Chapter 1: Prologue: Finally, Going Home!

It was the end of my workday at the office, and I felt worn out. Another stressful day, almost done. I can go home and read more fun but definitely trashy books like I always do. It feels like it’s almost my only hobby these days. Or, it’s the only hobby I have time and energy for! It had been like this for weeks, and it’s not like it’s going to get any easier any time soon.

It’s soul crushing.

No one else was at the office anymore as I was going back to my desk. Another day of overtime. It does feel like I’m being singled out, but I can’t let it get to me. That much!

Regardless, never could’ve seen things turning out this way. Just a few years ago, I thought this job was going to be fulfilling and had great prospects for advancement. I thought I took all the precautions making sure the company I was going to work for was reputable and wouldn’t abuse its employees. Great coworkers, great pay, great employers. And most importantly, fun work. What was there not to love?

But who would’ve thought, I was actually wrong. As time passed, I realized I was stuck in a dead-end job with no prospects. My workload increased regularly, but my salary did not. People kept getting replaced all the time, or just fired and their workload added on the rest of us. It hadn’t taken long for my actual job to not resemble my original job description. I should check what my current job description is sometime.

And if I complained? They’d write me up and terminate my employment, just like the others. All of it would go on my permanent record. People who’ve been marked as “problem workers” tend to stay unemployed and end up in the slums, if they can't find a worse job to compensate. I know a few people who’ve ended up like that, and that’s scary. Oh, some others managed to use their other connections to get into a better job, but that’s not a given. I'm not burnt out enough yet to take that risk.

There’s the desk! Once seated, I look at the monitor of the terminal. At least the seat is comfy, and the terminals are current.

A shallow sigh. Time to finish work for today.

I lower my right hand to the desk. The tip of my index finger opens, and cable-like tendrils come out, attaching to a port on the side of the terminal. Thanks to my augments, I could interface with the terminal directly. It felt weird in the beginning, but at this point it’s almost as normal as breathing.

As I did my work on autopilot, I couldn’t stop thinking about the bad sides of my job. Today’s been particularly rough, so I indulge myself.

How was I supposed to know it’d turn out like this? Contracts aren’t made to protect the employee; they’re made to sign the employee into the corporation. They’re more of a suggestion for the employer, and they can unilaterally change its contents if they want to. It’s common for corporations to lie about whether they rework contracts or not. It’s not something you’re taught at school. Nope, it's something you learn once you face it.

Okay, time to sign off. I disconnect from the terminal, and my index finger returns to normal. I close my eyes and lightly massage the back of my neck.

I’d love to change jobs, but that’s not really a thing I can do. It’s not just complaints that can get me fired and permanently marked. If I’d try to quit? They’d write it up as a termination and permanently mark me as well! I found this out when a few ex-coworkers told me about it. There’s no “You can’t fire me, I quit!” in real life. I’ve lost count of how many books I’ve read with that as a major point in the story. Oh, and companies won’t hire you if you’re already employed. It’s in the contract.

I open my eyes. I’m done for tonight! I quickly pick up my shoulder bag from under my desk and stand up.

I walk up to the coatrack close to the entrance to the office space and took my grey, mid length coat and put it on. Yay, it’s time to go home! A nigh childish feeling of glee comes over me. When life’s like this, you live for the small moments.

I sigh as I exit the office, thinking about my life. I'm a thirty-year-old career woman, but I look like I'm barely twenty according to my grandparents. I wouldn't know, since everyone my age and younger has had the same treatment. And I still had some hundred years of potentially mind-numbing work ahead of me. Actually, probably more. I doubt I’ll get to stop until I’m completely unable to keep going. You can’t really afford pensions in the current economy.

... Lovely. At least my grandparents were allowed to retire. Sure, they'd live shorter lives, but is that necessarily so bad in this environment? I have no idea how people can even afford having children anymore. Or find the time for them. I wouldn’t want to have kids and just put them in a generic corporate kindergarten.

