A million thoughts race through my mind as the car flies back to my apartment building. This is a disaster, I might lose my Burabō identity.
Why on Earth would she leave with an Untouchable? And more importantly, how in the hell am I going to find him?
An Untouchable is someone who has been excommunicated by every single corporation. They are pariahs, completely cut off from the rest of society. Those people are by their very nature hard to find. They live off of the grid, because they can’t buy from or work for any company.
Luckily, I know someone, hell, it is my job to know someone.
As the car speeds along, I check my assorted social media profiles. The bots that maintain them are doing a good job of posting what needs to be posted to earn me a steady stream of social credit. Alpha Prime: still in Superb standing. My Délta Corp rating just went to A+. And I only need a few more points to reach LC I with Echo Industries. All in all, I would say that I am doing pretty good with the remaining two companies.
I give the feeds a once over. The senate is getting ready to vote on war reparations. Délta members are out in force. One pundit called for payments that are so large they would bankrupt the government. When this was pointed out, she belligerently countered with, “Well then, we better double it.”
Another important issue that is making the rounds is that a man named Ben Millard was caught criticizing the gameplay of a new Charles Fauré game. He would normally only lose some social credit, but this game is about the struggles of one of the first people to get a non-humanoid body. Now people are up in arms and the company is thinking about excommunicating him.
There are no doubt many other people using bots to raise their standings, but I get the feeling that most of the posts are genuine. Well, genuine in that they are thought up and posted by the person that owns the account. But maybe the opinions that are being espoused might not be so genuine. People do such an amazing job saying what the corporate systems want them to. They know just what to say to get the big points, mastered the art of finding and repeating the right slogans.
My car lands in the lot of my complex. I need to get some rest before I head into Section 4143; it is a very dangerous place and I will need my wits about me. I enter the building, practically crawling toward my room. My neighbor steps out of his door, “I could really use someone to talk to.”
Fuck it, I don’t really need to sleep that bad anyway.
After I take a minute to put on warmer clothes, we take seats on a communal balcony. The lunch hour rush is just starting up. The sky traffic is starting to increase. One of the ground highways is a little backed up.
Anthony is legitimately young, he isn’t just wearing the face and body of a young man, he really is one. As far as I know he is completely natural, save for the DMT emitter that is attached to his brain. Some of his features scream Latino while others say African. His hair tends to have a mind of its own.
Anthony is a member of the transhumanist religious movement called The Church of the Ascended. They are a fairly new religion. Their founder lived in a place that isn’t too different from where we are right now. Interestingly, none of the current Church leaders knew the man.
“So, you just got back from vacation?” he asks. Anthony doesn’t know the truth about me. He thinks that I work for Echo, just like everybody else in the building.
“Something like that. So, what is troubling you?”
“I think that Martin was right, but what I don’t understand is why I need to be a part of the Church to follow his teachings.”
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I could tell him a million things about Tim Martin. I could give him The People of the Book’s version, that Tim was a freeloader that mooched off of rich and gullible people. I could tell him what Burabō Inc says, which is that he was a drug addict, a degenerate that wrapped his substance abuse in the thin disguise of a spiritual journey. Or Charles Fauré’s claim that they can get you way higher than Tim Martin ever was, all you need is a handful of Water Certificates and an open mind. There is the Délta Corp VR biopic, which portrayed the prophet as a staunch supporter of the Martian people. And finally, there is Echo’s version, which is also the Church’s version; he already knows that one, knows it better than he knows anything else.
“The Church says it, and they have the power to back it up. You know what they did to the independent groups, and that breakaway sect. If you try to quit the Church, you will be blacklisted from Echo Industries. Good luck trying to get access to another company while still openly worshiping Martin.”
The look on his face tells me that he is well aware of the consequences, “It’s such BS.”
“It is the way it is, even if it is BS.”
“He never said that I have to imitate his body modifications.”
“If I’m not mistaken, he never even said that you need to get the DMT emitter.”
“That is debatable. But becoming…like him, I just don’t know about that.”
“But if you don’t you will reach a hard ceiling. You can’t get above the mid-levels, can’t unlock the higher teachings.”
“They were all leaked.”
“But you didn’t look at them, you aren’t a cheater.”
He looks away, smiling shyly. After a few seconds he examines the growing sky traffic, “Last night I went on a vision.”
“You saw something that made you doubt?”
“You know me, I have always doubted. In this vision I saw the head of the Church. He was in the middle of an orgy. He was doing things to a girl, the president of Charles Fauré was helping him. Burabō’s CEO was snorting a line while she watched them.”
“That is a hell of a vision.”
“You’re telling me!”
“Maybe you should become a Pee Bee,” I say half-jokingly.
“The problem with that is that the leaders of the People of the Book were there too.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I would get mad about you cracking jokes, but I know you well enough to know that you’re dead serious.”
“Maybe I am too much of a cynic. Maybe I should be more like you.”
“That’s funny, I was wondering if I should try to be more like you.”
I throw my head back and laugh, “Whatever you do, don’t do that!”
He joins me in laughter. After we recover, we spend a few minutes talking about a VR game. The sun reaches a point where one of the traffic lane blocks it, shadows roll over us as the cars fly by.
He stares off into space, looking in the general direction of an Apex Warfighter Arsenal office, “Maybe I should just become an Untouchable,” he says, sounding serious.
Damn, what a hell of a thing to hit me with. I take a few seconds to pick the right words, “My first instinct is to tell you to shut the hell up about that. I want to tell you that it is a terrible idea. You can have the Church’s body work done and get it reversed if you don’t like it. But you can’t come back from being an Untouchable.”
“Ya, but they can survive, and they get to do whatever they want.”
“That is why I said that warding you off was my first instinct. It is a shitty place to be at, that is for sure. But they do manage, people always seem to find a way to manage,” I pause, still trying to find the right words, “Some people, some people just aren’t meant to be a part of mainstream society. Some people benefit from…being severed from the system.”
“The question is, am I one of those people?”
“That is something that you are going to have to figure out for yourself.”
He looks me in the eyes, “You don’t seem to be very religious. Why are you a member of Echo?”
I don’t necessarily have to be a true believer to be in the Echo circle. But I do have to be a supporter of the Church’s right to exist. The same is true for Alpha and the Pee Bee’s. I struggle to remember my cover story, so I will my IC to bring up my notes on this identity.
“I like Tim Martin, I think he had some great ideas. I just don’t think that he was divine. But his philosophy is about the closest thing to the truth that we have,” I crack a smile, “Besides, Echo makes the best stuff.”
We share another good laugh. He leaves, I go to bed, struggling to fall asleep. Had I been too rough? Were harsh truths really what he needed to hear? Will he really throw away everything that he has worked for?
When I wake up it is dark again. Ashley has sent me a message. I ignore it. She is just another Kawaiichen. Just another dumb bitch for me to get my rocks off with. She means nothing to me, absolutely nothing.
I grab a shower and a quick meal, then I put on my gray man attire. After hiding several knifes and guns about my person I spend a few minutes practicing drawing them. When I am satisfied, I head in the direction of Section 4143.