"Its The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)". REM

Installation Procedures

"The time is six forty-five a.m. It is time to awake, good morning Ben". Ben awoke violently, the alarm in his wrist PC sent an electric shock through his body every morning, but somehow, he still could not get used to the sensation. As he rose form his bed the computer started to read this mornings news to him. It was a usual morning, stories about wars in far of places and the sex scandals of some president or another. Ben liked hearing about president's sexual relationships, although they were no longer with females or males, but with machines. Still reminded him of his youth at the turn of the millennium. The door opened automatically as he approached it and on entering the bathroom the shower automatically turned on. Unlike the showers of his youth, this one was always at the correct temperature - the cybernetic implant in his arm not only opened doors for him, but set the correct temperature for his shower, progress. Ben showered and then allowed it to dry him off, he was very much a man of the Twenty-first century - no towel drying for him. The sweet female voice of the computer continued to read the mornings news to him as he dressed, the implant would turn it off as he left for work.

Ben headed for the kitchen, his breakfast would be there when he arrived, the computer would see to it that his favourite was replicated every morning. On a Sunday it was bacon and eggs, sort of. Ben still preferred home cooking, according to him the replicator never got anything quite right, but since he was to busy he put up with the inconvenience. As he sat eating his breakfast and drinking his mug of coffee, he though how nice it would be if just for once he could read the news for himself, rather than have it dictated to him. Newspapers no longer existed so it was just a thought.

"Ben it is seven thirty a.m., it is time you left for work" said the female voice, the remains of his breakfast dematerialised in front of him and there was no longer any reason to stay. He picked up his padd (Personal Assistant Digital Device) and left. He did not even lock the door to his habitat, no one would ever dream of breaking in. Walking the short distance to the transporter station, Ben met Klyd an acquaintance from work. Klyd was about six foot-three, not unusual in this age, he had been born blind yet medical technology allowed him to see by means of video cameras mounted directly behind the lenses in his eyes. In fact he could see much better than Ben could - Klyd could see images clearly, including text up to a range of five kilometres as well as seeing both infrared and ultraviolet. Ben and Klyd walked silently towards the station together, no one ever said anything to anyone else in the open, you only 'spoke' through your padd or 'E-mail gone mad' as some elders put it.

Upon arriving at the station both Ben and Klyd put their credit cards in a slot in the wall, a door opened in front of them, allowing them to enter the station. Inside there were large platforms on which you stood, depending on your destination and at intervals of five minutes everyone on the platform was scanned, dematerialised and then the data of their biological make up was set to their destination. There they were reconstructed from matter at that end, in essence exact copies of the people who were dematerialised at the other end.

On the platform, as the rematerialisation process was completed, were about one hundred people who worked in the same building as Ben. Still there was no conversation, everyone walked silently off the platform and headed towards the exit of the station. Ben, although used to it by now, was amazed at the cleanliness of the station and the cities in general. He recalled how filthy everything had been when he was a child. The buzz of people talking, the running and pushing that went on. Somehow that seemed more human to him.

His office was on the seven hundredth floor of the building, rising population had meant hat you had to build up, not out the way. It was a small room, with a wooden desk in one corner - a symbol of times past. Ben went and sat by the window in a large comfortable leather chair and began typing away on his padd. Ben had no idea why he came into the office, he could do everything from home, yet he felt he had to. Ben was carrying out a study for the government - on whether it could be justified in enhancing the human body and brain with cybernetic implants for cases other than those who have disabilities. He had concluded, to himself at any rate, that if we are giving these implants to disabled people then we are creating new disabled people in the process: us. Ben just needed proof to show that his suggestion was true, then the legal limits of enhancing yourself would be lifted and then humans could begin to evolve much faster than nature would allow.

These limits had been imposed early in the new millennium, to stop people profiting from practises that were unethical. Today that argument was unfounded yet the House of Lords had blocked any attempts to lift the legislation. Elders set in their ways, Ben supposed.

"The time is twelve thirty p.m. Ben, time for lunch", the computer at the office was just as precise as Ben's - there was nothing he could do to overrule the decision that it was now lunchtime. The government had decided when people should eat and sleep - the computer blocked any attempts to enter information into the padd and replicated the chosen meal for that day. For Ben it was a tuna and mayonnaise sandwich, he had half an hour to enjoy it before the

computer would send him back to work, so he set down his padd and started his meal.

Unusually Klyd had decided to join him for lunch, he was working on a similar project to Ben and was allowed to associate with him during breaks in their working day. Klyd pulled up a chair and sat next to Ben, they started to discuss last night's football results (talking orally is still acceptable behind closed doors). Although both Ben and Klyd enjoyed the sport, they both felt it was unrecognisable from the game in their youth. Now every club - both inside the European Super League and outside was owned by a major media corporation, every club had their own television channel and charged huge amounts of credits to watch a single game.

Before long it was time for Ben to return to his work, he had almost finished his task for the day so in line with acceptable working practices he decided to take the rest of the day off. He returned to the transporter station, paid his credits, transported and then walked home. Upon entering his house he was presented with several messages by the computer, nothing of importance - mostly junk, after a quick shower and a change of clothes he thought he might go shopping.

"Welcome to the interactive shopping network, sponsored by Coca-Cola - enjoy it, you know it makes sense". Ben had logged on to the Internet, from here he could order anything he wished, food, clothing, and even cybernetic implants. The implant embedded in Ben's arm was about ten years old, these days they could do just about everything - transfer money to the transporter station before he arrived there, collect his home e-mails for display on his padd. Fortunately for Ben he could afford one, many people did not even have a first generation implant. Even in the Twenty-first century some people were richer than others, albeit the differences were becoming less.

After several hours on-line the computer had decided it was time for his evening meal. As he ate he listened to that female voice read this evenings news to him. It seemed strange to Ben that the software developers should choose a female voice, the only female he had spoken to was his mother and she was hardly the nicest of people. Relationships with the opposite sex had been banned. The rise of sexually transmitted diseases had put pay to them. As had the shortage of oil, from which plastic contraceptive measures were made from. Also drugs for suppressing the fertility of either sex had been proven to have intolerable side effects. Yet Ben was still destined to be a father. At thirty-five he would receive a invitation to mate with a computer selected female. After this initial involvement though Ben would have no further part in the child's upbringing. Ben sat thinking of his long deceased grandfather as his meal dematerialised, perhaps, he thought, today's society has forgotten what makes us human. Oh well, surely someday we will return to our forgotten beliefs.

 

Part Two - Start-up Sequence

//agi. [agi@fsmail.net]