a boy and girl, who are certifiably perfect.
It’s hard living a double life pretending to support an authoritarian government, especially when it demands conformity even in personal appearance.
Passing laws to compell citizens to undergo cosmetic surgery eliminates physical blemishes but also removes individual differences.
I’m reminded of Nazi Germany with its emphasis on blonde haired , blue-eyed nordics.
I was told the aim was to produce healthier citizens but now believe the goal is to project an image of a citizenry pleasing to the regime.
I love being a primitive woman in a world full of artificial hybrids.
And as a woman and leader in this society I feel powerless to express my anger and can only watch while individual rights are trampled underfoot by these jack-booted thugs.
That’s why I posted anonymously on line on a dark web dating service seeking a primitive man wanting a primitive woman like me…
And now he’s answered my SOS and I only need to arrange a meetup. I can’t wait to see the real human being that Fate has sent me.
The following week was a blur. Every night I checked my computer wall. Privacy was almost unheard of and avoiding detection next to impossible Still, I managed to get a message through and he managed to respond.
There was hope.
I lay on my bed and dreamt. I saw the two of us living like Robiinson Crusoe in the wilderness, making a shelter and raising a family. It was a foolish hope, but it sustained me.
There was to be a huge rally in Times Square—a flash mob in support of the enhancement amendment. Everyone in my sector was expected to be there. The very thought of the charade sickened me, but I had no choice.
We all gathered at the section office and received electric badges and message projectors.
The moralistic fervor by which I took hold of my devices and brandished them would have duped a lie detector. Just as we were lining up by the elevators, I was summoned to the Section Head’s office.
My blood ran cold.
Every subterfuge no matter how well planned or executed runs the risk of being exposed.
James Merit, the Section Head, was a former security advisor and although only thirty- five, he was shrewd beyond his years. I feared him more than anyone.
“Come in and sit down,” he smiled cordially.
In the past, I deliberately avoided James for two reasons; he was very perceptive and very attractive. Were he not enhanced, I would have easily fallen for him—but his plastic smile and ingratiating charm sickened me.
But then he began the interview with a stern tone.
“I’ve been reviewing your work, Eva, and I must say it’s not up to your previous standards. In fact, looking back over the past five years there’s been a steady decline in productivity. Do you have an explanation for this?”
I wanted to smash his Ken Doll face, but instead, took a deep breath and summoned up the oily charm that always let me have my way with men.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Merit—I’ve always valued your opinion above everyone else’s—I will try harder in future.”
I cast my eyes downward and dabbed at them with a tissue. He was unmoved.
“I’ve also detected a message sent from your computer wall ten days ago—and you know what that is.”
I looked up in amazement.
“You were clever, Eva, but the technology you accessed is inferior to mine. I was the one who replied.”
My heart sank. I hated him so much; I could easily have killed him, if I had a weapon.
“What were you thinking?” he asked.
I knew it was a rhetorical question, but the game was up.
“I wasn’t thinking, James—I was hoping—you wouldn’t understand that.”
“Try me.”
“Look, just report me to the authorities. I don’t have anything more to say.”
“How could you gamble your whole future on a man you’ve never met or laid eyes on?”
My anger flared in spite of myself. “You wouldn’t understand that—you freak! You’re so caught up with your appearance and your buttery charm that the idea of being real is beyond you.”
“Is that so?”
I gave him a disgusted look and a flip of my hand. “I don’t have words to express how much I loathe you.”
“Enough to kill me?”
“If I could—YES! I hate you and everything you stand for—you petty bureaucrat.”
He looked at me with a pained expression. “You don’t like the way I look?”
“Are you insane—do you think that’s all I care about in a man?”
“What if I disfigured myself—would that make you like me?”
He turned his hands to his face and began clawing at his skin.
“Stop! Stop! Oh God, please stop! Are you mad?”
“Yes, but only for you, Lady.”
He lifted his hands away from his face, pulling away the last resinous vestiges of a polymer mask.
He spoke calmly, “As I wrote in my text back to you, I’m unaccommodated and available. Are you still interested?”
I began laughing hysterically—and crying too. I don’t know what it was—a shock perhaps, or a release from stress, or both—who knows?
He began laughing too. We sat there in his office, tears streaming down our faces laughing. He turned on the wall screen showing the Times Square rally and we laughed some more.
Finally, he got up, came over, pulled me to my feet and kissed me so deeply I almost fainted.
It’s been two years since that night and we’re married now. We decided against the wilderness shelter and opted to stay in society and prolong our silent rebellion.
He, like me, detests the system and we’ll teach our children to follow in our steps.
Congress is debating amending the constitution to provide for cyborgs and possibly at a future date, to allow robots citizenship as well.
The average citizen in the United States according to the 2138 census is 40% natural and 60% artificial.
The leaders’ vision is surely being enacted.
A new American Dream is coming into focus, and in this society liberty will be dead…
but ‘happiness’ need no longer be pursued—it’ll come with irrevocable guarantees—the government will use all available force to ensure its citizens are perfect.