Platinum

Riley squeezed out of the autonomous car, made sure the heart-shaped locket still dangled from her neck, and stepped onto the desolate street.

It was one of those bright, cloudless days she’d been waiting for all spring. She reached out her arms to feel the warmth on her skin, but then withdrew them. She had her SkinDeep app on, which had a mild, though unfortunate, side effect of numbing her skin. She’d hoped an app that expensive wouldn’t have any side effects, but even so, it was easily worth the price.

As if on cue, her HuNCH—the Human Neural Connected Heuristic, which integrated apps directly into the body—pinged in her mind with an alert from SkinDeep. She read the message, already knowing what it would say:

You subscription has almost expired! Would you like to purchase another year’s access?

Want? Of course. Can? TBD.

That’s why she had come to the Bureau of Health Status. She’d been here twice before—once, when she’d achieved Silver status, and a few years later, when she’d achieved Gold. Now, she was back for the ultimate prize: Platinum, and all the perks that came with it, including free healthware.

She entered the BHS, stepping past the memorial statue for the health crises of the early 21st century, and checked in. Her HuNCH pinged again, this time with a message from Myra:

Good luck—you’ll do great!

Myra had gone Platinum a few weeks ago, giving her free access to the full menu of healthware apps. Already, she was leagues beyond Riley’s wildest dreams: skin as radiant as an Aztec god’s, the posture of a ballerina, teeth that literally sparkled. Even her cankles were gone. Was there really an app that sculpted your calves?

Riley was about to look that up when a bronze statue of a man approached her. “Riley?” he said, his voice as light and oily as salad dressing.

“That’s me,” she replied, bouncing from her seat a bit too eagerly.

“I’m Kyle.” They shook hands—hers, calloused from deadlifts the day before; his, as smooth as pleather. “I’ll be your case officer.”

He led her to a glass-encased corner office overlooking the empty street below.

“First,” he began, “I’d like to remind you of our mission. The purpose of the BHS is to prevent the health crises that nearly wiped out humanity just decades ago. Obesity, heart disease, diabetes, depression, infertility…our goal is to make these a thing of the past by creating a culture of health. People should want to be healthy—only then will they truly earn healthware. Do you agree?”

“Absolutely,” she replied.

He smiled with perfect symmetry. “Good. Now, can you verify your Gold status for me?”

She pulled out the golden heart-shaped locket around her neck. It had taken five years of diets, boot camps, and daily inspirational posts to earn it. The five years that followed had been even harder: investing in premium healthware, amassing a social following, whittling her body into something even a healthware skeptic would envy.

As Kyle opened the locket and scanned the bar code inside, her HuNCH pinged with a message from Candace. Speaking of healthware skeptics, Riley thought as she read the message.

You forgot your leftovers here. Can I have the omelet?

That, in a nutshell (or eggshell), was Candace. They’d been best friends since high school, even as life took them in wildly different directions. Riley sent her a reply, giving her the omelet.

Umm, is this an egg white omelet? Candace sent back. You know all the flavor is in the yolk, right?

And all the calories, Riley thought, but didn’t send to Candace, knowing that it would only invite more derision.

Silly Ri. You can make it up to me at dinner tonight.

Riley did not want to argue about dinner again, so she turned off her HuNCH.

A moment later, Kyle clapped his hands together. “Great! Now, the basics. Your diet looks on point—maybe a little carb heavy, but those Friday fasts take care of that, right?”

She smiled, trying and failing to mirror his own.

“Body composition in the top 10 percentile, that’s good. Hmm…family history.”

She expected this. Her parents had been too poor to afford healthware, and had never achieved even Silver before passing away, the long tail of humanity’s dark past.

Riley cleared her throat and said: “Unlike them, I’ve invested in my health.”

“I see that,” he purred. “You’ve got the whole suite: HappyHeart, HeadStrong, DexPerfect. You even have SkinDeep! Impressive, isn’t it?”

Impressive, and expensive.

Riley had been born with vitiligo, a rare condition that caused patches of her skin to lose pigmentation. As a child it had alienated her from her classmates—in an era where perfection was possible, Riley was as off-putting as a rotting gourd at the county fair—all except Candace, the pudgy 15-year-old who, like Riley, could not afford healthware. They quickly became best friends.

Years later, when Riley had finally achieved Gold, she purchased SkinDeep, maxing out two credit lines to do it. In an instant, the app had reversed her vitiligo. Riley had stared in the mirror for hours, marveling at herself. Even if it did numb her skin (only slightly, she reassured herself), it was a scientific miracle.

Candace—heavy, though perfectly healthy—had berated her for it. “Why in the world would you pay for all that premium crap? You were beautiful before. Now you’re just normal.”

“It’s not about the money, or the looks,” Riley protested. “It’s about investing in my health.”

Candace had snorted at that. “Isn’t it curious how the only people who can ‘invest in their health’ these days are either rich, look like greased-up barbies, or both?”

Even now, that one stung.

