Chapter 1
The butler did it.
Winston rolled his eyes sardonically. He fingered the gold latches of his briefcase and pushed them outwards. The case gave a familiar “thwack” sound and popped slightly open. Winston lifted the lid, threw the book inside callously and slammed it shut again. After placing the case back under his legs, Winston looked out the window to grasp some idea of where he was.
On a stewart blue background, protruding white letters, “Drink Hagerstein” were projected onto the window. Winston cupped his hands around his eyes and pressed his face against the glass in order to see out. Peering into a vast desolate tract of dilapidated houses, Winston felt despondent. The sky was dark and dense clouds hung ominously, imposing on the buildings below. The rough streets snaked haphazardly between ramshackle concrete buildings. Most all had corrugated iron, or old advertising boards, strewn in places where the concrete was no longer providing shelter. These were the forgotten cities; the black cities.
Winston quickly un-cupped his hands and sat upright again. He hated the black cities. Although Winston spent the first 10 years of his life in a black city, years of propaganda had caused him to, like everyone else, fear and hate the black cities. The people who lived in the black cities were not assigned to either ‘Blue Corp’ or ‘Cisac Corp’. They were floaters, they were worthless and worst of all they were treacherous rebels - so it was said. Of course, the only thing Winston hated more than the black cities were the red cities. Red cities were occupied by those assigned to the ‘Cisac Corp’, the biggest and only competitor of ‘Blue Corp’.
Today should have been a happy and proud day for Winston, for he had been promoted from a level six position to a level seven position, which was the highest paid and most prestigious level an employee could reach in ‘Blue Corp’. Now he was required to work in the largest city in the ‘Blue Corp’ empire, named Kealinu. Promotions between levels had grown in significance and decreased in number over the years. When promotions occurred, they were most usually the result of strategic life decisions, such as forming friends with powerful people or marrying someone belonging to a higher level. Skill rarely had anything to do with it.
It was almost unheard of though, for an “epsilon entrant” to be promoted to such a high level, especially as Winston had very few friends, wasn’t married and didn’t exactly think along conventional company lines. In the fiercely hierarchical society that existed, “epsilon entrants” were not looked upon favourably. They were people who were not born in a blue city, but rather had been selected at a young age to work for ‘Blue Corp’. Each year tens of thousands of children from the black cities aged 10 took lengthy aptitude tests in the hope that they would secure a position with ‘Blue Corp’ and all the significant lifestyle improvements that went hand in hand with this. Out of the vast multitude of candidates, only 70 were selected each year, given a place and then thrown into the depths of the expansive education system. Most of these children though, became lost and disillusioned with the vastly different culture and system and ultimately spiralled into lives that resulted in their contracts being terminated and hence were thrown back into the black cities once more. Despite all this, Winston honestly couldn’t care less about the promotion.
Winston knew his lifestyle and thoughts would have been attracting a lot of attention from BlueHR - the controlling force in the blue cities who kept order and had the power to terminate an employee’s contract. If suspected of violating one of the company’s policies, an employee was sent or escorted to the HR department, which was located deep in the bowels of the “Blue Tower” in Kealinu. The employee would then have a formal counselling session, which almost always resulted in the termination of the employee’s contact with Blue Corp. Termination meant that the employee and all of their immediate family were stripped of all their possessions and thrown out into the dark unprotected chaotic world outside the protective life domes of Blue Corp; thrown into the black cities.
Every person in a blue city lived in fear of BlueHR. They were careful what they did, what they said and what they thought. The only way to avoid the attention of BlueHR was to fanatically conform to company policy. Questions weren’t asked and people never complained about work. It was not uncommon for workers to work 10 hours a day, 7 days a week. People didn’t have hobbies, didn’t go out and very rarely had fun. The only activity that was encouraged was shopping and more generally, consuming.
Winston was wary of BlueHR just like everyone else, but didn’t exactly live in fear of them. For years he had been struggling to find meaning and purpose to his life as a Blue Corp employee. Often he wondered if he would be more satisfied living on the outside, in the black cities. After all, he had survived for 10 years even though every memory had been drummed out of him. It was just a fantasy really, like everyone else, Winston was scared of the unknown; he was petrified of what life would be like outside of the life domes.
Winston felt his body fly forwards as the fast train lurched to a stop at Hakata station. Moments later, the train whirred up to speed again as Winston was now pushed back in his seat. Heavy footsteps clomped up the aisle behind Winston, getting closer and closer until they came to a halt beside his seat. Curious, Winston glanced to the side to see a tall imposing figure in a black suit with the company’s logo sewn on the pocket with a platinum coloured occupation plate, which indicated that he was a level seven worker.
“Mind if I sit here?” The bulky man asked.
“Yes certainly, co-worker.” Winston offered politely.
Great, thought Winston sarcastically, he was already having to deal with intolerable level seven drones. It was very common of people to only speak to co-workers of the same level as them.
“Where are you heading?” Asked the man.
“Kealinu.” Replied Winston.
“I see. Nice city. Much better than Hakata.” The man declared.
“Better?”
“Yes Better.”
“How so?”
“How so?” The man responded in a confused manner.
“Yes. How is Kealinu better than Hakata?” Winston was genuinely interested at how there could be absolutely any difference between blue cities.
“Well it has 25% more output than Hakata.” Answered the man in a patronizing tone.
“Well it has 25% more people.” Responded Winston.
The heavy set man looked absolutely dumbfounded. He paused while figuring out how to respond to this unconventional argument.
“Yes Kealinu does have 25% more people than Hakata.” The man finally offered.
“So why does that make it better?” Winston continued.
“Well because it is bigger and produces more.” Quipped the man.
“It produces more because it is bigger.”
“That’s right.”
“So what makes it better then?” Asked Winston.
By now the man didn’t know what to say, he stared at Winston as though he was a lunatic.
“I’m sorry co-worker, please excuse me.” The man offered as he got up and walked down the aisle of the train, presumably to another seat.
Winston returned to staring at the blue advertising projections on the windows. He wondered why Kealinu was better than Hakata.
Before long, the train was slowing for another station, another city. Once again Winston heard clomping footsteps approaching as the train accelerated and he was thrust back in his seat. Once again the footsteps came to a halt next to Winston’s seating berth. This time when he glanced sideways, Winston saw a tall lean man in a black suit with the logo and a platinum occupation plate on the pocket, who looked quite concerned. His brow was furrowed, his bushy eyebrows were level and his eyes were slightly squinted. His hair was long brown and untamed. Winston caught a glimpse of his eyes, which were a deep blue colour with an intriguing pattern and a spark that suggested he had lived an exciting and meaningful life.
“Mind if I sit here?” Asked the man in an unusual accent.
“Not at all co-worker.”
The man nodded and sat down not even attempting to strike up a conversation.
Winston was now curious. The man sitting next to him didn’t seem like all the other level seven drones in Blue Corp and because of this, Winston decided to strike up a conversation, which was something he rarely did.
“Where are you heading?”
“Kealinu.” The man replied.
“I see. Nice city. I hear it is much better than Hakata.” Winston proposed.
The man looked at Winston briefly and then returned to staring at the back of the seat in front of him. “All the blue cities are essentially the same,” he mumbled with indignation.
Winston was pleased to hear this from the stranger. This man obviously thought the same way Winston did. Maybe there were people out there just like him. This moment of hope was short lived, as Winston soon reasoned that this man was probably not a genuine Blue Corp worker. Winston sat silently as he worked up the courage to ask a precarious question.
“Charles Dickens?”
The man sat silently for some time, not even showing any sign of hearing the question. Winston felt somewhat disheartened. Eventually though, the expression of the man’s face changed. His brow was no longer furrowed, his eyes opened wider and a small smirk cracked his serious façade. He looked at Winston for quite some time as if calculating the risk of his response.
“One of my favourite authors.”
