Cargo

Deliveryman

As the sun climbs higher in the sky, casting its mellow rays upon the earth, the slumbering world around me stirs from its tranquil repose. Mere moments ago, it appeared as if time had frozen in the frigid darkness, holding its breath in suspended animation. But now, with the rich hues of sunlight, life reawakens, unfolding in a symphony of movement and vibrant energy.

The world seems at peace.

I start the day at the recharge station, its artificial cold lights a stark contrast to what the life-friendly sky outside offers. The sole customer, the only living thing, I order a medium vanilla cappuccino and cronut and wait for the tellerless POS to process my transaction. The dispenser opens and produces my cronut wrapped in alufoil. Another opening drops a can of coffee into the slot. I take both and walk to the exit.

As I approach my Quasar Cyberstar, I spot my first humans, two cajeros loading up the station's dispenser delivery system. Like myself, they perform a type of labour that automation engineers haven't yet figured out how to synthesise and carry out cheaply. Wages have stagnated for a decade, so people like me still had jobs, for now.

The Cyberstar's door opens, having detected me, and I climb into the driver's seat, a privilege that costs me just over ten thousand dollars a month. A twin battery pack powers this class eight semi-truck, pumping power to four electric motors and gearboxes. It gives me a range of just under a kilometre, and if I stick to my streamlined schedule, I can keep my costs down enough to show a profit at the end of each month.

I sink back in the comforts of my Cyberstar, and open the can of hot coffee, expecting the familiar taste of black coffee, but am met with a strange, sickly-sweet taste. I take a sip again, hoping I was mistaken, but the taste was unmistakable; choc-orange flavoured coffee. Those cajeros stuffed up, adding to my melancholy about my income. The long day ahead of me, with multiple stops to make across the city, also compounds my depression.

Manually entering my schedule into the truck's computer, I ponder my status as a modern human as I prepare to embark on my journey. Since I refuse to cybernetically augment my vision or any other part of my body, I must work harder than everybody else, and be extra cautious on the road and always stay alert.

It's a precarious life.

Horrific stories about people who haven't had their bodies somehow enhanced with cybernetic implants are abundant. Recently, a no-chromer found themselves unjustly imprisoned, a victim of a system that discriminates against those without ocular implants. Accused of a crime they vehemently denied, the lack of cybernetic evidence to support their innocence became a damning verdict. The justice system, heavily reliant on advanced technologies for investigation and evidence presentation, systematically fails to accommodate those who choose to remain naturalists. This no-chromer languishes in a cell still to this day. Cases like this are a stark reminder of a prejudiced environment that favours the augmented over the unaltered. These injustices echo a chilling reality — in this world, not only is justice blind, but it's also systematically biased against those who resist the pervasive embrace of cybernetic upgrades.

Struggling to perceive the metascape instantaneously, I, too, fall into this category, dependent on old-school, external technology to comprehend the digitally augmented world. This reliance is a daily ordeal, a haunting reminder of my intrinsic, biological limitation. The societal disdain towards us intensifies, manifesting as cyber-shaming and outright bullying. Each derogatory comment and act of disrespect is a scar on my resilience, yet I persist, choosing to endure the torment rather than succumb to the pressure of assimilation. For now, the conventional world remains somewhat accessible to those without cybernetic upgrades, but the looming uncertainty casts a chilling shadow over our existence. The horror lies not just in the technological disparity but in the persistent fear that the society we once knew is slipping away, leaving the no-chromers teetering on the edge of a moral and spiritual abyss.

A handicap I'm willing to endure.

Even the insults, the cyber-shaming, the blatant bullying and disrespect, I happily ignore. Society is still accessible for most naturalists, for now.

Just because they can see in the dark, can see through fog and rain, or even see around corners, doesn't give these sellouts an edge. It makes their brains lazier than they were before the implants. I may not have these abilities, but my brain is far better trained to deal with reality. I have to rely on my own eyes and ears, not the manipulative and suggestive reality the metascape offers.

So, even though I don't have enhancement implants, I'm confident that I can make this journey safely and efficiently. I just have to be proficient and stay alert. Plus, I have my artificial sentient companion.

"Do you want me to avoid tollways?" asks AVOCADO, the truck's autoMIND. Unlike the modern metascape AI's, this entity is old tech, an early-generation model deployed on physical consumer hardware.

"Yes, please," I command, hoping to save money.

As soon as we pass the tollway entrance ramp, we hit heavy traffic, a gridlock as far as the eye can see. "Why didn't you warn me, Avocado?"

Avocado replies promptly, "You always want me to avoid tolls. You have one hundred per cent consistency in this."

The delay threatens to last hours. I pledge to never again skimp on tolls.

"Is there any way out of this?"

It takes a few seconds for the autoMIND to respond. "I understand that you're expressing deep concerns about our current stagnation. The collision between the FC334 MetroBus and a Phoenix prevents us from enacting such countermeasures until we reach the Rosefield Interchange.

"ETA?"

"Twenty-three minutes."

Despite the setback, I remain focused and determined to complete my deliveries on time, to earn my bonuses, which would compensate for my other losses.

"Would you be interested in the latest Waycaster updates?"

"Not at this time, Avo," I say, deciding to spend the day with a clear head and avoid the typhoon in a teacup that is world current affairs.

After a long day wrangling with traffic and my depression, my greed takes control, fuelled by unshakeable despair at the cost of living. I open the scheduler and scan for new jobs popping in. There is a long-range delivery, and it's not the most effort-free job, but it's premium. I resolve to take it on, even though I know it will make me even more tired than I already am.

I'm not sure if this extra job will change my life, but it's either that or wallow in poor man's misery. I'm tired of being broke, and I'm tired of feeling like I'm barely making ends meet. I need at least to double my earnings ratio by month's end, otherwise, I'm doing this for nothing.

I snap up the job.

It's going to be tough, but I'm determined to do it. I'm going to work hard, focussing on earning that premium bonus. I know this extra job doesn't solve all my problems. It's not going to make me rich, and it's not going to make my life perfect. But it's a step in the right direction. It's a chance to tip the ratio in my favour and keep this gig worth the effort. Otherwise, there are not many other gigs I can do, not without implants.