We were going to fix things. Poverty, global warming, racism. Instead we made deathbots and a surveillance state. Which we already had. Instead of beating the bad guys, we joined them.

* Ty

1 Month Later - Ty - Hood-Off Bar

I walk into the bar. Everyone looks at me. I push back my large hood. They’re not happy to see me, but they go back to their drinks. I guess I’m good.

I get a drink, find a table in the back. Scan the auras of the crowd. Pink, yellow, green, brown, red. A few warning badges, nothing serious. Decent group. What I expect from a hood-off bar.

The Guild developed an aura system after we shared everyone’s darkest secrets. The colors correspond with how they treat other people. It’s more efficient than wading through their relationship history. Also, less depressing. Badges mark unusual achievements.

Obviously not everyone in the bar is with the Guild, but they all use some kind of symbiont shortcut to judge people. Looking at raw secrets is for journalists and masochists.

My bright pink aura marks me as a Softie. Agreeable, helpful, willing to absorb abuse. I’d be welcome everywhere, except I picked up an Extreme Danger Badge from a couple one-time events. It’s a weird combination. I get funny looks.

Max bursts into the bar. Roars. Drops his hood. They look at him briefly, laugh. I can’t see Max’s aura - it’s a bad idea to look at your friend's secrets, even algorithmically - but I gather he’s welcome.

He grabs a beer, storms over, hugs me. “Tiger! Ready to play!”

“Hey buddy.” I laugh. “Yes. Let’s do this.”

Max takes off his stealth cloak, throws it aside. It has a large hood to hide his face, and a long shroud to mask his gait. The kids call them Space Capes, because they make you look like a Jedi. Some ladies are leaning into the look and adopting crazy braids. Coupled with a WiFi jammer, they’re the hottest fashion accessory for the potential seditious.

I call up Ultra and a virtual game board for Black Swan Gray Rhino. Max is in the lead, but barely. There’s five open predictions on the board:

* Secrets

* Fatness

* Jobs

* Failed State

* Environmental Collapse

We’re meeting to adjust our predictions. And to drink.

“Secrets seem to have stabilized. Should we take them off the board?” asks Max.

“No.” I say. “Space Capes and jammers are an interim step. There’s a lot of Bad Hat Black Auras who want their records wiped. They may figure it out. Also, the government will be developing new spy systems. Then there’s paranoia and it’s random backlash.”

“What are you saying?” asks Max.

“We’re gonna lose Bluetooth.”

“Nah." scoffs Max. "Without Bluetooth how will we talk to our symbionts?”

“Wires in our brains.”

“You think people who are paranoid about government surveillance are going to put microchips in their heads?”

“People are a hot mess."

Max shrugs. “Alright. I’ll put it on the board. How about fatness?”

“My dog is getting super buff." I drink. "It’s ridiculous.”

“They’re putting calorie restriction mimetics in Petformin?” Max shakes his head. “I thought that stuff was for life extension?”

“Fatness is medically equivalent to premature aging. Can’t cure aging without fixing it.”

“You think they’ll get approval for using it on humans?”

“Dude, nobody cares about approval.” I say. “Petformin tastes like bacon. The bar puts it in their poutine.”

“Alrighty. We’re gonna have beach bods.” Max puts it on the board.

Two hooded guys walk into the bar. We all look at them. They move to take a seat. A large guy with a yellow aura stands up. He’s a Grudger with an anger badge. “Hoods off, boys.”

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

The hooded guys freeze. Turn and leave.

Well then.

Max turns back to me. “What were we talking about?”

“Petformin.”

“Right. How’s that going?”

I shake my head. “No idea. My last bottle said poor coping strategies cause premature aging. I’m supposed to teach my dog to meditate.”

“Any luck?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I can’t tell when he’s not thinking.”

Max nods. He points at the board. “I’m going long that jobs are here to stay.”

“You’re crazy. I’ve never worked less.”

Max grins. “You’ve never been paid less. You’re working harder than ever.”

I pause. He’s not wrong. “What about artificial intelligence doing most jobs better than humans? Don’t we have a surplus human problem?”

“Nah. We’re all surplus humans. Always were.” Max drinks. “Or, we would be if people were happy with their lot in life. But they aren’t, and never will be, so there will always be jobs.”

