I'm one of the few no longer connected.
Everyone is connected now to the grid. It's government mandated. They claim it's to help border control and immigration issues. To counter terrorism from other countries. We claim it's to watch us, research what we do, and create political campaigns based on those things as well as products.
It all comes in a card you hang around your neck. You can't forget it. There's no way to forget it. Your house won't lock without your card, and some of the newer ones won't even let you out unless there's a fire or it senses a gun of some sort. Your car won't start without it- unless you scream for it to start due to an emergency. It will if your voice is registered to have fear in it. But only then.
My card? It's a fake. It's supposed to hook up to my online stats- to let people know what I like and what I don't like.
"You like Will Ferrell? Isn't that a little...outdated?"
I hated leaving my house. People questioned things I like. Things my profile said I liked at least.
"Yeah, I guess."
"I love Tommy Mars, have you seen his new stuff? It's all over the Connection."
"I don't really pay attention to the Connection much."
"Really? So you don't watch all the shows they have on there?"
"I couldn't really tell you about it."
"Here, I'll show you this hilarious video of him. Back search." He had picked his card up and talked into it.
"No, really- it's OK. I need to go anyways." I walked away. There was no need for him to talk to me.
"Oh hey, wait up! Karl? Wait up!" He wouldn’t give up.
"Yes?"
“You mind if I follow you?”
“You want to follow me?”
“Yeah- on the Connection. I know you don’t get on to watch videos, but ya gotta update.”
“I don’t update.”
“Well it updates when you do something big anyways. Mandatory.”
“Sure, follow me then. Whatever.”
“Hey- did you know your name is the same as a revolutionary in the 19th century that co-created something called Marxism? An idea that basically critiqued the old way humans lived known as capitalism? Crazy stuff.”
“Yeah- sure is.”
“Who would’ve known that?” I knew it. It’s why I picked the name. “Oh hold on, I’m getting a thought message from my pal in Euroland.”
“What part of Euroland?” Not that I cared to know.
“France
“Ah well that’s great…” I read his name displayed above him by the card. “Lindo Garrand. But I’d rather just get my food and go.”
“Oh no, don’t go. I really want to get to know you Karl.”
“I really don’t care to get to know you, Lindo. In fact, I find this conversation to be boring. Tommy Mars is an idiot. And the fact you like the remake of Snakes on a Plane is even more degrading.”
“But please-“
“Goodbye Lindo.”
I walked away again, hoping it would be the last of it. Then as I turned the corner, my card lit up. New message. I never got new messages. This card isn’t supposed to get new messages.
“Hey Karl- sorry we got off on the wrong foot. It’s Lindo, I’ll meet you in the dairy section. I just love this kind of old styled grocery store. See you there.”
I had to go there. How did he know? Oh right, had to display my checklist to get in. I hate things like that. It’s why I’m not connected.
“Hey! Hey Karl! Over here!”
And there he was, next to the milk. The real milk. It cost a lot, but it was better than synthetic.
“Yes, Lindo?” I grabbed a half-gallon. It was all I could afford.
“Hey, yeah- I found a great price on real ice cream. It’s made from cow milk! Can you believe that? Actual cow milk, like from the old days.
“I know. I only get my ice cream from here.”
“What? You mean you don’t eat the regular blend?”
“No, I don’t eat the regular blend. I prefer the old way to make it.”
“I don’t know, I’ve tried the old way and it’s just not as sweet.”
“That’s because it’s not naturally made. They use synthetic blends to make it sweeter than actual strawberries or chocolate or vanilla beans.”
“Vanilla beans?”
“That’s where natural vanilla flavor comes from.”
“I don’t get why you shop here, Karl. I prefer the Connection’s online store.”
“I don’t get online. The universe might feel real, but it’s not. We don’t live real lives anymore, it’s all synthetic.”
“This store isn’t synthetic.”
“Yeah, but you keep talking about how you live your life. You like things you’re told to like. You don’t explore things the way they used to be. Before the Connection. Did you know we used to have a lot of different ways to connect?”
“What do you mean?”
“There used to be an off button. You could isolate yourself. People could disappear from the rest of the world.”
“The Connection had an off button?”
“At first. Before that we had things called cell phones and text messaging. The Internet, which was just a screen and text. You had to actively log into things. There was privacy.”
“There’s privacy- I can block anyone I want to.”
“After you add them, you can block them. But they can see whatever they want if they’re good at it. You know what a CD is?”
“Ew, a CD? Yeah I know what a CD is, you pervert.”
“No- it stands for compact disc. It’s what music came on before it was all digitized. Video games were on them too, and played with controllers with buttons.”
“Oh yeah, I heard about the uh- something box systems? Some company that doesn’t make them anymore. Not that we’d need a video game system, we just go into the Connection and hook up to stuff.”
“Yeah well, we used to have books and paintings that weren’t just digitized. You had to actively read.” I sighed and started walking to get my next item, crossing off the milk with my hand in the air.
