“Rise and shine” Emma sat on her bed looking down on me while loudly proclaiming the necessity of rising and then subsequently to shine. A stupid expression made to harass poor people striving for fulfilling beauty sleep.
“Rise and SHINE!” uhh persistent, are we?
“Fine, I’m up.” With slow movements I pull myself up from the mattress next to her bed. I can’t take all the credit, of course, since I am generously prodded by miss greens foot.
“Ugh really? I’m up already and in no need of assistance, thank you.” I make the best annoyed face I can muster while still half asleep.
“You’d think so but you have a habit of going back to sleep unless I pester you, consider yourself pestered.”
After that we go about our usual morning routine. I brush my hair while muttering incoherently and Emma sing some trendy tune while in the shower. Eventually we settle down for breakfast. The key to a successful morning, the morning equivalent of a hattrick is obviously coffee. Once my caffeine levels are reasonable, I’m more then ready to engage in conversation.
“Have they registered your course completion yet” Emma asks between bites of toast.
“Don’t know.”
“So, check”
I pull out my ID to check my score.
“Huh, I gained 2 points”
I can’t help but frown at the low numbers indicated on the screen. What I call ID is basically an ID and everything else slammed into one small and manageable little thing. Probably 10 centimetres high and half that in width and roughly my pinkie finger in thickness. How thick is my pinkie finger? Hm, not sure, average maybe? Regardless, this ID held within it’s claws the source of all that ever was and ever shall be. Hyperbolic perhaps but not with that much.
“Good job sis, gaining points means you are moving in the right direction.”
Emma said with her usual upbeat positive tune. I was wrong, so very wrong. I have not yet reached peak performance. I haul myself from the kitchen table to pour another cup of coffee, with a bit of milk in there. 2 years, I have spent the last 2 years to gain my coaching badge and Health & Happiness Identification, HHI for short rewarded me with 2 fucking points.
“That should mean you have 53 points, right?”
“Yeah, about as average as they come.” I say with words dripping of melancholy.
“You are only 22 years old Alicia; you’ll have plenty of time to gain points.” Emma employ an uncharacteristic stern voice to reinforce her point.
“True but you are only 24 years old and you have already managed 76 points. Hell, you are only 24 and already green!”
It really is remarkable how successful Emma is. You need 67 point for your HHI index to become green, the maximum number is 100.
“It’s not that big a deal, its not like I’ve done anything special.” Emma twirls how long hair, something she tends to do when embarrassed.
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That’s the true miracle of the woman named Emma because she is right. She is not a chaser like so many others doing their best to please the system and by extension the government to rack up points. No, she really just happens to be awesome. The system or more appt, the app has a plethora of criteria for adding and subtracting points from individuals. There are hundred, no more like thousands of books and websites dedicating to explore and exploit the HHI app for individual benefit but the easiest way to understand it is as follows; act in accordance with the will of the government. Get the education they deem a priority and you will have your points boosted. Engage in communal activities like a good little citizen and the great app shall bestow unto you, points.
“I was just kind of lucky” Emma continued. “The state of Sweden needed more architects when I was going to enroll anyway.” She mused.
“I know and I’m glad you lucked out, I guess I’m a bit jealous because I only got 1 point for enrolling and 2 for completing my course.” I try to smile reassuringly, no need to be a bitch.
I opened the menu to show my sister my lifetime progression in the eyes of HHI. As everybody else I started my life at 50 point, straight down the middle, as close to the bottom as the top. From year to year a point is gained or lost, barely perceptible, a rather minute difference. After 22 years of living the system recognizes my valiant efforts as being worth a sum total of 3 points. Yaay?
It could be worse; it could absolutely be worse. A life as a humble yellow is not bad, I don’t garner any attention but neither do people actively avoid me. The reds are another story entirely, a point score between 1 – 33, criminals, scumbags and scoundrels. Is there a difference between scumbag and scoundrel? Probably some difference but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Are you okay sis?” A touch of worry creep into her voice. “Don’t space out on me like that.”
“I am fine, was just thinking about the reds.” For just a moment Emma made a face of disgust which quickly reverted back to her easy and pleasant smile. That’s about as positive a reaction one is going to get when speaking about reds.
“Anyway, if you tried to be more sociable and gain more people on your friend list and partake in activities you could squeeze out some points.” Changing the subject huh? Well I can go with it.
“You are probably right but the effort of it is simply not worth it. Having to be social and smiley and laugh at dumb jokes, maybe being yellow isn’t so bad.” I can hear myself and I hear laziness but really if I have to explain my career prospects to another go getter while they look at me like I am crazy I’ll punch some sucker out. Well maybe not punch but oboy can I deliver a mean look when I want to. Shiver in thy boots for thy reckoning is at hand.
“Now you just sound laze” Ye, called it. “Well I need to get going to school now.” She cleared away her dishes and then stood looking at herself in the person sized mirror in the hallway. Not really surprised she is so popular, easy going, charming and pretty to boot. I’ve pretty much surrendered the idea of matching her but I wouldn’t mind if a little something rubbed off on me.
“Bye, see you later.” A little wave of the hand and off she goes.
“Have a good day.”
I sit in silence for a while sipping on what remains of my coffee. Eventually I clear away my own dishes and grab my computer, a solid glass construction that weighs less than it appears to and throw myself down on the comfy couch. Rectangular pillows, well most things in this apartment conform to Emmas strict ideals of angles. The colour wouldn’t be my first choice, a dark brown but it does suit the feel of the room. Emma knew what she was doing when decorating. My only complaint is the severe lack of anything football related. Flippin about on the couch hopping to find that perfect position my gaze rest on the VR gear. A completely white armchair whit a prominent white helmet attached to it.
Time to hit the job market, who wouldn’t want a young inexperienced coach? No one that’s who. I send out my resume to clubs I’ve been recommended by my teachers. Well honestly resume makes it sound all fancy like, more like a picture of myself and a print screen of my HHI index and an image of my diploma. Every resume is accompanied by a couple lines about how special their club is and how interested I am in just that club. I must say I’m impressed with my own ability to simply adore so many different clubs I know nothing about.
Halfway through the list of clubs’ loud snores could be heard from a stylish little apartment. May the system have mercy on your soul should you blame Alicia for such noises.