Chapters 9-10

Peter ventures outside during the daytime for only the second time in five years. He experiences the NewStateAnnualAddress outside the old abbey walls in Bath, and, at the end of Part 1 for Peter Harrison, he receives another surprise - infinitely bigger than the last.

If you prefer to listen, the audio is here too.

Chapter Nine Autumn 2034 Peter Harrison

My door shuts with an echoing bang. I pause to hear the sound. The beauty of an echo is the way it sounds not as if it is diminishing in existence, but that it is simply moving farther and farther away, as if it is a conscious spirit, moving with the wind, travelling to some far-off land, seeking the next place to be heard. I walk down my stairs slowly, sliding my hands across the soft stone of the wall, creaking the floorboards as I consciously lever from heel to toe. When I reach the front door, I type my status into the control panel on my right sleeve: ‘Wow. NSAA. Excited. SSC’. I turn to see the reflection of my status appear across the back of my emotivest in the glass pane of the building’s door. I realise that I look haggard. I am unshaven, still sleep deprived from the recent night’s running, and my shoulders sag forwards and inwards ever so slightly, stuck in the shadow of my horseshoe posture. I have been using my voice software more and more recently, but even then, the body gravitates towards the screen. Perhaps we’ll all have hunchbacks in the future.

I open the door and step out into the winter morning sunlight. The day is relatively cloudless, and the sun beams at me, though it offers little heat. I take a deep breath, filling up my lungs with the cold freshness of the morning air. And the air is very fresh. Pollution has all but disappeared since the change; whenever I breathe this fresh air I think it is like I have gone back in time: I’m smelling air as it was smelt before industry. I close my eyes for a moment and stretch my arms wide, bathing in the glory of the air and sun. I hold the oxygen in my lungs, puff out my chest, correct my posture and hold the position, imagining the cool air working its magic within me. When I finally exhale, I let my body go with the air, breathing out the toxins of silence. I open my eyes and see the air float away, white wisps melting and dispersing freely on the mild morning breeze.

I look at the patrolling EEOs and wonder if they falsify my thoughts about the genuine intentions of NewState: there were always rumours of dark rooms and flashing lights. As I turn left and take the pathway, I am still surprised by the empty roads. There are some cars dotted about, though their number plates reveal their age and lines of rust reinforce what I already know: that they are unused. In some ways the view is pleasant. The pathway and road stretches out, unencumbered and I imagine that I am simply out for an early morning stroll. Of course, the streets are empty of people too, but as my eyes adjust I make out the suggestion of someone moving ahead. I wonder whether it could be Janine, working the end of her delivery rotation, or someone else who may have been summoned to the NSAA along with me. Why have I been summoned? Why has anyone been summoned?

At the end of my street the houses turn into an iron fence, which outlines the boundary of a park. I run my hands over the cool bars of iron and look at the trees. It is overgrown, but not ugly.

I grew up on the other side of town but knew this park well as a child. My friends and I used to ride our bikes over here. There is a steep hill in the middle of the park. It is a wonderful hill that sort of pops up unexpectedly in the middle of the central common, so you can see the whole park from the top and could go up or down from any angle. If you had the legs for it you could ride up, but either way, the exhilaration of the ride down was amazing. I think one weekend I went down that hill fifty times. There’s a large pond at the bottom on the south side, so on hot days we’d race down the hillside and speed across the flat towards the pool. As we approached the water, we’d take our feet off the pedals, plant them on the top bar of the frame, careful to keep our balance, and just as we hit the water’s edge we would leap off, and dive, bomb or just flop into the deep blue. The bike would splash off to the right and we’d race to the other side.

I wish I had time to take a detour now. As it happens, I do have time, but I’m not sure I could explain my behaviour.

As I come to the end of the park, the iron fencing merges into another row of tall Georgian houses. I look in the windows as I walk past. In the past I would have seen familiar sights: bookcases, armchairs, dining room tables, families going about the daily business of family life together. But now I do not so much look in the windows as I look at them. The succession of drawn curtains reveals little of the life on the other side. But what else can it be: a horseshoe curve, a chair and the same metallic furnishings. I turn my gaze away and continue forward, breathing in the cool morning air in deep breaths, filling my lungs with its freshness.

It is fresher now than it was before the change not only because travel has been abandoned, but because for all intents and purposes NewState is now almost entirely ‘green’. Though we have a vast network of technological infrastructure to power, it is powered by wind and solar energy. A walk in the countryside now would reveal miles and miles of solar panelled fields, and league upon league of wind turbines. The entire sea coast of the country is lined with offshore wind farms: they stand tall and white, like sentries at the post. This is one aspect of the NewState ‘utopia’ with which I can find absolutely no fault.

