CODES

O N E

Raindrops slapped against the long LED screen displaying the Provincial Nation's latest medicinal ad. A woman, dressed in Province grey, held a "miracle" bottle to her face as she grinned and turned; a moving ad, video-looped for the people's viewing pleasure. Stepping off the train's platform, I hoisted my book bag higher on my shoulder and watched the woman twirl and hug the juice bottle.

"New Chicago's latest trend," read the words under her image. "Drink Orange-A once a day and never see another cold!"

With one hand sliding up my brown hair, I smirked, then sighed. This was the world I wanted to be a part of; a future I desired to see. The course of actions that brought me here was hectic—insane, even—but if I were to be as honest as the ad replaying above me, I'd say:

A beautiful smile helps anyone turn a blind eye.

Contrary to that, I swore to the world, I was an honest guy...

A heavy hand dropped on my shoulder as another set of feet stepped off the platform with me. I looked at the dark-brown fingertips before following the red sleeve of the man who'd traveled across the Province with me. His smile matched the glint of happiness in his dark eyes. "You good, man?" he asked me.

"Xerses..." Laughing, I shook my head before I looked back up at the ad once again. It changed. An image of New Chicago took over the screen with the words, "Codes are now given equal housing! Call 866-479-0000 to apply!"

Xerses' hand gave my shoulder a hard, yet reassuring squeeze. "Earth to Roger," he said. "You there?"

I nodded without speaking. I couldn't help but reread parts of the sign:

Codes. Equal housing.

Unlike many others, I had a roof to call my own, even if it wasn't legally registered to my name. Synthetic humans weren't allowed such luxuries—hence our daily ads. A ritual routine of replayed advertisements reminded us of our place in the world. The only reason I'd left New Chicago was to pitch ideas within New York, to fight for the right of every cyborg I knew, would know, and would soon create. Because despite the Province's equal and pure "utopian" society, we—the Codes—weren't included in their plan.

Xerses' slid his hand off and away from me, just as a screener-bot rolled in front of us. The tiny box with wheels spun before letting its light power on from the small opening on its top. Before I could blink, a hologram appeared—a man with purple hair and matching eyes. He grinned at Xerses, then at me, before folding his hands in front of him. "Evening gentleman," the hologram said. "Welcome to New Chicago, Sector D. What business brings you into our precious city?"

I stared at the hologram's bright eyes before focusing my vision to look through him. The train station just feet away from us was empty, not a human or Code worker in sight. At this hour, they left holograms patrolling the grounds? I knew our "perfect" nation was without hate or crime, but... leaving an entire transportation area without a single, living soul was irresponsible. Right? There had to be someone solid I could speak to if needed.

I should be used to this...

"You know why we're here," Xerses answered for the both of us. He kneeled, placing his bag in front of him, before opening the top to dig inside. With quick hands, he pulled out two ID scans—mine's and his. "You were the same screener-bot that grabbed us the last time we left."

"Was I?" The hologram dipped its head to the left, then the right. It smiled unnaturally. "As you know, by Provincial law, we aren't required to keep data for over seven days—"

"Bullshit," I muttered, swapping my bag's strap onto my other shoulder.

"—And this is for the safety of every citizen within our nation. Us erasing our data protects your privacy rights. If I was the screener who scanned you, I do apologize for my lack of data..."