IT ALL WENT LIKE KLOKWORK

ARRIVAL

You didn’t klok out.

I know. I see that...

You MUST klok out.

I know. I’m sorry. What happens now?

It is reported. Your fund has been klokked for 5,310 Ks.

Good day. Believe the future will be better!

This last was the automatic end response of all MEKS. But no one believed in it any more.

The MEKS were the solution when economic growth ended along with faith in the system. It was no longer possible to afford human beings for any regular task except when an intimate engagement was involved.

I cursed. I had used the machine, entered my data as best I could and had thought the out-klokking was automatic. Clearly it wasn’t. Why had I done it? I’d been exhausted after my arrival and the mind-massage was exactly the thing I’d needed right then.

Now my limited funds were more limited still. Curse the fund!

I made my way to the nearest pod-hotel and slept as best I could by putting my plans on mental hold and allowing the scent of the pod to lull me gently to sleep.

DAY 1

The gentle massaging at my feet woke me.

I klokked and left, checking the remaining balance on my fund as I did so.

The streets were MEK-heavy. They received the power they needed instantly, a power we seemed to have little access to now. The rationing was having its toll on all of us. The strain on our nervous systems was becoming intolerable as relaxing time was reducing, even as free time increased. With 90% surplus to requirements, little to nothing to do and limited power access we were becoming increasingly fractious.

Across the street a youth was being queried. A slim-style MEK had one wiry arm on his shoulder and it was clear the boy’s intention was to escape its grasp. I did think of intervening, but thought better of it. To bring attention to myself again as I had done the day before would be very unwise.

Get a coffee my mind told me. Sit down. Feel the sun on your face at a table outside and chill.

I agreed it was a very good idea and scanned down the sunny street for a café.

The French Dream Café appeared to be just what I was looking for. A soft breeze gently brushed its blue and white striped awnings above suitably ornate chairs around several round wooden tables.

I sat at one table in full sun.

A serving MEK that had a distinct human look appeared as soon as I sat down. She had a tolerable resemblance to a French waitress or maid, frilly lace blouse, black skirt and old-fashioned hairdo.

Bonjour. What can I bring you today Sir?

I ordered coffee and two warm croissants.

Immediately Sir!

Crossing my legs and bending my head upward toward the sun I did my very best to calm my fevered thoughts. I breathed in deeply.

It must have been my relaxing my mind that did it but thoughts then suddenly came unbidden to my opened mentality...

I wanted to stop them. But then, curious why they had risen... I relented.

The bombing was relentless. Hour after hour it continued. A hail of gunfire, the crash of some nearby object disintegrating. Screams in the distance.

The floor smelled wooden where the tiles and carpets had been torn away. My nose was right up against it and the smell of that real wood irrationally reassured me. I felt the bond of the natural to natural. At least I hoped I had retained something of the natural... I was so far gone I couldn’t really be sure any more. I splayed my hands on the wooden floorboards pushing away the ragged edges of carpet and pieces of shattered tile. Something organic seemed to pass between us. Of course it was only a delusion, a fancy as it had been called in earlier days, an act and emotion conjured out of total desperation. I wanted to cry. But no tears came.

I looked up from my position splayed on the floor. The cracked and broken windows shone fleetingly then darkened, tiny glints of spectrum radiance appeared momentarily where shards hung on broken edges. These caught my eye reminding me of almost identical tiny spectrums I’d seen when I peered sometimes, lying on glass up toward the warming sun of summer. Then a tear or two did come to my eyes though they did not emerge from the two pools where they sat... waiting on some further grief.

The waitress brought my coffee and croissants and so roused me from my reverie. She made a small homage of a bow as she left, saying, “Que vous puissiez vous réjouir dans le bonheur. Croyez que l'avenir sera meilleur!” as she did so.

I sighed. Then sipped. Then, taking one of the croissants I felt the soft warmth of it in my hand, then brushed it against my cheek briefly as it felt so delicious before taking my first bite. That old sensation of tearing up was stimulated. I looked for the reason. Ah yes... it reminded of warm, smooth female skin, that distant and all too poignant, painful memory.

Perhaps it was better to be a MEK. To feel nothing but the electronic impulses that determined action and input data. Perhaps... but I was not quite so far gone. Not yet. I was human. Wasn’t I?