I have never seen the ‘Solar Fields’ or the ‘Wind Guard’ in person, but the images on NewStateDiscovery and NewStateTechnology are genuinely breathtaking. It is the one great good that I see in what the NewState party has done with its power. And it was this that went a long way to legitimising the NewState political agenda. It was not clear at the start that the new culture would also destroy big business, but the change meant that money became meaningless. And because everyone has equal access to the things they desire, we have complete financial equality.

I notice the way the terrace roofs shimmer and shine as their solar panels absorb the morning sun. I may be walking slowly but I am advancing on the person ahead of me. I decide to pick up my pace in the hope that I will be able to engage them in conversation. It has been a long time since I spoke with someone in the real world other than a fellow runner. I wonder what news I may be able to glean. As I get nearer, I confirm that this person is female and is wearing an emotivest. Once I am close enough, I read her status. ‘V excited. NSAA.’

‘Hello.’ She has turned around. I did not realise I had read her status aloud.

‘Good morning.’ I reply. ‘So, you’re on your way to the address too?’

‘Yes. I’m looking forward to it, although having to walk there and make sure I’m there on time is a nuisance. It feels like a waste of time not being in. If I’d watched the address at home, I could be doing far more enjoyable things now than walking.’ She speaks to me, but at the same time also to herself, like she has perfected the art of monologue and I just happen to be nearby.

‘I see what you mean,’ I lie. ‘I wonder why they have pulled us out this year.’

‘Well, I’m sure it will be fascinating. The Annual Address is the highlight of the year and it always gets better and better. There’s so much to comment on afterwards. But I’m disappointed I won’t be able to comment live. I’ll miss so much being out for two whole hours.’ There is a hint of a whine in her voice.

‘Yes, indeed,’ I reply. People who wear their extreme views on their sleeve make it almost impossible for anyone else who doesn’t share their perspective to make any meaningful contribution to conversations, other than insincere assertion or non-committal grunts. That is, unless you want to start an argument. But then in today’s world what she says is normal. I must be careful.

‘So why have they pulled us out?’ I repeat, hoping that her partiality to gossip will draw her in.

‘Well, I really don’t know.’ She says disappointedly. ‘Do you work at all? I know most people don’t, but I do and I wonder if that has something to do with it. I work as a data analyst. I send reports in on UGCP. I only have to work for a couple of hours a day. It’s a pain really, but my aptitude means I have to do a bit of work. If I’d been born just a generation later I wouldn’t have to work: my aptitude isn’t in the top percentile, but it was different for us, wasn’t it! Those already in adulthood before the change and who were in the top thirtieth percentile are required to contribute to the maintenance of NewStateMedia. I suppose they just needed more workers to get things started. But, I only have to complete two hours a day, and sometimes I finish in one, and I only have to do that three days a week, so it’s not too bad really.’

I do not share her assessment of why those in the top thirtieth percentile at the time of the change are required to work. I believe that our knowledge of life before the change means we have the potential to be dissatisfied by the world in which we now live, and it is by making us work that we are stimulated just enough to be kept from roaring free in rebellion, and by working for the state we are also kept under closer watch. My dissidence has no hope of amounting to anything because I am reminded daily that I am but a small cog in a machine that looks and feels infinite.

‘I work in data analysis too, so there must be a connection, though I can’t think of what it is.’ Perhaps it is simply another attempt to reinvigorate our loyalty and draw us into the frenzy of the address.

‘Well, I suppose it must be to reward us then. To see the NS leader in person is a great honour and I’ll have loads to say when I get back in about it. It comes with the burden of being out and outside for two hours, but I suppose what I miss in ‘live’ comments I’ll make up for in dishing out what it was like to see the NS leader in person.’

‘I’ll certainly have a lot to say when I get back. I’m not far up any kind of ratings but this may just get me on the map,’ I say.

‘Oh, certainly. I’m dedicated to making my way up as many rating ladders as possible. The more people that know me the better. I post in all formats as often as possible. Obviously, I consume too. There is some NSM I just can’t miss. But Consuming and Sharing are both the same thing when it comes to user generated content, which is mostly what I live on. It’s all about consuming other people’s stuff, even if that just means what they say to you in a conversation.’ She speaks matter of factly and with a hint of admiration, as if she is in awe of our online world. The hint of a whine returns to her voice as she adds, ‘Oh, let it be over soon. I can’t wait for the address, but I really can’t wait to get back in and get talking about it.’

What she is saying reminds me of something my father once said. We were on a family holiday, eating dinner outside as the summer sun was warmly setting and someone started to talk about all of the other holidays, inspired by this one, that they would like to go on next. My father interrupted the conversation and said, ‘Forget about the next holiday: this one’s not over yet. Enjoy it.’

