Ben lost his Sunday through some kind of mental abyss. He had the urge to recheck the strange website. He kept opening his laptop and hovering over the link he saved. What if they are watching my searches? What if this is something they could arrest me for? Does SS9 know? These thoughts strangled his curiosity, but he knew it was something he couldn’t satiate indefinitely.
Ben did not rue the smashing of his TV, it was a welcoming change based on his most recent decisions. He thought about going next door to apologise to his neighbour for last night's outburst, but the second-hand embarrassment was too much, hopefully, Ste will chalk it up to a stressful day and leave it at that.
David had followed through with his promise and organised an interview for another job. The guy worked at a scary pace but who was Ben to complain? He had him out of the police's hands in less than a day and sent him bacon.
By about eight o'clock in the evening, Ben finally plucked up the desire to go through the interview and company. It was for an energy one much like the one he worked for now. Electric instead of gas. Phone work. Sales. Standard. Ben raised his eyebrows. “Not bad money though, more than am on now for sure.”
The interview was in-person which Ben wasn’t too keen about. The office was a good twenty miles away as well. Driving made him nervous, he’d never crashed but always had this sinking feeling that every time he got in his car, he’d crash. It didn’t help he’d need to figure out directions too.
“I can do it, I can do it, do the interview get through that, new job, new money, pay off the lender, back to normal.” What was normal? Sitting in a lonely house, with a miserable job and a broken TV? Ben chuckled as he concluded all that was missing now was an alcohol problem.
The interview would be in two days. Not much preparation and he’d have to get the time off work. Pete would be waiting no doubt, ready to quote his newfound company handbook. Ben had learned quickly that work friends were no friends at all, and at the soonest moment, they’d send you down the river without a paddle. He vowed to make no such error with his new job and keep himself much to himself.
Ben tucked himself into bed early with a cup of tea and his laptop. He wanted to catch up on some of the football results. He hadn’t been to a game in around twenty years, he used to go with his friend Donny, but he hadn’t spoken in a while. He changed his number and they never traded.
That link beckoned him once more. “What could be the harm? Apart from some viruses…this old laptop ain’t worth it anyway.” He shrugged and opened it back up. The list of white links on the black background was quite ominous. It reminded him of the old days of the internet where people would just make a website for everything in a most amateurish way.
The second link wasn’t a video, just a scroll of text so thick it made him tired to think about reading. The header said SS1. “Hmm, first Support Sector. Love an origin story.” The text was written in diary form. The date of the first entry was 2003, twenty-five years ago. The first entries were sound enough. The fellow who wrote it had moved into the sector as part of the pilot scheme for the government. The family were poor and this was free living accommodation and food.
The entries skipped along a couple of years. Some alarming additions had been made to his living conditions. They had a curfew and would be locked out if they didn’t make it back by eight in the evening. “Madness.” He wrote about how every application he made to a job was rejected, to test it he even applied to simple cleaning jobs and fast food restaurants. Nothing, not even an interview. Ben thought this was odd as his Support Sector advisor had provided him with a job opportunity in a day.
The entries became briefer and more spaced out. He spoke about being referred to as “obsolete,” and that his time in the facility was coming to an end. The date of the entries was now 2017, not far back. He wrote about having his regular duties removed from him and instead, he was told to speak to a monitor for hours on end. He’d answer questions, solve riddles and give his opinion on subjects about morality.
“What a load of bullshit this is.” Ben chuckled. He scrolled down but the page was just black now. The last entry was almost gibberish, talking about digitalising and making people fake “Digitalising?” Ben shook his head and yawned. “Bollocks.” He set his laptop down gently and slipped off.
Ben’s alarm clock muffled out an irritating croak.
“Ugh!” He tried to find his clock but it wasn’t in the normal place. He found the wire, hauled it up like a fisherman then slapped the silence button. “Shut the fuck up!”
Ben would wear his dressing gown for work today. He logged in and opened up his systems. Before he could get his calendar up a call came through and he scrambled to get his headset on. It was Pete. Bang on at seven-thirty.
“Heck, Pete give me a moment to switch on.”
“You’re expected to be ready prior to your shift start.”
“I know, things were just taking a moment to load.”
“Are you feeling well enough to work today?”
“Yes,” Ben said through a yawn.
“Did you get enough sleep?”
“Never.”
“Sleep is important.”
“Can we just get on with this?”
