Corporeal Nightmares

Make Yourself At Home

An opaque, pearly wall slid to the floor behind Terrance with a snap. He was left standing in a twelve-by-twelve ivory chamber. There was no sign that the wall had ever opened. Motionless in the sterility, he scanned the room for any notable features. There were none aside from a lone analog clock hanging on the far wall.

The clock ticked. Once, twice, three times.

An announcement from a speaker somewhere on the ceiling broke in. "Welcome to your new home. When you are ready to begin customizations, please say 'begin'," the genderless voice recited. It's inflections were unremarkable yet somehow entirely familiar.

He exhaled slowly. A tiny smile cracked his lips. The moment was bittersweet. Hours had been long and the pressure sometimes unbearable. The road to arrive at this moment was now behind him, one that few others had achieved. Victory was sweet.

"Begin," he spoke triumphantly.

A semi-translucent projection with an array of options appeared at arms-length and held position faithfully as he paced the chamber. Ah, the intimidating reality of choice.

The third option on the list caught his eye: wall tint. "Color wheel. Fuchsia." That particular shade had a liberating sense to his eyes. He rolled through the hues until a darker one caught his attention and swiped up.

For just a moment, he swore he could see through the walls of his new home to an adjacent neighbor's domicile. He would be meeting them soon. Hopefully they were as friendly as he expected. Walls darkened until they matched the value he had selected. To his disappointment, against his light skin tone and prominent freckles, the shade clashed.

"Color wheel. Fuchsia."

Silence hung thick for several moments before the voice responded. "A reassessment of colors will deduct another one hundred credits from existing funds. Continue?"

"Confirmed."

Two harsh clicks spat from the intercom. "Please respond with 'yes' or 'no'."

Terrance nodded to no one in particular. "Yes."

The wheel reappeared and he resumed his hunt. The second, lighter shade was copacetic with his melanin. He smiled.

How about a hot tub? He'd always wanted one of those. "Fixtures. Toiletries and piping."

He swiped through a dense catalog of everything from bidets to old-fashioned copper tubs. "This one." He pointed at an ivory two-person hot tub with metallic knobs and spouts.

"Installation of Yavarra JetSmooth will cost twenty thousand credits. Continue?"

"Yes."

A rhythmic whirring triggered.

"Nanites will be released to construct your purchase." The announcer's voice took on a lighthearted air. "Please stand clear."

A cloud of dust sprayed from the wall. It whirled amorphously without settling briefly before taking the shape of the base of the tub. Spurts of materials from the ceiling emitted at regular, three second intervals. Observing the speedy construction was quite remarkable. Pipes and linoleum plating chewed their way into existence as if from another dimension. Bronze plated faucets began to materialize before Terrance returned his attention to the heads up display.

Six months before even the thought of being in the same room as a tub would have sent chills up his spine.

"Furniture." He trudged to the corner opposite the tub. "Recliners."

The cool, smooth leather slid against his back. Without glancing at the catalog, he continued. "Ceiling. Clouds."

The ceiling paled then split into a thousand fluid patterns. Illusionary clouds drifted above.

"For differential weather patterns, please use the panel on the northward facing wall. For assistance in using this panel, simply point and say 'help'. You may now continue customizing."

He shifted his left elbow towards the west wall and breathed deeper. He could almost smell the rain. He relaxed his biceps into the arm rests.

"Planter." He stroked the stubble on his chin. "Wheat grass." Newscasts had been hyping the health benefits. Why not? Maybe the other residents of the Community would take a liking to its earthy flavor, too. A fine icebreaker.

Another vapor of nanites emitted from the ceiling. As before the plascrete emerged from the ether. Nozzles extended from the ceiling. A fine black mist sprayed from left to right. Within seconds, foot-deep loam filled the tray. Slender robotic arms placed seedlings in the soil with grandmotherly care. If the catalog's imagery was to be believed, those little shrubs would grow to touch the ceiling.

What else? Maybe a hibachi? That'd be great for entertaining.

"Kitchen. Appliances..."

The androgynous voice interrupted. "No credit remain in your account. Would you like to begin a medical analysis to see if part of, or entire organs may be donated for additional funds?"

He knew there was little chance of passing another assessment. A kidney, half a lung, and five feet of large intestine had already gone to pay down his life debt.

"No." He frowned, disappointed that the clubhouse chow would need to suffice for the time being.

"Would you like to make additional changes to your configuration? Please note that no additions or subtractions may be made after verbal authorization."

Terrance pondered on this. A small grin crept. To see The robotic alchemy again... it was a parade of technology. Of human advancement over millenia. No. He shook his head and spoke. "Yes."

"Layout confirmed. Your sentence of..." The serene androgynous voice paused calculatedly. "Three contiguous life sentences for attempted murder, reckless endangerment, and psychological damages to innocent bystanders begins in three..."

Yes, it had been a long road.

Beating the charges had cost him two years and hundreds of thousands of credits. After three appeals, he had landed in the swanky confines of Berkshire's finest minimum security prison. The threat of MaxSec lockup terrified him. They didn't even have the ability to alter color swatches.

Things had turned out quite happily. The wall's fuchsia contrasted his teal jumper well. He sat in the chair and hit the release.

"Two."

Jumper. That was an ironic name clothing for a person with his background. At least the nightmares of the water rushing up to greet him had become less frequent.

"One."

Even more ironic maybe was that his first work assignment was in water treatment.

He reclined further staring into the synthetic cloud cover, blinking when the sun broke free of the matte. Life was back on track but had it been his to begin with?

"Common hours begin now and last until oh-seventeen-hundred."

The opaque, white wall slid slid open. Silhouetted figures paced turgidly outside.

The clock ticked. Once, twice, three times.