“Why’d you use your hand? Just have it done automatically.”
“Listen, Lindo- I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t want you to follow me on the Connection. I like brick and mortar stores that are made in real life.”
“Real life is boring. Dangerous. People die in real life.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You could die on your way home. The Connection would have a memorial service for you, though. I’d go to it, Karl.”
“And my real body would be thrown away for fuel. I know.”
“I’d buy you the best flowers I could find.”
“You mean the synthetic ones or the digital ones?”
“Well, I’d be in the Connection of course so-“
“Alright- enough. Just shut up. Go away. And stop bothering me.”
“But I want to-”
“I’m going to kick your ass if you say another word.”
“But-“
“OK, fine.” I grabbed for him. My hand went right through his body. “What the hell?”
“What? I’m not going into the real world. I told you that. You could’ve hurt me there.” His hologram disappeared. I stood in the store alone. I grabbed the last of my items and made my way to the front.
They used the old barcodes for most of the items. Others were simply added like magic with the chips embedded on the packaging.
“That’ll be $3,982 and 42 cents.”
I wave my card. My bank account deducts the amount.
“You’re going to have to teleport your groceries home, Mr. Marx. I’m sorry- it’s just a mandatory obligation we have here.” A teenager without a squeaky voice or pimples said to me as he stood at the end of an old conveyor belt.
“I understand, it’s no problem.”
“Good, I didn’t want to have any problems.”
“You go to school around here?”
“School?”
“Sorry, I’m a little old fashioned with this store and all.”
“What’re you, like 28?”
“Yeah, I’m 28.”
“Don’t know how you’re old fashioned.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
The groceries were suddenly gone. I wasn’t worried about the milk expiring or anything going bad. They would be sealed away, and almost put away like magic.
“There you go Mr. Marx. You have a nice day.”
“You too. And here’s an old fashioned quarter for your troubles.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the quarter. I flipped it to the kid.
“Ugh, I can’t use this. And this won’t buy me anything.”
“I’m sure it will.”
I walked on out the sliding doors onto the street and looked around me. There were no cars. Teleportation devices were placed here and there on giant sidewalks. It’s all the world was: buildings and sidewalks. People walking.
“Hey Karl, would you mind moving? You’re in all of our way.”
I looked up and there was a man. His name sat above his head.
“Sorry Thiamin.”
He rolled off, not moving his legs. His shoes moving him along. I walked on, using my own legs. Two miles later, without seeing a speck of grass, I arrived home. I didn’t need to take my card out- it unlocked my door automatically. There inside sat my items, already unpacked, already put away, the receipt on the counter.
I looked at my small apartment, on the top floor of a building in a city I didn’t know. My card was a fake I had created myself.
“TV, on.” I said outloud. “News.”
“Reports today are coming out that state the Forever Pills will be seeing a price hike. The maker of the pill, Forever Co., is stating the rate of inflation calls for a necessary price hike. The pills, which can cause people to live up to five hundred years, has seen incredibly improvements since it was founded in the early twenty-first century by Dr. Gregory McMallin who died in a horrific accident involving the introduction of a new pill that was said to make people live eternally. Since then, scientists have found ways to take his original concept, and turn it into the Forever Pills we know of today. In other news…”
“If only that were true. Journalists never could get their facts right.”
I took out another quarter and looked at the date on it. 2012.
I’m not connected because I don’t have anyone to connect to. Everyone dies but me. And I only helped create myself. I only helped perpetuate this future in my youth. It’s why I’m one of the not connected.
It’s why I hate everything changing. Nothing is real anymore. Of course, was anything ever real then either?
I grab my card and look up Lindo. I hit follow. It blocks me from hitting it. I scared him off. My old ways scare everyone off.
Only those old stores that sell real food help out these days. I look at my window and see the sky, a dark blue. Clouds covering it. It won’t matter. There’s no such thing as rain. I liked rain. It was nice and calming. But nobody liked it when they had something to do. Plants gave us oxygen, but we can create our own. Who cares about them?
We can create our own plants better and faster if they aren’t real. No one here has smelt a flower. No one here has seen what the cold winter is like. We can make snow that isn’t cold.
I think every day of jumping out that window. But I know I can’t. I think every day of doing something.
“Excuse me, Karl? Are you home?”
“Yeah, come on in Vanessa.”
She’s not connected. She hates it. But she’s from this time. Vanessa isn’t even her real name, it’s Zinc.
“I saw you were on the Connection. What gives?” She was one of the prettiest women I had ever met. It was sad to say she was created by artificial means. Her parents were both white, but wanted a child with Hispanic characteristics.
“I’m just trying to open up my horizons. That’s all.”
“Open up your horizons? Really now?”
“Yes. Why were you on it?”
“The mandated time we’re supposed to be on it. Since I’m following you.”
“You told me you got out of the mandated time.”
“No, I said I was on probation for helping that protest group. I don’t have to use it as much.”