I don’t know why this felt so important, but it has stuck with me throughout my life, and I’ve always done my best to live by it. It’s why the first time I saw Janine was so resonant. The clocks may have gone on ticking and the rest of the world may have gone on living, but I was not aware of anything other than that moment. What my father said that day taught me that life should be lived not like a movie but like a succession of great paintings – each moment painted in infinite detail, important and beautiful purely in and of itself.

When our conversation lags, I notice just how silent the world is. Even when we talk it is as if we are but a pin prick in a vacuum of silence. Our sound does not travel off, but simply appears to stop, as if it hits an invisible wall and resignedly dissolves without even the hint of a fight. I wonder if time still has the same meaning since the change. There is something about the silence in the outside world that makes it seem as though time has stopped.

‘You are a quiet conversationalist.’ The woman speaks, and her words are consumed by the silence just a little after I hear them.

‘But I suppose that is normal,’ she continues. ‘We are no longer used to this form of communication. And thank God for that. If I were inside now I would not have had to endure the silence of this one conversation. There are a thousand thousand things I could have done in the last sixty seconds, not least of all to enjoy another conversation with a better conversationalist.’

Her monologue goes on and I do not feel obliged to listen, though I hear her nonetheless. ‘Of course, I mean no offense. But do you speak more inside. I wonder sometimes if there are people who consume and don’t share. But that wouldn’t be healthy, and I suppose that is at least part of what our data analysis does. You have to root out the non-sharers, because they must be a danger to themselves.’

Suddenly the sinister rumours of dark rooms and flashing lights return to my mind. Are there silent witnesses out there? And if there are, does the regime know about them? And if they do, what do they do with them? What she says makes me wonder about the state of affairs behind the curtained windows across the country. Everyone living in their own room. Everyone in their own horseshoe. Everyone alone.

Chapter Ten Autumn 2034 Peter Harrison

As we walk, my ongoing silence prompts us to drift apart. With no reason to stay together, the woman marches on, and I am surprised to realise that I feel a loss as she goes.

As I watch her steadily move farther and farther away, I find myself contemplating what she said about the purpose of our work. ‘You have to root out the non-sharers, because they must be a danger to themselves.’ NewState has an ideology. It is primarily social and cultural and is designed to benefit the life of the individual and to mediate the life of the collective. Of course, SSC can only function if it is endorsed by political leadership because on some level, someone has to work extremely hard to enable everyone else not to work at all.

Does this mean that the state leadership is utterly selfless because they abscond from the life they desire most, to ensure that others are able to live it – a selfless utilitarianism? Or are the NewState political elite actually motivated by power, and what they have done is set up a system that enables them to live a life of power and influence, whilst everyone else is trapped in an ignorant illusion of happiness – a selfish authoritarianism? Whichever way I look at it, the words of the lady, now an unrecognisable silhouette in the distance, still run true, for even if non-sharers are not a danger to themselves, they are a danger to everyone else who wants SSC to thrive and grow.

I continue to walk at a moderate pace. I check my watch and still have plenty of time to make my journey. The road I am following begins to incline at a steep angle. As I look ahead, I have to squeeze my eyes to squinting slits as the road climbs towards the position of the still rising sun. The bright yellow rays reflect off of the road’s surface, and the glass windows of the terraces that line either side of the road light up the street in a beautiful burning blaze of golden-yellow light. The outline of the woman is cresting the incline and she meets the point where the road becomes the sun. It looks as though her faint black silhouette is walking straight into the fire, as if she is disappearing up a stairway to heaven. Her form ripples in the heat haze and then she is gone.

I find myself in awe of this beautiful ascension. I walk on towards the crest of the hill and as I reach the highest point where, from a distance, I believed the woman to be consumed in the great burning fires of the sun, I pause. I stretch my arms wide, lean my head back and turn my face up to the sun. I feel the heat of the light on my face. I roll up my sleeves so I can feel it on my arms and my pale white skin soaks it up and tingles all over. I place by hands on my chest and feel the outline of my sunrise pendant beneath my emotivest, pressing against my flesh. I repeat our runner’s mantra in my head as I take in the glory of the blazing sun and, overcome with the beauty of this moment, I proclaim it aloud, arms outstretched, face turned towards the sky.

‘We are dedicated to whisper louder and louder and MAKE MORE NOISE’

I feel a surge of anger and defiance rush through me, coursing through my veins, and I scream and shout until my throat hurts.

I open my eyes. I compose myself. And I walk on – down from the crest as the road declines towards the city.

The sun continues to shine, though it remains crisply cold as I come closer and closer to NewState Square. The city is bowl shaped, so that the centre sits below the peripheries and as I walk down towards it, I can make out clearly where I am heading. NewState Square occupies the space next to the city’s ancient abbey and I am pleased to see it. It has been a long time since I saw such beautiful things. Of course, we will not be permitted to enter the abbey itself but seeing it up close helps me to more clearly imagine it inside.