Both of them stared at the back of the chairs in front of them, smirking. Winston’s prized possession was a tattered old copy of Charles Dickens’ “Great expectations”. In the world he lived in, where culture was mass produced, just like everything else, the book was food for his soul. He must have read it at least 60 times. It was against company policy to have any books that were not released by the only publishing company that was a subsidiary of Blue Corp. Even still, Winston was willing to take the risk and he took the book to every new apartment he was assigned to. He knew a whole world of captivating and inspiring books existed out there somewhere; books that didn’t have hackneyed plots.
Several minutes passed as the two men sat side by side silently staring. The face and posture of the man next to Winston had reverted to a concerned state. He eventually stood slowly, lent over Winston and looked outside the train window. In the process of doing this, he slipped but stopped himself falling by thrusting his arm into Winston’s chest. He apologised briefly, recomposed himself and sat down once more, saying nothing else. A few minutes later he spoke to Winston.
“I’m sorry co-worker, please excuse me.” And then he got up and walked determinedly down the aisle, presumably to another seat.
Winston was quite proud of himself. In the space of an hour he had already driven two level seven employees away. He was quite disappointed that the last one had left though. He was sure this man would have been a vast wealth of information on life outside the blue cities.
The last portion of the journey was quite monotonous. No one else had tried to sit next to Winston again. The only person who attempted to speak to him was the lady pushing a cart through the aisles of the train selling drinks and snacks from subsidiary companies of Blue Corp. Winston didn’t buy anything.
Eventually the train began to slow and an announcement in a clear neutral voice came over the loud speaker: “Attention co-workers, the next stop is Kealinu, this will be the final stop in this service, next stop Kealinu. Thank you for using BCRail. Have a productive day.”
After this announcement, Winston observed almost everybody on the train put away their books or newspapers in unison then hold their bags on their laps and prepare to leave the train. Before the train came to a halt, they were filing out of their seats into a neat line running from the exit door, far along the aisles.
Winston sighed as he stood up, stretched, picked up his briefcase and joined the neat queue for the exit. When the train came to a stop, three chimes were heard and the doors slid open rapidly, thumping when they had opened fully. The passengers poured out onto the platform and headed for the exit. Passengers waiting to board were neatly arranged in two lines in a “V” shape around each door, permitting the people on the train to get off without any problem. Winston was one of the last ones to pass through the exit doors and he could see the edgy hesitant movements of people in the lines waiting for him to exit so that they could rush on and secure a good seat. He wondered what would happen if he just stayed standing in the exit doors. Would the people wait there all day until he moved or would they eventually just push past him? Such an action would surely be against company policy though, he conceded. Too bad.
The platform was a rather typical strip of asphalt that held a throng of people, countless vending machines and a multitude of colourful advertising boards. To the left were several other platforms; densely populated islands separated by shiny silver tracks.
Winston knew exactly where to go. All stations were essentially the same, they just differed in size occasionally. He walked up the stairs to the concourse, found the right stream of people to join and drifted towards the transfer gates. The chip in his hand beeped and glowed as he walked though the “identification point”, as did everyone’s around him. The train fare would be deducted from his next pay cheque. There was no use for money in blue cities. Every service used or product bought or consumed in a blue city was invariably provided by Blue Corp or a subsidiary company, so payroll deduction was the most logical and efficient system. Each worker had a chip implanted on the back of their right hand, which contained information on their employment level, background, the amount of their next pay transfer and the current balance of their bank account. On pay day, any amount left that hadn’t been deducted was transferred to the employee’s bank account.
Winston headed down the ramp to the Kealinu metro platforms. The metro was an underground rail system, which enabled workers to quickly travel around the city between their apartments, work and the shopping centres. Every blue city had a metro rail system. Winston crossed over to platform four and waited in one of the “V” shaped lines. As always, the train pulled up perfectly so that the doors were exactly aligned with where the people were queuing. After all the passengers on board shuffled off, the queues began to move and soon enough Winston stepped on board the train. The train was extremely crowded, so Winston had to stand crammed against the doors, his face pressed against the glass. The train whirred up to speed, maintained that speed for a brief time, decelerated, stopped and more people would shove on, decreasing what little space there was on board. Winston observed this same process repeat several times before reaching his stop, Corner 1st and A streets.
He walked past the “V” shaped lines, along the platform, through the concourse and climbed the stairs to the street. He had finally arrived. He was in the most sought after district of Kealinu, the capital of the Blue Corp empire and home of the “Blue tower”. His pupils didn’t contract when he stepped up to street level, neither did they dilate; everywhere in a blue city had the same level of light twenty four hours a day. The sun never set, nor did it rise.
It was a comfortable 22 degrees Celsius, as always. When looking up, a clear stewart blue sky could be seen between soaring shiny skyscrapers. The sky was always blue. Faceless drones scurried about moving from one tall building to another, a black bobbing mass on the harsh bland concrete footpaths. The women all wore suits and had their hair tied back, their real faces lying beneath the façade they applied each morning. Really, they all looked the same and from Winston’s experience, they all talked, acted and thought the same as well. The men all wore suits and sported conservative short haircuts and bland ties. They too spoke, acted and looked the same as each other. Kealinu really was essentially like every other blue city, Winston thought to himself with some disappointment.
Winston joined the masses and walked along the crowded footpaths. He trudged along with his head down and listened to the footsteps around him clomping almost in unison. Sighing, he put his hands in his outside jacket pockets. His heart raced suddenly as his fingers slid over an object in his right pocket. Winston never put items in his outside jacket pockets, so was sure someone had slipped it in there. His curiosity grew exponentially, but he knew he couldn’t look at what it was out in the open. Not with all the BlueHR cameras and all the drones who would gleefully turn him in so that their work reputation may increase. Besides, the moment his fingers lingered on the strange object, he knew who had put it there: the strange man from the train.
So Winston just kept walking along, part of the bobbing black mass, trying to hide any sign of the excitement and curiosity that he was feeling. Winston knew he’d have to wait until he reached his new apartment before he could get a look at what it was.
The streets, the people and the surrounds seemed more intolerable now than they had ever seemed before. Winston couldn’t stand it, he just wanted to find his new apartment building, they were all the same anyway, why couldn’t his one just be the building he was walking past at that time? His frustration grew until he reached a point where he just wanted to break into a fast run, dramatically leaping over objects and pushing the drones out of his way. Such an action though would surely be noticed and reprimanded by BlueHR; no one ever ran, no one was ever late.
His face and body language remained remarkably composed however. If Winston had learnt anything over his career with Blue Corp, it was how to hide his emotions. He walked past several identical blocks, containing identical buildings and identical shops. He imagined a raging torrent of emotions pushing beneath the skin of his face, increasing in strength, desperately trying to break and crack through his impassive exterior.
After a few minutes that dragged on to feel like hours, he spotted building number 2084 in Platinum numbers. He broke away from the blob of people and confidently strutted up the stairs. The frosted glass doors slid open shortly after Winston’s identity chip glowed and beeped. A vast sterile lobby opened up before him. Large black marble columns supported a darkly coloured roof. The floor was composed of brown marble, which had no pattern. Four lifts could be seen on the far wall and a bare marble desk was to the left of the entrance, behind which, a level three employee stood.
Winston walked straight over to the desk. The man at the desk acknowledged him.
“Good morning co-worker.”
“Good morning,” Winston replied, “I’d like to move into my new room.”
“Certainly co-worker, please place your hand over this square.”
Winston lifted his right hand and put it on the black square that was on the desk. The identity chip in his right hand beeped and glowed. The concierge looked to his computer screen.
“Ahh thankyou co-worker. Please fill out these forms.”
He handed Winston a small pile of brightly coloured forms. Winston could never understand the purpose of so much paper work, when the identity chip system was supposedly so efficient. The paper work meant that he had to spend even longer before he could discover what was in his pocket. Still, he remained composed and started filling out the forms.
After filling in the last entry, he slammed the pen down and handed the completed forms over to the concierge, who briefly looked over them, placed them in a folder and then asked Winston to put his hand on the square again. The identity chip beeped and glowed once more.
“Thank you co-worker, feel free to move in to your room at any time. You are in room number 3031.”
