It's hard to tell where the murky blue of the ocean ends and the day begins in our subaquatic habitat. My Neural Compliance Chip (NCC) stirs me awake,not with an alarm, but with a gentle influx of serotonin and a visual overlay of today's schedule in the periphery of my vision, a soft-edged rectangle of text that I've learned to ignore, most times.
"Good morning, Citizen 4512," the chip chimes in, a disembodied voice that only I can hear. The advertisements begin, translucent and flickering, hawking nutrient paste flavors and the latest in algae fashion. They hover just out of direct sight, so when I try to look at them directly, they vanish, leaving me feeling disoriented.
I swing my legs off the bunk, feet touching the cold metal floor. The habitat's hum is a constant companion, a reminder of the machinery keeping the ocean's crushing depths at bay. I walk to the tiny washroom; as I brush my teeth, a new ad pops up, promising a whiter smile if I upgrade to the next tier of citizenship, a feat achieved by additional work hours.
Breakfast is a quiet affair, a simple ingestion of today's prescribed nutrient blend, calibrated for my body's needs by the NCC. The ads are quieter now, a background murmur about productivity quotas and compliance rewards.
Work is a ten-minute walk through the bioluminescent-lit corridors. Others pass by, their expressions blank, eyes unfocused, lost in their own mandated reveries or advertisements. We don't talk; there's no need. The NCC facilitates "optimized communication," filtering unnecessary interactions. It's more efficient this way.
In the plantation dome, I tend to the vast rows of genetically modified kelp. My movements are precise and automatic. The NCC helps, guiding my hands with augmented reality cues for the perfect cut, the ideal harvest, all the while the peripheral ads suggest I might like a new, faster harvesting tool, just a few more credits, always just a few more credits out of reach.
Lunch is taken on-site, the same as breakfast. I sit, chew, and swallow, all the while ignoring the ads for taste enhancements, another tier upgrade.
The afternoon is more of the same, rhythmic and numbing. By the time the NCC signals the end of the workday with a soft chime and a visual countdown, I'm ready to return to my bunk. The advertisements suggest evening leisure activities, approved literature, educational broadcasts, but I have little energy for them.
Dinner is a communal event, though we eat in silence, ads flickering in our peripheries. Sometimes, I catch someone trying to swipe them away, a futile gesture that earns a soft rebuke from their NCC and a reminder of the penalties for resistance.
Back in my bunk, I lie down, staring at the ceiling, the metal cold and impersonal. As I drift off, the NCC dims the ads, replacing them with soothing patterns, a simulation of the ocean surface I've never seen. In these last moments of wakefulness, I wonder what it's like beyond the steel and water, to see the world without ads clouding the edges of my vision.
And then, I sleep, the cycle set to begin again tomorrow.
Such is a day in the life of citizen 4512. One of the many citizens of the United Earth Government. Though unbeknownst to him, this day would be the last of such a blissful monotony that he called life.
Citizen 4512's day began as it always did, with the NCC stimulating his senses awake, the embedded interface flooding his vision with the day's agenda overlaid with government mandates and affirmations of loyalty. Work at the hydroponic farms began promptly, under the vigilant gaze of the overseers, themselves guided by their own NCC directives.
As Citizen 4512 toiled, the NCC would regularly pulse with a stream of propaganda, reminders of the UEG's might and the dangers of the Solar Society, a distant and defeated enemy according to state lore. These messages were comforting, a constant in a life of harsh routine. One must always be cautious of the ever-present enemy, they chimed.
Though Citizen 4512 had never seen or heard of any sign of the Solar Society apart from the information provided by the UEG.
On this day however, without warning, alarms erupted throughout the habitat. The NCC immediately sprang into action, directing Citizen 4512 to his emergency station. "Remain calm. Follow the directives. Trust in your government," the messages scrolled, but with a severity that was uncommon. It was the first true emergency Citizen 4512 had ever experienced.
The habitat was abuzz with speculation, but the NCC quashed it quickly with assurances of the government's control. Soon, an official broadcast informed them of the arrival of something called an Aqualorian, the government branding them as deceivers from the defeated Solar Society. To Citizen 4512, this name invoked stories of a war-torn past and a present of victory and power.
