The lights came on with a soft hum, bathing the entire room in artificial radiance.  Illuminating walls of grimy monitors and a floor covered in yesterdays clothes, the remains of yesterdays dinner and faint traces of yesterdays company.

The monitors came to life next.  They switched on as though stimulated by the spread of the light.  As the fluorescent rays spread outward, devices awoke in every corner of the room like the varied animals of some far of savannah heeding the suns call to a new day.

“Good morning and welcome to the Early Show here on Channel One!  It’s a beautiful Tuesday morning here in So-net City….” said a man in a bright pink suit with overly white teeth.

Noah Wells sat up, flailing one arm blindly in the direction of the wall of monitors.  He fumbled around on the floor beside the bed, digging through a pile of clothes to find his alarm clock.  It was 6:03.  He brought his hands up to his face and let out a pained groan.

“Volume five.” said Noah through his hands.  The monitors adjusted their volume accordingly.  He would have preferred to set it to zero, an option which was lamentably absent.

He crossed the room to his sink and toilet.  Looking at himself in the mirror, he decided he needed more sleep.  He pulled at his face, twisting it this way and that and trying to ignore the small image of the Early Show’s presenter in the top corner of his mirror.  To his dismay, his face returned to its previous haggard shape.

He sorted through a second pile of clothes, selecting the least creased pair of jeans and a grey shirt and putting them on.  He gave himself one last look over in the mirror before opening the door and stepping outside.  The door swung closed behind him. The lights and monitors switched off and the room was silent once more.

Outside, a floating billboard sailed past bearing the So-Net logo and a list of average humidity and temperature levels by floor.  In the narrow streets he passed by commuters on their way, much like him, to their jobs.  A group of school children walked past him, tapping away furiously on their phones.

He waited for the elevator with the usual group of strangers.  Some were going up, like him, to administrative offices and content studio’s, some down to factories and hot houses.  The admins carried take out coffee from Net Caf, So-Net’s own brand cafe.  The factory workers wore stained overalls and tired expressions.

Noah got off on the 45th floor, an admin level.  He left the labourers and the elevator behind and made his way through the web of narrow streets towards the content studio where he worked.  On all sides he was beset by neon signs for So-Net, floating billboards for its coffee brand, and animatronic window displays for its various brands of convenience food.

No other company was represented, of course.  So-Net had built this city, they reserved the right to monopolise its various markets.  The social media giant had been a late entrant and one of only three survivors of the so called Social Media War of the last century.  So-Net city was a captive audience.

The city’s economy ran on “Votes”.  Each citizen was given the option of up voting or down voting any other citizen in a number of different areas including job performance, interpersonal skills and friendliness.  Votes translated into tangible mobility within the verticality of the city.  More up votes allowed you to move to a higher floor, which in turn meant a higher quality of life.
Noah’s job was to generate content.  From his tiny cubicle in the content studio, he thought up witty one liners and contemplative motivational quotes, submitted them to his supervisor for approval and then released them onto the So-Net pages, where millions of residents would see them.  Some would down vote them, some would up vote them, most would have no opinion of them and not vote.

At exactly mid day, Noah broke for lunch.  He purchased a sad looking sandwich and a company branded energy drink from the vending machines nearest his cubicle, returning there to eat and spend his allotted hour sharing other peoples content, up voting and down voting in hopes of inspiring others to do the same for him.

Noah’s colleague in the next cubicle over stuck his head around the dividing board for a chat.  His name was Mark, the two were on each other’s White List. As close as you could get to having a genuine friend.

Mark worked in Viral Marketing.  His job was to find or create the next great trend.  He created in jokes, started hash tags and promoted online petitions in an effort to draw the masses to something new and profitable for the company.

Just before the end of his lunch break, Noah received a mail and an up vote on one of his one liners from Sarah.  She worked one floor below him in Targeted Advertising as a Data Processing Clerk.  Noah had been involved with her for over a year.