Winston thanked the concierge and walked over to the lifts, tapping the up button twice. A chime sounded and a light glowed above the lift on the far left. The doors opened, Winston walked through, selected floor 30 and the doors closed soon after. The only thing that changes with apartment buildings is how high your room is, Winston thought to himself. Now that he was a level seven employee, he occupied a room in one of the highest floors of the building. What an achievement, Winston thought to himself sarcastically as he realised it was the highest level that he had ever lived on.
The speakers onboard the elevator spewed out the latest songs released by the only record company in “Blue Corp”, “Blue Records”. Intolerable, thought Winston. Every year the same songs were re-released sung by a different singer. Each year a giant televised singing contest would be held and the winner would release songs for an entire year until the next competition. Winston was sure that he had only ever heard 20 different songs in his life and all had the same droll messages of working hard and aspiring to be the best. Background music was generated by a computer and was rarely changed from each re-release to the next.
Finally, Winston felt the lift decelerating and heard the familiar chimes and a neutral voice that informed him that he had reached the 30th floor. The heavy metal doors slid open and Winston stepped through. The corridor seemed the same as every other apartment corridor, except that there were lacings of platinum instead of other metals and the apartment doors were spaced further apart. Winston strutted confidently down the corridor until he was standing in front of a brown door with the number 3031 in platinum.
He held his right hand up to the black square marked on the door and his ‘identity chip’ beeped and glowed whilst the door swung open. Winston hesitated and looked down at his feet before stepping over the line separating the corridor from his new apartment. Winston thought to himself, I’ve finally arrived, I’m a level seven employee now, but why does it feel such a hollow achievement?
The room was expansive and sterile, the colour grey dominated and was only broken up by the generous lashings of platinum and brown marble. Winston slammed the door closed behind him and walked directly over to the large television screen that took up a decent proportion of the side wall and was the focal point of the room. He held his right hand up to the black panel beside the screen, causing it to flicker to life. The screen displayed large white text on a stewart blue background. “Welcome to BlueAssist Winston.” Winston spoke commands to the screen, “Check messages.” Instantly a table of waiting messages was displayed in the order of when they were received, with the unread messages highlighted in bold.
“Read message one,” Winston commanded in a monotone voice. The text of the message instantly came on the screen and a neutral voice began to read the message. “Good morning co-worker. Welcome to Kealinu. Please settle in as efficiently as possible and report to us by 1100 at the latest. You will find your office located on floor 40 of ‘Blue Tower’, please report to the concierge on arrival. Your duties and expectations will be outlined on your arrival. Also be aware that in honour of your promotion to level seven, a party will be held in Blue Tower function room one at 2200. Have a productive day. BlueHR.”
Winston had expected a message such as this; workers were given very little time off to settle in to a new apartment. Winston scanned through the rest of the messages and then used BlueAssist to stock his apartment with all the essentials. BlueAssist was the height of convenience, a technological breakthrough and was the primary method of communication between a worker and work whilst at home. Every Blue Corp worker had a large BlueAssist screen in their apartments, which could be used for almost anything from entertainment to ordering food. There was no company policy that the system had to be turned on whilst a co-worker was in the apartment, but failure to comply was treated very suspiciously by BlueHR. The other function of BlueAssist was to ensure the safety of employees in their homes by acting as a surveillance camera that could notify the appropriate people if any accidents occurred. Winston was of course very sceptical of the whole system, which ultimately prevented him from being himself. In the bedroom, the bathroom and the kitchen there were miniature versions of the BlueAssist screen, for extra convenience, which ensured that there was not a single point in the apartment where you couldn’t see a BlueAssist screen, or it couldn’t see you.
Winston signed out of BlueAssist, put a new jacket on and promptly exited his apartment, only minutes after he had entered. He rode the lift back down to the lobby, exited the building and walked to the nearest metro station. He boarded a train bound for Blue Tower.
Blue Tower certainly was an imposing structure. In spanned some 60 levels high and as many as 20 levels were underground, no one really knew. It was easily the largest building in the city and was in the simple design of a large blue shiny rectangle. An empty area, composed only of bland concrete surrounded the tower. At any given point in time, hundreds of co-workers in black suits were scurrying in or out of the tower. Every metro line stopped at Blue Tower and the station exit was a large set of stairs in front of the bland block of concrete. A wide road also ran in front of the behemoth structure.
Winston was hardly impressed when he saw the building; he thought it was essentially the same as every other building in a blue city, just bigger. He joined the scurrying masses and walked inside the building. The ground level floor was large, open and sterile. There were six sets of lifts, with about ten lifts for each set, which were cast inside large grey columns. Winston walked to the set of lifts that was second farthest to the left. This set of lifts accessed floors 40 to 49. Winston couldn’t see any lifts going down to the underground levels.
He tapped the shiny up button twice. Soon he heard chimes, and a light above a nearby lift lit up. He stepped on board the lift, raised his hand to the black square and selected level 40 after his ‘identity chip’ beeped and glowed. The heavy doors shut rapidly after he made his selection.
Winston tuned out the appalling music as the lift whirred up to level 40. Soon enough, a neutral voice indicated that he was on the 40th floor and the heavy metal doors slid open. He stepped out of the lift, pushed though some glass doors and found a level three employee working behind the concierge desk.
“Good Morning co-worker, please place your right hand on this square”
Winston’s ‘identity chip’ beeped and glowed after following this instruction.
“Ahh thank you co-worker, please fill out these forms.”
Winston completed the brightly coloured stack of forms and handed them back to the concierge. The concierge looked at them briefly and put them in a file. He then asked Winston to put his hand on the black square once more.
“Thank you co-worker, you are on workstation 101, have a productive day.”
Winston thanked the concierge and pushed the door open and entered the office. It was a large fluorescently lit room consisting of hundreds of workers frantically typing on computers in cubicles separated by temporary thin walls. At the edge of the room, a lone water cooler sat, burbling every now and then, there was also a photocopier. Winston walked through the labyrinth to try and find his workspace. Not one co-worker looked up as he walked past. Just like every other office, Winston thought to himself. He eventually found his workspace, placed his briefcase on the table and sat down behind the desk. He pulled out his ‘data key’ from his briefcase and inserted it into the computer. The computer immediately flashed to life and a table of jobs appeared on the screen. Winston clicked on the first one and began to work. There was not a great deal of variation in the work and it was rare that one knew or was told what it was actually for. Winston ploughed through the jobs listed on the screen, one after the other. The table of jobs never reduced in size; new jobs replaced any completed jobs. The computer arranged the jobs in order of importance and this jumped around several times.
Winston’s gift lay in his ability to relentlessly plough through job after job at a lightning pace irregardless of its complexity. Workers were scored on the rate and accuracy to which they completed jobs and Winston was one of the highest scoring workers in Blue Corp, hence his promotion. Winston didn’t think about what he was doing at work, he just processed numbers all day until he got a message that it was time to go home. In his mind he was always somewhere else, a place where uniqueness existed, a place that had culture.
The hours ticked by one after the other, each similar to the previous, until Winston received a message that it was time to go to function room one for his promotion party.
He logged out of the system, put his ‘data key’ in his briefcase and headed down to function room one.
Everyone arrived at much the same time and walked through the large oak doors into the sterile expansive function room. The room was filled with level three caterers carrying metal trays filled with drinks and food. When all the level seven co-workers entered the room, the caterers began to circulate. The metal trays danced and swirled amongst the bobbing black mass.
Not long after everyone had arrived, Winston was called on to stage, which was at the back of the room. A brief congratulatory speech was given by a BlueHR member and Winston shook his hand at the end to the applause of his co-workers. After this, Winston rejoined the party, followed by the BlueHR member.
The man introduced himself to Winston as Lawrence. He was a dim-witted fat man, who was extremely confident and acted as though he owned the room. Throughout the conversation he spoke in tones and gave Winston looks that indicated that Winston should feel very privileged that such an important person was talking to him. Winston honestly couldn’t care less, he thought the man was slow, weak willed and ultimately uninteresting. He really was a bore to talk to. Nevertheless, Winston looked interested as Lawrence rambled about various topics. Whenever a tray of food passed by, Lawrence would grab at least three morsels and shove them into his mouth, thanking the female caterers by touching them on their behind. What a foul, disgusting man, thought Winston. Although, each glass of wine that Winston consumed, seemed to make the man just that little bit more tolerable.
