A message to my readers and a dystopian short story
Greetings readers,
Apologies for missing last issue. I hope this dystopian diversion provides some entertainment until regular content resumes. Meanwhile, construction continues on a solarpunk novel, and you’ll be the first to get a sneak peek. Thank you for your support - your readership fuels my writing.
Back to regular flashes next fortnight!
Escape to Danger
Gemma Harding woke as she did every morning, at the second increase of light in her room. This was when the music began, a gentle serenade to draw her out of her sleep slowly. Everything about life now was relaxed and dreamy. No need to rush. But it was still important to stick to schedules and have something to care for. All inmates residents had a pot plant in the corner. Feeling truculent and childish, she’d asked for marijuana. The Voice had informed her that wasn’t on the list of approved plants, so now she has something with wide, green leaves which occasionally manages a red flower or two. At the next light and music increase, she opened her eyes and pushed herself into a sitting position planting her bare feet onto the heated floor. Her hip ached, and she took a moment to sit and bring her mind into focus before her bladder forced her to make the short trip across the room to the bathroom.
“Good morning, Gemma!” The Voice always sounded so chirpy, with its clipped robotic voice. It used to recite the weather predictions every morning, but then the algorithms found that any mention of outdoors was demoralising for the residents. Next it tried to fill the time with celebrity gossip, but when she had told it to shut up every morning in a row for a week, it switched to playing upbeat ska. Who would have thought she would begin to hate The Specials?
She winced as she stood up and made her way across the soft tiles to the bathroom. “State of the art. Firm to walk on, but absorbs impacts if you fall,” they’d been told by the matronly looking woman when they did the tour of the home a few years ago. “Plus, it’s easy to clean.” This was back when there was still a smattering of people employed, before full automation, before the virus had turned old people into prisoners.
After emptying her bladder, Gemma stepped onto the Health Pad and closed her eyes as the machine took her stats. The supplements rattled into a cup on her left, and a small cup of water poured to her right. “Time for your supplements,” The Voice proclaimed cheerily, “and then a walk. What backdrop would you like today? Your stress levels seem high, so I would recommend Calming Waterfall.”
She put the mix of tablets into her mouth but held them under her tongue as she knocked back the water. A small cough while she reached for a tissue in her pocket had worked at fooling the AI so far, and after a couple of months of no drugs, the brain fog she’d experienced for the last few years was starting to lift. No wonder The Voice was picking up higher stress levels. She realised just how much she’d been lulled into complicity, going along with her own imprisonment. If only she could separate the anti-inflammatories for her hip bursitis from the sedatives. Still, she would rather have a sore hip and be able to think clearly again than live the rest of her life in a stupor.
The walking belt on the Health Pad started to move and she let her mind wander as she went through the motions of walking, the big screen on the wall in front of her filled with a backdrop of a forest pool, a waterfall tumbling gently into the luscious clear water. Her feet tromped along and her mind drifted until she was on a dirt track walking through the rainforests in North Queensland, in Papua New Guinea, in Venezuela, where she has spent so much of her working life as a mycologist. It was funny how she would have bet good money on fungi being the source of the next human pandemic. Fungi microbes are hard to kill with drugs, and thrive on the cold, hard surfaces common in hospitals and aged care facilities. Instead, it was the virus which worked its way through Greek letters until they ran out, before moving onto ancient Egyptian deities. By the time it had mutated into an asymptomatic illness for the young and fit, but deadly for elderly and immunocompromised people, the media no longer tried to remember if it was Horus or Neper or Osiris floating about. There was only so long that the world was prepared to shut down, with the risk to most of the population negligible.
At first, anyone over 68 (retirement age, wouldn’t want to lose workers) was encouraged to go into aged care as a temporary measure. My, what secure buildings you have. All the better to protect you.
A lot of the care was already automated, and it wasn’t long until it was felt that it was unfair for the workers to need to wear PPE all the time, and their contact was phased out. The residents could still speak to their families on video calls. Of course they could. And visitors were welcome to come and visit, although they were only permitted to look at each other through thick glass. And yes, the microphone and speaker system did make it difficult to hear each other but you could wave and smile awkwardly. These visits tapered off when people realised they could see and hear much better on video calls, and now there were very few visitors.
