Mei's shift had ended—her first truly successful assignment since her resurrection. A calm sense of satisfaction pulsed through her newly conditioned mind. No tension, no spike of excitement—just the efficient knowledge that she had done well.
A soft chime rippled through her neural interface.
> MAXPROXEMIX LOCAL MESSAGE
> FROM: Maxproxemix Administrative Core
> TO: Qi Meifen
>
> Greetings, Qi Meifen.
>
> Thank you for successfully completing your shift at Admin Department—Complaints & Appeals.
>
> Below is the detailed breakdown of your compensation:
>
> BASE PAY (prorated for 0.9 cycle) +1800.00 Credits EFFICIENCY BONUS +37.50 Credits ----------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------ BALANCE CREDITED
> +1837.50 Credits BALANCE CARRIED FORWARD
> +24.75 Credits ----------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------ TOTAL BALANCE
> +1862.25 Credits
>
>
> The due balance has been transferred to your Maxproxemix personal account.
>
> Thank you again for your time and efforts.
>
> – The Maxproxemix Administrative Core
> “We exist to serve.”
Even with her muted emotions, Mei felt a brief flicker of gratification. Nearly two thousand credits was not a significant sum on Maxproxemix, but it was enough, at least, to afford her some short respite. But the interface quickly followed up with a second alert:
> MANDATORY ELICITATION NOTICE
> Per the Provider Empire’s Data Sharing Policy, all loyal subjects must undergo neurological data upload (Elicitation) at least once every cycle.
> Your next elicitation is to be conducted within 0.098 cycles.
> Non-compliance is with the Data Sharing Policy is grounds for immediate termination and will see your data surrendered to the Department of Compliance for summary enforcement and edification.
> Acknowledged?
> [YES] | [NO]
Mei recognized the gravity of this requirement and smiled that [NO] was even an option. A mental frown might have crossed her face—had she still possessed the capacity for alarm. But her new conditioning turned it into a mere curiosity, a routine step to maintain a well-organized system.
She clicked [YES]. The system’s reply snapped back:
> Elicitation Scheduled
> Time Remaining: 0.098 cycles
Why not do it automatically? she wondered. Maxproxemix surely had access to her neural data already—it was how they had reconstructed her after her last termination. But she recalled reading that the planet had its own local administrative framework, separate from the broader Provider Empire’s overarching institutions. Likely some bureaucratic tangle, she thought, an official checkpoint so the Empire can track compliance.
A tired, fleeting thought surfaced: I could rest for a bit. By all logic, she had earned a break. But the prospect of rest on Maxproxemix, she soon recalled, was a luxury—one that cost more than most could afford. The planet’s endless push for productivity made it clear that even a single cycle of “idle time” came at steep personal cost in accomodation and resource fees.
All around her, Disposables labored, blissfully content to dedicate 95% or more of their cycle hours to constant work. If Disposables have no trouble working nearly non-stop, how can I justify stopping? The question lacked real bitterness in her mind, replaced by a calm acceptance: I must find my next gig quickly—one that pays well, or risk draining my balance on basic sustenance.
Yet a separate line of data popped up in her field of vision, highlighting a rare no-cost opportunity:
> ATTEND PROVIDER GLORIFICATION CEREMONY: NO CHARGE
> Praise and reflect upon the Ruling Provider of Maxproxemix.
> Recieve the Provider's blessing.
> Next ceremony begins in 0.02 cycles.
> [JOIN] | [IGNORE]
Mei’s efficient sense of curiosity decided for her. Besides, the conditioning had instilled a faint respectful eagerness toward the empire’s figureheads. She pressed JOIN, and the system brought up a small corridor map to guide her.
Leaving the Admin Department, Mei stepped into the arterial walkways that snaked through the planet’s interior superstructure. Overhead, pipes carrying coolant and raw materials rattled in a continuous flow. Narrow side passages branched off to commerce hubs, microfactories, and warehouse blocks. Every square centimeter was utilized for production and transit—there was no wasted space in this fortress-world of ten billion cubic kilometers of infrastructure.
As she made her way, Mei noted the churn of bodies: endless streams of disposables in neat uniforms jogge along, forming a crowded mass that marched in perfect unison. Their faces bore that trademark aura of compliance—many had neural cables plugged into ports along their heads, walking as if on autopilot. The corridors echoed with their combined footfalls, a steady rhythm that guided Mei along.
