The Tuner - Story 0: Sepia

June 26, 2xxx

Nico had a slow, dronelike pace on his way to work while sobering to his current reality. Once he made it on the train, its rattling was piercing enough to not be able to tune out. Last night, Nico fell asleep with his Tuner on, and although it's not like he spent the whole night there (he couldn't even if he tried), the transition from daydream to dreams zapped all energy out of his head. He had bad hangovers before, but this morning was special. He needed a moment to not be in motion, and the perfect amount of isolation to recover.

As Nico finally made it off the train and into Huxom headquarters, he limped on inside and muttered a slow "good morning" to everyone in his building he didnt give a fuck about. Later than sooner, he slipped back into routine: one pot of coffee, plugging in his charger and getting into position with his opener in hand. With the monotony of his next 8 hours secured, he fumbled to grasp at the happiness in his pocket. "Fuck, where'd I put it", Nico growled, slowly getting more and more agitated. Last month he forgot his charger and he swore that was the worst moment of his life, aside from the week before of course.

Everyone swears up and down that the Tuner is bad for you, that you need to "plug into life not your own head," or "just go take a walk!" and of course: "You only have one life to live!" He thought that hippy bs was for the white girls trying to find themselves. Nico knew what he liked and had lived enough life to know his peaks existed either behind him, or far ahead of him- this was the slow monotonous interlude of his life. He felt a strong polarity to all this so far, strong peaks of joy in between valleys of drought. Nico didn't care to experience "real life," as far as he was concerned real life started for him as early as he could remember.

Nico grew up in the city. He remembered living in that cramped 1 bedroom with his ma and sisters often as he passed that stop on the blue. He went to school a couple of blocks down the street, and he loved this place long enough to see it all change. He felt like he was cheating on the city for this job, but if anyone could drive a nail in the coffin of his city it had to be him. Everybody Nico knew in this city that grew up with him had either moved on or moved across town.

He plugged his Tuner into its charger, which was as zapped as he was, and sat there waiting. 20 minutes of charge left. He knew. He knew the exact time he would get a buzz, slowly feel himself falling into paradise, and forget the world around him. Time dilation was always a real thing in the Tuner, Nico always felt like he lived a day in heaven instead purgatory for 8.

The rest of Nico's days played out the same this past month: he knew no matter how bright his daydreams were, the box he found himself in when he woke up had a bleary darkness about it. He would collect his thoughts after his recollections, jump back on the Blue train with the "death rattle" (as he so affectionately called it) and look through his phone for a 2-dimensional placation. He'd get home gassed, get a stiff drink, maybe call ma, and either tune then sleep or pass out hammered.

Nico had a simple job as a mailroom clerk to sort incoming snail mail (Yes, somehow snail mail and the Tuner exist at the same time, that thing will never die). Nico's Tuner usage was approved by his organization and any warnings that required him to be conscious would zap him back awake. His uniform included optical scanners to properly identify and sort what "Nico" was "looking at." Nico's physical behavior was coded and built for a job like his. He felt like he saw way more of those "temple ticks" in his building than in any other, and oddly enough, he always noticed the locals in his city by those red rings once they took the Tuner off. The Tuner still didn't make your body any less tired after coming out of it though, either way you look at it you've been running a motion picture in your head and working non-stop for 8 hours. No one complains about tuning and working since it's easy money for dreaming out your life, but nobody says they feel charged up after it either.