A Tale Of Doings Read online

  Reading the piece of paper quickly, he felt shocked and happy, and he looked up to see if anyone was watching him. A handwritten message! The paper read: “If you want to talk sometime outside of the system, then let’s do it. You seem like you are looking for something too.” That was all it said. “Gayle” was scribbled across the top, the letters stunted and awkward, but to David each figure was gorgeous and excitingly flawless. He only saw digital messages these days, never handwritten ones.

  David noticed that Gayle-25 stood for a moment with Lisa at the back of the room, watching him, and when he nodded, she smiled at him and then disappeared around the corner toward the women’s beauty and cleaning spa. Gone from sight, but her pretty smile and the handwritten message were powerful gestures of connection and were burned into David’s mind’s eye. How quaint and old fashioned, he thought as he folded up the little note and put it carefully in his pocket. I guess it is true that women are different. No one wrote handwritten letters these days. The crude handwriting was better than David could have done. Normal Productzens never learned how to write.

  David jumped back into his workout with increased stamina; he even did another ten pull-ups, calling upon the sudden burst of energy that filled him as he mumbled to himself, “A handwritten message. Wow, I am really lucky. Progress indeed!”

  Chapter 4

  Episode 1: Medieval Storyworld

  David reread the clubbing introduction to Orns’s Medieval Storyworld with giddy eagerness. The Storyworld episodes aired live every evening.

  Watching the dynamic Medieval Storyworld episodes was a highlight of David’s existence. The unrealistic, childish side of him loved the epic adventures—knights, beautiful princesses, clashing kingdoms, unforeseen betrayals, and impassioned romances. It was all fake and unrealistic, but it was a mental respite from the realness of his work life. As part of his premium clubbing subscription, David was attending the “invite-only” live season premiere show during the holiday. The introductory letter in his in-box made him even more excited to watch the new season.

  The narrator of the email dictated the message: “Stories invoke dreams. Let us close our eyes and breathe deeply the fantasies of our minds. Floating introspectively in the time between times, you know not if at this moment I am dead or alive, awake or dreaming, victorious or defeated, whole or broken, freeman or slave, lover or despised. I am your storyteller.

  “I attempt to unravel the strands of my journey and tell you the stories that inspire my life. These stories well up inside of me like a scorching fire that burns through my being, seeking to be released into the ever-hungry minds of you, my familiars. For yes, my viewers, you are my dearest intimates, because I share with you the pursuits of my heart.

  “The profound depth of human experience requires a pause. We grasp for a fragmented understanding of our often-frantic realities. In these tellings, you shall begin to see the gravity of our own choices reflected in the characters of Storyworld. Choices, like tiny disconnected rocks added together, form the structures of life. We each have a story, and this story is formed from seemingly insignificant experiences, like the individual building blocks of a rising skyscraper. Our choices cement this rising reality together to hold to its foundation piles. Perhaps together, choice and experience will create the immortal legacy of a life well spent—or it will create the damnable residue of a wasted, thoughtlessly lived life.

  “I, your Orns storyteller, lived these extraordinary moments of choice. I felt clearly the wrenching pain of failure and learned slowly, ever so slowly, from the blessed scourge of discipline taught by the unforgiving and inevitable trials of life. Along with the pain, I basked in the radiant elation of victory hard won. I walked the byways of the emotion. Yes, I experience the intense moments of passion that fill the journey of every human who embraces love.

  “I ask you to walk along this journey with me. Are you, my viewer, keen to reflect on these medieval stories? Mayhap you will learn from our errors, trials, loves, passions, freedoms, desires, beliefs, lies, and truths—yes, ultimately the tiny seeds of truth woven like individual threads into a cohesive masterpiece. I pray to the great Corporate States that these truths, ever so delicate at times and as hard to perceive as the elusive touch of the wind that passes us by, but still as solid and lasting as the rock of the earth, may be used as a mirror into your own existence.

  “I am inspired and motivated by the words of an ancient American leader, Theodore Roosevelt. America and this man are but memories of dust under our civilization’s foundations, but some truths we behold to be lasting. The saying goes something like this: ‘The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by the dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcomings; who does actually try to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, and spends himself in a worthy cause…who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly…Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank among those timid souls who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.’

  “You, the paying viewer, will behold the faces marred by the dust, sweat, and blood. Their sacrifice is shed for your viewing pleasure. Blessed be the stock that bore them.

  “And so this season’s tale begins in the ‘gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.’ And we leave it to you, our viewers, to judge the truth of our characters’ hearts. Do they emerge peace-filled martyrs; selfless, purposeful heroes; grasping lonely sinners; or addicted, egotistical despots? The human heart wanders its tormented way along the choices of life. They will live and die for your entertainment.