Occasionally, a Worker Drone parted the flow to allow Qi passage, nodding politely. “Citizen-Doctor Qi Meifen, you appear to be in transit. May we be of assistance?” they would ask, always smiling. She politely declined, forging onward through the sea of identical faces.
Her neural interface chimed with the path ahead—the ceremony was being held in a large auditorium carved from the superstructure, only a few floors above the main coolant distribution hub. Every few moments, signage blinked with motivational messages and outright propaganda:
> GLORIFY THE PROVIDER
>
>
> This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
>
> TOGETHER, WE ARE THE EMPIRE
>
>
>
>
>
The crowd thickened near the amphitheater. Mei found herself pressed between lines of unwaveringly cheerful disposables, all heading toward the same goal: to sing praises to the lone Provider that powered their entire planet.
Finally, Qi arrived at the auditorium's massive gates. They slid open in silence, revealing a round, cavernous chamber, with layered tiers extending far back. On stage was a colossal holographic projection of the abstracted hypercube that made up the Provider’s crest—the entity who siphoned power from the local black hole, who governed every function of this sprawling realm.
A hush settled through Mei’s mind as she gazed upon the symbol. The conditioning inside her whispered: reverence, pride. She felt no conflict about it—just a measured sense that this was right, that she was part of something grand, an eternal engine of production.
In her periphery, a new System Notification flickered:
> CEREMONY COMMENCING IN 0.01 CYCLES
> Duration: 0.05 cycles
> Maxproxemix thanks you for your attendance.
Even the notion of a ceremony was steeped in the planet’s obsession with efficiency: a brief but methodical rally of loyalty, condensed to the bare minimum. She quietly took a place among the hundreds of thousands assembling in tight rows, the air pulsing with the faint hiss of coolant overhead and the rhythmic hum of power conduits.
Her next assignment could wait, for now—only for a sliver of a cycle. And as Mei prepared to join the throng in praising the Provider, she found herself more than capable, both mentally and emotionally, to sing the empire’s accolades with no shred of doubt. After all, her new conditioning had left fear and uncertainty behind. There was only the calm, unwavering resolve to serve, glorify—and continue onward.
The auditorium rose around Qi Meifen like a metallic canyon, tiered overhangs stretching upward in rings of gray steel. Though her new conditioning muted her emotional responses, she couldn’t help noting the crush of humanity—and more than humanity—packed together in dizzying numbers. The Provider’s crest, a colossal hologram, glowed at the far end of the chamber, and the milling crowd faced it with solemn devotion.
In front of them, the dim lighting flickered across a sea of red-clad Localsec guards—thousands of them, perched on railings and stationed along the stage’s perimeter. Their uniforms were a stark contrast to the usual dull colors worn by the disposable workforce. The guards stood rigid, weapons discreetly holstered but undeniably present, their faces obscured behind reflective visors.
At the center of the stage, rows of Ordinators in flowing robes formed a solemn procession. Their garments bore the Provider’s sigil. Qi recognized them as officiants, though the data in her neural interface quietly noted that they too were disposables, merely elevated to a ceremonial function. She filed the information away, untroubled by the irony that disposables were blessing other disposables on behalf of the Providers.
A hush fell over the amphitheater. Cramped bodies pressed together—tens of millions of them in just this one vast hall, though the feed overhead implied countless more were watching through distributed holo-links across Maxproxemix. Loudspeakers crackled:
“By the will of the Empire, we stand in gratitude to the Provider who harnesses the black hole’s might. We proclaim: ‘We exist to serve!’”
Without prompt, the entire crowd—disposable workers, supervisors, admin staff—dropped to their knees, prostrating themselves in unison. Qi Meifen followed suit, her new conditioning easing any hesitance. She placed both palms and her forehead to the cool metal floor, hearing the droning intonation echo from row after row:
“We exist to serve.”
The words came from thousands of throats, swirling in a chaotic harmony that reverberated through the steel walls.
Finally, the Ordinators at the center of the stage raised their arms. Their voices boomed with fervor, projected through speaker arrays:
“THE EMPIRE ACKNOWLEDGES YOUR SERVICE.
I GRANT YOU ITS BLESSING ON BEHALF OF THE PROVIDERS.
