It’s not all activism and urgency around here. I’m still working on my novels and fiction. In fact, here’s an excerpt from my newest work-in-progress, a dystopian sci-fi novel. Be sure to let me know what you think!
Subject to edits and change at any time. This is a work-in-progress. It is an incomplete draft and by posting this, I am not claiming completion or a finished product.
I need to see you; it’s urgent. The words shimmer before they dissolve into an array of scintillating pixels, then vanish entirely. As I yank my starched lab coat off, my thoughts splinter between the contents of the message and its sender, my best friend, Nahiya Winters.
Meet me at my place? I text back and tug on my scuffed-up leather jacket.
When the lab doors slide open, the chatter of my colleagues spills out, echoing against the hard linoleum. I can make out singular voices. Even individual words, though at first they’re hard to distinguish. Esteban describes which ZO he wants to go to tonight. Raquel mentions an eRave she’s been meaning to check out. Bridget simply says she wants to hit the gym before getting a cool shower.
They all have plans.
As they draw nearer, I hear Jonathan suggest a new ZO, somewhere near the corner of Lexington and 5th, near my former lab partner Fiona’s apartment. A place we can all relax at. My heart lurches at the mention of Fiona’s name, at the memory of her.
It wouldn’t be right to say she held all my secrets, but as lab partners, we knew each other more intimately than most. Then, my heart sinks, remembering the unceremonious way they fired her. Thinking back on the night at her apartment.
Our supervisors head in the opposite direction — toward their high-tier district luxury apartments and home dream theaters where they can unwind in private. And I understand it.
After a fourteen-hour shift, I don’t blame any of them for needing a zone-out experience, but the word “urgent” pumps through my veins, buzzing with needful vitality like glitterghost or mirrordust. Stimulants I don’t take but are Regime-sanctioned. “For both recreational and commercial use,” like all the advertisements say. To keep the populace awake.
Wincing, I rub my arm at the site of the pinprick where the staff nurse injected me with the most updated formulation of the energy booster shot. Even though it was practically half a day ago, I’m still sensitive to the pain. At least the high hasn’t worn off yet. As I sanitize my hands and leave my station, I glance up. Just above the exit sign, the time blazes in a giant LED display: 3:23 AM.
“You coming with us?” Jonathan calls, lingering behind the rest. “There’s a new zone-out café we’re all checking out. I even convinced Raquel to skip out on the eRave scene for a change. This new place is supposed to be pretty lush. Hottest new dream downloads and everything. Wireless eyewear. Either ear surround or localized surround. The works.” His blue-green eyes pierce through the darkened hall, pleading, but I shake my head.
“Got some personal stuff I’m dealing with,” I say, shaking my head. “But thanks anyway, bro.”
Rest would be impossible, even if I were lying in the most lavish zone-out café, immersed in the most tranquil dreamscape. Jonathan looks wounded for a moment, then searches my face for further explanation. Not finding any answers, he jogs off to join the rest of the group. A hint of his bergamot cologne remains as I feel a deep sense of gratitude engulf me that he doesn’t ask any more questions.
My phone trills with Nahiya’s response: I’m already here.
Our text chain glimmers. Individual letters dance and vanish before sending me back to my home screen. I click back into my messages, but all evidence of our text message exchange has already disintegrated.
Leave a Reply