1,700 words.

SELF 2.0

by Matthew Robinson

CHAPTER ONE

Theseus' paradox

*bzzzt* It's 3:00am, you really should be resting. The

human body cannot sustain consciousness for extended periods of

time, and must power down for 33.33333% of the planetary

rotation.

I know, but I really need to nail this presentation for

tomorrow. How about you leave me be for a bit and if I'm not

powered down in an hour feel free to come interrupt my train of

thought again.

Anything you say... sarge. *zzrrrt*

yeah yeah, wait... what?

*zeeep* Nothing, I'll see you in 59mins.

muttering, stupid tin can, I really should take you in for

diagnostics, maybe all you need is a good initializations to,

you know, clean the pipes.

*whirs* I don't have any pipes, these are wires, not pipes

good good, maybe they'll release a new OS soon. Looking

around I realize I am now talking to myself, while my S.E.L.F.

is in standby mode. Faulty thing, I should never have bought

used.

Ace isn't new to the minimalistic life. But being employed

by the only source of SELF Archetypes he imagined their living

quarters would be less spartan.

Upon arrival each employee is assigned to a Compartment.

The companies term for living quarters. They where similar in

fashion to the apartments of the 20th century, with one stand out

feature. Square footage. The whole room was a meager 100 square

foot. Containing all the basic needs, a single occupant sleeping

pod, fold out work desk, a shower, a toilet, and mix use trunk.

Due to advances in UV-Sanitation, there isn't a need for

laundry, sweeping, or toilet wastes. Since its all company

supplied, their isn't much concern over make this space feel

like home. Home is a distant concept something people achieve

only after they retire, and settle down, once they've used up

all their good workforce years.

If the last few workalike cycles taught the company

anything. It would have to be that the human condition has some

needs to be met. On paper it seems sticking employees in the

minimal square footage legally allowed, with only the most basic

of comforts provided would fit the bill. But in practice, oh

boy. Social ineptitude bred distrust of co-workers. With nothing

of personal value in their living space, the average worker

began to feel as though there was no point in putting in their

best efforts. Which led to decreased output, and sometimes early

retirement. An approved euphemism for suicide. Approved, but

still tasteless. Legal assures us that early retirement is the

most preferred term for the company newsletter.

In the worklife cycles since, the instances of early

retirement have been reduced to a negligibly fraction of a

percent. Made possible by the 3 souvenir plan. Each employee

make bring with them 3 things to remind them of home, and remind

them they are intact unique snowflakes. Not just another cog in

the machine, selling their soul to the company store. The items

brought along must fit neatly into the UV shielded display case.

A nine inch deep by ten inch tall by fourteen inch long wall

mounted shelf fit to hold any approved curio. Common items

include pictures of family, sports memorabilia a piece of

archaic technology or model replica's of famous places.

Ace Connoly fit into the average in most things, and the

personal curio choices where not much different. On his shelf he

kept a first edition iPod, an item that was manufactured before

RoHS, Restriction of Hazardous Substances Directive, was

established. A reminder that even the most life changing of

technologies could still poison you and your loved ones.

Piercing the rechargeable battery pack was a favorite method of

assassination. Diagnosed as a factory defect. The manufacturing

company lost billions in the ensuing fallout.

Next item on the shelf was his 2nd place medal from the

regional junior year crossfit tournament. Kept as a reminder

that its easy to give up points if you let yourself become

distracted. School is a different beast these days. Along with

competing for scholastic excellence. There are no more high

school sports teams. Instead every student is put through a

daily crossfire course to build overall competency in physical

fitness. Then as the school year comes to an end the junior year

students compete in regional tournaments to be outline in their

employment file their exact physical potentials and what jobs

would suit them best based on those criteria. The algorithm for

job placement is complicated at best. Each student enters the

competition knowing the only thing worse than failing, is have

the computer analyze that they didn't exert enough effort. This

will haunt them for the rest of their careers and well onto to

retirement. Limiting their chance at finding a partner in

retirement and producing a child for a future workforce cycle.