Suddenly the lights dimmed low and the doors at the back of the function centre swung open. Strange music, the likes of which Winston had never heard before, began to play, softly at first, but quickly getting louder until each note bounced around the walls of the room, adding splashes of colour and soul to the sterile surrounds. Four men walked in, one was playing an instrument that looked like a horn with three prongs over which the man’s fingers danced rhythmically, another was playing a brass ‘S’ shaped horn, one was carrying a large wooden object that had a narrow neck with strings running along its length and the fourth man was empty handed. Soon a large glossy black table with legs and a set of keys alternating between ebony and ivory, was pushed in to the room, and the man who was previously empty handed, sat behind this table. The room fell silent and the air seemed to be pulsing in anticipation of the array of vibrant tunes that were about to race through it.
After signalling each other, the four men began to play, as a cheer spread across the room. Winston was speechless, Beautiful, he thought, unable to find words that would adequately describe what he felt. He had heard the notes before, but never the sounds. Each instrument created a unique sound, yet together they seemed to compliment each other perfectly, The music was so raw and husky, it was free and yet ordered, complicated yet simple. Winston felt his emotions ebbing and flowing as the music led him wildly as it told its story. He surrendered to it and gladly let his ears absorb each note, whilst his hair stood up on the back of his neck and he felt his toes tapping involuntarily. Winston felt he could be content just losing himself in the music for the rest of time.
Lawrence interrupted Winston, “Never heard Jazz before eh?” Lawrence was smirking at Winston’s reaction to what he had just heard. It was unlike Winston to show his emotions, but the overwhelming sensation the music had caused in him, broke his tough exterior momentarily. Winston reverted to his composed self and responded, “Yes, if this is what Jazz is, then it is the first time I’ve heard it.”
“Well,” asked Lawrence, “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful.”
Lawrence just laughed in acknowledgement, “There are definitely a lot of perks to being a level seven employee, wouldn’t you say?”
Winston couldn’t have agreed more with the man. It was the first time a Blue Corp employee had made sense to him; for once things actually were different. Winston vocalised his agreement, “Why yes, yes it certainly seems that way.” Both men chuckled and drank their wine after clinking their glasses in appreciation.
Lawrence interjected, “Just wait until you see what is coming up next.”
Winston looked to the doors eagerly in anticipation at what could possibly come next. After the song that was being played finished, there was silence. All of the people in the room looked toward the stage, their eyes wide in anticipation. The band began to play once more and cheers rose up from the room. Winston stared in disbelief as a tall voluptuous woman in a red dress walked on to the stage. Her hair was a deep red in colour and was wild and unrestrained, her big hazel eyes burned brightly, full of life Her face was soft and innocent, yet her smile was luscious and cheeky. The low neck line of her dress revealed tantalising cleavage and its short length revealed long golden brown smooth and slender legs. Winston felt a strong surge of passion; this woman was so raw and unconventional. Winston would have given anything to hold her close to him, to touch her untamed hair, to smell her sweet scent, to kiss her full lips.
Lawrence nudged Winston with his elbow and raised and lowered his eyebrows in quick succession. She began to sing, her voice teeming with soul, raw yet refined, harsh yet loving. The diva locked eyes with Winston and the two stared at each other longingly for what seemed like eternity to Winston. He immediately felt weak and a warm fuzzy feeling rushed through his head. Once again he felt Lawrence elbowing him.
Winston was transfixed; he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman. She sang number after number while Winston just stared helplessly. He had to find a way to talk to her. Eventually Lawrence pulled Winston’s head close to him and whispered in his ear. “You know buddy, it is a tradition that she always goes home with the newly promoted co-worker.” Winston’s heart stopped in that instant. A cold tinge ran throughout his body. He looked at Lawrence inquisitively, to which Lawrence just nodded while smirking. Winston could have kissed the dim-witted fat man. The rest of the night was just a blur for Winston. Images and sounds merged and swirled around his head, his brain unable to process them.
Finally the night came to an end and everyone started flowing out of the exit doors, laughing and chatting as they went. Many shook Winston’s hand and congratulated him as they left. Lawrence took Winston by the arm and took him up to the stage where the lady in red was standing. “Mauritius, this is Winston, he’ll be taking care of you tonight. A limo is waiting for you out the front of the building.” Lawrence winked at Winston and then walked off.
Winston and Mauritius smiled at each other uncomfortably and walked together out to the front of Blue Tower, where indeed a limo was waiting. A short man in a uniform complete with a black hat and white gloves stepped out of the car and opened the door for Winston. Winston gently guided Mauritius into the car with his hand pushing softly on her back. Once Winston had climbed in, the driver shut the door, and soon the car was heading back to Winston’s apartment building. Winston stared nervously at the seat in front of him the whole way home; he was scared to even look at Mauritius. His thoughts were racing in anticipation of the night.
Finally the limo arrived at building 2084 and Winston escorted Mauritius up to his room. As he opened the door the two looked into each others’ eyes. Winston noticed remarkable sadness behind Mauritius’ beautiful hazel eyes and her perky smile. He knew what he had to do, he had decided it a long time ago. Winston gave a sympathetic smile and guided her into the room. He went straight to the BlueAssist screen, signed in. He strode over to Mauritius confidently, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her body close to his, her heaving breasts pressed against his chest and her soft skin contacted his. He looked her deeply into her eyes and brushed her soft luscious lips against his. The passion of the kiss grew wildly and Winston ran his hand along the back of her silky dress. Mauritius pulled him even closer with her tender hands. Winston could taste her, smell her and feel her, she was invading every aspect of his senses and he gladly succumbed to the feeling. He raised his strong hands up to her neck and gently brushed a strap of the dress over her right shoulder. He then pulled away and looked into her eyes longingly.
Winston turned around and walked over to the BlueAssist screen. He turned the system to ‘Love Mode’. This was a mode that enabled couples to be intimate with each other without being watched by BlueHR, really it was the only acceptable reason for not having the system switched on. Even still, BlueHR did not look favourably on overindulgence, so if ‘Love Mode’ were used for too long a period or too often, it would often attract suspicion.
Privacy at last, thought Winston. He turned back to Mauritius and looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry for that outburst, but it was necessary. We now have about an hour of freedom.”
Mauritius looked at Winston and gave a hesitant smile, not sure exactly what he had in mind.
“Mauritius, I don’t want to do anything that you don’t feel like doing, I know that Blue Corp is forcing you to come here tonight and umm… satisfy me, but I just want you to know whatever happens in this hour will never leave these walls, all BlueHR will know is that you came here and will assume that we spent a passionate time together.”
Mauritius was still hesitant and suddenly became self conscious of the precarious dress she was wearing, she folded her slender arms so that they blocked her provocative cleavage. She wasn’t exactly sure how to respond and simply stood there searching for words, gulping like a goldfish.
Noticing her sudden discomfort, Winston went to his cupboard and grabbed a casual business jumper and the jacket he had been wearing when he had arrived, and walked over to Mauritius. He offered her the jumper, which she quickly grabbed and put on. Mauritius still looked extremely uncomfortable and hesitant.
Winston motioned his arm to the grey sofa, “Would you like to take a seat?”
“Umm… Actually, could I use your bathroom?”
“Sure,” Winston replied.
As Mauritius closed the door of the bathroom behind her, Winston sat on the sofa, holding the jacket in his arms. When he heard water splashing from the shower, he quickly thrust his hand into the pocket of the jacket.
His heart raced as he pulled the object out of his pocket, he had been thinking about it ever since his fingers first lingered on it whilst walking on the street. Quickly he brought the object up to his eyes to examine it. Winston recognised what it was instantly; it was a Blue Corp ‘data key’. Every worker possessed a ‘data key’ that was used to sign in to Blue Corp computers and could hold a large amount of data as well as any files of the projects that the employee was working on. Winston immediately knew what he had to do with the key. He put the data key in his briefcase along with his own key. Winston looked at his watch - only forty minutes before he had to turn the BlueAssist screen back on. How could she take so long in the shower?
