The Board of Ministers

Grace hears the laboured sound of her own breath as she fits the air filter across her face. Just four steps, yet she stills herself, knowing the short, treacherous journey could result in her slow, painful death. Her lungs would fill with fluid, expanding until they eventually exploded in on themselves. Five years ago, an unexpected pandemic had spread like wildfire, leading to an astronomic death toll and resulting economic disaster across the planet.

It was the year we’d never anticipated, resulting in the government placing all humans in a restrictive conservatorship to aid worldwide recovery. The deadly, highly infectious virus continued to pose real threat to the remaining small, fragile population. The ultimate Armageddon fuckery from the Universe, if ever there was. Not enough food, services or production to meet the remaining populations’ needs. The restrictions were a necessary hardship for the good of all mankind. Or so we were led to believe.

Having a severe autoimmune disorder, Grace was placed in a compound isolated from her family. It was better for Tig, her son. Some stability in the chaos. Her small, sparsely designed bedsit was fitted with a range of technology to assist her productivity. There was a bed, kitchenette, small table, single chair and her workstation. Her meals were pre-packed to be heated at each allocated break. No choice, no variety. Sustenance only.

Under Government instruction, Grace’s isolation ensured she could continue to work and meet necessary societal outputs. The risk of infection due to her illness meant that contact with others, including her child and husband, Jed, had been deemed far too great. Potential for lost productivity and income. There were strict instructions as to entry into the community and contact with others. Jed was allocated to the ‘farm’, where food provisions were harvested before distribution.

Like everyone else, Grace had no access to her own finances, but she received her provisions each day from the generous Government. This included food, medications, correspondence, personal care items and work packages but not much else. If she was lucky there may be the odd chocolate bar thrown in, which she was allergic to so happy fucking day. It’s the little things that can send you over the edge and into a bathtub with a small electrical appliance.

Everyone had been injected with a ‘Pandem Chip’, designed to ‘keep our precious human resources safe, healthy and productive’. An alert woke her each morning at a set time and her vitals were taken. She was then directed to exercise, running on her treadmill, both as a health measure but also to allocate energy for her ‘free time’ where she might read for twenty minutes after her work was completed. Extra treadmill time also provided for Ding’s small portions of food which came with her daily provisions. Without this, she had to share her allocations and often went without so he wouldn’t look at her with those big, moaning eyes.

The chip told her when to break, sleep, shower and when her productivity was falling behind, meaning her provisions would need to be adjusted. This finite resource required an adequate investment from everyone to ensure community participation was fair, equitable and sustainable. You couldn’t expect something for nothing when there wasn’t much to go around.

Before heading out for her provisions, Grace initiated her call to Jed and Tig via intel, the on-line communications platform monitored as part of the efficient outputs provision. As Jed’s face appeared Grace felt tears well in her eyes. “Hard day babe?” Brushing away the pain, Grace sighed, “I can’t really remember the world being any other way but the shittiness is mounting into a steaming pile,” Resistance came from having no autonomy, no contact, no choice, and no joy. Jed reached out to the screen, as if to touch her. “When will these fucking restrictions end?” Grace had asked this repeatedly in her workflows but was never answered with more than the automated: ‘Your contributions are saving humanity. We thank you for this service necessary for the salvation of mankind. Alone we are doomed to extinction. Standing together we have a chance to thrive once more’. She didn’t recall signing up to be a superhero.

Grace ran her hand along the warm, golden coat of her dog, Ding. A privilege, as many pets were destroyed rather than be given a proportion of provisions. The immense kindness was only possible due to her continued high levels of productivity. Grace worked from daybreak until her energy supply ran out to keep him.

Fitting her mask again Grace called, “Come on, Ding. Goody time.” The yard was beautiful. Exquisite white rocks, tropical plants, and water features, which would be fantastic if she was allow outside for more than just retrieving her provisions. Large glass windows allowed for a perpetual view of the landscape, providing the optimal exposure of sunlight each day. The perimeter was a large, impenetrable fence that only opened at the discretion of the Government.

Pulling her delivery out of the hatch Grace saw a glint. Peering, she reached in to snag a tiny gold locket. “What’s this then, trippers?” Clicking open the locket she revealed a miniscule piece of paper with what looked like a line of code. Sitting at her computer Grace entered the code, intrigued but thinking she was dreaming up a bundle of bullshit in her spare time. The code took her to an untraceable site for resistance group, Free Eden, calling free thinkers to remember the value of democracy in order to overthrow the current government’s tyranny. Far out, brussel sprout. This shit was crazy.

Grace’s role was to manage the electricity and energy for each habitat by monitoring the solar generated surplus, keeping allocations flowing at designated levels. She’d never looked at why most dwellings had small allocations, while others required almost continual, large surges. She’d figured someone else had established these requirements based on need.