Kyle pulled up the second part of the application. “Next, let’s review your social presence. We’re looking for Platinums who really surround themselves with health.”

He pulled up her social profile. “A decent amount of followers for a Gold. I like the daily inspirational posts, that’ll look good on your application.”

He scrolled some more, then stopped. “Oh. What’s this?”

He pointed to a photo of Riley and Candace from years ago, before SkinDeep. It was the last time they’d gone to their favorite restaurant together. Riley was particularly proud of this photo—even with her patchy skin on full display, there was something about it that always made her smile.

“Please tell me she photobombed you.”

“Huh?”

Kyle pressed his fingers into a steeple. “We can’t have Platinums going about with, well, people like her.” He pointed to Candace. “It would send a message that that kind of lifestyle is acceptable.”

Riley felt her heart beating in her throat. She couldn’t pretend not to know Candace—they’d been friends since childhood. And yet, before she knew what she was saying, she heard herself mutter: “She was a follower of mine. Saw me and wanted a photo.”

The guilt churned in her stomach like battery acid. But it worked—Kyle’s whole body relaxed, and that perfect smile crept back up his cheeks.

“In that case, I recommend you delete it before we send the application in.”

Riley turned on her HuNCH and scraped her social for any photos with Candace. In just a few moments, it was as if she’d never had a best friend.

“Wonderful!” Kyle submitted the application for review. “It’ll only be a few moments. Care for some water? We infuse it with mushroom proteins.”

Riley muttered a yes, and Kyle left to bring her a glass.

Once he did, Riley felt a ping from Myra. How’s it going?

Good I think, Riley responded. Assuming I get it, want to celebrate tonight?

A long moment passed before Myra pinged back: Will Candace be there?

Of course. Why?

Another pause.

Maybe another time.

Riley frowned. Did Candace do something to upset you? It wouldn’t be the first time—those two had never gotten along.

I’d rather not talk about it. Good luck, Ri.

With that, her HuNCH went silent.

What the hell? Riley wondered. She pinged a message to Candace to find out.

What did you do to piss off Myra?

It didn’t take long for Candace to respond. I didn’t do anything. She’s been pissed off for weeks—probably hemorrhoidal, what with so many healthware apps stuck up her ass.

Riley felt a surprising swell of anger at that. Well, whatever you did, she’s not coming to dinner tonight.

Good! She’s like all those stupid kids who used to tease us just because our parents couldn’t mortgage their homes for six-pack abs. She brings out the worst in you, Ri.

Riley’s anger boiled over.

No, YOU bring out the worst in me.

She regretted it the moment she sent it. She didn’t expect Candace to respond, yet not a moment later, she got a ping.

Maybe that’s why I’ve gotten like a hundred pings that I’ve been removed from your photos?

The anger dissolved into shame. Too flustered to think of a lie, Riley turned her HuNCH off.

Kyle came back with her water, which she drank dutifully as they waited. It did not take long before a chime got Kyle’s attention. He pulled up the response and read it to himself.

After an agonizing eternity, he said: “Congratulations, you have been approved for Platinum!”

It took all her will not to leap from her chair in exaltation.

“There’s just one thing.” He smiled with practiced sympathy. “That woman in the photo…”

No.

“…Candace, isn’t it…”

Please, no.

“…you know her, don’t you.”

She scrambled for a lie, but what was the use? Instead, she simply nodded, almost dropping the glass as the beads of condensation loosened her trembling grip.

“It’s okay. I understand why you lied. But look out there.” He nodded towards the window overlooking the street below. A few scattered pedestrians roamed the sidewalks, far below the number for which the pavement was designed.

“We almost lost it all, Riley. For decades, life expectancy declined, fertility rates plummeted, the population halved, then halved again. People weren’t healthy, because they didn’t want to be healthy. We can’t let it happen again.”

Riley shook her head. “Candace is my best friend. She’s not unhealthy. She just doesn’t look like us.”

“And that’s the problem. How we look means something. It’s a symbol to the world that we’re better. Elite. We inspire others to earn their healthware, like you have. But you can’t be an inspiration with Candace in your life.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out the thing Riley had dreamed of for ten years: a platinum heart. It dangled from its chain like a hypnotist’s pendulum. It looked even more brilliant than Myra’s, and in thinking of Myra, Riley realized that this was why she’d refused to have dinner with Candace.

And on the heels of that, she thought of the photo of her and Candace. She knew now why it always made her smile: It was the last time she had been truly herself. The last time she had been truly happy.

“I know your SkinDeep subscription expires soon,” Kyle said. “I also know you don’t have the credit to renew it. But with this, it’s yours for free—because you’ve earned it. What could be more important than that?”

#

Riley stepped out of the BHS building, and the bright day greeted her. She felt like a different person than the one who had entered the building. Not better, exactly. More comfortable in her skin.

She sent a message to Candace, apologizing for her outburst and confirming their favorite restaurant for dinner. Then, as she waited for an autonomous car, Riley felt the sun on her skin for the first time in years.