Steam poured out into the room as the door of the bathroom opened. Mauritius stepped out with a soft white towel wrapped around her, covering her naked body. Her wild red hair was dripping water on the floor and beads of water ran down her face, along her slender neck and were funnelled down between her breasts before being absorbed by the white towel. Mauritius looked over at Winston, “Umm may I have some clothes to change in to?”
Winston sat flabbergasted momentarily before leaping up and going to get some clothes from his cupboard. He handed her a pile of clothes, but as he did the rolled up socks on top slipped off the pile and fell to the ground. Both bent down to pick them up, but Mauritius was much faster. As she picked up the socks, her mesmerising cleavage entered Winston’s field of vision and he stared, transfixed. Suddenly Winston snapped out of the trance and punished his thoughts, you’re a man not an animal, control yourself!
When he looked back at Mauritius he noticed that she was staring into his eyes. Winston stared back into Mauritius’ big beautiful hazel eyes that were surrounded by graceful long black lashes. He wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn he saw her pupils dilate and right then, an overwhelming feeling came to him and he lent slowly towards Mauritius. Winston closed his eyes just before he felt her wet soft lips brush slowly against his. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. His heart raced and a buzzing warm feeling spread throughout his body. The feeling grew and he put his arms around her and pulled her close and kissed her with intense passion. She ran her wet tender fingers though his hair, messing up his conservative hairstyle. The water from her body started seeping through his suit. Winston ran his hand along her slender arms and let them slide down her back, lingering on her behind.
Winston’s thoughts suddenly overpowered him and demanded that he stop: Stop it, just stop it now, what are you doing? He stopped kissing her and looked into her eyes. “I said you don’t have to do this, I’ll make sure you won’t get in trouble.”
She stared back into his eyes for some time before responding.
“… But I want to.”
Winston began to respond, “But…”
She gently put one finger to his lips to silence him. He could smell her sweet scent and taste her clean skin. It was impossible to resist, Winston just surrendered to his feelings. He pulled Mauritus close again and kissed her with even greater intensity. She started clutching at his shirt and soon had his tie off and a few of his shirt buttons undone. Winston pulled away from Mauritius’ lips and began to kiss her cheek before moving down to her neck. He let his strong hands rub her shoulders and finger the edge of her towel.
Mauritius pulled strongly on the collar of Winston’s shirt, causing it to rip off, while the buttons flew haphazardly. She threw the shirt on the ground and ran her soft hands over his muscular chest. Winston tugged at her white towel gently and let it fall to the ground. Mauritius’ body was artistic in its beauty; her curves were luscious and sensual. She had a practically perfect body apart from a long scar which ran in a diagonal strip from beneath her left breast to her navel. Winston found this very intriguing and couldn’t wait to discover the exciting life she had inevitably led. Mauritius cheekily leaped in the air and straddled Winston’s chest, he grabbed hold of her and walked over to the bed and flung her onto the mattress. He lovingly kissed and caressed every part of her body until she was screaming with desire, and then made love to her, wildly and passionately.
Winston had never felt so relaxed or happy before, he had no idea how he could develop such an intense love for someone so quickly. The two lay in each others’ arms, breathing heavily, their sweaty bodies clinging to each other. Winston began to try to ask questions about her past and the black cities, but Mauritius invariably cut him off. After two attempts, Mauritius spoke up.
“Oh Winston, that was divine.”
She lent over and playfully bit Winston’s ear lobe before fondling his ear with her lips. Winston heard Mauritius whisper with anger and urgency, “How can you be so stupid? BlueAssist cameras aren’t turned off in ‘love mode’, they are never turned off, it is all a lie.”
They both just lay there smiling, for what else could they do?
The butler did it.
Winston rolled his eyes sardonically. He fingered the gold latches of his briefcase and pushed them outwards. The case gave a familiar “thwack” sound and popped slightly open. Winston lifted the lid, threw the book inside callously and slammed it shut again. After placing the case back under his legs, Winston looked out the window to grasp some idea of where he was.
On a stewart blue background, protruding white letters, “Drink Hagerstein” were projected onto the window. Winston cupped his hands around his eyes and pressed his face against the glass in order to see out. Peering into a vast desolate tract of dilapidated houses, Winston felt despondent. The sky was dark and dense clouds hung ominously, imposing on the buildings below. The rough streets snaked haphazardly between ramshackle concrete buildings. Most all had corrugated iron, or old advertising boards, strewn in places where the concrete was no longer providing shelter. These were the forgotten cities; the black cities.
Winston quickly un-cupped his hands and sat upright again. He hated the black cities. Although Winston spent the first 10 years of his life in a black city, years of propaganda had caused him to, like everyone else, fear and hate the black cities. The people who lived in the black cities were not assigned to either ‘Blue Corp’ or ‘Cisac Corp’. They were floaters, they were worthless and worst of all they were treacherous rebels - so it was said. Of course, the only thing Winston hated more than the black cities were the red cities. Red cities were occupied by those assigned to the ‘Cisac Corp’, the biggest and only competitor of ‘Blue Corp’.
Today should have been a happy and proud day for Winston, for he had been promoted from a level six position to a level seven position, which was the highest paid and most prestigious level an employee could reach in ‘Blue Corp’. Now he was required to work in the largest city in the ‘Blue Corp’ empire, named Kealinu. Promotions between levels had grown in significance and decreased in number over the years. When promotions occurred, they were most usually the result of strategic life decisions, such as forming friends with powerful people or marrying someone belonging to a higher level. Skill rarely had anything to do with it.
It was almost unheard of though, for an “epsilon entrant” to be promoted to such a high level, especially as Winston had very few friends, wasn’t married and didn’t exactly think along conventional company lines. In the fiercely hierarchical society that existed, “epsilon entrants” were not looked upon favourably. They were people who were not born in a blue city, but rather had been selected at a young age to work for ‘Blue Corp’. Each year tens of thousands of children from the black cities aged 10 took lengthy aptitude tests in the hope that they would secure a position with ‘Blue Corp’ and all the significant lifestyle improvements that went hand in hand with this. Out of the vast multitude of candidates, only 70 were selected each year, given a place and then thrown into the depths of the expansive education system. Most of these children though, became lost and disillusioned with the vastly different culture and system and ultimately spiralled into lives that resulted in their contracts being terminated and hence were thrown back into the black cities once more. Despite all this, Winston honestly couldn’t care less about the promotion.
Winston knew his lifestyle and thoughts would have been attracting a lot of attention from BlueHR - the controlling force in the blue cities who kept order and had the power to terminate an employee’s contract. If suspected of violating one of the company’s policies, an employee was sent or escorted to the HR department, which was located deep in the bowels of the “Blue Tower” in Kealinu. The employee would then have a formal counselling session, which almost always resulted in the termination of the employee’s contact with Blue Corp. Termination meant that the employee and all of their immediate family were stripped of all their possessions and thrown out into the dark unprotected chaotic world outside the protective life domes of Blue Corp; thrown into the black cities.
Every person in a blue city lived in fear of BlueHR. They were careful what they did, what they said and what they thought. The only way to avoid the attention of BlueHR was to fanatically conform to company policy. Questions weren’t asked and people never complained about work. It was not uncommon for workers to work 10 hours a day, 7 days a week. People didn’t have hobbies, didn’t go out and very rarely had fun. The only activity that was encouraged was shopping and more generally, consuming.
Winston was wary of BlueHR just like everyone else, but didn’t exactly live in fear of them. For years he had been struggling to find meaning and purpose to his life as a Blue Corp employee. Often he wondered if he would be more satisfied living on the outside, in the black cities. After all, he had survived for 10 years even though every memory had been drummed out of him. It was just a fantasy really, like everyone else, Winston was scared of the unknown; he was petrified of what life would be like outside of the life domes.
