Fate and Duty

Misappropriation

There were six other employees still working when he finally returned to his cubicle. None paid him attention, but three young men were talking to each other, bragging about their exploits during the recent weekend, which focused on bedding women they matched with on mating apps.

He compared them to himself: taller, slimmer, visible muscles, firm jawlines, thicker hairlines; one also had glasses, but they only made him appear intelligent– whoops he noticed him staring. Bobby's eyes darted back to the computer monitor.

Very tired, but he felt too bothered to sleep. There was a certain void inside that needed addressing. Loneliness, yes, but also a yearning for... something. He looked at the drawn character on his screen, the one crushing a young man's face under her heel, and wished she were real. At least if he could talk to her. There was an app featuring her voice actress, but the artificial intelligence was limited, and did not provide real companionship. In fact, high level AIs were outlawed across the galaxy for centuries, following two disastrous wars, but Bobby didn't care about that. All he wanted was someone special to talk to. Someone willing to listen. Someone that would justify another harrowing day at the desk.

Something stirred inside him. Carefully, secretly, he pulled the glowing jewel from his coat pocket, making sure it wasn't seen by the many cameras, which were tracking every movement. If someone misbehaved the facial recognition code would instantly add the incident to the social score database.

AI girlfriends were outlawed, but social score was accepted, and the few individuals who objected were deemed undesirables. Such a mark left little choice but to lifexit. Even someone born into wealth would be unable to perform legal monetary transactions, including purchasing food. If Bobby had any doubts about it, he had long since pushed them deep into the back of his head. What good would it do? He shall remain a content cog in the machine, and maybe, just maybe, in fifteen or twenty years, he might find a conversation partner.

Then again, without a high economic prospect, almost all females would look down upon him at that age as well. It wasn't a matter of studies. He did that part as expected, and received his degree, but he lacked the social skills, self marketing ability, natural charm, and/or the connections for becoming a thirty year old billionaire. Ah, whatever! Better remain a corporate drone. At least he gets his six hours of sleep, sometimes.

Rather than carry the jewel around, Bobby locked it in his desk drawer, hidden under a stack of notepads, a box of pens, a stapler, and two bags of snacks. It was now his most prized possession.

SmileyCorp did not provide showers for low level employees, so he squeezed the rainwater out of his clothes in the lavatories, careful not to trigger the 3.14 minute alarm, and went back to the cubicle. Leaning over the desk in exhaustion, maybe now he could finally get some sleep...

A short ring from his minipad. What? Who? Mom, texted a "good night," and how proud she was of his hard work. He never told her exactly what his position was, or how others treated him, so she believed all those long, soul crushing hours meant being on the path to corporate greatness.

At that point in time, only two other employees remained: a female intern, young and attractive, that would have preferred to look death straight in the eye than at him; and a loudmouthed marketing guy, his age, who kept bragging to his girlfriend on a minipad, loudly, over where they were going to spend the weekend. He didn't skip any detail about the hotel room, and the fun activities they would share.

Bobby sighed, and thought of the mysterious woman from the alley. A suit of armor? Red eyes? Perhaps she was a cosplayer. If so, the item in his drawer might have been nothing but a cheap prop. Tomorrow, during lunch break, he will go have it appraised.