Lot 168

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

       Sometimes life takes a nose dive to the middle of no-mans-land. It always seems to happen that way when your life is sailing on cloud nine. Once my Grandmother told me that nobody should get to settle with how life is today because once you wake up tomorrow everything can change in a blink of an eye. One week after her words were spoken to me, I was sitting in a cold metal chair in front of her grave stone. Life is so unpredictable, but somehow the time still passes and before you know it fourteen years have gone by since I was six.

Tap, tap, tap, Ping. Tap, tap, tap, Ping. Over and over again the sound rang out in the small room. The only person with a carrying device, in this century, was the bold boss. The average person who shows up in here cannot manage to turn their attention away from the annoying noise. The buttons make a noise nobody is use to. A pestering beat that never changes and never stops. The only person allowed with a device that is not attached to them is the boss. Who would even want something that they could lose? The boss was placed in this line of work to never have a day off. It's like a bad tattoo; even though it looks awful everyone tries to figure out what it was supposed to be. No one knows how to use a carrying device; it’s like a foreign language. Everywhere my eyes turn, I find people engrossed in their electronics. When did life become so bland? No talking, no noise from people, no moving. No walking. No helping others. Nothing is acceptable unless it benefits you. It’s all about the people.

One person glances at me vaguely from my hard staring. Before going back to the screen built in her hand, she shifted in her seat and slides further back onto the padded chair.

Sighing quietly to myself, I glanced at my flexible screen in my left hand only to find that someone wanted to chat. I clicked on the person and realized that person was sitting not but three desks away. I let my focus waver over to the man dressed in different shades of red. He never looked up. He never moved. I fixed my gaze on the sentence which was sent to me.

Unknown- You seem rather lonely on this fine day.

Me- Why would you say that?

Unknown- You have not chatted with anyone today. Maya is it?

I blinked; not very shocked that he knew my name. Everyone's information is just a click away. Tapping on his sentence a full page came up with everything that makes him a person. A small picture of him sitting on a couch with his eyes faced towards the ground was found on the top right side of the page.

Andrew Marcus Lincoln

23 Male

Single

Code-56243173M

Family- John Lincoln and Meredith Lincoln

I stopped reading and clicked back on the chat section.

Me- Well Mr. Lincoln I must say you are fast to know who you are talking to.

Andrew- I try Ms. Template. Would you mind if I come and chat with you every day at five?

Me- It would be unkind if I said no.

Andrew- Good. I'll hope to witness your beautiful name on my hand tomorrow.

Not replying, I watched as he got up from the plush desk and disappeared out the door with his face stuck in his sweaty palm. The screen was built into the palm of everyone’s left hand. There is no way to take it off or leave it behind. It is made to act like skin, therefore picking stuff up; eating, washing hands or even cooking is as simple as doing anything with the right hand. There was a sudden sharp pain that pierced through my right shoulder blade. It stung and ached as if someone had put me in the microwave.   

Turning back to everyone in the room, it seemed they all had someone to converse with, after all that is what this entire place is known for. A place where you can find a date. A place where you can find conversation; where you can find friends. I was just another person with nothing to do on a Saturday afternoon. I notice the boss has started to swipe the electronic pallet up as if he was sending a conversation to someone. The boss keeps track of all the conversations. Charts them to say nothing is going unnoticed. Nothing ever does go unnoticed.

At home there is a monitor that sends every chat conversation to the Director; he oversees all the bosses. Once everything is sent to the person’s portfolio, the conversations can no longer be erased. The only person with enough power to erase a conversation is the Chief. He could erase anything he deemed worthy or put whatever he desired into a person’s portfolio.  

Sluggishly, I stood up and left the room without one look from anyone. Nobody ever does. Turning right, then left, and then left again, I came to a door. Once through it my hand buzzed making sure I understood that I was released with chatting anybody in this building. Slowly I made my way to the bus. No walking more than twenty steeps every five hours. It is a health code violation. Standing on the moveable isle that helps people board the bus, I watched as the screen check in came closer to meet me. I touched the small screen with my left pointer finger that held my information in a small box implanted deep in my skin. Without a box in someone’s finger to tell everyone who they are, they are simply non-existent. They are a nobody, a ghost. The only people who don’t have a box are criminals. They simply don’t exist.   

The screen turned green and I was then seated in a capsule that surrounded me, only leaving my upper body exposed for everyone to see. There were a hundred capsules, exactly, on a single Robo bus.  Before we even had a chance to get comfortable in the foam capsule, we all were knocked out by the momentum of the bus taking us to our destination.