Lastly, one Ace's shelf sits the last baseball to ever be

knocked out of the park. A family heirloom. In the final game to

be sanctioned by the federal government some distant relative of

Ace had been in the right seat at the right moment. The homer

rocketed out into the right field bleachers, and into the

awaiting mit of ace's ancestor, but that's a flashback for

another time. For right now we are discussing the baseball as it

sits today. Resting safely on the UV protect shelf in Ace's 100

square foot, company supplied, compartment. Part of ace's

nightly routine with taking the ball off the shelf, giving in a

few gentle tosses straight up into the air, then setting it back

in the shelf. In fact I'm certain that is about to happen now.

"Ok, its time for me to go to sleep. I'm starting to hear

the narrator again."

Ace stands up, and folds the chair into the desk, then

folds the desk up into the wall. With a satisfying click, ace

thinks no more of the presentation he has tomorrow and sets

about his normal routine. Removing his company supplied uniform/

speed suit. And placing it onto the UV mannequin, this allows

the sterilizing UV light get into those places where the sun

doesn't shine. Ace plods over to his curio shelf, pulls down the

protective shield, grabs the baseball with his best "fast ball

pitch" grip. Something he read about long ago and has done his

best to replicate ever since. Tossing the ball into the air a

few times, feeling the weight of it strike his hand, imagining

what it must have felt like to be his distant grand parent, the

roar of the crowd, all eyes on the ball as it left the pitchers

hand, came in contact with one of the last louisville sluggers

ever produced, arching back and to the right landing squarely in

his glove coming to a full stop from it's 50mph impact. Enough

toying around, Ace thought.

After restoring the baseball to its resting place and

securing the UV case, Ace activated the sleeping pod. Yawning

open, the inside of the single occupant pod began its nighttime

cycle. Dozens of muffins sized airbags deployed all filled to

various capacities to provide proper support of head, neck and

spine. Ace steps into the pod, Self chimes awake.

"Full moon eh?"

"What was that?" Ace asks

"Oh nothing, good to see you are finally getting into

your resting coffin, we'll start this next day cycle a little

more refreshed than before" SELF zorps derisively

"Yes, mother..." Ace retorts then after stepping in,

the pod closed its UV shielded door and the entirety of the

living compartment was blasted with a nearly lethal dose of UVc

waves to properly sanitize the living space Disintegrating

organisms within its path, like a cleansing fire.

Pioneered in the early 1900 UVc has come a long way, there

where some hurdles. Like how not to give yourself cancer with

it. Safe guards where put into place to make sure the operator

wouldn't accidentally irradiate themselves in their sleep. But

with the nearly ubiquitous use of UV-C purifiers germs and pests

are yet another thing left to the annuls of history.

Chapter 2

Biometrics steady, the display on the treadmill keeps

Rowena informed that she's still at the top of her game, 10k a

day keeps the doctors away. Internally crunching the numbers,

6mph running 6.2 miles will give her a finish time of just over

an hour an 2 mins due to the 0-6mph acceleration at the start of

the jog. Not record setting by any means, but still far better

than the average citizen. To think, there was a time that a

person would spend a whole day at home and not travel more than

1 mile on foot. 18hours of leisure time, and they couldn't take

a meager 5.6% of their day to walk, jog, or god forbid run for

an hour. Fortunately fitness became a major focus in a persons

life at an early age. With the disbanding of sports as a pastime

and the uprising of crossfire as a way of life. The average

citizen gained the tools they needed to reach practical fitness

goals, the ability to pull ones self up from a hanging ledge has

saved more lives than the total number of end zone dances

performed by the Chicago bears. Now when someone says bear down,

they are referring to the crossfit maneuver of ducking under an

assailant and exploding up and out to flip them over you and

provide you a clear path to escape. The only flaw in rowena's

plan to hit the gym for lunch, is it left her exposed in a

common area for creeps like Shiloh.

Shiloh enters the gym area, full of swagger and arrogance.