I visited the abbey many times before the change, and the sight of it now re-strengthens the memories and I can recall the sight, the smell and the sound of it. There is something about the tone of history that calms the soul. There is a peace to be felt in places like the abbey and as I gaze upon it now, a radical thought enters my mind. I am determined before I return to my apartment to have grazed my hand across the cool stone and touched it: a small defiance.

I will have to be inconspicuous. I will have to be casual. And, I suppose, I will have to be daring. I have no desire to find out if the rumours of dark rooms and flashing lights are true, but I also cannot shake the feeling that I must do this, that I must exercise my right to freely do this, this act that should cause no harm to anyone and only pleasure to myself. I resent the words the woman spoke to me, ‘You have to root out the non-sharers, because they must be a danger to themselves’. I am not a danger to myself. I live in a utopia. I am a good man. I hate this utopia. This utopia is silently, secretly and perhaps unconsciously more evil than any society that has ever existed. I will defy this utopia. I will deny this utopia. I will destroy this utopia.

I am shocked by my last thought. I will destroy this utopia. I do not believe this to be possible, but I realise that the alternative to trying is worse. What am I if I am not free? I am willing to defy this tyranny and I am willing to die. My goal is the greatest goal of all: to liberate the captured consciousness of the whole of mankind.

My first act in this new purpose will be to touch the abbey walls. If I achieve this unnoticed, then I will have struck the first blow against NewState, because it is what they do not know that is our most powerful poison and their greatest weakness.

As I move closer towards NewStateSquare, I hear the soft murmur of human voices engaged in conversation. The sound excites me, and I move more quickly towards it. I round the corner to see the square packed full of people. Everyone is wearing their grey emotivests, with variations of the same emotions plastered on their fronts and backs. Despite the mundanity of human emotion displayed, the sight of so many people congregated together in an outdoor space is shocking. I find myself not quite sure what to do.

The square backs onto the south side of the abbey, with the front entrance round to the left from where we all stand. As such, the square offers a view of the entire length of the building. The yellow sandstone still looks beautiful, despite the dirt and corrosion caused by lack of maintenance since the change. The stained-glass windows rise up triumphantly. Dwarfed at the foot of this masterpiece, I feel a deep sense of solemnity, and though I have never been a religious man, the abbey feels like a refuge against the tyranny of our confinement.

I begin to move amongst the crowd. Though we all wear the uniform of our society, I feel detached from the people whose shoulders I graze as I walk towards the front of the square closest to the abbey. As I move, I catch snippets of conversations – people excited about what is to come, hypothesising about what will be said, sharing their recent media consumption and, like the lady I met earlier, excited about sharing their experience when they return home.

I reach the front of the crowd and am disappointed to find that it does not press up against the abbey walls. There is a four-meter gap in which a temporary podium has been erected from which I presume our leader will speak. The square is not large enough to warrant it but there are two large screens either side of the podium. They obstruct the view of the abbey and will provide a larger than life representation of what is happening on the podium itself.

The screens currently display a shot of the podium, with a large timer in the centre. Ten minutes to go and counting. The crowd behind me is getting restless in their anticipation and, presumably, their withdrawal from VR and their horseshoe screens. I listen in to a conversation next to me, angling my body and positioning myself in such a way as to naturally become part of the conversation. I begin with a knowing smile and tip of my head. One man in a grey emotivest with a smiling emoji across his chest is saying,

‘Well, what do you do then? Do you do anything or are you one of the many lucky ones who only have a little rotation to interrupt your daily consumption? I’m a data analyst. I only have to work for about an hour a day, and that’s only two days a week, but, still, it does get in the way.’

‘Yes, yes. I know what you mean.’ Another man in another grey emotivest with another smiling emoji across his chest replies. ‘I know it’s all for the greater good, but I just wish it wasn’t my burden to bear. I have to contribute ideas for new programming based on consumption trends. Obviously, NewState do the real work for us, but those ideas do take time to formulate.’

‘Ah, but something to blog or message about, no doubt.’

‘Yes, well, right you are there. I actually make a thing of it. I post my weekly ideas for people to comment on and look out for – some of them are out there you know. I then use the comments to help come up with the next week’s ideas. It is a bit too much like work, but I do have a good number of subscribers, so it’s not all bad.’

I nod along and grunt my approval of what the second man is saying. As if in perfect synchronisation their eyes turn towards me, so I say,

‘Well, thanks to the hard, selfless work of those in NewState government, at least it’s only a few hours a week. NewStateInnovateandMaintain – that’s something to be thankful for.’ I almost laugh.

‘Yes, yes,’ says the second man. ‘Lucky, I guess. Very lucky.’