Finishing the last few dregs of what had been an excellent simulation of coffee I klokked and left. I looked back briefly as I went. She was standing in the café doorway. Whether she was attempting to or not I thought I detected a quizzical look in what were a very fine pair of rather beautiful artificial eyes.

A few humans were evident here and there. Quite few really. Considering 90% of the human population had nothing to do this was quite rare. It was a curious novelty and I enjoyed the feeling of a larger space around me. Ahead two large trees created an aura of shadow within which three benches circumnavigated. Only one was occupied. An elderly man with a full white beard sat on the bench facing me as I walked toward me. A wooden pipe was in one hand, his other lay relaxed on his thigh. He looked disheveled, but not at all dangerous. As I approached he smiled. I took this as an invitation and sat down on the bench, keeping some distance between us.

A fine day.

A fine day, yes. Indeed it is.

You’re a stranger here I’m guessing?

I am, arrived yesterday.

He nodded, brought his pipe to his lips and lit it.

We sat in silence a while. A MEK traveled down the center of the street, its head rotating slowly from side to side. When it disappeared into the middle distance he spoke again.

You will need assistance in your task.

I was startled, but did my best not to show it.

I don’t know what you mean.

He nodded, took a puff of his pipe.

I waited.

He turned the palm of his free hand.

On the little finger I saw it. The tiny representation of an acorn.

Before long we were inside a small hut well hidden behind a tall apartment building several blocks from the main street where we had met.

The old man pulled out a drawer in a cabinet at one corner of the hut and withdrew a shiny metallic object. It was quite small.

This is your assistance he said, with a serious expression flitting suddenly across his face.

Do it soon. Be careful. But above all else my friend, be certain.

DAY 2

Of course I knew what to do. And I knew also that I could not be sure of security for long. So much was klokked now. Each avenue of experience, each movement, every interaction. Every expenditure of energy measured. All calculated and cross-referenced inside the fund.

The plan of the cityblok was known to me. Within the wasteland there were several known to us. After the war the ratio of wasteland to cityblok rose rapidly as resources fell inexorably.

The vast areas of abandoned infrastructure between citybloks would never be subject to restoration. No energy of any kind existed that could sustain them. All that was, was here. And all that was, was managed by the MEKS.

I knew my target, but I also knew I could not be obviously seeking it. Yet at the same time I could not afford to waste any time. To be tardy would mean my data would be cross-connected and the threat-signals would build within the system.

It was rectangular. A vast rectangular block of shining metal. It lay at the exact center of this cityblok, the central cityblok of all citybloks. The Hub.

I realized with a sigh that this was the moment. I had taken this on and so I must see it through. Come what may I told myself.

There was the periphery array ahead. A green laser-like sheen.

The device I had been given by the old man had multiple devices within it.

I knew them all in intimate detail from my time in training.

Before my approach I had initiated the cloak. My fingers sweated a little and my pulse I was sure had quickened as a surge of adrenaline pumped through me.

On approach to the array my fingers moved to the location required to penetrate it. I could not avoid my breathing becoming harder, matching the heightened beating of my heart. But yes, it worked. I was through.

I came through in similar fashion the entryway. Inside was the grand construct designed to maintain our lives. Those who had created it long before had meant well. Our world was shattered. They saw how it would be. No return to anything approaching sustainability. No return to anything approaching normality.

But it was all too clear now that surviving was not enough. Mere survival kills as surely as any war. We were dwindling before our eyes within ourselves, in spirit. No challenge engaged us, only the monotonous obedience to the klok.

It was time to turn everything back.

It was time for raw survival to ensue in the hope that a better future COULD be believed in.

There were no MEKS here. There was no need for them in this place. They would only arrive if some malfunction threatened it. Some, circuit needing replaced. A megabank requiring an update, a supplementary unit requiring installation.

The device would perform its function in any location, however centrally placed would ensure its maximum effect.

Placed within its heart I made the activation. With no way to leave I simply waited the few seconds entirely satisfied I had accomplished my life task.

In those seconds my mind relayed a few more images to me.

I rose from the floor, silently thanking the solid wood of the boards below me for their comfort.

Making my way to the windows of my home I looked out on a scene of utter devastation.

Buildings that were wrecks of blackened concrete and steel hung in weirdly distorted angles, streets mangled, torn, blasted forms, no element of normality remained. Except one.

In the far distance stood one mighty oak tree. Untouched.

As my eyes reached her it was then that the floods of tears that had been locked inside me for so long, finally began...