Free Eden had managed to hack documents revealing the economic crisis had been resolved for the last two years. At least to the point where the population could live a simpler, autonomous life. They wouldn’t be rich for sure, but could now meet everyone’s basic needs, allowing for steady growth. It just wasn’t enough to sustain the class structure of excess some people were still enjoying. A very small number of the population, mainly the existing politicians, were controlling incomes, so as not to disrupt their more luxurious lifestyles. It seemed there were no plans for this to ever change.

Grace started to analyse energy allocations. Most resources were going to the board of ministers. Our government. The ones responsible for the population’s health, safety and future prosperity. The board of ministers were made up of five individuals and their families, with a staff of another ten executives, on the next tier of resourcing. The remaining population was now no more than a thousand people living in poverty.

She had assumed the rest of the world was experiencing the same restrictions but communication outside of the district was not supported, due to energy consumption and potential diversion away from the district’s productivity. Anything unnecessary was deemed an unworthy extravagance. “I need to make contact outside the district to see if this pandemic is still a threat.” She also wanted to find out whether the economic crisis continued to be a pervasive, world-wide presence.

Drilling deeper into the dark web in the nights to come, Grace discovered that all couples and families within the district had been isolated, possibly to keep them from really processing the current restrictions. The perpetual exhaustion left little time to reflect on the current situation in any rational way.

Members of Free Eden used lockets, hidden in exported provisions to get coded messages to collaborators outside of the district, allowing some simple, yet undetectable correspondence to be exchanged. The codes opened the portal to the encrypted, dark web space. Intelligence revealed there was now a highly effective vaccine providing far reaching herd immunity in other parts of the world. Economic conditions were also stable with communities returning to a self-determined societal model, based on independent fair trade and service barter arrangements. It was only their own Government who continued to isolate the remaining population for their own greedy gain. “You dirty, dirty snatches,” she breathed out between clenched teeth.

“I gotta get to Jed without you nobs noticing?” She mused as an idea started to form. During her next link-up Grace tried dropping clues in between their usual banter. “Communication is just understanding the code, isn’t it?” She widened her eyes and Jed’s brow flickered with some fleeting recognition. “Codes and numbers,” she scatted. Tig started reciting number like she knew he would, giving her the opportunity to start her own repetitive loop of code which Jed surreptitiously scribbled down. Through the dark web they began to form a plan, along with a network of sympathisers within the home-workers and those on the farm.

Grace increased her treadmill time in order to work on a code that would enable her to unlock a number of the work compounds for Free Eden members at a specific time, creating a blind spot in the system for only seven minutes, which would be almost undetectable. The farm workers planned to hide at the end of their shift, avoiding their own lock in. They had gathered small amounts of food and equipment to aid the walk across the border. Grace knew this would need to be perfectly timed. The trick will be getting Tig out of the Educational Facility.

Jed decided the best option was to risk returning to his compound before Tig’s transport arrived, busting out together when the gates opened. His home security worked on a different line, so Grace needed to find a way to align with the other energy shutdowns.

On the day of the escape Grace’s nerves jangled as time ticked by. She was struggling to find the code which would open Jed’s access point. The other shutdowns were set, and if she missed the opportunity, and the others successfully escaped, Jed may never get out. The Government would be alerted in minutes. She didn’t know what would happen to Jed, or Tig for that matter and the panic was blinding her. She tried line after line of coding, knowing that her energy supply would dissolve within seconds.

Suddenly Grace found the line in. Jed grabbed Tig to make their escape. In the chaos Grace fell behind but gathered up Ding and headed for her own safe passage. She was seconds behind her target, unsure if she would make it before her locks re-engage. Desperate to push out into the world, Ding ran ahead of her and lunged towards a gate that was now swinging shut. Grace thought, “That sweet mutt might actually save my rear.”

She wasn’t prepared for the automatic gunfire ringing out as his large body tried to squeeze through the opening. Muffling a shocked cry, she froze. Ding lay bleeding, life flowing out of him, but there was no time to delay, to mourn. He had blocked the gates closure as he fell. Grace knew the alerts for her compound would have sounded by now, so she needed to leg it through the opening.

Tears still streaming down her face she ran to the meeting point, diving straight into Jed’s arms. She had made it. They had made it, but not without causality. The group picked their way through the darkness, along the river, and some time before dawn crossed into the next District where their sympathisers waited to provide asylum.

Watching the rest of the world unite in order to free the remaining population of the district filled her soaring heart. Although bastardised for greed, Grace realised there was an ultimate truth in the words of the Board of Ministers. Alone we are doomed to extinction. Standing together we have a chance to thrive once more.