In the center of that which had no center, an apartment of meticulous beige, indirect light oozing from the walls, Vane–a nine; near perfect–stood erect with the posture of a man who had never known backache. In his open hand, palm up, sat a rusted iron key, filthy, a jagged heresy against the beige, smelling of oxidation and a century of empty pockets.
Contraband.
Sensors hummed, a low frequency baseline, always present, never complained about. Vane’s teeth vibrated in harmony. A puff of air expelled from unseen vents, inhaled with programmed lungs, and struggled to categorize the unknown scent. Reaching back a half-century, it found the relevant cross-reference.
CONTAMINANT DETECTED.
Vane stood still. A microscopic flake of rust drifted from the key to the ivory floor.
The floor shimmered, domestic nanites rising from the tiles to devour the rust, recycling the heresy back into the sterile loop. They were efficient. They were fast.
They were, as always, expected.
Vane closed his fist, the jagged teeth biting into his palm. He waited for the pain, but the Sacrament in his blood was ahead of him, dialing down the signal, smoothing the edges, heroin calm flooding his veins until the cut felt like nothing more than a polite suggestion of inconsistency.
“I see you,” Vane said.
He wasn’t talking to the room.
He spoke to the man he had been, before the world became a filtered photograph that refused to let him bleed.
He spoke to his inner six.
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2 Responses
This is such a hauntingly beautiful piece—the imagery of the “Sacrament” in the blood smoothing out the edges of pain really stuck with me. It makes me wonder about the logistical reality of a world governed by such strict “Directives.” In your world-building, is the Sacrament a mandatory medical requirement for all citizens to maintain that “beige” order, or is it a premium service for the elite? I’m curious because I was actually researching digital residency and administrative hurdles for a project, looking at things like https://e-residence.com/fr/nie-spain-online/marbella/, and it made me think about how even today we’re moving toward these “frictionless” digital loops. Do you think Vane sees his “inner six” as a form of rebellion against this optimization, or just a ghost of a sensory past he can’t quite let go of?
Hello Bryan,
Pleasure to meet you and glad you enjoyed it. I’ll be posting a new directive every Saturday morning (Denver time, U.S.) that dives further into the Optimised Future Trilogy I’m building, which started with “Ten With a Flag,” and develops from there, so feel free to tag along for the ride. If you haven’t read the original short story that started all this, you can either pick up my short story collection (link on the main page) or even better, grab a copy of the anthology, “Brave New Worlds,” edited by John Joseph Adams. My story is collected in that volume along with some serious heavy hitters. You can find that here, and even though I don’t make money on sales of the anthology other than a share of royalties, I still highly recommend the full collection due to the stellar table of contents. It’s a monument to dystopian short fiction, containing both golden age and modern classics.
As to your question, my answer would be, “it depends.” At certain points in the timeline, the sacrament–conferred through a socio-religious ceremony called, “Communion,”–is reserved for the upper crust of society, which just so happens to coincide with the most affluent and privileged citizens. Later . . . well, we’ll get to that later.
I’ll leave you with one last thought: If you were offered immortality, would it be need be dictated to you as mandatory? Or would you possibly walk into it with greedy eyes open, even though you had no test cases to judge the effect it would have on your life?
At least you’d be alive, no?
Again, great to meet you and hope to see you around!