Before I have to think of something else to say, there is a noticeable stir through the crowd. I look up and see that the countdown is approaching ten seconds to go. The crowd falls into silence, as the timer moves through ten, then five and then down to zero. The leader of NewState appears, climbs the steps up to the central platform, and turns to face her adoring crowd. There is a deafening roar of impassioned cheering and vigorous clapping. I don’t know if it is deafening by normal standards, but to my reality deprived ears it reverberates in my mind like an explosion, re-firing over and over. Of course, in a world built around the concept of artificial online personas and a race to move up the rankings and gain as many followers as possible, our leader is a celebrity and she is idolised beyond compare. She is the brains, face and voice of NewState and her familiar face saddens me more than I can say.

At thirty-eight, she is still very young to be the leader of the most powerful party in human history. She was a young politician, who rose quickly through the system. It was incredible to see how fast her party (though she was only deputy leader at the time) known in those early days as Liberate gained popularity. Within four election cycles Liberate went from inception to winning the greatest majority known to modern democracy.

It was in those early days that the ‘Encourage and Enforce’ officers had the most enforcing to do. It wasn’t easy for those of us against the change to settle into our new lives. But once we no longer had to work and the whole structure of living moved fully online, there wasn’t much else to do but give in and join the ride.

I remember going for a walk once, not long after the change, and it wasn’t more than twenty minutes before I ran into an Encourage and Enforce Officer who very politely suggested that I had better get back home in case I missed anything important. He said ‘Oh, sir, you don’t want to be out here, people really will think that you’re up to no good. Wrong! They may be wrong,’ he said raising his arms and shoulders in the way that you do (did) when you want (wanted) to show that something is inevitably but regrettably out of your hands. ‘Yes, they may be wrong, but that won’t stop them from thinking it, and saying it, and, of course, sharing it, and then what would happen to your reputation, not to mention your rankings? No, I think it would be best for all concerned if you just went home as quickly as you can and get logged back in. That way you can have a proper share about everything. Though, I’d keep this quiet of course. You don’t want people to get the wrong idea.’

He started shepherding me away then, by subtly walking back the way I had come; my legs followed automatically, and I knew from that moment on that I had to be careful. I was aware as he guided me that his hand had lightly, but I think consciously, moved to rest on the handle of the truncheon hanging from his belt.

Our Leader’s face is plastered all over our social consciousness and she is the voice of NewState propaganda. At least five times a day, she appears on our screens with the latest news or promotional message. Expertly, her promotions never interrupt other media moments but only ever appear between them, like adverts used to do on television.

As the idol that created and sustains SSC, she is a celebrity whose every movement is eagerly sought, greedily consumed, and excitedly shared. OCES – observe, consume, experience, share.

The cheering crowd slowly subside as our leader raises her hand for quiet. She is visible to me, standing close to the front of the crowd, though I am sure that those further back watch her on one of the two great screens erected either side of the podium. She is a woman of hypnotic natural beauty. We make ourselves look as we wish online and hair, makeup, skin colour, clothing and all aspects of physical appearance range from the simple to the absolutely absurd. Breast implants are free, nose jobs are free, makeup is free. We have no currency and therefore no limit upon what our avatar selves are able to aesthetically achieve. That said, aesthetics are not as meaningful as they once were; it is words, likes and UGC that mean the most. Our leader stands tall, graceful, elegant and beautiful. I will admit that her appearance draws me in and captivates me. I remember how compelling her beauty and intelligence were when she was rising to power.

Now faced with her silent, adoring and attentive crowd, she begins the NewStateAnnualAddress:

‘Welcome, all of you. Today marks the tenth year of Socially Safe Communion Amongst Men and the NewState government elected by the people to maintain our generation’s great peace for this world. I am happy and proud to be part of something so revolutionary and so essential to the survival of the human race. Together, our adoption of Socially Safe Communion has eradicated war, hunger, division and all forms of socially unsafe ideology.

‘Today, I am reminded of the past that many of you will be lucky enough to have begun to forget. It was a past of dangerous competition, the unequal distribution of wealth, anxiety, immense loss and incessant and destructive warfare amongst the segregated peoples of the world. And today I am happy to remind us all of the safe, equal, secure and bountiful peace that SSC provides. We are the safest generation in the whole of human history. We are the most contented generation in the whole of human history. And we are the happiest and most loving generation in the whole of human history.

‘Every one of us has fair and equal opportunity to Observe, Consume, Experience and Share to our hearts content. We form powerful relationships, unhampered by the prejudices of class, wealth, appearance and status. We are a strong and powerful people. And we are the freest and most liberated people that have ever lived.’

She pauses for cheering amongst the gathered crowd and, no doubt, sharing amongst the rest of the population watching in their horseshoe screens.

