Forgetting to Feel

I saw him again today. I don’t know where he came from, why he’s been assigned to our Class, his number – anything. But he has a sensitivity in his eyes I’d forgotten I’d missed. I haven’t encountered it since the Dark Day, since everyone I loved – and love itself, went away.

He was standing diagonally from me this morning during Dawn Assignments. I felt a sensation like the sun warming me – another feeling I’ve missed since our lands became inhabitable and we were forced to relocate to the Eternal Grey.

The warmth was so intense, I instinctively glanced up, not to see the sun’s rays, but only his gaze resting steadily upon me. Neither of us smiled or acknowledged the other in any way, but there was a silent recognition, a familiarity. Our eyes met for only an instant before the pixilated screens separated our view and the blaring, wordless techno music that is, I suppose, meant to enliven us so early in the morning, confused our senses.

It’s impossible I knew him in the past. Everyone with any association to one another was separated long ago. That was the first thing the Technocrats did. All connections between friends and family, even vague acquaintances, were severed. They were very quick and thorough about it all. And assigned AI companions, the continued shuffling of Class members, so-called “behavioral reassignment treatments,” and sterility procedures, performed under the guise of curing hormone disorders, guarantee that bonding between Class Members does not take place in any meaningful or lasting way.

Still, I haven’t stopped wondering about him. I fear it’s only a matter of time before my locket’s ability to restrict my Thoughtchip is discovered. It is dangerous to write for long. They may notice my Thoughtchip’s inactivity and assign me a new android with advanced surveillance powers.

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Today was “Green Day” – what I think was once Wednesday – the day of the week we work in the fields. They’re not really fields at all, but rows and rows of garish AstroTurf lit up by bluish LED lamps, some of which have not been replaced in decades. Rare Earth Elements are in ever-diminishing supply, and the Technocrats are the only ones who still enjoy technology’s benefits. Earth was the first and most thoroughly destroyed victim of the Techno Campaign. The rest of us are not far behind, and most days I long for the relief oblivion would bring.

On Green Days, we spend our 18 hours “helping” the androids harvest deformed crops that have been generated in a lab and planted – not very convincingly – in the synthetic soil the day before. The Technocrats require those of us who still have memories of earth to take part in Green Days to “prove” to us that technology is in every way superior to nature.

I enjoy Green Days better than most other days, since they at least allow us some exercise and relief from staring at the screens. Many of my Class Members have dimmed vision, and those who have gone completely blind from the blue light must rely on their AI companions to complete even their most basic tasks. The Technocrats favor the vision-impaired members; their dependence on AI is complete, and their temptation for the things of human nature is non-existent.

I did not see him today, but sensed the same warmth of the day before when I moved closer to the Digital Wall that separates workers in the fields. He must have been working alongside me all day, as I had to resort to using my locket several times to block my Thoughtchip from accessing my daydreams. I hope doing so does not arouse suspicion. Minor blips in Thoughtchip recordings are becoming increasingly common, I’ve heard, as Rare Earth Elements continue to be depleted and technology becomes more rudimentary. Still, I know the danger.

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I have not written for eight days for fear of my locket betraying its power, but if I don’t write now and release some agitation, I risk investigation of my Thoughtchip.

My thoughts these last several days have been excited, curious, and even hopeful. Thoughts that violate the principles of predictability, uniformity, and monotony are forbidden. I must write quickly.

He spoke to me. Not with words, but with emotion – an archaic language the Technocrats have nearly forgotten. Following Dawn Assignments yesterday, we were instructed to form a single-file line. He stood behind me. The warmth was so intense, I felt as though I were perspiring, another feeling I’ve not known since the Technocracy implemented universal, automated temperature control. It was a good feeling – more internal than external – and more pronounced near my chest and in the space of my heart and the locket of the same shape than anywhere else.

Tomorrow is another Green Day, and I have a feeling something is going to happen.

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My mind is racing and my heart is pounding. I take only this moment to write in the hope that doing so will calm me just enough to buy us the time we need. I know my Thoughtchip will surely register on High Alert as soon as we are together, yet I can’t allow my locket to block the device for too long. That, too, is risky.

He explained that my locket’s power is not a technological one. Its heart shape is the very essence of human love and sentimentality – which is why it confuses the Thoughtchip, a device that operates purely mechanically and is incapable of understanding emotion.

He, too, has retained a token of love – a tiny sketch his mother gave him as a child – over which the Thoughtchip is powerless. Through it, he has built an immunity to the soul-sucking effects of technology.

There is a place, he says, where individuality is celebrated, nature is cherished, and love is the law of the land.

We have both “forgotten” to recharge our AI companions to full capacity. In mere moments, we will use our sentimental tokens to disarm the Digital Wall and as many Thoughtchips as we can on our flight for freedom from the Technocracy.

He is here.

I feel warm all over.

And alive, for the first time since the Dark Day.