In the hot morning rain I drove up to the Moroshkova Tower. From the middle of Dagenham Dock Avenue, the place was visible in the blink of an eye: the ninth floor shimmered green and opal in a long, repeating rhythm. Nothing unusual.
The lobby was quiet and deserted, just like everything now. On the ninth I passed and entered the office. The staff shimmered in their nooks and crannies like the wings of a hummingbird, their faces turning back and forth with each peak of the wave. Some were translucent – always a bad sign. I checked the manifest. Cell 18 was the concentration point. First I would calibrate the wavefronts. Then wrap the firewall around the entire mesh and –
The occupant of cell number 18 stared at me, his mouth clenched in worry. Hair, skin, face – she was the same person as me. Neither of us said a word. I don't know who was more surprised.
“Are you doing auditing?” I finally succeeded. – Or did they leave someone behind?
She looked like my aunt. Her lanyard said “Pam Dewsbury.” “Did they… did they send you to remove me?”
I pointed to my badge. “Travis Ovis, maintenance man. Where's number 18?”
“I'm number 18.”
I've heard enough. I said, “That attitude won't help you. Don't you know about the time bomb?”
Pat laughed sadly. “That's right, a time bomb.”
Just to make sure she understood, I explained what a time bomb was.
*****
Opinions are divided as to whether the population time bomb theory has any real validity. It's quite simple. Within a few generations, the birth rate falls below replacement level, and an economic crisis follows. Presumably. Growth is everything.
Read more science fiction from Nature Futures
Hence the government initiative. Multiplying citizens without any complications; expansion of the horde; get to the first floor. Call it what you want. Invent people to the nth degree – Social Security, tax codes, even birth certificates – and send your children out into the world. In this case, to the Cloudberry Tower, ninth floor.
And so it happened. And the pesky rules that say these citizens without sin must at least be physically present? The vested interests that pushed them through Parliament are themselves driving holographic technology. Of course they do. The cost of renting their services is approximately equal to the salary of beginners. This way everyone is happy.
Everyone except Pam. “Oh, I know all that,” she said. “Then I can tell you. My son Ned helped me. I think people like him used to be called hackers. Now they call them data assistants. When we all learned about the new directives, I asked him to consider alternatives.”
“He suggested UBI?”
“You think I want to spend the rest of my life on a universal basic income?” Her concern turned to righteous anger. “I play online games every day so some think tank can extract data about my neural responses, no thanks.”
I couldn't waste time arguing about it. The inhabitants of the neighboring booths acquired an unpleasant crimson hue. “Look, if you don't get caught for trespassing, they'll arrest you for obstructing growth projections. What are you even doing here? Probably moving files around. Don't you rather have somewhere to get into?”
She was trying too hard to look innocent. “Someone has to water the plants. What about you? Maintenance will soon be automated.”
I doubted she was wrong. I saw holograms in the backs of taxis, in the windows of ice bars, on park benches, while their accompanying spotlight drones hovered silently overhead. It seemed that the time bomb problem was already close to being solved. Tech companies will simply have to watch out for runaway inflation. You don't want wages to exceed production.
I changed my tactics. “You see, this is fraud.” The crimson shadow surrounding us became deeper. “I'll have to report your presence. Besides, you're disrupting the transmission.”
She turned to her desk and ran her fingers over the touchscreen. “Let me show you what Ned discovered. It's Travis Ovis, right?”
The face floated to the surface. A cold lump formed in my stomach. There was no denying it—the face was mine. I never knew I looked so good in blue.
“There’s one for everyone,” Pam said. “Here they sit and wait until our overlords decide that we are all completely expendable. Ned believes that their voting rights will even be revoked.”