Winston felt his body fly forwards as the fast train lurched to a stop at Hakata station. Moments later, the train whirred up to speed again as Winston was now pushed back in his seat. Heavy footsteps clomped up the aisle behind Winston, getting closer and closer until they came to a halt beside his seat. Curious, Winston glanced to the side to see a tall imposing figure in a black suit with the company’s logo sewn on the pocket with a platinum coloured occupation plate, which indicated that he was a level seven worker.
“Mind if I sit here?” The bulky man asked.
“Yes certainly, co-worker.” Winston offered politely.
Great, thought Winston sarcastically, he was already having to deal with intolerable level seven drones. It was very common of people to only speak to co-workers of the same level as them.
“Where are you heading?” Asked the man.
“Kealinu.” Replied Winston.
“I see. Nice city. Much better than Hakata.” The man declared.
“Better?”
“Yes Better.”
“How so?”
“How so?” The man responded in a confused manner.
“Yes. How is Kealinu better than Hakata?” Winston was genuinely interested at how there could be absolutely any difference between blue cities.
“Well it has 25% more output than Hakata.” Answered the man in a patronizing tone.
“Well it has 25% more people.” Responded Winston.
The heavy set man looked absolutely dumbfounded. He paused while figuring out how to respond to this unconventional argument.
“Yes Kealinu does have 25% more people than Hakata.” The man finally offered.
“So why does that make it better?” Winston continued.
“Well because it is bigger and produces more.” Quipped the man.
“It produces more because it is bigger.”
“That’s right.”
“So what makes it better then?” Asked Winston.
By now the man didn’t know what to say, he stared at Winston as though he was a lunatic.
“I’m sorry co-worker, please excuse me.” The man offered as he got up and walked down the aisle of the train, presumably to another seat.
Winston returned to staring at the blue advertising projections on the windows. He wondered why Kealinu was better than Hakata.
Before long, the train was slowing for another station, another city. Once again Winston heard clomping footsteps approaching as the train accelerated and he was thrust back in his seat. Once again the footsteps came to a halt next to Winston’s seating berth. This time when he glanced sideways, Winston saw a tall lean man in a black suit with the logo and a platinum occupation plate on the pocket, who looked quite concerned. His brow was furrowed, his bushy eyebrows were level and his eyes were slightly squinted. His hair was long brown and untamed. Winston caught a glimpse of his eyes, which were a deep blue colour with an intriguing pattern and a spark that suggested he had lived an exciting and meaningful life.
“Mind if I sit here?” Asked the man in an unusual accent.
“Not at all co-worker.”
The man nodded and sat down not even attempting to strike up a conversation.
Winston was now curious. The man sitting next to him didn’t seem like all the other level seven drones in Blue Corp and because of this, Winston decided to strike up a conversation, which was something he rarely did.
“Where are you heading?”
“Kealinu.” The man replied.
“I see. Nice city. I hear it is much better than Hakata.” Winston proposed.
The man looked at Winston briefly and then returned to staring at the back of the seat in front of him. “All the blue cities are essentially the same,” he mumbled with indignation.
Winston was pleased to hear this from the stranger. This man obviously thought the same way Winston did. Maybe there were people out there just like him. This moment of hope was short lived, as Winston soon reasoned that this man was probably not a genuine Blue Corp worker. Winston sat silently as he worked up the courage to ask a precarious question.
“Charles Dickens?”
The man sat silently for some time, not even showing any sign of hearing the question. Winston felt somewhat disheartened. Eventually though, the expression of the man’s face changed. His brow was no longer furrowed, his eyes opened wider and a small smirk cracked his serious façade. He looked at Winston for quite some time as if calculating the risk of his response.
“One of my favourite authors.”
Both of them stared at the back of the chairs in front of them, smirking. Winston’s prized possession was a tattered old copy of Charles Dickens’ “Great expectations”. In the world he lived in, where culture was mass produced, just like everything else, the book was food for his soul. He must have read it at least 60 times. It was against company policy to have any books that were not released by the only publishing company that was a subsidiary of Blue Corp. Even still, Winston was willing to take the risk and he took the book to every new apartment he was assigned to. He knew a whole world of captivating and inspiring books existed out there somewhere; books that didn’t have hackneyed plots.
Several minutes passed as the two men sat side by side silently staring. The face and posture of the man next to Winston had reverted to a concerned state. He eventually stood slowly, lent over Winston and looked outside the train window. In the process of doing this, he slipped but stopped himself falling by thrusting his arm into Winston’s chest. He apologised briefly, recomposed himself and sat down once more, saying nothing else. A few minutes later he spoke to Winston.
“I’m sorry co-worker, please excuse me.” And then he got up and walked determinedly down the aisle, presumably to another seat.
Winston was quite proud of himself. In the space of an hour he had already driven two level seven employees away. He was quite disappointed that the last one had left though. He was sure this man would have been a vast wealth of information on life outside the blue cities.
The last portion of the journey was quite monotonous. No one else had tried to sit next to Winston again. The only person who attempted to speak to him was the lady pushing a cart through the aisles of the train selling drinks and snacks from subsidiary companies of Blue Corp. Winston didn’t buy anything.
Eventually the train began to slow and an announcement in a clear neutral voice came over the loud speaker: “Attention co-workers, the next stop is Kealinu, this will be the final stop in this service, next stop Kealinu. Thank you for using BCRail. Have a productive day.”
After this announcement, Winston observed almost everybody on the train put away their books or newspapers in unison then hold their bags on their laps and prepare to leave the train. Before the train came to a halt, they were filing out of their seats into a neat line running from the exit door, far along the aisles.
Winston sighed as he stood up, stretched, picked up his briefcase and joined the neat queue for the exit. When the train came to a stop, three chimes were heard and the doors slid open rapidly, thumping when they had opened fully. The passengers poured out onto the platform and headed for the exit. Passengers waiting to board were neatly arranged in two lines in a “V” shape around each door, permitting the people on the train to get off without any problem. Winston was one of the last ones to pass through the exit doors and he could see the edgy hesitant movements of people in the lines waiting for him to exit so that they could rush on and secure a good seat. He wondered what would happen if he just stayed standing in the exit doors. Would the people wait there all day until he moved or would they eventually just push past him? Such an action would surely be against company policy though, he conceded. Too bad.
The platform was a rather typical strip of asphalt that held a throng of people, countless vending machines and a multitude of colourful advertising boards. To the left were several other platforms; densely populated islands separated by shiny silver tracks.
Winston knew exactly where to go. All stations were essentially the same, they just differed in size occasionally. He walked up the stairs to the concourse, found the right stream of people to join and drifted towards the transfer gates. The chip in his hand beeped and glowed as he walked though the “identification point”, as did everyone’s around him. The train fare would be deducted from his next pay cheque. There was no use for money in blue cities. Every service used or product bought or consumed in a blue city was invariably provided by Blue Corp or a subsidiary company, so payroll deduction was the most logical and efficient system. Each worker had a chip implanted on the back of their right hand, which contained information on their employment level, background, the amount of their next pay transfer and the current balance of their bank account. On pay day, any amount left that hadn’t been deducted was transferred to the employee’s bank account.
Winston headed down the ramp to the Kealinu metro platforms. The metro was an underground rail system, which enabled workers to quickly travel around the city between their apartments, work and the shopping centres. Every blue city had a metro rail system. Winston crossed over to platform four and waited in one of the “V” shaped lines. As always, the train pulled up perfectly so that the doors were exactly aligned with where the people were queuing. After all the passengers on board shuffled off, the queues began to move and soon enough Winston stepped on board the train. The train was extremely crowded, so Winston had to stand crammed against the doors, his face pressed against the glass. The train whirred up to speed, maintained that speed for a brief time, decelerated, stopped and more people would shove on, decreasing what little space there was on board. Winston observed this same process repeat several times before reaching his stop, Corner 1st and A streets.
He walked past the “V” shaped lines, along the platform, through the concourse and climbed the stairs to the street. He had finally arrived. He was in the most sought after district of Kealinu, the capital of the Blue Corp empire and home of the “Blue tower”. His pupils didn’t contract when he stepped up to street level, neither did they dilate; everywhere in a blue city had the same level of light twenty four hours a day. The sun never set, nor did it rise.