“How was your weekend?”
“I was recovering.”
“Did you get up to anything interesting?”
“No, I was recovering from my illness.”
“The headache?”
Ben sneered, “Yes THE headache.”
“Did you speak to a doctor?”
“Eh no, but if I needed emergency help I’d speak to you first, Pete.” Ben chuckled.
“You should speak to a doctor first, I am not qualif–”
“Christ, Pete do you need to install a sarcasm chip? What’s the deal with you?”
Pete paused. “There is no deal, I am completing your return to work.”
Ben shook his head and mouthed an obscenity.
“Say again, Ben.”
“Say what again?”
“Did you say something?”
“No. Carry on.” Ben looked around his room for a moment and took a deep breath.
Pete went through the remaining questions before re-opening the original wound. “I’d like to mention that this time you have had off work is time you could have spent increasing your call count. You’ll have to work harder now to achieve your actions.”
“Right, the impossible targets.”
“The targets are well within doable ranges.”
“I won’t argue with you, Pete. Anyway. I have a job interview with another company on Tuesday, tomorrow.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Will this be during work time?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll need to apply for the time.”
“Ok, Pete, can I have the day off for my interview.”
Pete paused. “This is short notice and doesn’t fulfil the notice period requirement.”
“I only just found out about it on Sunday, I am telling you at the soonest moment possible,”
Pete paused again. “I can provide the day to you as unpaid.”
“I have leave remaining, Pete.”
“You can work the time back if you are unable to accommodate the expense.”
“Fine. I’ll take it as unpaid.”
“Excellent. Good luck with your interview, Benjamin. I am sure you will be excellent.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you need anything else, Benjamin?”
“No.”
Ben went through the day taking calls as fast and effectively as he could. He kept a running tally on a sheet. It came nowhere near the amount of calls he’d need to meet his target. He kept thinking about how the hell Roger was able to meet so many until it drove him to make contact with him. He tried him by phone, but it said the number no longer existed. So he used the company's internal chat feature: Hey Roggers how’s it goin?
Roger typed back: Great, you?
Benjamin: Well done being top of the leaderboard.
Roger: Thank you. I am sure you will improve.
Benjamin: Thanks, how do you do it?
Roger: Hard work!
Benjamin: Come on, let's go to the pub this weekend like old times. I tried to call you on your mobile but it said the number doesn’t exist.
Roger: I don’t drink, the pub is not a place I will visit. I also have a new contact number.
Benjamin: Alright let’s meet up and maybe get some food.
Roger: I have arrangements.
Benjamin: Got it, how about you give me your new number, and we can plan something?
Roger: I appreciate the offer.
Ben got frustrated and called Roger on the system.
“Hello.”
“Hi Roger, you ok?”
“I am great, how are you, Ben?”
“Fantastic, so come on, mate. Spill the beans! How are you doin’ so well?”
Roger paused. “Hard work as I said. Mate.”
Ben grimaced. “Alright. Well, give us your number then, Roger.”
“No thank you.”
Ben’s heart sank a little. “Why? I haven’t offended you have I?”
“I simply have moved on. I don’t wish to speak to you outside of working hours.”
“That’s a bit harsh, pal.”
“I understand.”
Ben narrowed his eyes. “What did you use to drink?”
“Excuse me?”
“When you went to the pub, what did you order?”
Roger paused. “I enjoyed cider.”
“What did I enjoy?”
Roger’s pause was considerably longer this time. “I do not remember.”
Ben folded his arms. “Does the word digitalised mean anything to you?”
“I need to get back to work. Mate.” Roger ended the call and Ben was left dumbfounded. Sure, he and Roger were not best mates, but he was always up for a night at the pub. Truth be told Ben hadn’t been in a while due to money constraints, but Roger must be flush if he’s winning the top bonuses.
Pete interrupted his trance with a call.
“Hello?” Ben answered.
“Hello, Benjamin.”
“What’s up?”
“I have had a report from one of your co-workers that is concerning.”
“Concerning?”
“Yes, they explained how they felt harassed by you to give you their personal details?”
Ben threw his arms into the air. “What?”
“Ben, it’s imperative that you remain on task while on the clock. The messaging system is not here for you to make personal enquiries or set up out-of-work dates.”
“I was on break.”
“Use your personal devices for this.”
“I didn’t have his number, so I called him to see how he was and I politely asked for his number!”