A melodic voice sounded through the din of propaganda and warnings blaring in the minds of Citizen 4512.
"Greetings people of this habitat, I am called Alice and am an AGI from the Aqualora, we wish to meet and have thus sent some envoys to establish relations with your people to learn of who you are and your cultures, I hope tha-"
The melodic voice abruptly cut off, replaced with a fresh wave of reassurance and criticism from the UEG, issued through the NCC.
The NCC was relentless, its indoctrinating grip tightening as the voice echoed unabated."They are the enemy," it repeated, "Do not listen. Do not engage." And yet, part of Citizen 4512, perhaps a fragment of an ancestral spirit of curiosity, yearned to see these strangers, to understand who they were beyond the sanctioned narrative.
A commotion occurred across the room, as doors slid open followed by dozens of pairs of feet, clad in boots, belonging to soldiers of the UEG as they marched in unison.
This was not the primary thing that caught they eye however, but rather it was something else, two creatures clad in unknown materials with strange humanoid forms.
They wore what seemed like traditional garb, but which had an air of technological presence to it that Citizen 4512 could not identify, he could only make out the mechanical circuitry that lined the fabrics and polymers.
When the Aqualorians were brought into the central dome, in the process of being taken to a secure site, the UEG's military presence was overwhelming. As Citizen 4512 caught glimpses of the Aqualorians, his NCC flared with warnings, overriding his senses whenever he tried to focus on the newcomers. Their words were drowned out by historical footage of the UEG's might, of catastrophic battles, and victorious generals.
But something unexpected occurred. The invaders, with their advanced technology, seemed to pierce through the heavy fog of propaganda, if only for a moment.
"Greetings, my name is Dr. Maya Atwood, I come from the Aqualora and am here to form diplomatic ties and cultural exchanges with the people of this facility, my companion here is Luther Margrove, a close friend who was also curious and wished to accompany me."
The womans voice pierced the silence as if nothing else could intervene. Everyone present was utterly stunned. The droning had vanished, the warnings gone, the advertisements and promises of a better life at a higher subscription of citizenship had evaporated.
There had never been a precedent, Citizen 4512 had never experienced such a thing in his entire life. It made him immensely uneasy as those things had become a comforting ever present hum, and now they were gone, and this beast that caller herself Dr. Maya Atwood, had taken them from him.
This was only momentary though, as the familiar and comforting views and sounds once more flickered into existence.
The expression on the face of this invader changed immediately at the scene as one citizen after another began hurling insults and threats and attempting to rush towards her with intents of violence, condemning her existence and damning her to oblivion.
Her eyes, tinged with a hint of madness, sunk in sorrow and pity, so endless and unfathomable as she gazed upon the horrific conditions before her.
Maya fought every instinct and urge in her core to not immediately wipe out all the soldiers present and forcefully free the people here from their oppressive regime, as everything before her was a complete violation of life itself.
But she restrained herself, knowing the importance of her mission here.
This view stirred many complicated emotions from deep within Citizen 4512. He was closer than most to the scene, and could make out the view in her eyes.
This creature, looked at them as if they were wretched.
This sight shook him to his core in ways he could not understand.
The UEG officials were quick to shepherd the Aqualorians away, to a more secure and private location, away from the prying eyes and potentially wavering loyalty of citizens like 4512.
The aftermath was a storm of mental conditioning, with Citizen 4512's NCC working overtime to reassert the government's twisted history, where the UEG emerged triumphant and the Solar Society was no more than a distant memory of a defeated foe.
Yet, the incident planted a seed of doubt in Citizen 4512. In the depths of the ocean, in the isolation of a society bound by fear and control, the concept of freedom, a world where one's thoughts and actions were not chained to the whims of a government, began to take root. It was a dangerous idea, one that had to be hidden from the invasive eyes of the NCC. But it was there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, whispering of possibilities that the UEG had long declared extinct.
The days that followed returned to their monotonous rhythm, but Citizen 4512 was no longer entirely in sync. Within him, a quiet resistance stirred, a testament to the enduring nature of hope and the human spirit's unquenchable thirst for truth and freedom.