TAKING THE PLUNGE (1st Instalment)

Written by Ann Farmer

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Ed: Today we start a new venture – new for us but an acknowledged artform in the 19th and 20th century. That artform was the serialised novel. The novel’s instalments were printed daily. Writers whose novels were published in this format were none other than Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins. Being a small ‘outfit’, we’re taking the plunge with this short story by Ann Farmer. The instalments will be published daily – and we hope you’ll enjoy reading this short story as much as we did.

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London was so busy wrapping up the remote deal that he didn’t notice the flashing lights on his healthnsafety monitor. It was lit up like a crismuss tree, telling him his heart rate was raised, together with his blood pressure and cholesterol levels.  His virtual income was also rising, according to the financial graph. But so was his obesity rating – and his anxiety levels were also soaring. He knew he shouldn’t have looked. Time for a break.

He unstrapped the fitness monitors from around his chest and waist and removed his health helmet. Just doing that made him feel better, for although the deal was a success – he’d slashed Transnat Trading’s energy expenditure, giving them the edge over Cosmop Commerce – he knew there’d be no let-up in the pressure, and his own energy supplies were running low.

It wouldn’t be so bad if his employment station wasn’t also his living space; it would be good if there were some special dedicated place where all the colleagues could work together, but according to the chief colleague, there was no alternative to WFH. Whatever the ‘h’ stood for. Nobody liked to ask. 

The only thing they did know for sure was that they were in the throes of yet another pandemic – Covid-999, variant 666 – which began last month and looked like it would continue for another year. At least. Nobody could remember life before lockdown. In fact, life was lockdown; lockdown was life.

Of course, as Sir Douglas Atterbury was always telling them, lockdown was good for the environment, which was in the grip of climate change. And if anyone should forget, the frequent power black-outs acted as a reminder that they had only ten years to save the Planet – they were at a tipping point, and everyone had to do their bit to reduce the enormous carbon footprint. They must ‘build back greener.’ Not going out was the easiest way to do one’s bit, although with the employment stations measuring everyone’s  intake of Oxygen against their CO2 emissions, it seemed his own net contribution to the fight against climate change was minimal. He should cut down on the snacks.

But what with Amazon’s grub2you feeding package delivered directly to the feeding tube at regular intervals – ‘insect-based nutrition, kind to the Planet’ – and parcels dropped by drones, there was no need to go out at all.  

As they had discovered in their history sessions at the Local Learning Centre, after the Great Catastrophe – the vote to leave Europe, or Bregsitt – there had been the Great Rejoining. Things gradually got better and better, with the introduction of Equal Earnings and Everlasting Loans, until the Great Unification, when all Nations became truly United and Little Britain became Province 28, Region E, the World. The Learning Facilitators were rather vague about exactly when all this had happened – not least because at some point in time, time had been decimalised. But they insisted that dates were no longer important, only facts; that it had taken place ‘once upon a time’. 

At any rate, since then medicine had made such marvellous strides that Optimum Fitness was now the aim, and to achieve that aim it was best, as the public announcements put it, to ‘Stay Put’. Technically speaking, it was possible to go out, but there was such a lot of bureaucracy involved just for a quick stroll that it was just not worth it. The fuss was justified in the circumstances, however, because as the ‘Two Minute Healthnsafety’ warnings constantly reminded them, ‘one colleague infected, all infected’ – they were ‘all in it together’ – it was better to ‘stay safe’. And of course there was ‘freedom through work’.

Which was just as well, since work was all there was. Thanks to the infernet, London could connect with colleagues all over the world, but too many inquiries were made into any non-work-related contacts, not to mention healthnsafety checks on the exercise-deficient, as well as mental fitness checks on any colleague failing to access erotic therapy, to find out what was wrong with them.

Here in Liberty House they were fortunate in being able to exercise in the communal area; and that was where he was heading now, to the 14th floor – really the 13th, although for some reason that floor was missing – to the Atrium, where colleagues could watch the Big Screen for the latest newsnviews.

Also colleague information on Vital Topics of the Day – the healthnsafety updates, the latest diversity reforms, equality announcements for the modern wo-man and hu-woman, denouncements of hate, warnings about fake news and important messages from Sir Douglas Atterbury on the population issue – 95 trillion at the last count, simply terrifying – not to mention the thousands of species dying out every day, and the air quality bulletins, ranging from very bad to terrible. Not forgetting Mind Your Mental Health tips in the programme breaks between the ads.

Every apartment had its healthnexercise machine, and yet London continued to make his daily promenade because it was the only way he could get away from Alexa constantly red-flagging the obesity danger every time he accessed the chiller tube for a snack. Going out was the only way to see other people – ‘see’ being the operative word, because to be honest, it was wise not to be honest; it was wise to keep any quibbles and questions in the privacy of one’s own head. 

One had to be careful.  Not long ago, a colleague who’d pointed out a grammatical error in the healthnsafety bulletin suddenly vanished – no explanation, no forwarding address.  Just another empty apartment, swiftly occupied by another male, similar profile but younger, as would become apparent from his ready repetition of the Learning Facility lines about public healthnsafety, individual choice, equality, freedom, etc., etc. One never knew whether these new arrivals would pass on information about infractions of the distancing rules; about disregarding the injunction against two or three gathering together; about anyone suspected of harbouring hate, i.e., appearing in public with anything other than a rictus grin; about the inappropriate use of humour, i.e. jokes, especially concerning any of the above. 

All such newbies were treated by London to a vague and distant nod, whereas he felt more relaxed around anyone who looked to be about the same age as him – in their mid-to-late 20s.

Like the male colleague he’d seen for the first time a few months ago – according to the Napoleonic calendar – standing next to the air purifier. 

[To find out about this mysterious male colleague read tomorrow’s 2nd instalment.

Photo by telmo32