*I’ve decided to change my approach to writing. Rather than publishing another essay about the future, I’m going to release sci-fi shorts that imagine what life could be like in the decades to come. I’m not used to writing fiction, so it may take some time for me to adjust, but I think this approach will be much more promising in the end. The worlds you can imagine are the worlds you can create.
“¡Que calor! Ladies and gentleman, it’s going to be a hot one today. I heard on the news they’re expecting a high of 117 and a low of 97. Please, please, make sure as you leave your homes to celebrate the Rite today that you are hydrated and healthy. We don’t want any repeats of last year. Mary, I’m looking at you. Yeah… don’t look away, your little incident last year cost us a few hours. And you nearly gave your husband a heart attack too!” Members of the crowd chuckled as the elderly woman blushed, turned her head, and fixated on a mounted painting of a family of Neo-Pioneers releasing camels into the Austin hills. “Alright everyone, don’t forget that the neural implants are not to be activated until the final stages of the celebration begin. Let’s get this show on the road!” Leon Martinez-Kassem, standing on a short metal stool, looked out at the crowd as his final words prompted them to rapidly shuffle out of the lobby of the town’s convention center. He was a handsome man of average height with a slim, athletic build, olive skin, curly brown hair, and sharp eyes whose most captivating qualities were the concentric circles of cool moss and warm hazel that illuminated them.
Leon was the mayor of San Marcos, Texas, and as the mayor, it was his responsibility each year to plan and later oversee the Rite of Arrival for the town. It was one he cherished, though the stresses of coordinating an ever-growing population for the celebration of one of the most important holidays of the year meant he frequently missed out on the communal life he had diligently cultivated during his political tenure. This year’s Rite was particularly important because it coincided with a development that promised to breathe new life into the town— the installation of a number of small modular nuclear reactors. As the population of the area had increased, the pre-existing power infrastructure had struggled to keep up with the sheer demand that these voracious new inhabitants generated. Leon, of course, was ecstatic that the town was growing. However, he would also welcome the temporary reprieve these generators would provide from the constant questions and statements the townspeople peppered him with. More than once, an insistent citizen had followed him into a restroom to pontificate at length about the challenges the unreliable grid posed to his business. At a certain point, Leon had decided to simply allow them to vent their frustrations while he vented the previous night’s culinary experiment. His pursuers would typically hesitate awkwardly for a few seconds, state they were late to an event, and confirm they would broach this subject with him at another time. Occasionally though, he underestimated the citizen’s tenacity and suffered through the uncomfortable eye contact that followed the witnessing of such an intimate, human moment.
Just a few more hours and I can relax. Leon was planning on taking a very, very long vacation after his work with the Rite came to an end. Until then, though, he would be up to his neck in urgent tasks. As the few remaining people filed out into the blistering Texas heat, Leon passed through the double doors centrally located on the back lobby wall and set out to find the office in which he had left his work equipment. He needed to run through the ceremony once more with his staff. Upon entering the office, he grabbed his backpack from the desk, opened it, and pulled out a stylish virtual reality headset that fit comfortably on his head. Long gone were the days in which these once clunky devices had served as the most effective barriers to sex known to the human race. Now, they were symbols of refinement and creativity. In fact, Leon felt his job would be nearly impossible without his trusty headset. He could use it to rapidly simulate upcoming events, thus allowing him to make effective, real world modifications to them based on the things he and his team learned through their sessions. Leon activated the headset and waited for the simulated environment to boot. A four second beep informed him that he was being joined by a staff member.
“Good morning, Mayor MK! How are you feeling?” asked a happy, disembodied voice.
“I’m doing well.” replied Leon. “Is this Jonathan? It’s always so hard to tell through the audio system.”
“Yes sir, it’s me! Here, my avatar should appear in just a second.” Slowly, the figure of a blonde, bearded, young man with a round face materialized before Leon’s eyes. Jonathan was a talented professional, though his eternally cheery attitude occasionally proved to be too grating on Leon, especially during busy times. “The simulation gallery should also materialize any moment now.” As Jonathan finished his sentence, a vast corridor appeared before Leon’s eyes. It was generally poorly lit, though the walls a few meters above the ground displayed vibrant holographic vistas of different cities into which figures entered and from which figures were often ejected violently and— Leon might add— humorously. The gallery creators must have been old Super Mario fans, he thought in amusement. Thousands of virtual avatars walked up and down the corridor on either side, conversing in languages from across the world.