Residents all had their own personalised carer, The Voice which could help their days run smoothly, make sure they took their medication and keep them entertained. So many games to choose from! The latest technology, with a VR common room to socialise with other residents. Oh, it seemed churlish not to be appreciative. All you had to do was kick back and enjoy your retirement, without worrying about picking up a deadly virus from your adorable but germy grandchildren.
Her feet pounded on the travelator as she let these angry thoughts build up. The Voice regularly recommended she cut back her exercise, reminding her not to overdo it, that it was okay to rest more now she was old.
Gemma refused to give up on her body. She might be nearly 80, but she was not dead yet.
Even in the worst of her drug haze, she never gave up hope that she would get out of this place and back into the bush: walk through a real forest and have a swim in the crystal-clear rock pool, feel the shock of cold mountain water as she sunk into it, emerge invigorated with skin tingling. And smells! Oh, how she missed smelling the earth. The imitation smells which pumped through the air system were not convincing, and she had instructed The Voice to turn them off.
Each morning, she walked for an hour and a few times a week she did weight bearing exercises. The Voice had taken away her dumbbells when she had accidentally dropped one on her toe, and stretch bands weren’t allowed in case she used them to make a noose. The Voice didn’t come out and say this, but it was implied. Still, she had push ups, planks and squats.
The tinkle of an incoming call cut off the waterfall sound, and Katie’s face appeared in the top corner of the screen. She blinked the video call open.
“Hi Gran.”
“Katie, darling.”
“How are you? Keeping busy?”
“I’m doing my walking. Keeping fit.”
“Good to see. We need you fit and healthy. How’s your hip today?”
“Could be worse. Am I going to see you later?”
“Yes, and Gran, I’m bringing a friend.” Gemma smiled. This charade, this conversation they were having for the benefit of The Voice, was so benign. It always struck her that the machine never seemed to doubt that these were genuine conversations. AI was only as clever as the input information, and the government had never been strong in IT. This friend Katie was bringing was not just ‘a friend’, but the anarcho-hacker who was going to break her free. Today was going to be the day she felt sunshine on her face again.
She was still smiling when she said goodbye to Katie and stepped off the Health Pad. Yes, she would be able to get through all the mundane things before visiting hours, knowing that this was the last time she would have to succumb to the boredom. A post walk shower, drying off under the warm wind, a fresh white t-shirt and soft, linen trousers waiting on the shelf, breakfast sliding onto the table - Wednesday’s menu, so there would be 1 slice of wholemeal toast with a poached egg, a tropical fruit salad, a small glass of orange juice, and a cup of tea. The tea was always tepid, the egg rubbery, because residents weren’t trusted not to scald themselves with anything freshly hot. Although she loved tea, she never drank the weak milky brew here.
That would be the first thing she did later at Katie’s place: have a proper, hot cup of strong tea, with two sugars. She would drink it sitting out in the garden, with people around her. A tea party. And dinner would be a hot rogan josh, with buttery garlic naan to dip in the sauce and a big glass of merlot, no make that a chardonnay, also eaten outside, with people all around her. Even if she got the damn lurgy the next day, at least she would die outside of this prison.
* * * * *
“Morning,” Gemma popped up in the virtual common room, her avatar sitting in her usual spot at the table. Suzie was shuffling a deck of cards, and Debra was making piles of poker chips to dish out to everyone once they got there.
“Hello Love. Got your gambling hat on?” Debra pushed a pile of chips across the table to sit in front of her.
Gemma clicked open a menu and chose a navy beret. “This one do?”
“Very French. You need a Gauloise and a glass of red wine.”
Gemma’s laugh turned into a snort. “Imagine The Voice if I asked for cigarettes and alcohol? My ‘supplement’ dose would be boosted until I forgot my own name.” The level of control the AI had over residents was absolute. The only reason they could get away with playing poker was by using chips with no monetary value attached. She wasn’t even allowed to play her favourite MMO, Skyforge, on any server other than the tightly controlled Resident Home Server anymore. This meant her and Katie could no longer team up for quests together, and she’d had to hand over ownership of her guild.