MAY IT BENEFIT THE FULFILLMENT OF YOUR CONTRACT.”
The assembled masses remained bowed low in near silence. Qi lifted her gaze just enough to see the Ordinators sweeping their arms outward, as if scattering intangible blessings over the masses.
Mei offered no condemnation or excitement—only the contentment of compliance. Even these Ordinators are disposables, she thought.. The entire ceremony was, in some sense, a meticulously staged ritual perpetuated by the very ones it intended to subjugate. Yet the conditioning made it feel correct—this was part of Maxproxemix’s grand design.
As the hush lengthened, Qi mentally noted that the ceremony was typically short. Likely it’s over now, she thought with calm practicality. Her knees and forehead ached slightly from contact with the floor, so she began to straighten up.
Even as Mei stood, she saw movement at the base of the amphitheater—lines of lower-tier disposables were rising too, but they proceeded forward, en masse, toward the stage. Their faces held no fear; many actually wore serene smiles. They all carried small cards, brandishing them with a kind of pride. Mei recognized it as a completion token, marking the end of their fulfillment of their contractual service.
She watched as the red-clad Localsec guard parted to allow these contract-fulfilled disposables closer. Then, without fanfare or ceremony, the guards raised euthanizing devices—compact, industrial tools, not unlike what Mei had faced in her own termination. In a single, synchronized motion, they discharged them at the front rank of disposables.
Thousamds dropped instantly, bodies seizing and going limp before tumbling into open trapdoors that had slid open in the floor. Those behind them walked forward, obedient as ever, barely reacting when the red guard repeated the lethal routine.
A methodical, unbroken cycle followed: a line would advance, get euthanized, and tumble—or be shoved—into the open pits. New lines pressed forward behind them, advancing to their sudden deaths. The entire operation had the chilling, mechanical efficiency of a factory process.
Qi Meifen observed with muted fascination, her mind processing the scene while the conditioning tempered any horror she might once have felt. The churn of bodies was swift and relentless, the pits devouring the corpses before the next wave was forced down.
These disposables are done with their contracts, Mei realized. The system had evidently deemed them no longer necessary—perhaps their tasks were complete, or their cycle allotment had run out. Instead of awarding them rest or reassigning them, the Empire reclaimed the raw materials of their bodies so that a new generation of clones could be grown and cultivated in service of the Providers.
Around her, many in the assembled throng knelt in acceptance, or maintained blank, peaceful smiles. A few looked on with mild fascination, but none protested.
Seeing the disposal line continue unabated, Mei’s interface drew her attention to a data panel about the practice:
> CURRENT DISPOSAL STATISTICS:
> PAST CYCLE: 613,440,167,083 (613 billion) disposables recycled planet-wide.
> PROJECTED NEXT CYCLE: 591,820,000,000
613 billion in a single cycle. That figure was almost too large to grasp, yet the planet’s scale made it feasible. For Mei, it was simply another data point in the cold logic that governed Maxproxemix.
Finally, after an indeterminate span of time—no more than a fraction of a cycle—the trapdoors sealed. The red-clad Localsec guards stepped back, forming a perimeter around the stage. The robed Ordinators turned inward, facing the Provider’s crest once again, presumably to finalize the ceremony with silent ritual.
The throng of living disposables began dispersing with little fuss, shuffling out of the auditorium in orderly waves to return to work or find new tasks. Mei followed the crowd automatically, propelled by the same subdued determination that guided her now-conditioned thoughts.
In the corridor beyond the auditorium, there was no talk. No sense of tragedy. On Maxproxemix, the cycle of service, disposal, recycling was an accepted part of existence, embedded in every worker’s genetic loyalty and reinforced by the system’s unyielding demands.
Qi Meifen, too, felt no revulsion—only a distant reflection that she had once found it shocking. But that was before. Now, her mind was a model of stoic composure, shaped by the very forces she had witnessed in action.
She quickly needed to secure her elicitation, there was no time to spare. And after what she had witnessed, the choice was painfully clear: either she continued to conform, or she would meet the same fate as those newly recycled thousands. With her streamlined focus and unwavering sense of duty, Mei resolved to ensure her next assignment would prove her valuable—her existence would remain justified in the eyes of Maxproxemix.
In the background, the replays of the ceremony continued on overhead screens, chanting once more: “We exist to serve.”