“That sounds good, but name one new job.”

“Reputation Coach.”

Hmm. I could actually use that. “Okay, name two.”

“Conflict Resolution Mediator. Grief Counsellor. Land Line Installer.”

“I said two.”

“Apex Movie Creator. Student. Learning about the new reality.”

I frown. “I don’t see anybody get paid for that.”

Max shrugs. “Nobody gets paid for the most important work. Still needs doing.”

“Okay, but how do you pay rent?”

“Why pay your rent?” asks Max. “We’re past that. Too busy picking sides and turning on each other.”

“Oh.” I look at the board. “Are we at the Failed State part?”

“I believe we are.”

Dang. Max had predicted a Big Sort. Where society forms teams based on ideology, then physically moves to be closer to their group. It was a good prediction. It’s totally happening. The Guild is tightening around big cities. Supreme is self deporting to small towns. Revealing everyone’s secrets has made it happen faster. Now we can see racists as easy as they see minorities. Weirdly, this is giving them the all-white-racist communities they always wanted. Turns out nobody wanted to be around them anyway.

Aside from learning that we hate our neighbors, we also learned we hate our political leaders. I mean, we always knew that, but now we know they hate us back. Most of them are Bad Hat Black Auras. Cheaters, users, and abusers. Again, we knew that, but it’s fucked up to have proof.

So, we hate them and they hate us. You’d think the civil war would have already started, but half the country still doesn't have symbionts, and is committed to believing that nothing has happened. Their delusion shouldn’t stop us, but somehow it has. I guess we don’t really want a battle to the death. I’ve had one, it sucked.

“Do you think this country can keep doing what it’s doing?”

“Oh yeah.” Max grins. “We can get a lot closer to the brink.”

I sigh. “Fun.”

Max laughs. “Cheer up. This country isn’t two teams fighting each other. We’re all on the same team. Our team just sucks, and keeps losing, so we hate ourselves and each other. But, unity, trust, and happiness are just a few wins away. Let’s talk about environmental collapse!”

“Alright.” I say. “Let’s examine this crime scene. You want to start with the good news or the bad news?”

“Good news!”

“Lab grown food has quietly replaced meat, fish, and simple carbs. 80% of our current farmland is destined to return to nature. Gas emissions are way down, biodiversity is way up, and the bug population has stabilized.

“The good life of the Guild is catching on in the regular population. People are working less, consuming less, and goofing off more. Its benefit to the environment is steadily increasing.

“Except, Goblin Gliders and heavy symbiont drones are also becoming popular. They are not fuel efficient. On par with an empty school bus. Personally, I hate the fucking things, but most people find them exhilarating. Worth killing the planet for. Once again, we have become what we were trying to destroy.”

“Uh-huh.” says Max. “And how does that make you feel?”

“Confused. I didn’t understand defending fossil fuels when the establishment was doing it, and I don’t understand why we’re doing it now.” I turn to Ultra. “Do you even want a drone body?”

Ultra shrugs. “I kinda feel like you’re my drone body.”

I shake my head. “We went from fighting climate change denial, to denying the stupidity of personal helicopters. How the fuck did this happen? Did we get stupid?”

“Climate change denial isn’t about stupidity, it’s about plausible deniability.” says Max “People weren’t tricked into believing it’s not happening. They correctly determined that the world will burn, but after they’re safely dead. They just pretending to be stupid, so they didn’t look like assholes.”

“So, we’re assholes too?”

“You can be. The Guild’s situation has changed. Isolated and broke, you were in grave danger from climate change. Now that you're wealthy and connected, it’s less of a concern, so you’re less concerned.”

“How do we solve this?”

“Change the situation again. Put that moral malleability to good use. Go deep on Petformin. Make everyone immortal. That makes Global Warming everyone’s problem.”

“Except Rapture.”

“Yeah. Except Rapture.” Max drinks. “Who is probably making two Goblin Gliders for every American.”

I drink and think. I’ve been against systemically experimenting on the desperate. I guess I was wrong. We should be experimenting on everyone until they're desperate. Give us all a stake in the future. With black market doggie diet pills. Then I find Rapture, come to terms. Teach my dog to meditate. Make an eco-friendly jet pack. Boom. World saved.

I drink. Lot of moving parts to that plan. Could work. Maybe.