Pulse

Friday, August 13th, 2088

Del Rey, an affluent suburb of Los Diego

The small, thin girl’s grasp tightened as she and her grandfather walked through the lush hallways of the Zenith Hotel, a towering testament to California’s economic recovery and hubris.

“Why don’t they talk?”

Her sharply-dressed grandfather smiled. His white teeth easily stood out against his tanned, relaxed face. He coughed, clearing his throat. “Do you think they need to talk in order to clean windows?”

“Well,” the girl replied, “when I am told to pick up my room, I like to listen to music or sing.”

“That’s true, but these men and women clean for hours at a time. It’s very dull work.”

“Yeah, I don’t really like cleaning my room.”

The grandfather chuckled, his words hinted with warm laughter. “There you go then, sweetheart.”

“Were they always like this?”

“No. These people were one of the ways our country pulled itself from the Undoing. Sacrifices had to be made in order for any of us to have a normal life.”

An older woman approached the two. Then: “Mr. President?”

The grandfather tilted his head towards his aide.

“If you and your granddaughter could follow me, I’ll lead you to your suite.”

Felix heard the conversation, which prompted her to turn, face them, and offer a pleasant smile. She then turned back to the window she was cleaning. Felix, for all practical purposes, already forgot the brief, meaningless display as was the way of the Chip.

For several more hours, Felix cleaned the interior windows of the Zenith. A pulse targeted her, commanding her to wheel her cleaning cart to the service elevator where she descended to the second sub-level. Once there, she put away her supplies before moving into the locker room and showers where a half-dozen men and women were already doing the same thing. The workers shamelessly stripped off their uniforms, put them into an automated laundry chute, and congregated in the showers.

Felix, like the others, stood under the lukewarm water. They all stared straight ahead, paying absolutely no attention to the nakedness of one another. When the water stopped at its allocated time, Felix took an available towel and dried herself before returning to her locker. Once there, she put on her underwear, jeans, and a tee-shirt. Her head then cocked to the left as she noticed the small heart-shaped locket within her locker. Her brow furrowed for the briefest of seconds before she reached inside and claimed it.

She then took her place in a quiet line where she and her fellow workers clocked out. She placed her hand on the time clock, which sent another commanding pulse to the small chip, a hybrid of circuitry and synthetic flesh, into Felix’s neocortex and thalamus.

Felix gasped as she reclaimed her mind. She clasped at the locket against her chest. This was always her reaction to becoming whole again. Felix stepped away from the time clock. She lightly touched her neck just beneath her left ear.

<<Good evening, Felix. The time in Los Diego is eight PM. The temperature is seventy-one degrees. Today’s work has earned you four thousand and eighty-six credits.>>

“Social media,” Felix said with a hoarse, unused voice.

<<You have no messages via the Spectrum since your last request. Would you like to experience trending conversations via the Spectrum?>>

“No,” she said softly as she approached the hotel’s shuttle bay. She spotted her friend Dimitri and headed his way, playfully punching his shoulder.

Dimitri turned to face her as they both touched just beneath their left ears, silencing the Spectrum.

“Can you believe they did it again?”

Felix swished her lips thoughtfully as she considered his words. “It was just a couple of hours. It’s not like they don’t pay us for the extra time.”

“I just don’t like that they don’t ask anymore. I heard about a guy in New Portland that was left on and literally worked himself to death. Can you imagine?”

“I think you have enough imagination for both of us,” Felix kidded.

“Maybe,” Dimitri said wryly. “But only just maybe.” Then: “Would you like to come to my place?”

Felix reached out to him and laced her fingers between his. She nodded.

Hours later, Felix and Dimitri, still awake, rested mostly naked together. Dimitri studied the only thing Felix wore.

“What’s in it?”

Felix considered his question. “A picture of him and her.”

He nodded empathically. “It’s a beautiful. It must have cost a fortune.”

“Nothing actually. My mother gave it to me shortly before she passed.”

“The rich get richer—“

“—Can we not talk about politics?” Felix interrupted. It was odd for her to do so, especially with sweet Dimitri.

“Technically, I was talking about economics.”

Felix gave him a look before smiling at his scruffy face. He leaned into his Russian accent when he became playful. She then gave him a stern look.

“You need to shave,” Felix noted, her tone serious.

“Razors have gotten so expensive. The last time I bought a pack of five it cost me eighty credits.”

“Then buy one,” Felix suggested.

“Better to buy in bulk,” he explained. Before they said anything else, the fan and the lights cut off, plunging them into darkness.

“I bet it’s the whole grid.”

“Look out the window towards the Zenith. I bet you it still has power.”

She gave him an incredulous look because only a fool would challenge that bet. Instead of bantering with him, she got up from his bed and went into the only other room in his apartment, a closet-sized bathroom that contained a shower, sink, toilet, and eight dingy linoleum tiles.

While Felix relieved herself, her fingers toyed with the locket. She didn’t need any light to picture the faces of her husband and daughter.

<<Attention! Attention! The power to grids eleven to forty-six are temporarily down. Stay in your homes or where you are. GPS placement is active. Rioting and looting will not be tolerated. Lethal force has been authorized. Be safe and behave.>>

Felix frowned in the darkness. She hadn’t intended to spend the night. The two of them shared intimacy often. Sex, after all, was a free, timeless activity that was exceedingly popular. She felt wetness on her cheeks and the weight of the metal on her chest. This familiar feeling always came when she lingered too long.

An explosive sound jarred Felix loose from her reverie. She stood quickly and scrambled towards Dimitri. Sufficient light now cast a glow to the room. Dimitri stood at the window.

“The explosion came from the substation near the hotel,” he reported.

“Oh God! Did it hit the Zenith?”

“No. Too far south. I think it could have been one of the rehab centers.”

Felix nodded while her mind raced. “That makes sense.” As she studied the inferno afar, Felix agreed with Dimitri’s assessment, but found his accuracy confusing from this distance.

<<Attention! Attention! Rioting is not accepted in Del Rey. Ensure you are inside as a restoration pulse will emit in five . . . four . . . “

Felix slapped her neck and went offline. She had no desire to hear the countdown, which would result in the immediate deaths of the rioters. The only way survival occurred is if they wore felonious headbands fashioned from the frames of windows and doors within someone’s home. A less likely option would be that they were older, the last generation to swear off the implants: the Naturals.

Felix went to Dimitri and found comfort when his arm draped over her shoulders. His touch, while gentle, betrayed the hardness in his jaw. It was as if the fires he watched were actually within his eyes. She noticed small strips of threshold metal on an upturned box. There were also several pairs of latex gloves. Felix swallowed hard when the lights in his apartment clicked back on and she saw a picture of President Avery along with maintenance maps of the Zenith.

“Are you okay?”

He faced her. “Never better.”

Saturday, August 14th, 2088

The ride and contrast from Dimitri’s to the Zenith always puzzled Felix. The Undoing had been a mix of war, famine, plague, and much death. Countries were utterly undone in the wake of nuclear annihilation.

Greedy warlords, eager to gobble up any remaining resources they could snatch, would wax and wane in power until the true power--corporate power-- mowed them all down with surgical efficiency. The time of Man was brief, maybe fifty years for most. Some corporate entities were well over a century old. Fighting abstract notions of contracts and board rooms proved impossible to simple men and women who could be eliminated with a bullet.

At its end, the Undoing undid one aspect of life: the Middle Class. Only a gulf remained between the wealthy and poor. The men in Felix’s life—her father, husband, and lover—all preached this angry, empty sermon. It was a doctrine without a solution, so it was useless to Felix. It didn’t feed, medicate, clothe, or lodge her.

The corporations advertised themselves as humanity’s savior, promising to protect and serve. All they asked in return was a strong work ethic. They even had an idea to make the work pass quickly: the chip. The first chip came about prior to the Undoing. It connected everyone who received one to the Spectrum. The newest chip would be placed in a sensitive part of the human brain. Decades of slacker employees seeking distractions rather than directions proved a timeless problem. They now knew how to eradicate sloth. Years of marketing and bribing paid off handsomely. Ninety-seven percent of the world had the Spectrum; ninety-one percent were outfitted with the Pulse.

To their credit, the corporations rarely abused this power. In self-proclaimed “times of unrest” the chip was also used to curb wrath, greed, envy, and lust. While most of Los Diego saw murders, robberies, and rapes, it was virtually unheard of in Del Rey.

Arriving at the Zenith, Felix approached the time clock. She put her hand on the clock, which evaporated her worries instantly. She then moved with the other drones to the locker room to undress, shower, and prepare for work. Her entire adult life was this.

As she reached her locker and prepared to take off her clothes and locket, a voice disturbed her routine.

“You! 8741, stand down or—“

“My name is Dimitri,” he screamed as blood rushed to his face. He drew a knife in his gloved hand, swiftly stabbing the guard closest to him.

Felix found this curious, a fellow worker fighting against the guards. It took little time for Dimitri to die in a hail of bullets. Felix watched this with a pleasant smile.

A guard looked at her and told her to get back to work, which she promptly did. She went through her routines, only missing one minor detail because of the commotion.

Felix didn’t remove her locket. Being invisible as long as you follow the rules meant the guards likewise missed this aberration.

As she toiled, she often noticed the heart-shaped metal on her. It bothered her, distracted her. She imagined a baby in threadbare linins cooing. She remembered a man’s touch, the baby’s father. She felt where a simple, expensive silver band once rested.

As night enveloped the city, Felix found herself looking at her reflection in the windows she cleaned. The woman she saw was older, paler, and thinner. She smiled at the reflections, but it was pitiful, not pleasant. In this moment, she frowned and quit cleaning the glass. Felix clenched her jaw as hot tears seared down her cheeks. In this moment, she thought of Dimitri, sweet Dimitri.

A guard soon approached her. She didn’t quit cleaning. She could see his reflection. He paused a few feet from her.

“1730, are you okay?”

Felix pivoted towards him. Armed with a pleasant smile, she only said two words.

“Never better.”