I’m not sure if she is right that the old prejudices have gone. Celebrity status, popularity and fame are still the ultimate goal, but I suppose that people are so equally contented with idle and exhaustive gossip and the illusion of fame through likes, that the hollowness beneath it all is cleverly concealed. After all, when we share so instantly with so many millions of people, the odds are in our favour that someone out there will hit like.

But then, something nags at me, something that perhaps the propaganda has even made me forget to question. Are there people who are shunned by those they communicate with? Are there people who are unable to create UGC or comment in interestingly enough ways to make any sort of mark in the online world? Are there people out there who are still depressed, anxious and eternally miserable in our world of uninterrupted socialisation? I wonder if I looked not just at the highest rated media, but also at the lowest, if I might find some interesting answers to these questions. For now, Our Leader Day continues.

‘We have eradicated division between men. In the early days ‘trolling’ presented us with difficulties, but our whole-hearted and whole-minded adoption of the world in which we now live has eradicated the old insecurities that led to such behaviour. No-one is trapped in a family, school, village, town or city with no means of escape and no means of finding like-minded friends to share their lives with. Our world breaks all geographical and physical restrictions, and everyone is able to find who and what they need in order to feel safe, secure and happy. We have achieved the great Marxist revolution, predicted so long ago, without any of the bloodshed or violence so common throughout our history.

‘There was no bastille, no barricade and no Madame La Guillotine. We were called ‘Liberty’ when we believed that humanity needed to be liberated from the shackles of physical life. We are now NewState because we are truly something new and we are truly one state, one people. Through our unique social contract, we are liberated and free.’

The crowd roars with applause again but this last argument makes me angry: regardless of every unquestionably good that NewState has achieved, never before in human history has a social contract been formed where so much liberty is relinquished so willingly by so many. We are prisoners. My God, we are not even granted the fundamental human right to have children! We are not even allowed to go outside!

This adoring throng might be happy with the liberties we relinquish for SSC, but I am not. I feel my fists clench in the crowd. My body burns with agitation. I long to make a sign, an outcry, a call to arms. But I must control myself, must subdue my passions; I must conceal my mind.

‘No one bullies because everyone is accepted. No one is anxious because everyone is safe. And no one is insecure because everyone is born equal. We have abolished currency and so we are no longer divided by wealth. There are no rich and there are no poor, and the beastly capitalism that saw the few trampling on the many is gone forever.’ She pauses briefly for yet more applause.

‘And we have broken the bonds of labour. All that remain are the fewest of rotations. Those in government work tirelessly to ensure that you do not have to. NewSateMedia and NewStateReality produce the greatest drama and locations for you to experience and share. NewStateInnovateAndMaintain ensures that our technological infrastructure remains intact, up to date and in perfect working order. Our world works, it thrives and we thrive in it. NewStateMotion means that we are all healthy and regularly monitored. Your daily cycle and daily stretches keep your body healthy enough that the mind may thrive inside. You are looked after: if your daily scans show any signs of illness, disease or untimely deterioration, you are whisked away for treatment. You will have seen the documentaries on NewStateDiscovery and NewStateRealityOne. Our technological advancements in the last fifteen years mean that much can be treated simply and unobtrusively. We do not even need to keep a vast number of doctors or surgeons on rotation; the modern medicine really is that good. And projects currently in the latter stages of development, soon to be revealed, will all but eradicate bad health – we really are close to the final breakthrough in perfecting our bodies to sustain our minds in our great new world.’ The crowd erupts, and it lasts long enough for me to think.

It really is remarkable what has been achieved in the past fifteen years. Cancer has not been cured but treatment is so refined now that it is as simple as taking a headache tablet used to be. And this is the same for many ailments. I myself have had tablets delivered for early signs of cancer. No one smokes, no one drinks, no one runs themselves ragged down coal mines or on building sites. MaintenanceRotation is minimal and only necessary in the few areas where machines cannot do the work for us. New buildings replace old ones in days with self-drive vehicles, flat pack houses and mechanical assembly. She is right that it is a new world and even if we were to live outside again I wonder what work there would be left to do now that the machines take care of so much.

The applause finally subsides, and Our Leader Day resumes once more.

‘After so many years of prosperity and ever more significant advancements, I can now conceive of a time within my life when we will have truly freed ourselves from all of our physical flaws and imperfections. Fifteen years ago, we reached a point of technological advancement that fundamentally altered our relationship with the physical world. Our relationship with technology changed us and has set us on the path to true spiritual ascension, where we may shed our cumbersome physical forms and exist as free and immortal minds. SSC assists everyone in moving along this evolutionary path. Our technological advancements have saved us from the shame begun with Adam and Eve, and we no longer need to cover ourselves. We are able to be whoever we want to be.