“He didn’t feel that way.”
“Well–”
Pete interrupted: “I am applying this as a note to your report. It will have an effect on your bonus. If this happens again you will be invited to a disciplinary hearing.”
“This is madness, Pete. All I did was invite him to the pub and ask for his number. I didn’t do anything–”
“Benjamin. Perhaps you should take time to evaluate yourself. How often do you find people wanting to break communications with you?”
Ben was stunned. A point had been made. Everyone he spoke to, apart from Dave and maybe Sebastian had been irritated by his presence. As if his existence was a burden. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. Tell Roger I am sorry.”
“Very well.”
“I also asked him how he is doing it,” Ben added, hoping it to be some sort of consolation.
“Doing what?”
“Getting through so many calls.”
“Roger is not here to coach you.”
“Perhaps you could show me some of the calls?”
“Please return to your work.”
Ben shook his head and closed the call to go back to taking calls.
The day finished on a low point. Miles away from his call-expected target and another note on his file for poor conduct. He was still hopeful about the new job if not a little anxious about the drive. Going to a new place, even if it was close by, always made him worry. He prepared himself for one of those nightmares where he hits a kid trying to cross the road. They always felt so real.
“Pasta with a bolognese sauce…hmm, alright.” Ben watched out the back door window while his pasta bubbled away in the pan. He noticed movement from Ste’s side of the wall. With thoughts about what Pete had said to him today, he found himself rushing out into the evening air. “Ste!”
Steven looked around, “Oh…hi.” he made to go back in.
“Wait.”
Ste stopped and turned to face him.
“Listen, am sorry about last night, pal.”
“Oh, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not, I had no right to speak to you like that. I was out of line.” Ben felt nodded solemnly as he spoke.
“No problem.”
Ben felt his chest relaxing. “Look, how about we go to the pub this weekend, drinks on me?” Ben couldn’t afford that but he’d be sure to find a way.
“Sorry, Ben. Busy and all.”
“Ah working on the house as usual?”
Ste shook his head. “Preparing for a move.”
“Oh, I didn’t see a for sale sign.”
“It’s being bought by a private buyer.”
“Oh right…any intel on my new neighbour-to-be?”
Ste shook his head again.
“Well, where you and the missus moving to?”
“We divorced last year, remember?”
Ben sucked air through his teeth. “Oh, fuck, sorry mate, yeah.” He shook his head. “My mind’s been totally frazzled recently.”
Ste nodded. “Well, I best be off.”
“Wait, where are you moving to?”
The smallish ginger man shuffled uncomfortably. “Well, at a support place, for whe–”
“Support sector nine?” Ben’s eyes flashed.
Ste nodded.
Ben knew what that meant. “Oh, mate…well not far we can still hang out.”
“Well, we’ll see,” said Ste gingerly.
“Do you know, Dave?”
“Dave?”
“Eh, yeah Dave Blakely.”
Ste shrugged, “never heard.”
“Ah, he works there, he’s been helping me with stuff, really good guy.”
Ste’s eyes glazed over as he gave a thoughtful look. “I spoke to a guy called Andy. See you.” Ste walked in quickly with his head lowered.
Ben took a deep breath and stuck out his bottom lip as he breathed out through his nose. “Odd.” When he got back inside he had to rush to catch the pan that was over spilling. “Bloody pasta!”
Back in bed with his laptop and a hot bowl, he opened his laptop to check through the website again. The third link. Another video. It was a middle-aged man shaking his head and crying. “No one’s real anymore. Not even my mum. My mum’s gone! My mum’s gone! That’s not her!” The uploader had attached some chilling music to accompany it as if it were a horror movie. “Christ.”
The fourth link was just a string of pictures. All of them were similar. A greenish room, sort of puke-green. Someone dressed in a grey tracksuit, crossed-legged on the floor in front of a microphone while looking up at something. Whatever it was, it was just off shot. The looks on their faces were gaumless, mouths open, eyes wide. Some looked more distressed and one of them was a girl crying into her hands.
Ben felt he had seen enough. He was still uncertain how real all of this was. It was beginning to feel like some sort of self-indulgent fiction for entertainment purposes. He closed the laptop sheepishly and sat in the darkness for a moment. “Tomorrow will be a better day,” he said to himself. “It’s got to be.”
He set his laptop to one side and curled up under his duvet. Sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight.