Little Black Book

There were few ways to make money in the cryptocurrency, AI-humanism time I’d happen to find consciousness in. Homeless and hungry I feverishly watched as a man in a good looking jacket get tortured down in the ally way. Beaten. Raped. I, being one of the remaining full humans left did not have this particular craving for demise and depravity. Society entering its “golden” technology age had split into three groups, humans, AI-human, and successful AI-human. They rip the coat off of him and I am thrilled it might be salvageable. There is nothing natural about artificial intelligence merging with the body, and while many managed seamlessly, this batch ahead of me had surely failed and had become void of any human emotion — at least that’s what the experts claimed after the first cases of FI’s (failed integrations) emerged. I stay ducked behind the dumpster, cloaked in the darkness and shielded by the rain. The rain was incessant, another “golden” techno age solution that evidently went wrong. I think they want it to be bleak, to be dark and depressing, it’s their way of picking off the rest of us full humans that haven’t integrated.

I’ve only been solo the past week, up until then it was me and James. James and I had belonged to much a larger group of anti-integrators, over time our numbers dwindled as friends either killed themselves or decided to integrate. James was better off dead and I told him that the day he begged me to go with him. Seven days later and I wince at the thought of how many more days to go before the end. Not much longer if I don’t get a fucking jacket. It seems they’ve had their fill, I stay hidden just a while longer to ensure they have cleared the area, I stay crouched and shuffle down the alleyway, taking minor pauses behind dumpsters as I go. I finally make it to the bloodied naked man, he’s overweight and hairy with a culdesac hair line; I recognize him. Just earlier that evening, just after my jacket was stolen I’d watched this overweight, hairy man be escorted out of Billy’s Bar. He was belligerent, a real asshole as he paraded his wealth, as if to claim that him being an asshole could be compensated for by currency… but man did he have a nice jacket. My gaze sweeps across his body there’s a pipe laying near his feet and I secure it just incase the night picks up again, I didn’t have James to protect to me anymore. The FI’s never robbed their victims; Their sole purpose is always to gratify their deviance. We’d built our survival on tracking the FI’s closely, following their familiar movements, like this alleyway right at the end of main street, watching them torture and kill, then taking what we could to survive. I lay eyes on the jacket, all black leather with a fur trim, that was now soaked but would dry up in time. As I pick it up, something dark and square lands to the floor and I reach for it instantly. It’s leather bound and feels expensive. I go to open it and quickly shut it upon discovering it be a notebook. It had been safe from the rain in the coat and I wanted to keep it that way.

As I slide it in my pocket I check around to see if there’s anything of value. I sigh when all I am left with is empty pockets. In these times, cash was fucking king, everything else cryptocurrency, upon integration your banking information would simply become apart of your genetic code and paying for something was as simple a transaction as thinking it. The FI’s were rampant, dumped here in Ashon cities where they’d be free to live the destructive lives they wanted. Housing developments were created first come first serve, but it developed into more of a strongest stays. There was no rent, no taxes, everything was free of cost to the FI’s except for food and gambling, but the FI’s never gambled, they didn’t care about winning money, they just wanted to watch the world burn and their necessities were paid for with money each FI received as a settlement for their condition. The streets were a sea of bars and brothels and casinos, nothing of sustenance here. The only thing that lured in people of integrated refinement such as the previous owner of this coat, was the excitement of gambling. I make my way down the other end of the alleyway, my hands anchors in my coat pockets, shoved deep down as I turn onto main street. My head is down and my eyes are slightly lifted, peering through the sheet of rain, the streetlights casting an amber hue and there’s an eerie calmness as I continue down the street, with only the cascade of water to fill my senses. Something catches my eye and underneath one of streetlights is a dog. I’m frozen in place as this is just as worse a fate as getting beaten and raped, eaten alive is always worse. The likelihood of encountering a dog in Ashon cities was low, there had been a lot more at one time, but they starting eating each other off until all that were left were the alphas of the bunch, who’d quickly turned to human flesh to satiate their hunger. Running is futile, so I just remain frozen. I remember the pipe I have tucked away in my jacket, but I don’t want to fight anymore. What exactly am I even fighting for? Just then I hear a blood curdling scream that sends the beast running across the street. It gallops aways like a horse, I’d always had a fondness for Great Danes, gentle beasts — not anymore. I watch the beast as it disappears into the darkness and I am still frozen. I thought of James and what he would have done, but the thought of him sends heat down my chest and I curse him for leaving me here. Alone. A few deep breaths later and I feel the function of my legs coming back to me, my hands sore from clenching, especially my left, I had been holding onto the little black book for so long and so tightly it left a red outline in my hand.

The rain has subsided now and I make my way to our — my hide away, most of us took to the underground, with no housing and fear of attack it was the only place to feel remotely safe, cardboard beds and torn sheets is where I call home. I think back to when this little corner of sewer was bustling with my group, with James; now all that remained was the sound of sewer rats and the incessant drip drip drip. I remember the little black book and reach into my pocket, using the streetlight peering through slits fo the sewer entrance I creek open the hard leather-bound book, finding myself filling with an unexpected excitement, only to find blank pages; one after the other. I didn’t know what I truly expected to find; what meaningless scribbles I yearned to see, but I continue to flip through every single page, with each turn my anticipation climbs and is devastatingly let down to find nothing once again. I start back at the beginning with intent to replay my suffering in hopes that maybe I missed a page, when there, on the front cover are scribbles. It’s an address for a house in Tor, with directions to return it there if lost or stolen; it seems Mr. Jacket belonged to an even more exclusive group.

Tor towns were built for the insanely rich that didn’t want to integrate and could afford to not live within the “golden” societies. They were kept tucked away, miles further than anyone would casually venture and if they did they would be met with an ungodly high grey brick wall paired with a security at post; I only know this because I stood before it all. I don’t know why this little black book excites me, why I walked nearly 10 miles outside of town, alone to… do what I didn’t know, but here I was… I approach the security post and already have the little black book in hand, I’d taken it out once I’d gotten close enough to Tor and far enough from Ashon.

“I’m returning this," I say as I hold up the little black book in all it glory, pointing to address etched in royal like black ink.

He gestures to the side and presses a button opens the main gate, my heart sink into me like a deep wheel, a pit of excitement and confusion, I wasn’t sure what I thought would happen but certainly not this. Beyond the gates a whole new world emerges, as if out of magic; there’s rolling hills of green and light, oh it’s so fucking bright. It’d been so long since it’d seen beauty, days had been spend in the dark, chaos that was Ashon, that had become my life and here in the mist of the depravity, the death, the integration, was heaven on earth. The gate makes a loud slam as it slides completely open and I am met by a man who ushers me into a car. I am flurry of emotions as the car rolls through Tor I am met with mansions unlike I had ever seen before, the grandeur of it all was almost overwhelming. I thought to ask the driver where we were going, but got my answer when the car smoothed out to stop in front a mansion on the corner lot. I’d never felt more confused in my life and that confusion worsened when after opening the door for me the driver handed me envelope filled with keys and briefcase filled with money - 100 dollars bills in every stack. He didn’t say a word when I’d asked him why he was doing this or why this was happening, he simply drove off. I moved through the house in a haze, trying to take in my new environment, all that had transpired. I moved from the foyer to the grand room, then kitchen where feasted on rotisserie chicken, fettuccine Alfredo and half a gallon of milk. I blankly marched through the living room, up the stairs, passing the California king bed in the bedroom into the master bedroom, where I showered and cried.

Just seven fucking days and James would have made it. This though circles my head like water in toilet bowl only it never empties, I fall asleep and awaken to this thought. To have everything, absolutely everything, but also have nothing at all…