“Well, is that all you wanted?”
“No,” she smiled. “You know what I want.”
“We can’t keep doing this.”
“Oh, c’mon Karl. It’s just classic X. And it feels so good.” They outlawed sex years ago. The only way to have a kid nowadays was the old way known as in vitro. It’s what everyone calls sex nowadays. It was meant to help stop overpopulation by people accidentally getting pregnant. It also eradicated all sexually transmitted diseases and infections.
“You’re already on probation- do you really want to try to trick the card again?”
“I’ve been ready all day.”
“You ever think of what it’d feel like to jump out of this building?” I asked her afterwards. I caved easily.
“You can’t jump out, you’ll die.”
“I know.”
“Why would you want to die?”
“I’ve been here for so long. You’re the only person I know.”
“Oh no, not this again.” She sat up in my bed. “You’re 28. Shut up and fuck me like I’m nine!” I should mention that girls got married young again. The phrase was meant to be sexual during in vitro, as if to say I love you and I wish I was young and as fertile as I once was. It disturbed me every time I heard it.
“I told you not to say that in here. It’s disgusting.”
“No it’s not, it’s hot. I’d do you if you were nine.”
“Yeah, and then we can do a CD.”
“Seriously? That’s kind of boring compared to this.”
“I don’t even know what a CD is.”
“Connection Drive
“OK. I get it.” I sat up in my bed too, looking out the window again.
“What’re you thinking about?”
“What the past was like. Why everything here is so fake.”
“I’m not fake.” She rubbed my shoulder, her hands caressing my arm.
“No, but your passion for me is. It was the problem with humans before. Before we all lived on passion and sex. Now with that gone, we live on really knowing someone and being in love. Apparently we can’t live without the other.”
“Why do you always talk about the past?”
“Because I’m Gregory McMallin. The pill I took all those years ago made me live forever.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Yes, of course I am. Who would think my name would be something as strange as Gregory?”
“Really- such an odd name. So old fashioned. But I guess so is Karl Marx of all names.”
“It’s not my real name.”
“What do you mean? We’ve been having sex and you haven’t told me your real name?”
“Sorry, it’s how I stay off the Connection. If you knew my real name, you’d wind up giving it up on the Connection and they’d know something was up. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll forgive you if you fuck me like I’m nine.”
I shuddered. The phrase would never grow on me.
I dreamed that night of dying. I dreamed of living back in the old days. I remembered the 1990s- my childhood. I would no longer live my childhood. Everyone had grown fond of other things. Technology had moved on.
“What are you doing up here?”
“Nothing Zinc. Nothing at all.” I stood on top of my apartment building, looking down at the people. Even from up there, I could select a person and read their name. This girl liked Tommy Mars.
“Why’d you call me that? You don’t ever call me that.”
“I’m leaving. This world needs something different. A shake up. You know the number of suicides these days?”
“Karl, don’t jump. This is serious, you have everything to live for.”
“I know that. I have to help people move on. Come here, I’ll show you something.” She cautiously walked over and looked over the side. “You know what happens if you try to jump? Your card will create a barrier. You can’t jump. Guns can’t hurt you. And if you take your card off while on suicide watch? It’ll zap you. And you only need one attempt to be on suicide watch.”
“Why are you telling me this? Are you going to kill yourself?”
“No. I’ve been here for many years. Our cards won’t let us. Mine is too close a replica to yours- since I copied it. Since I integrated into society. But how can we make these people see something different? How can we show that people don’t just die and get burnt to a crisp for fuel? That they need to experience life. To smell a flower, and know what life is all about?”
“I don’t know. How?”
“We can’t make flowers for them to smell.”
“No.”
“And if we tell them to smell flowers, will they listen?”
“No.”
“Here, hold this paper.” I handed her a piece of paper and took a step back from the ledge. “Now, write ‘I want you to stop and smell the roses. The red, red, roses.’”
She wrote. “What does this have to do anything?”
“We’re going to tell them to feel passion before they die. You’ve felt passion, right?”
“Yes. You and me in the bedroom. It was the best moments of my life.”
“And you have no dreams?” No one had dreams. No one aspired. It was the one thing I hated the most.
“What? I have dreams at night.” The meaning had been lost upon them.
“Then close your eyes. Dream now of the passion we had. Let your mind picture us together again. Feel our connection.”
She closed her eyes and held the paper in her hands. And as she felt it, she fell backwards. Down her body went. She wasn’t trying to kill herself. And it would be too late to realize she was falling before she hit the pavement below.
The public panicked. They killed roses. They created measures to assure no one could accidentally fall off a building ever again. And they looked for Karl Marx, but they wouldn’t find me. I would be gone again. No longer connected. And helping others let go of their connection the only way I can: through death.
“Hi Lindo, mind if I come in?”
“Uh, Karl is that-“
“My name isn’t Karl. My name is Adolf. Can’t you read my card?”