  “Yet even through the apparent hopelessness and darkness of confusion there emerges the ever-present desire for beauty, love, and freedom. We watch the hearts of those in Medieval Storyworld ache and, yes, even yearn for the constant truth that holds their fragile, war-torn reality together. They each search in their own way for an internal peace found in confident stillness as a surrounding world tumultuously swings between the uncouth noise of wild chaos and the celebratory roar of joyful ecstasy. I dare conjecture about their experiences and surmise that I experience this ‘urge’ and ‘tug of the heart’ and ‘restless desire’ for beauty. Yes, I have the sense of truth written on my human heart. This is what I now call the imprint of the creator’s touch. We, Orns, are the creators. But you, my reader, can decide for yourself as you journey with me if we create reality worth paying for.

  “Welcome to Medieval Storyworld. Thoughtfully crafted by the World Creators Division. All rights enforced.”

  Chapter 5

  The Gratis Ink

  Quarter 1, Day 2

  Breathing calmly, letting his mindfulness routine lead him toward gratitude, “grounded in the moment and useful thoughts for my owner,” David-23 of Nnect breathed as he stared blankly out the Gravetless commuter train window as it zipped toward his home and workplace. David felt the brand stimulate a wave of pleasure up his arm as he intoned an Xchange saying: “All from you, for the glory of building you and to one day be able to use you, oh gem of industry.” He shivered in pleasure, blue eyes rolling back in his head.

  The sensual sensation released its grip, and his eyes snapped back to the view. He was almost to his place of work. The city was structured around a huge central governing square known as the CGB, or the Core Government Buildings. Brilliant, flamboyant banners snapped grandly above the ostentatiously decorated buildings.

  The CGB housed the primary services that protected humanity’s innate rights. Just outside of the CGB were the four Major brand campuses, and then the city sprawled outward from its center to the wall encircling it.

  The path of the Gravetless would loop around to all four Majors and then zip into and through the CGB before finally stopping at its final destination, Free
dom Purview, which occupied the very heart of the CGB. The train was normally empty by the time it arrived there, since the few free humans had their own means of transportation.

  As the flying train rounded an airway to pause for human-doings to exist, David’s eyes beheld it. David’s heart caught in his chest and beat faster as he fought against a rush of pleasure that filled him. All he’d wanted since consciousness was to retire and live in Freedom Purview; it was rumored that behind the high, protecting wall there were otherworldly mansions. And then his being seized up with fear of failure. He tugged on his long dirty-blond hair in anxiety. The brand augmented the fear with sharp, painful heart palpitations. What if I can’t work hard enough to afford myself?

  He tore his eyes away from the towering walls at the center of the city. Instead, he focused on the blue, red, green, and purple campuses just outside of the CGB. The pain began to diminish, and the heart palpitations subsided.

  An off-duty QC officer on the bench next to him shifted a military pack onto his lap, checking a blinking device. The first stop in the CGB was Quality Control (QC) headquarters, located on the southern side and decked out in its emblematic black and white. Out front it had an imposing swirling gray-and-brown marble statue of a triangular shield and grisly rifle held by an armored QC officer with a grim face, signifying QC’s edict to protect and enforce quality in the world of human-doings.

  Next, the Mindmonk Order was located on the easternmost side of CGB. It focused on the mental and spiritual health of the population. Its yellow sandstone campus was characterized by monks in flowing robes and deep-hooded capes. Golden statues stood watch around the most magnificent and lushest garden in all of Xchange—except maybe Freedom Purview, but David was not sure, since no Productzen ever saw the gardens of the free. Hundreds of monks formed the Order as Mindmonks. The Order was made up of a fusion of selected Productzens and voluntary Self-Purchaseds whose lives were dedicated to the mental and spiritual welfare of human-doings.

  Freedom of Marketing Square was located on the southwestern side of the CGB. This public forum was the home of the massive Grand Advertising Speech Stands and was the throne of public events. It celebrated every company’s right to advertise freely, and the Majors used the area to emphasize the beauty of their brands. The area also contained displays of projected light shows, banners, interactive video boards, and an assortment of other advertising ingenuities that were ever-present additions to the enormous stages; it was here that the festivities of New Quarter and Branding Week began each holiday season. Xchange knew how to celebrate success. I hope I am publicly recognized and saluted on such a stage. David dreamed of such an honor.

  Last in the CGB was the Board Building, a dominant structure that reached high above mankind into cloudy, ethereal heights of legend. When David looked up at its one hundred floors swaying ostentatiously above him, he almost fell over. The true seat of power was this Board Building. It included data centers, historical libraries, the four CEO boardrooms, administration divisions, taxation specialist teams, the Freedoms Integrity Unit, Freedom Purview management, the judgment hall, branding prototypes, and the private quarters of the reigning CEO.

  The festive preparations decorating the train stops and CGB for Branding Holiday made David smile and think happy thoughts.

  “Thrive has outdone itself with that massive projector,” a stranger with a green tattoo declared to a red-tattooed companion.

  “Stock luck take me,” the Tertain employee replied. “Thrive is full of useless fluff. Look at the twinkling lights display in the Tertain lobby next time you get free hours.”

  “I don’t get free hours to lollygag around your campus, fool. Do you think we don’t work hard in my office?” the drawling Thrivan said. David listened to the banter but did not join in.

