2098

Two thousand ninety-eight

My name is Eliott Cappari and two months ago I was only an ordinary in-corpus technology engineer. I've always been interested in computers and programming, I even had one of those big, prehistoric machines at home. It had an operating system Windows 10 and hardware in a large cuboidal box. However, it was mine and it was at least clearly arranged. To be honest, it worked pretty well for something so old.

As I said, quite short time ago I was just one of millions. A person not worthy of noticing.

But then I killed a man.

Actually, it was a woman. I still see her, long smooth hair, pretty face, beautiful eyes staring at me.

Yes, she was looking at me intently. 'Cause I was her prey.

Nevertheless, the fact that she was going to kill me doesn't make any difference. I killed her, I survived and I was punished. Sometimes I am really glad I pulled the trigger, but there are also moments when I wonder whether I wouldn't be happier dead.

Since I was seventeen until recently - it means for twenty four years, more than half of my life - I had access to all information on the Cloud. Like everyone. It works simply: at first you go to school and study hard for ten years or so and then, when you have learnt to think at least a bit, you have to pass an exam. If you do, they reprogram your in-corpus microchip and you suddenly find in your head everything that the humanity has ever known. It's like memories, but not yours. It takes a while till you learn how it works. That's more or less the purpose of universities.

Unfortunately, the punishment for a murder is custodial sentence, hard labour and disconnection from the Cloud. It means that everything I have now is my own experience.

The prison is not very nice. Naturally. The wardens treat us with arrogance – seriously, they behave as we are no longer human beings. If I pass over the insults and kicks, they sometimes "forget" to give us something to eat. I intentionally avoid the term "food". And the water is just foul. I sometimes doubt it's potable.

Look, I am not a serial killer or something like that. I just fought back. She had a knife and she knew how to use it. I don't know what the heck she was doing in there, but she was an assassin. I fortunately had a gun. I killed a murderer. And by accident. More or less.

I am just trying to say that I don't deserve this. This treatment. And I am not going to silently tolerate it.

...

The timing is crucial.

I've got a plan. It's not a plan to escape, even though someone misinformed could call it so. It's a plan to administer justice and incidentally set me free. I have to be inconspicuous. So I wait until they lock me in an isolated cell. It's an austere empty room secured by a computer.

As the night goes on, the guard becomes sleepy. They are even a bit out of people, so only one warden stands in front of my lovely room. I seem to be lucky.

Really, guys, it's nice to have a jail cell with electronic security, but you can't lock an IT specialist inside.

The coding is ridiculously simple. I don't know - either they are so careless or I am just really good in my profession.

There's a problem. Although they cut me off the Cloud, the GPS is still functioning. In other words, there's nothing easier than detecting my position. I try to turn the location monitoring off, but it doesn't work. In two seconds it's back online. I am left with the hope that I will not sound the alarm.

The door opens and I sneak out of the cell. The warden is sleeping. When I grab the gun, he doesn't have a chance. I hit his head. Once, twice. He wakes up, but is unable to do anything as I knock him out with my next blow. I gently catch him and let him slip down on the floor. Problem number one solved.

For a moment I wonder whether I didn't kill him. I put my hand on his neck and in a second feel his pulse. Good. It's suddenly easier to breathe.

I quietly run down the corridor and then go out below the starry sky. It's shortly after midnight, darkness as dark as black coffee. The building where we have worked every day is on the right, spooky shape of cheerless factory.

It's funny how unsecured is the outside prison compound. No one anywhere, wardens suppose the prisoners are safely locked inside. Everything what stands between me and freedom is a fence and several metres of barbed wire.

Here comes the problem number two. I've got a limited amount of time until they find me. Let's make use of it.

I'll need an assistance. It's Wednesday and Mellie Turner has a night shift in the hospital where I used to work.

...

"Ell! How- What the hell are you doing here?"

"Quiet. I need your help."

"Um, alright. However... You know. I am not supposed to offer my help to every murderer on the run who asks for it."

Damn. Mellie and her moral rules. I will convince her, but I don't have the time.

"Mellie, please. I am not a murderer. The prison doesn't suit me."

Sad, hesitant expression on her face. I try harder. "If I didn't kill her, she would kill me. Would you want it?"

"... No." Of course not. Mellie, poor Mellie. A romantic soul lost in this logic, modern world. I'd say she's the type who reads stories about destiny with happy endings. I am absolutely positive she loves me. And that's the reason why she will do what I want. The danger and the stupidity of this situation doesn't matter.

"Okay, does it mean you will help me?" I ask to be sure.

"I guess," she sighs. "What do you need?" That's easier than I expected.

"Something... risky. I need you to pull the microchip out."

"Oh. I... didn't anticipate this, but, well, it makes sense. Do you realize it might kill you?" She leads me back to the dark laboratory.

"Turning it off would kill me. This is safe." I sound much more certain than I actually am. As far as I know nobody has ever tried it before. These chips are part of ourselves, we almost aren't able to imagine life without them. They guarantee us access to the Cloud and information we need. We are never actually alone. The microchips know whether we sleep or relax or think about something complicated. These things can do plenty of stuff.

In fact, we lose our privacy. The microchips send all the discovered data to the Government. If the leadership wants, it can stalk you every single day. It's of course possible to turn the microchip off, but it's something really unwanted. When you do so, it lets out a small amount of painless poison acting in several minutes. Everybody knows that. It's the Government's way to keep us under control.

If I let my microchip on, they will find me and put me in jail. If I switch it off, it will kill me.

I don't wanna die. It would completely miss the point.

That's why I need Mellie. She's my colleague, an in-corpus surgeon. Taking the chip out is the only way to live and stay free.

I tell her to be careful and work as quickly as possible. Then I lay down on the operating table. While preparing the sleep-inducing injection she mumbles some comforting words. Then I feel sharp prick of the hypodermic needle and the warm narcotic makes me fall asleep.

...

The daybreak is beautiful. Gentle darkness is diluted with shy sunlight and step by step disappears. I stand next to the forest on a ploughed field. I look back to the city and then down at the microchip lying on my hand.

Tiny thing. Important.

I bend down and put the chip on a flat stone. It takes few more seconds to find another stone, hard and spherical. I grip it in my hand, breathe in and look at the small thing which remains from my old life.

I don't want to turn it off in an ordinary way. It's time to be brutal.

The microchip shatters after two strokes with the stone. I stand up and look to the goldish horizon.

Now I am completely offline.

I've never felt better.