Duncan¡¯s earlier worries about nervousness and being uncomfortable paled in comparison to this moment. ¡®Yeah. Well. Um cut work is pretty interesting sometimes, I suppose.¡¯ He answered lamely. She nodded in response. ¡®I¡¯m going to search his feed later. He sounds like a fascinating guy.¡¯ Duncan nodded, non-committal, wondering if he should tell her that sounded like him. He decided against it and instead stepped in behind her to correct her motion as she curled the weight. ¡®You don¡¯t want to swing the weight, you want your arm to do the work,¡¯ he said to her as he placed his hand on her hip then with his other, guided her arm into the correct positioning, ¡®otherwise the lift is ineffective and you aren¡¯t working the muscle. Set your arm and lift using only the arm itself.¡¯ Layla¡¯s eyes were watching his hand on her skin as she easily improved her motion. He suddenly realised his physical contact with a good portion of her body and blushed, nearly springing back. ¡®Uh¡­Sorry!¡¯ he stuttered. Her eyes went wide then she laughed. She dumped the weight on the ground and doubled over laughing at him. His face went a deeper red. ¡®I¡¯m sorry! It¡¯s just, you looked so embarrassed.¡¯ He scowled in mock severity as a grin threatened to still his pose. ¡®Madam, I do believe you have made sport of me and I will not stand for it!¡¯ she laughed even louder. ¡®Sir, I would never! Why never ever!¡¯ They both laughed and continued the workout.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. After weights they talked long as they stretched on the matting. Neither of them needed it but both settled in as a way to prolong their time together. Duncan was getting the idea that maybe she liked him a little and wondered and his mind quietly, yet frantically, thought up reasons to arrange another meeting. Once again, Layla go there first. ¡®Listen tomorrow I have some things to do but the next day it¡¯d be great to do this again?¡¯ Duncan nodded and tried to play it cool and shut the ¡°HELL YES!¡± in to his internal monologue. ¡®Yeah that sounds good.¡¯ He said in what he hoped was a cool manner. He watched her as she turned to leave, his hands in his pockets. Layla turned after a few steps and came quickly back to him. She put her hand on his chest and leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before saying thank you and with laughing, impish eyes, she left him there slightly stunned. Rather than letting himself obsess about the meaning of that kiss, Duncan threw a good weight onto a bar and bench pressed until his arms quivered. His mind didn¡¯t slow a bit. As he entered his apartment, he promptly forgot how many steps he¡¯d counted and sat at his short bench to shovel down a bowl of jelly boogers. He un-muted the main Newscaster feed. ¡®So Annie, I cant help but notice that¡¯s been a few days since the big announcement and people are already posting about names.¡¯ Sandy said exuberantly. Duncan immediately muted the feed again, not hearing Annie¡¯s typical enthused response. He briefly wondered if these two actually cared about this crap. ¡® I mean, it seems like Annie cares and Sandy thinks himself a little aloof and above it all but I¡¯d back on her being the one that goes home and wants to headbutt some knitting needles into her eyeballs.¡¯ He said aloud. He winced at the morbidity of that but thought some more about it. Do we all just behave in a way we think others would like to see us? Do most people genuinely give a shit about this stuff? Is it easier to care about that than being stuck on Universal? Would we be happier back in the capital days when we didn¡¯t have it or StarPower to feed us? Surely not, because back then we had to grind out our living and so many people lacked food and healthcare and somewhere to live. Surely caring about such banal things was a decent price to pay. He considered firing up his cam and asking a wider audience on his feed, figuring the debate might be a great thing but then remembered Layla. She said she was going to look for him. ¡®Well, she didn¡¯t say for you, she said for a guy.¡¯ He mused to himself, his voice as usual echoing back at him. Could she even have a realistic chance of finding him that way? If her friend was on his feed she could send a link but without that, his posts were just one voice in billions. ¡®I mean, even with my jump to SP17 that¡¯s not going to get a lot of hits in a search.¡¯ The echo was louder this time, his voice growing with certainty. He remembered he¡¯d minimised his personal SP on his mainscreen and waved to bring it back up. He grew very still. Blinking softly, SP51. Chapter Seven Duncan watched the slowly blinking SP51 and barely breathed. ¡®what in the absolute fuck?¡¯ he asked the world at large. This was truly astronomical. Without some for of endorsement assistance, this kind of leap was unheard of. He checked his views and saw his last two vids had scored enormous interest. The last video featured 11,000 plus comments. His mind refused to process the numbers. He sat dully, half formed thoughts cycling through his mind. Eventually, he forcefully minimised the SP reading and stared at the ten squares divided on the large screen. He didn¡¯t know what to do with himself so he decided to work. He booted the work station up and set to cutting together feeds. Surprisingly, he found the cat guy from the other day posting shorts of his new kitten. Young Emerald was quite precocious and had made a huge mess of a nutrient cube. He layered the short videos into a cute montage and pressed it onto the man¡¯s feed. Then footage of a middle aged SP4 shooting himself watching his screens for three straight hours popped into his work schedule. Despite the days events, Duncan felt his heart sink. How to cut this together. The man had reacted with scorn and similar vitriol at his viewing. Calling ¡®Fake¡¯ as often as anything else has he watched the one and a half hour special of Amelia and Roy¡¯s big reveal to family and friends at an incredible, upscale, swanky restaurant in New York. Oddly, the SP4 barely reacted to the jarringly obvious product placements and endorsements for the restaurant and heaped abuse upon the couple¡¯s announcements and heartfelt reactions of the guests at the dinner. Seeing what the man had wanted, Duncan cut together a three minute edit of the ¡°best of¡± the scorn filled monologues. Then sat back sighing expansively. The wheels on his chair protested slightly as he thrust himself back with more force than was strictly necessary. After cutting together a female gamers video of herself playing a first person shooter in a strategically low cut shirt, he felt the growing familiar butterfly lightness feeling of inspiration in his stomach.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Hi Everyone, this is your Cutman. It¡¯s nine pm where I am and I¡¯ve spent the past unknown hours cutting together your feeds. I¡¯ve done cats again. I¡¯ve done a man blind anger towards those he feels jealousy and contempt for. I¡¯ve helped a green haired gamer chick with big breasts get some more male followers. I¡¯ve even helped an older lady post with her grandchildren in mind, discussing the importance of family in a world that seems to more and more divide into smaller and smaller groups. She made this video in a single apartment and there was a layer of dust around the place that broke my heart for its absence of the family she wanted to talk to. It made me wonder a lot about why we are taking to our feeds to express our feelings. Why we seek the reactions we put out. It seems like we are addicted to strong emotions. I did a little research. In the past hour there have been 21 million posts about Roy and Amelia. A quick bit of graphing, which should be taken with a grain of salt, shows that 72 percent of these posts were negative by nature and 28 positives. Which of these types of reactions is worth more? Which is the faux-outpouring that meaningless? Is the deep feelings of love and adulation faker than the absurd outrage of the negatives? Are we addicted to outrage by and large? Seems we want to be offended. We want to be rage filled and feel like we are being marginalised/ignored/hated/lied to or misled. We cant wait for the cracks in the perfect couple to appear so we can drag those jumped up jerks down to our level! Is that who we are? Either the blindly let flag wavers or the obnoxiously offended? Might be worth a debate. For now, I¡¯m your Cutman and I¡¯ll be honest for you.¡± And the post went live. **** Two hours later after a ridiculous amount of feed surfing and a district lack of tiredness, Duncan received a message flashing right over the top of his feeds. The stark letters fading slowly to nothing marked a moment of rising dread in the young man.