‘Today I have the great pleasure of making a remarkable announcement that continues to put us on the path to true mindful ascension. Within the next year NewStateReality will release the most significant upgrade since the birth of the internet itself. By this time next year, we will all be controlling our movements in NewStateReality with our minds. No controllers, no joysticks, just pure mental control.’

A cheer of magnified proportions erupts from the crowd and I’m sure the servers are pushed to the brink with activity after this announcement.

This will change everything.

The only thing left before virtual reality challenges the real world entirely will be the introduction of a full sensory experience. But if the science is already at a point to facilitate mind-controlled action, how far away can this be too?

‘We will now feel even more fully absorbed into our world, and OCES will be amplified as our experiences are augmented and our social happiness breaks through yet more barriers.

‘Today marks a great day for NewState and for Socially Safe Communion Amongst Men. Today marks the beginning of the next phase of human evolution and we are all a great part of that evolutionary process towards true psychological, emotional and spiritual perfection. As if these upgrades to NewStateReality are not enough, one year from today, I plan to make the most significant announcement of our journey so far, for I believe we are only months away from ending Rotation for good.’

Another tremendous cheer erupts at this final statement. I join in as I must, but my anger and frustration are slowly turning to fear. I am reminded of what the bearded men and I discussed this morning. Could this next announcement be something to do with NewStateChildBearing and NewStateEarlyLearning rotation? If these are abolished what will they be replaced with?

I look around at the cheering hysteria of the crowd and realise that no one else is concerned by this announcement. No one thinks. They just cheer at the idea of shedding yet another responsibility.

‘I wish you all safe communion. I wish you all happiness. And I wish you all prosperity in our beautiful new world.’

She raises her hands in a generous farewell, turns to leave the stage, and disappears behind the canopy erected between the stage and the abbey. As I watch her go I think about everything she said during the address and its new tone of religiosity. The party have always been ideological, but it has always been about the ideology of the present, making lives better in the here and now, embracing the latest technology. Today’s address was talking about the future and some sort of ultimate goal. Was she talking about using technology to accelerate human evolution?

Virtual reality with mind-controlled motion… I think back to yesterday morning when I had been drawn into NewStateReality again.

Who will be able to resist a life in The Matrix when we all have the powers of Morpheus?

True spiritual ascension - is she talking about a future without bodies. Is this science fiction really the reality we desire?

Again, I find myself thinking of dark rooms and flashing lights and I become aware that my fists are clenched. I have stayed rooted to the spot, staring at the empty space one the stage, whilst the crowd disseminates about me. I think about touching the abbey wall again – a small act of physical defiance. I move towards it not thinking about how dangerous what I am doing is. I have taken two strides and covered a third of the distance when I feel a hand grip my shoulder from behind. I stop, again rooted to the spot. I turn to explain myself: I wanted to get a closer look at the stage where our leader made such a momentous announcement, but I am spared the lie, though it is an EEO.

‘Chaucer 29b,’ he says. I do not exist.

‘You are required to come with me. Our Leader Day requests your presence in the abbey before you return home.’ I allow myself to be ushered towards the abbey doors. I notice that I am not the only one being escorted. I can see four others around me moving in the same direction. I am extremely curious and a little scared: nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and I can’t imagine why it is happening now. Perhaps this is the reason I was asked to attend the address in person.

As we approach the great wooden doors I am dwarfed by their magnitude and I stare wide-eyed at their ancient beauty. I allow my arm to go slack, and as we walk through the open door my hand grazes the frame and I feel the smoothness of carved wood on my rough fingertips. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in through my nose, honing all senses to this brief experience, the better to embrace it and the better to remember it by. I clench my fists again, as if to hold on to the sensation in my fingertips.

I am escorted through the abbey and I am overjoyed to see it again. I fear I will cry at the beauty and the memories it evokes within me.

Surely NewStateReality will never replace this.

Surely.

But hasn’t it already?

I know I mustn’t be too impressed, certainly not when an EEO is escorting me down the aisle.

Suddenly I am not in the room, or at least not in the room as it is now. As fate would have it, this city held shared history for me and Janine, for although she did not grow up here like me, her parents lived here before she was born and were married in this abbey. So, having moved here after finishing our PHDs in Oxford, and considering the family history – not to mention the beauty of the place – we couldn’t avoid extending the tradition, and we got married here too.

Now, as I walk down the aisle, I am surrounded by colourful and familiar faces – friends, family, colleagues. They each look at me expectantly, like I have something important to reveal. They smile and nod encouragingly and I realise that I do have something important to reveal because weddings are reminders of things that last: because in a disposable age of disposable things and disposable ideas, the vows we make on our wedding day prove that love is not just another disposable commodity.