* * * * *
“Morning everyone, how are we all?” Eric’s avatar was kitted out in the classic Pirates of the Caribbean outfit, his usual Wednesday Poker Session outfit. Gemma was unsure whether she would miss this when she escaped or be glad to never see it again. “Still waiting for Arnie?”
“I’m here.” The last of the group popped up at the table. “Was just lingering over the fruit salad. First time I ever had dragon fruit was on a plane, and it makes me nostalgic.”
“Why have we allowed them to keep us locked up like this?” It fell out of her mouth, and it took her a moment to realise she’d said it. She couldn’t alert the AI, not now when escape was so close. She imagined her mouth eating back the words, like the yellow pacman, gulp, gulp, gulp. No-one said anything, but Arnie glanced over at the avatar sitting alone and talking to herself. Rumour had it that Grace had tried to leave with her husband when they stopped allowing residents to mix outside virtual reality. What is a marriage if you can’t share a bed, Grace had asked? During the botched escape, her husband had caught the virus and after that, Grace came into the VR common room when she was forced, but never interacted with anyone. She would live out the rest of her life heavily sedated, but safe from the virus. Was that any life at all?
“Who’s in? Place your bets.” Suzie dealt out the cards briskly, and Gemma tried to settle into the game. They might not be playing for money, but she did have her reputation to keep. Yes, she was going to miss her gaming gang.
* * * * *
“Visitor time!” The Voice announced. “Stand by. Door opening.” The door released its seal with a swoosh and slid open. She stepped out into the stark, echoey corridor. Her boots felt awkward on her feet, but she couldn’t escape bare foot. Maybe this time tomorrow, she’d be hiking in a one of the nearby forests, and she’d need them for that. There was no way of seeing inside any of the doors she walked past, but she wished she knew which ones her friends were behind and could fling them open so that they could all walk out together. Gemma sighed. It wasn’t possible. Besides, she was pretty sure most of them were resigned to staying here for the rest of their lives. Rather alive and able to watch grandchildren grow up, than out there at risk to the virus and a worry for their families.
Was Gemma being selfish wanting to get out to live back at home with her family? Was it unfair on them?
She shook off that thought. Katie had arranged it. She had hinted at it, telling her all about this new friend of hers who was ‘special’. Gemma was pretty sure this Lex was a hacker, who had been in the news when the restrictions were first put in place in early stages of the virus. This was back when most people had accepted that to save lives, drastic measures were needed.
The visiting room was narrow, with a thick barrier of glass dividing it into two, and the bright light bounced off the stark white walls. Gemma blinked as she walked through the door, focusing her eyes. Katie was already there, but there was no sign of the legendary Lex. Instead, Katie was holding hands with another teenage girl. Both looked nervous.
“Hi Gran.” Katie’s face lit up in a smile. “Gran, this is Alex. My girlfriend.”
The speakers dated back from when visits first became separated by the screen, and now that very few people still bothered to visit in person, they had deteriorated, and it was unlikely that they would be upgraded. The crackles made it hard to make out exactly what Katie was saying. This young girl couldn’t be the hacker! Alex, not Lex? It began to dawn on Gemma that Katie wasn’t introducing her to a hacker who was going to help her escape.
“Gran, are you okay?” Katie was looking concerned.
“I’m fine darling. Lovely to meet you, Alex.” Gemma walked closer to the screen. “Did you say you’d met Lex, Alex at a protest meeting?”
Katie looked a little confused. “A what? No. We’re at school together Gran.”
“And do you know much about computers, Alex?”
“Not really. I mean, I play games and do school stuff on them.”
“Are you okay Gran?” Katie asked again. “Should I call someone?”
Gemma shook herself. Had she read far too much into her conversations with Katie? Maybe The Voice was sneaking drugs into her food, causing her to imagine things. Oh dear, she was trapped here for a bit longer after all. She would have to rethink her escape plan if she was doing it alone.
“I’m fine dear. Just a bad sleep last night. So, tell me, what do you two like to do together?” She relaxed into listening to the excited young girls as they told her about how they were planning a five-day hike through the hinterland forests next school holiday. If she couldn’t be in the forests herself, yet, at least she could live vicariously through Katie and her adventures. Wasn’t that better than dying before seeing her grow into an adult?