It was a comfortable 22 degrees Celsius, as always. When looking up, a clear stewart blue sky could be seen between soaring shiny skyscrapers. The sky was always blue. Faceless drones scurried about moving from one tall building to another, a black bobbing mass on the harsh bland concrete footpaths. The women all wore suits and had their hair tied back, their real faces lying beneath the façade they applied each morning. Really, they all looked the same and from Winston’s experience, they all talked, acted and thought the same as well. The men all wore suits and sported conservative short haircuts and bland ties. They too spoke, acted and looked the same as each other. Kealinu really was essentially like every other blue city, Winston thought to himself with some disappointment.
Winston joined the masses and walked along the crowded footpaths. He trudged along with his head down and listened to the footsteps around him clomping almost in unison. Sighing, he put his hands in his outside jacket pockets. His heart raced suddenly as his fingers slid over an object in his right pocket. Winston never put items in his outside jacket pockets, so was sure someone had slipped it in there. His curiosity grew exponentially, but he knew he couldn’t look at what it was out in the open. Not with all the BlueHR cameras and all the drones who would gleefully turn him in so that their work reputation may increase. Besides, the moment his fingers lingered on the strange object, he knew who had put it there: the strange man from the train.
So Winston just kept walking along, part of the bobbing black mass, trying to hide any sign of the excitement and curiosity that he was feeling. Winston knew he’d have to wait until he reached his new apartment before he could get a look at what it was.
The streets, the people and the surrounds seemed more intolerable now than they had ever seemed before. Winston couldn’t stand it, he just wanted to find his new apartment building, they were all the same anyway, why couldn’t his one just be the building he was walking past at that time? His frustration grew until he reached a point where he just wanted to break into a fast run, dramatically leaping over objects and pushing the drones out of his way. Such an action though would surely be noticed and reprimanded by BlueHR; no one ever ran, no one was ever late.
His face and body language remained remarkably composed however. If Winston had learnt anything over his career with Blue Corp, it was how to hide his emotions. He walked past several identical blocks, containing identical buildings and identical shops. He imagined a raging torrent of emotions pushing beneath the skin of his face, increasing in strength, desperately trying to break and crack through his impassive exterior.
After a few minutes that dragged on to feel like hours, he spotted building number 2084 in Platinum numbers. He broke away from the blob of people and confidently strutted up the stairs. The frosted glass doors slid open shortly after Winston’s identity chip glowed and beeped. A vast sterile lobby opened up before him. Large black marble columns supported a darkly coloured roof. The floor was composed of brown marble, which had no pattern. Four lifts could be seen on the far wall and a bare marble desk was to the left of the entrance, behind which, a level three employee stood.
Winston walked straight over to the desk. The man at the desk acknowledged him.
“Good morning co-worker.”
“Good morning,” Winston replied, “I’d like to move into my new room.”
“Certainly co-worker, please place your hand over this square.”
Winston lifted his right hand and put it on the black square that was on the desk. The identity chip in his right hand beeped and glowed. The concierge looked to his computer screen.
“Ahh thankyou co-worker. Please fill out these forms.”
He handed Winston a small pile of brightly coloured forms. Winston could never understand the purpose of so much paper work, when the identity chip system was supposedly so efficient. The paper work meant that he had to spend even longer before he could discover what was in his pocket. Still, he remained composed and started filling out the forms.
After filling in the last entry, he slammed the pen down and handed the completed forms over to the concierge, who briefly looked over them, placed them in a folder and then asked Winston to put his hand on the square again. The identity chip beeped and glowed once more.
“Thank you co-worker, feel free to move in to your room at any time. You are in room number 3031.”
Winston thanked the concierge and walked over to the lifts, tapping the up button twice. A chime sounded and a light glowed above the lift on the far left. The doors opened, Winston walked through, selected floor 30 and the doors closed soon after. The only thing that changes with apartment buildings is how high your room is, Winston thought to himself. Now that he was a level seven employee, he occupied a room in one of the highest floors of the building. What an achievement, Winston thought to himself sarcastically as he realised it was the highest level that he had ever lived on.
The speakers onboard the elevator spewed out the latest songs released by the only record company in “Blue Corp”, “Blue Records”. Intolerable, thought Winston. Every year the same songs were re-released sung by a different singer. Each year a giant televised singing contest would be held and the winner would release songs for an entire year until the next competition. Winston was sure that he had only ever heard 20 different songs in his life and all had the same droll messages of working hard and aspiring to be the best. Background music was generated by a computer and was rarely changed from each re-release to the next.
Finally, Winston felt the lift decelerating and heard the familiar chimes and a neutral voice that informed him that he had reached the 30th floor. The heavy metal doors slid open and Winston stepped through. The corridor seemed the same as every other apartment corridor, except that there were lacings of platinum instead of other metals and the apartment doors were spaced further apart. Winston strutted confidently down the corridor until he was standing in front of a brown door with the number 3031 in platinum.
He held his right hand up to the black square marked on the door and his ‘identity chip’ beeped and glowed whilst the door swung open. Winston hesitated and looked down at his feet before stepping over the line separating the corridor from his new apartment. Winston thought to himself, I’ve finally arrived, I’m a level seven employee now, but why does it feel such a hollow achievement?
The room was expansive and sterile, the colour grey dominated and was only broken up by the generous lashings of platinum and brown marble. Winston slammed the door closed behind him and walked directly over to the large television screen that took up a decent proportion of the side wall and was the focal point of the room. He held his right hand up to the black panel beside the screen, causing it to flicker to life. The screen displayed large white text on a stewart blue background. “Welcome to BlueAssist Winston.” Winston spoke commands to the screen, “Check messages.” Instantly a table of waiting messages was displayed in the order of when they were received, with the unread messages highlighted in bold.
“Read message one,” Winston commanded in a monotone voice. The text of the message instantly came on the screen and a neutral voice began to read the message. “Good morning co-worker. Welcome to Kealinu. Please settle in as efficiently as possible and report to us by 1100 at the latest. You will find your office located on floor 40 of ‘Blue Tower’, please report to the concierge on arrival. Your duties and expectations will be outlined on your arrival. Also be aware that in honour of your promotion to level seven, a party will be held in Blue Tower function room one at 2200. Have a productive day. BlueHR.”
Winston had expected a message such as this; workers were given very little time off to settle in to a new apartment. Winston scanned through the rest of the messages and then used BlueAssist to stock his apartment with all the essentials. BlueAssist was the height of convenience, a technological breakthrough and was the primary method of communication between a worker and work whilst at home. Every Blue Corp worker had a large BlueAssist screen in their apartments, which could be used for almost anything from entertainment to ordering food. There was no company policy that the system had to be turned on whilst a co-worker was in the apartment, but failure to comply was treated very suspiciously by BlueHR. The other function of BlueAssist was to ensure the safety of employees in their homes by acting as a surveillance camera that could notify the appropriate people if any accidents occurred. Winston was of course very sceptical of the whole system, which ultimately prevented him from being himself. In the bedroom, the bathroom and the kitchen there were miniature versions of the BlueAssist screen, for extra convenience, which ensured that there was not a single point in the apartment where you couldn’t see a BlueAssist screen, or it couldn’t see you.
Winston signed out of BlueAssist, put a new jacket on and promptly exited his apartment, only minutes after he had entered. He rode the lift back down to the lobby, exited the building and walked to the nearest metro station. He boarded a train bound for Blue Tower.
Blue Tower certainly was an imposing structure. In spanned some 60 levels high and as many as 20 levels were underground, no one really knew. It was easily the largest building in the city and was in the simple design of a large blue shiny rectangle. An empty area, composed only of bland concrete surrounded the tower. At any given point in time, hundreds of co-workers in black suits were scurrying in or out of the tower. Every metro line stopped at Blue Tower and the station exit was a large set of stairs in front of the bland block of concrete. A wide road also ran in front of the behemoth structure.