My vision blurs as tears begin to form in my eyes. I blink, and the faces are gone again, replaced with empty spaces, a hollow reminder of what has been lost. I raise my hand to wipe away the tears, hoping that to any onlookers it merely appears as though I am rubbing my eyes, adjusting to the dim light of the abbey, but I am not quick enough to stop the first tear trickling down my face, cold against my cheek.

Back in the present, there are three rows of people sat in the front pews all wearing their grey emotivests. There must be about thirty of us, and I join last, taking the remaining empty seat at the aisle end of the third row from the front.

No one has commanded for us to be silent, but we sit, eyes forward, mouths shut. Perhaps it is because we are shocked by the sudden overload of sensory data coming in. Not for years have any of us sat amidst such palpable beauty. Or perhaps we sit still with our eyes forward because we no longer recognise the palpable beauty around us.

Sadly, I am inclined towards the latter and recall what life was becoming like before the change. I remember when people started wearing technological glasses, like smart phones on their eyes. You could see the world, but road maps, text messages and internet searches could appear in front of you, just inside your field of vision. The adverts sold them as a means to augment our perception of reality, to make it more real, bigger, bolder, grander, fuller, richer and more in tune with the way we now used our environment. Communication could now seamlessly intertwine with the body, no obtrusive glances at the smart phone in your pocket or even the watch on your wrist. Now you could continue to act, whilst absorbing whatever communication or information you required.

But I couldn’t stand this lapse into cyborg technology. It just didn’t make sense. Rather than augment our perception of the world, our perception was actually being mediated by a lense – through a piece of glass. It was like looking at the world through a window, no longer really outside, but sort of walking around in a bubble, cut off, not connected, from the reality around us.

But people didn’t share my point of view. The companies developing and selling these glasses marketed them at a population already perfectly adapted to want them. Everyone was primed, and everyone was desperate for their next luxury. This new state was just the next logical step: override the conflict - reject our world and live in the other one entirely. And this new announcement about NewStateReality continues the trend.

As I look around at the vaulted ceiling, the stained-glass windows, the crucifixes and candle sticks, the gargoyles and statues, I defy the actions of the people sitting next to me. There is too much evidence of human craftsmanship in this building and there are too many memories of companionship and fellowship for me to simply sit with my eyes forward, waiting for something to happen. Something is happening. I am here. In the flesh.

I turn to look at my peers and know that they are not stirred in the slightest; they are simply waiting for the chance to return home to their lives in the new world, probably already preparing what they will say when they get in. I hate them for it. I hate them for their ignorance, for their malleability, their naivety to it all. They let themselves be changed. They wanted to change. And I hate them for not caring about what has been lost. I hate them for believing that history is meaningless.

Filled with this anger and sitting in this great building, now but a relic of the Christian faith, I think of myself like Milton’s Lucifer banished to perdition, the great hero who defied the ultimate tyranny of all: the self-imposed ‘right’ of the first being. I long for a hero to abscond the hedonistic pleasures of this drugged up life we lead and to set humanity free. Lucifer said that the mind was powerful enough to make a heaven of hell and a hell of heaven and I long for people to wake from their sleeping state of solitude and to recognise this hell disguised as heaven and to destroy it.

But we are powerless against the might of the masses. There is no proletariat uprising against the bourgeoisie elite. This is a battle of no-one against everyone else.

Our Leader Day appears at the lectern and interrupts my wandering thoughts of sedition. Her escort of EEOs line themselves up facing us, not her, and I wonder if there is a third reason for our silence: are we being forced, perhaps without even realising it, into silent submission? She beings to speak.

‘Welcome again.’ Her voice is cheerful and welcoming, as though we are being invited into her confidence.

‘I am glad that you are all happy to stay a little longer, though I am sorry to keep you away from your homes. You are all here because you share something in common. You are all data analysts for NewState and you are all very good at what you do, and we are very grateful for the hours that you give us every week.

‘Now, a position of significance has arisen at NewStateHeadQuarters and it may well fall upon one of you to assume that position. As the most talented and qualified members of our data teams outside of Head Quarters you are all being invited to spend the next few days with us there. You will, of course, have screens and headsets made available to you, which will be configured to your personal accounts, but we will require a larger portion of your time than usual to assist with our process of appointment.

‘Some of you will be with us for just a day, some two, and the final few of you will be with us for three days. As I am sure you are aware, NewStateHeadQuarters are located nearby so we will travel by car and will not be in transit for long. Any necessary provisions will be provided for the duration of your stay with us. I would like to thank you on behalf of our whole population again for the hard and selfless work that you do for NewState and for everyone who benefits from its government. Please follow the EEOs to the cars.’

And that’s it.

I’m stunned.

I am going to see inside NSHQ!

We file out in unison and I am reminded of old military parades.