“Well sir, shall we make our way to our designated sim-room?” asked Jonathan.
“Yeah, let’s get this thing going. We need to be done here by ten. I have to run a few errands before we start the Rite tonight. By the way, where is everyone else?”
“They’re, uh, dealing with a minor issue that popped up this morning…” replied Jonathan hesitantly. Visions of broken bones, lost pets, potholes, and angry schoolteachers flooded Leon’s mind.
“What happened?” He sighed as the words escaped his lips.
“Well, the truck that was carrying the last parts needed to activate the reactors broke down in Dallas. They’re driving there now to bring them back so they can be installed before the Rite.” Leon reflexively facepalmed himself and, in doing so, smacked the headset further into his nose, prompting a cry of pain and surprise.
“Are you alright, Mr. Mayor?”
“Yes, Jonathan. I am alright. Just keep me updated on the situation.” Leon didn’t have any more time to think about his staff’s quixotic excursion. The two men then navigated their way to the entrance of their sim-room and plunged into the vista showing San Marcos’s town square. They were experiencing this simulation in the first person, but Leon needed a better view for the final few rehearsals. “Activate God Mode,” said Leon. Suddenly, his view shifted and he was looking down upon the town square. Two freakishly large, white-gloved hands floated menacingly above the virtual San Marcos. “What is this? Jonathan, what did you do? Why does it look like this? What are these hands?” Beyond making him extremely uncomfortable, the gloved hands were a goofy, jarring addition to what had been a very realistic and pleasant simulation.
“Mayor MK, you asked me to mod it this way. You said it reminded you of your father.” responded Jonathan in a puzzled tone.
That’s right, thought Leon. I asked him to mod it this way because it reminded me of when I used to play Super Smash Brothers with Dad. It’s The Master Hand and The Crazy Hand.
“Oh, I must have been distracted.” replied Leon, diverting the conversation towards another topic. “Anyways, let’s just get started. Activate the Arrival sim. Let’s accelerate it to five times standard speed.” The simulation quickly came to life. Most of the avatars had no features beyond general sex characteristics, but a few looked suspiciously similar to actual members of the community. None appeared to be moving at an accelerated pace. “Why is the sim still at the default speed?”
“Oh well, sir, you also asked me to mod that part of the sim.”
“So, what am I supposed to do to get this thing to work?”
“You, uh, have to give a couple of these avatars a flick on the, ahem, behind with the hands. And not just any avatars; you asked me to limit it to a few specific cases…”
The memory replayed itself in Leon’s mind. In a rare flash of blind rage prompted by a stressful string of encounters with community members, Leon had commanded Jonathan to reconfigure the sim-room so that he might enjoy a few small victories against the hordes of bored, overly-involved retirees who stalked the grounds of city hall.
“Ah, I see. Thank you for doing that Jonathan. I suppose we should get started then, no?” He eyed Mr. Lin from afar.
“I should also mention that you told me to configure the system so that each flick speeds the sim up by another .25x.”
But Leon wasn’t really paying attention to Jonathan anymore. He was chuckling to himself as he slowly formed OK signs with the monstrous hands and descended towards the virtual plaza. The programmed Mr. Lin caught a glimpse of the approaching hands and let out a yelp in simulated fear. Whack! Contact was made finger to cheek, something that would have been impossible in a few of the major sims of the past. The poor program was bumped into the air, walking at a slightly quicker pace when the virtual gravity pulled it back down. Leon was now fully invested in his petty vengeance.
“Audi famam / illius / solus in hostes ruit” he sang to the old Smash Brothers theme, oblivious to the look of horror that had crept onto the young Jonathan’s face while his superior maniacally flicked away at old Mrs. Washington and the Wagner twins. After a few more minutes of toying with the sources of his torment in the real world, Leon’s revenge was sated and the sim was moving at the desired speed. “Alright Jonathan, I think we’re ready to begin. Let’s make the following adjustments…” It took them nearly an hour and a half to run through the sim enough times for Leon to feel prepared for the Rite. He was now confident that the ceremony would be a success, even if the final parts needed for the reactors didn’t make it in time to San Marcos. “Let’s get out of here Jonathan. And it goes without saying that this sim is our secret, right?”
“Yes sir, my lips are sealed.”
To be continued…