  The Gravetless zipped past a projection billboard with the face of the CEO, his owner. “Last week of power,” David mused. He was disappointed the Nnectonian leader was finishing his term. Every four stock cycles, a different CEO from the Majors was rotated into the role of CEO of Xchange. Upbringing classes taught that power rotation assured uniformity and fairness in the utopian society. A balance of power.

  This morning even the Board Building was blossoming with all sorts of colors above its normally austere gray-and-dark-blue glass surface as preparations for Branding Week festivities proceeded. Branding Week was the largest festival in Xchange society for several reasons: first, it was the New Year and New Quarter; second, it was the only quarter in which newly branded human stock from Thrive Upbringing entered the adult world as Productzens; third, it was the time to set quarter goals; and fourth, hundreds of new products were released to the market for consumption. Along with all of this came a time for clubbing, partying, and mingling. Every quarter was a required opportunity to get a fresh, up-to-date brand. After his rebranding, David would join the week’s festivities. He hoped the opportunity to be rebranded was today.

  He intoned a prayer and blessed his forehead with the X symbol of Xchange, touching his branded left wrist to his forehead.

  On his sleek phone, David flipped through holiday activities, adding events to his wish list calendar in preparation. “So excited.” Events would be characterized by laughter, belligerent drinking, and rampant spending of freedoms. This year a lead-up to the spectacular Orns Air Surf Championships would be featured at the end of the week. There was also a new technology show followed closely by the much-anticipated Fantasy War Game Battalion Draft. And work was stopped for a week, so spending and investing could be indulged in wholeheartedly. A sacred time to see all the stuff you could buy or future investments you could sink long-term freedoms into. A time to pray for strength in the future and renew one’s hope in human achievement. It was a great time for Savers and Spenders alike.

  David disembarked at one of the Nnect campus terminals and headed to his team’s office to work the day away.

  Hours later, as the clock struck “shift-two coffee break,” David was seated at his workstation, tapping away at his keypad. Suddenly his work was interrupted. A pop-up filled his projection display. A corporate slogan of Xchange scrolled across in preparation for an official announcement to begin livestreaming. David read: “Human creativity harnessed efficiently for the betterment of humanity.”

  “Good doing!” The egotistical but soothing deep voice of CEO Saul beckoned his eager employees of Nnect Corporate to halt and listen to their leader. “Oh, noble doing, and isn’t it well to be doing so profusely!”

  “Doing for the glory.” the employees in cubicle responded.

  The CEO had a slick, glistening, cropped mustache with navy highlights and a premature bald head; he had a boxy chin that was shaven clean except for a single square inch of thick black bush just under the lip. His arrogant mouth was frozen in a condescending sneer. Blue was the theme of this man’s life and outfit.

  “My people, you bleed blue for me!” he declared. His brown eyes had a rim of blue just around the pupil, which denoted expensive custom eye modifications that only affluent individuals could afford. A tight-fitting, corporate-styled, synthetic sky-blue suit with a white collarless W-neck shirt and yellow athletic shoes rimmed in blue composed his outfit. The stylish outfit was subjugated by an N woven clearly if somewhat too obviously over the heart.

  “Rex be taken,” David whispered to Dan-11. “Look at those magnificent sleeves.” David unconsciously rubbed his sleeveless arm in suppressed, hopeless envy.

  “CEO only wears the best. Dream goals,” Dan replied.

  “Quiet, you two,” Mac-14 chimed in.

  A thick-fingered pudgy hand waved up and down emphatically as the powerful orator orated. There was a unique and peculiar armband on his forearm, over his sleeve. This was the signet of power; this sign of his CEO authority was a permanent feature on the man’s right arm. The CEO armband was full of spiritual power. The bracelet was an unsullied pure-blue curved platinum band, four inches wide, with an O and I woven into the patter
n, representing Xchange’s outside-in approach. The O and I were opposing but intrinsically connected and wrapped over and inside each other. One of the four keys of the kingdom, a band of power.

  “I address first our Nnect corporate family. I want to discuss our progress results for 2075; then I will broadcast to the entire nation of Xchange.”

  David fidgeted in his chair, hoping for profitable quarter results.

  “My soul is much gratified and satisfied with the fourth-quarter results, which have outshone all previous earnings.”

  Cheers from the cubicles.

  “The remarkable brand of Nnect is aligned to continue capturing our much-deserved freedom share during this upcoming year of 2075. Each of you has truly earned your free brand upgrade.”

  “By the stock my rebrand will be the most marketable ever!” Kendra screamed from a conference cubby.

  “Glorious production.” David let go of the expectant breath he was holding in, cheered with the rest, and traced an X on his forehead.

  “All branded Nnectonians will check in to their designated branding stations to receive this improvement. Team leaders, allocate time for each product to receive his or her—uh, I mean its, not to be sexist—modernized and upgraded brand!”

  The bleached teeth shone, and the shadowy black chin tuft moved under the confident lips, a paternal smile melded with the usual sneer. “Set the bar high for your goals this fiscal cycle. Build a majestic bank vault that will inspire the heavens.”