anywhere, the room was full of micro-cameras and microphones through which someone in some place who-knows-where was listening and recording.
The robot started talking again, with its calm and relaxing voice “According to the multi - bilateral, intra - intergovernmental agreements with the Continental States of Oceania, Asia, Eurafrica, Americas, Moon and Orbital, according to article six comma three, five, nine, thirteen and seventeen, the Genetical Investigation Laboratories, a wholly-owned subsidiary of FartherWorld Company, which in turn is a wholly-owned subsidiary of the investment fund NeoLife investment fund of the pancontinental corporation Aqualife, is fully authorized to access the personal history chronicle of any client, whether potential or current, who is physically present on any property of any one of the abovementioned companies.”
Fred stared at the robot, incredulously. As far as he knew, only the military, the police and a few authorized bounty hunters had the right to access people’s chronicle. Reluctantly, he rolled up his left sleeve, looking at the almost invisible scar he had on his wrist under which, at his birth, they had implanted the biomechanical chip where his existence had been recorded since that first moment. “What if I refuse?”
“I shall ask you to leave, Alfred, before I call the security, that will then call the police if necessary. May you please confirm that you object and refuse to give me your chronicle?”
Damned little biochip. If only he hadn’t seen with his own eyes the horrible death encountered by those who had tried to take it away, he would have tried digging it out a long ago as well. He sighed and then, clenching his fists and squinting his eyes, he whispered “My life will be better!”
“Repeat, please, your answer was confused and non-exhaustive, with respect to the question asked” declared the robot.
Fred nodded and gave his arm “Go ahead”.
“Thanks Alfred!”
“Fred, just Fred”.
“Alfred” confirmed the robot, displaying a mechanical smile.
Fred was so nervous he’d gladly hit it and rip away its circuits. “Let’s make it quick, ok?”
The robot firmly seized his wrist, squeezing it until it hurt “Do not move, please.” It pointed the forefinger of its other hand at the scar, moved it right and left to find the right spot; from the tip of his forefinger a thin golden needle went out and pierced his flesh until it connected to the biochip that had grown with him, getting tangled to its veins like a parasite impossible to eradicate.
A few seconds and it was all over.
All his life downloaded in an instant.
All he had been and he had ever done.
All in a few endless, superfluous, anonymous seconds.
“This way, Alfred.” the robot invited him, walking into a narrow corridor “The assigned consultant and counselor is waiting for you in Room Five.” he added, opening a door. “Make yourself comfortable, the chance of a new splendid life is going to come true, I hope you’ll be among the few lucky ones who’ll be able to be a part of it.”
The FartherWorld slogan echoed in the aseptic silence of the room as an ineluctable life sentence.
CHAPTER 2
Fred entered the, two-by-two meter room, where there were two chairs and a small desk separating them. Closing the door behind him, he saw a hanging mirror. Instinctively he looked at himself. Long disheveled hair. Unshaved beard. Stiff dark blue duster-style coat made of compressed bioplastic, under which he wore black jersey and brown trousers. He stared into his own dark eyes surrounded by deep dark circles “I look like one of those zombies, damn!”
“Welcome Alfred!” suddenly exclaimed a bright and joyful voice over his shoulders.
Fred turned and he faced a low-quality mono-chrome green semi-transparent hologram of a chubby man dressed in the typical large suit of the executives. “Fred, just Fred, thank you”.
“Excellent, Mr. Fred Just!” said the hologram, laughing at his own joke.
It took Fred a moment to understand it, but he didn’t laugh.
The hologram sat on the chair against the wall and gestured him to do the same on the chair on the other side of the desk.
Fred looked around before sitting down. It was normal to deal with holograms of executives or clerks who physically were who-knows-where. Security reasons, they said. Fred had never been enthusiastic about it, but it was still better than dealing with a robot.
“So, Fred, may we talk on first-name terms?” said the hologram, enthusiastic as ever, winking at him.
Fred nodded.
“Of course I can!” exclaimed the official “You’re so young, you could be my son!”
Fred didn’t answer, but he was wondering if his son would ever need to show up in place like this, hoping for a miracle.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Fred, I am Martin Arese, so tell me, young man, why are you here?” continued the officer hologram, or the hologram officer, whatever “Tired of your usual life, aren’t you? Yes, I understand you, it’s difficult to drag yourself everyday towards something you don’t like, come back home to eat something with barely a touch of plastic taste, then in case go out and drink a beerotch at the usual pub where you meet the usual acquaintances (because you can’t really call them friends, can you?) and then come back home half-dazed, watch something uninteresting on the virtual-TV, end up falling asleep on the couch and without even realising it you start it all over again, don’t you? Yes, I understand you.”
Fred stared into those translucent and transparent eyes.
He must have got that information from his chronicle, there was no other way.
The hologram raised his hands and the features of his face took on a grimace of deep regret “No, I’m not kidding you, but don’t worry if I’ve guessed right, it’s the normal life of a normal young man of your age who drags his nervous existence in this ungrateful society.”
Fred instantly got depressed, whispering “I’m nothing but a zombie too.” he told himself.
“Pardon?” asked the hologram, resuming his previous jovial tone.
Fred shook his head, motioning him to go on.
“I see you’ve already paid the fee for the genetic investigation, well; before going on, do you want me to explain you again how things are?”
Fred nodded.
“You are a man of few words, aren’t you? I like you!” exclaimed the hologram, laughing “Things are like this: now we’re doing a genetic test on you, to see if you’re fit for the drugs and vaccines needed to survive, live and work on the FartherWorld asteroids in geostationary orbit around Mars.” The image of four huge asteroids orbiting around the red planet and its colonies appeared on the wall behind Martin. “Are you following me so far?”
Fred nodded, nothing new, so far.
The hologram went on explaining “If you pass the test, and you have