“Meet up after work?  Dinner at Socio?” read the message.  Socio was a restaurant.  Like everything else in the city it was company owned.  It was a middle of the road place.  Not five star status, but a definite step up from Smiley Burger.  There was a Socio in the recreation plaza on this floor.  He hadn’t seen Sarah for a while, it would be good to see her again.  He typed a quick reply and went back to work.

At the end of the working day, Noah picked up his coat, said good night to Mark and clocked out.  The machine on the wall reminded him that he still had four hours of mandatory screen time remaining for the day.  He would have to make sure the screens in his room were on for another four hours, or risk a fine from the monitoring commission.

Back in his room he frantically cleaned away the piles of clothes and old food cartons and found some smarter clothes.  The screens were on, showing a glamorous looking woman and an average looking man conducting an interview with some pop star or other from the upper levels.

As he dressed, he thought about Sarah.  They had been introduced by a mutual friend who worked in his content studio.  She was a year younger than him, an optimistic and beautiful woman with a quiet confidence about her that he found captivating.

He practised his best smile in the mirror, brushed his teeth and pulled on a jacket.  The recreation plaza on the 45th floor was their usual date spot.  The elevators wouldn’t be too busy on a Tuesday but he still had to travel ten floors.  He gave himself one more look in the mirror and then left.

They met at the usual spot near the entrance to the recreation plaza.  She wore a figure hugging black dress, her dark hair down about her slender shoulders.  Over their meal they talked work and friends.

“So, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.” she said as they finished coffee.

He had been a little suspicious of a sudden invite to dinner after some time.  In the past their dates would end back at his room with the monitors turned down low and other things on their minds.  He had expected as much tonight, but this didn’t bode well.

“I know we haven’t seen each other for a while.” she said “And that’s because I’ve been doing a lot of thinking…”

“About what?” he asked.  This was beginning to feel like a break up.  He could handle the idea but the reality of it might be a little messy.

“I think we should apply for a co-habitation license.” she said.  He said nothing for a long few minutes.  They eyed each other warily, the easy confidence once etched on Sarah’s face turning slowly into offence.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that…” Noah said at last.

“What?!” she exploded.  “We’ve been messing around for over a year!  Not ready?  Only interested in one thing is more like it!”

She stood, throwing her napkin on the table and, snatching her bag from the back of her chair, made for the door.

“Sarah wait….” he began.  She looked back at him over her shoulder, her brown eyes filled with smouldering contempt.  By the time he got to his feet, she was gone.  He stared at the gently swinging door for a minute before noticing the young waiter standing eagerly to attention awaiting his tip in the form of an up vote.

He went from Socio to a small bar at the other end of the plaza called the Hangout.  There, he drank until he reached the limit imposed by his up vote count.  Three hours after his argument with Sarah, he stumbled out into the main Plaza and tried to remember how to get home.

He woke to the same unbearably smug man in the same ridiculous pink suit.  His head screamed.  How much had he drunk?

“Good morning and welcome to the Early Show here on Channel One!  It’s a beautiful Wednesday morning here in So-net City….”

“Volume 5!” called Noah, cradling his head.  One of the monitors showed a blue screen with flashing white text telling him that he had twenty five new notifications and two new mails.  “Show notifications.” he said as he arrived at his sink and mirror.  The image of the presenter in the top left corner was replaced by a scrolling list of notifications.

His eyes grew wide as he read them.  Every one was a down vote.  Friends of his and friends of Sarah’s who had up voted him as a favour to her.  Twenty five down votes over night.  He had known she was upset, but this was something else entirely.

“Show mail…” he said, a sick feeling beginning to take root in his stomach.  The first mail was from Sarah telling him not to contact her again.  The second from the Monitoring Commission.  

“In light of your recent down turn in status…” began the official mail “Your mandatory screen time has been raised from 5 to 8 hours per day effective as of the receipt of this mail.  Additionally, your working week has been changed from 40 to 48 hours.  Any further downturn in your status may result in reassignment.”

“You’re watching the early show and remember, we’d up vote you if we could!” said the presenter in the background.

––
BY DAVID WILLIAMS