It was the same with my parents. I haven’t seen them in years, but they tried their best when I was a child. They’re still working and there’s no end in sight. They got the treatment while they were adults, and it led to their minimum life expectancy going up to at least around a hundred. I couldn’t see them a whole lot in my childhood, but I’m not angry at them or anything. It’s not their fault things are the way they are. Ah well, at least we talk regularly.

A wry smile.

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Yeah. No matter what, the corporations own everything, and you can’t just say no to them.

Have to stop for the tram to go by. It looks half empty. No wonder. It’s… Around seven in the evening? It’s a bit after the worst of the rush hour, and most people use instant travel. Trams are the one other method of transport still in use. Apparently back when people still lived outside, they used cars. I’ve only ever seen pictures. Some older books mention them, too. Pretty sure they wouldn’t be great in an enclosed place like this.

There we go! Cross the street.

Ugh, massive neon advertisements. I hate them. It feels like the skyscrapers here exist just for them. I try to keep my eyes away from them, since the implants just love to give me extra information and forcibly raise the volume of the ads so I can’t ignore them. I’ve gotten used to the white noise caused by the constant ad feed, but I’d rather keep it that way. I don’t really like getting my senses assaulted by ad speak.

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t lost my eyes. At least then they couldn’t track my eyes to this extent. If you have your real eyes, you can use sunglasses to stop them from tracking your eye movement. Doesn’t work when they can see everything I see!

Oh, that also has put a dampener on romantic pursuits. Okay, normally they use algorithms and simple AIs to check on what you’re looking at so it’s not like someone’s literally peeping on you, but it’s never stopped creeping me out that someone could be peering through my eyes. It wasn’t always this bad. I used to be able to go “offline.” But they got rid of that feature some years ago, and you just adapt.

Oh, need to turn here. It’s starting to get more crowded here. I decide to put on my air filtration mask, can’t keep my distance from others here. I can’t afford getting sick. It’s the season.

Either way, as if it wasn’t bad enough that parents can’t even spend time with their kids, I’ve heard plenty about the government getting a lot more zealous about turning children into ‘proper citizens’ than they used to be. It doesn’t sound great. What happened to ‘media criticism’ and all that? I wonder if that was just a thing afforded to the well-to-do in the first place. But we weren’t that rich, were we?

Bah, it’s not like we can have now what even our parents had. I could never afford a proper home. Even two people’s salaries would never be enough. You can’t even get an inheritance anymore, so I can’t hope to inherit my childhood home. Nope. A regular person can’t own property, it’s only on loan from a corporation. It’s in the End-User License Agreement. You end up paying full price for the house, but once you die, it returns to its corporate owner, to be refurbished and resold. They’ve made us live longer, but they’ve also given us less options.

We’re all just well-educated corporate thralls, really. Nothing you can do about it, though. At least they haven’t found a way to control our thoughts yet. I shiver just thinking about it.

I let out a resigned sigh as I keep walking towards the transit point. My mood’s been kind of dark tonight. Just a little bit further.

The lights in the dome had started to dim, and the sky box had started to darken. As I understand it, this habitat was built shortly after the climate collapse. It’s all I’ve ever known. While the world was supposed to be slowly recovering, it still wasn't safe to even breathe outside. Not to mention the deadly acid rains. And the freak weather. Doesn’t sound like a good time.

People are adaptable, I guess. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for the people who had known what it was like outside to be confined in these domes. If you don’t know what you’re missing, you’re not as sad about it!

Ah, finally here! Now, I just need to wait for my turn. There’s quite the queue, isn’t there? At least a couple of dozen people ahead of me. Thankfully, it’s not usually a long wait.

Can’t wait to unwind at home. I yawn under my mask and stretch my arms. Even though my arms are prosthetic, stretching still feels good in my neck and shoulders. Time to forget about today’s problems, soak in the bath and read!

My turn! I wave my right hand over the scanner, it goes green and there’s an audible ping.

But just as I stood on the pad that had taken me home from my workplace so many times before and it activated, the machine malfunctioned.

At that point, it was already too late. My reality collapsed.