Winston was hardly impressed when he saw the building; he thought it was essentially the same as every other building in a blue city, just bigger. He joined the scurrying masses and walked inside the building. The ground level floor was large, open and sterile. There were six sets of lifts, with about ten lifts for each set, which were cast inside large grey columns. Winston walked to the set of lifts that was second farthest to the left. This set of lifts accessed floors 40 to 49. Winston couldn’t see any lifts going down to the underground levels.
He tapped the shiny up button twice. Soon he heard chimes, and a light above a nearby lift lit up. He stepped on board the lift, raised his hand to the black square and selected level 40 after his ‘identity chip’ beeped and glowed. The heavy doors shut rapidly after he made his selection.
Winston tuned out the appalling music as the lift whirred up to level 40. Soon enough, a neutral voice indicated that he was on the 40th floor and the heavy metal doors slid open. He stepped out of the lift, pushed though some glass doors and found a level three employee working behind the concierge desk.
“Good Morning co-worker, please place your right hand on this square”
Winston’s ‘identity chip’ beeped and glowed after following this instruction.
“Ahh thank you co-worker, please fill out these forms.”
Winston completed the brightly coloured stack of forms and handed them back to the concierge. The concierge looked at them briefly and put them in a file. He then asked Winston to put his hand on the black square once more.
“Thank you co-worker, you are on workstation 101, have a productive day.”
Winston thanked the concierge and pushed the door open and entered the office. It was a large fluorescently lit room consisting of hundreds of workers frantically typing on computers in cubicles separated by temporary thin walls. At the edge of the room, a lone water cooler sat, burbling every now and then, there was also a photocopier. Winston walked through the labyrinth to try and find his workspace. Not one co-worker looked up as he walked past. Just like every other office, Winston thought to himself. He eventually found his workspace, placed his briefcase on the table and sat down behind the desk. He pulled out his ‘data key’ from his briefcase and inserted it into the computer. The computer immediately flashed to life and a table of jobs appeared on the screen. Winston clicked on the first one and began to work. There was not a great deal of variation in the work and it was rare that one knew or was told what it was actually for. Winston ploughed through the jobs listed on the screen, one after the other. The table of jobs never reduced in size; new jobs replaced any completed jobs. The computer arranged the jobs in order of importance and this jumped around several times.
Winston’s gift lay in his ability to relentlessly plough through job after job at a lightning pace irregardless of its complexity. Workers were scored on the rate and accuracy to which they completed jobs and Winston was one of the highest scoring workers in Blue Corp, hence his promotion. Winston didn’t think about what he was doing at work, he just processed numbers all day until he got a message that it was time to go home. In his mind he was always somewhere else, a place where uniqueness existed, a place that had culture.
The hours ticked by one after the other, each similar to the previous, until Winston received a message that it was time to go to function room one for his promotion party.
He logged out of the system, put his ‘data key’ in his briefcase and headed down to function room one.
Everyone arrived at much the same time and walked through the large oak doors into the sterile expansive function room. The room was filled with level three caterers carrying metal trays filled with drinks and food. When all the level seven co-workers entered the room, the caterers began to circulate. The metal trays danced and swirled amongst the bobbing black mass.
Not long after everyone had arrived, Winston was called on to stage, which was at the back of the room. A brief congratulatory speech was given by a BlueHR member and Winston shook his hand at the end to the applause of his co-workers. After this, Winston rejoined the party, followed by the BlueHR member.
The man introduced himself to Winston as Lawrence. He was a dim-witted fat man, who was extremely confident and acted as though he owned the room. Throughout the conversation he spoke in tones and gave Winston looks that indicated that Winston should feel very privileged that such an important person was talking to him. Winston honestly couldn’t care less, he thought the man was slow, weak willed and ultimately uninteresting. He really was a bore to talk to. Nevertheless, Winston looked interested as Lawrence rambled about various topics. Whenever a tray of food passed by, Lawrence would grab at least three morsels and shove them into his mouth, thanking the female caterers by touching them on their behind. What a foul, disgusting man, thought Winston. Although, each glass of wine that Winston consumed, seemed to make the man just that little bit more tolerable.
Suddenly the lights dimmed low and the doors at the back of the function centre swung open. Strange music, the likes of which Winston had never heard before, began to play, softly at first, but quickly getting louder until each note bounced around the walls of the room, adding splashes of colour and soul to the sterile surrounds. Four men walked in, one was playing an instrument that looked like a horn with three prongs over which the man’s fingers danced rhythmically, another was playing a brass ‘S’ shaped horn, one was carrying a large wooden object that had a narrow neck with strings running along its length and the fourth man was empty handed. Soon a large glossy black table with legs and a set of keys alternating between ebony and ivory, was pushed in to the room, and the man who was previously empty handed, sat behind this table. The room fell silent and the air seemed to be pulsing in anticipation of the array of vibrant tunes that were about to race through it.
After signalling each other, the four men began to play, as a cheer spread across the room. Winston was speechless, Beautiful, he thought, unable to find words that would adequately describe what he felt. He had heard the notes before, but never the sounds. Each instrument created a unique sound, yet together they seemed to compliment each other perfectly, The music was so raw and husky, it was free and yet ordered, complicated yet simple. Winston felt his emotions ebbing and flowing as the music led him wildly as it told its story. He surrendered to it and gladly let his ears absorb each note, whilst his hair stood up on the back of his neck and he felt his toes tapping involuntarily. Winston felt he could be content just losing himself in the music for the rest of time.
Lawrence interrupted Winston, “Never heard Jazz before eh?” Lawrence was smirking at Winston’s reaction to what he had just heard. It was unlike Winston to show his emotions, but the overwhelming sensation the music had caused in him, broke his tough exterior momentarily. Winston reverted to his composed self and responded, “Yes, if this is what Jazz is, then it is the first time I’ve heard it.”
“Well,” asked Lawrence, “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful.”
Lawrence just laughed in acknowledgement, “There are definitely a lot of perks to being a level seven employee, wouldn’t you say?”
Winston couldn’t have agreed more with the man. It was the first time a Blue Corp employee had made sense to him; for once things actually were different. Winston vocalised his agreement, “Why yes, yes it certainly seems that way.” Both men chuckled and drank their wine after clinking their glasses in appreciation.
Lawrence interjected, “Just wait until you see what is coming up next.”
Winston looked to the doors eagerly in anticipation at what could possibly come next. After the song that was being played finished, there was silence. All of the people in the room looked toward the stage, their eyes wide in anticipation. The band began to play once more and cheers rose up from the room. Winston stared in disbelief as a tall voluptuous woman in a red dress walked on to the stage. Her hair was a deep red in colour and was wild and unrestrained, her big hazel eyes burned brightly, full of life Her face was soft and innocent, yet her smile was luscious and cheeky. The low neck line of her dress revealed tantalising cleavage and its short length revealed long golden brown smooth and slender legs. Winston felt a strong surge of passion; this woman was so raw and unconventional. Winston would have given anything to hold her close to him, to touch her untamed hair, to smell her sweet scent, to kiss her full lips.
Lawrence nudged Winston with his elbow and raised and lowered his eyebrows in quick succession. She began to sing, her voice teeming with soul, raw yet refined, harsh yet loving. The diva locked eyes with Winston and the two stared at each other longingly for what seemed like eternity to Winston. He immediately felt weak and a warm fuzzy feeling rushed through his head. Once again he felt Lawrence elbowing him.
Winston was transfixed; he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman. She sang number after number while Winston just stared helplessly. He had to find a way to talk to her. Eventually Lawrence pulled Winston’s head close to him and whispered in his ear. “You know buddy, it is a tradition that she always goes home with the newly promoted co-worker.” Winston’s heart stopped in that instant. A cold tinge ran throughout his body. He looked at Lawrence inquisitively, to which Lawrence just nodded while smirking. Winston could have kissed the dim-witted fat man. The rest of the night was just a blur for Winston. Images and sounds merged and swirled around his head, his brain unable to process them.
Finally the night came to an end and everyone started flowing out of the exit doors, laughing and chatting as they went. Many shook Winston’s hand and congratulated him as they left. Lawrence took Winston by the arm and took him up to the stage where the lady in red was standing. “Mauritius, this is Winston, he’ll be taking care of you tonight. A limo is waiting for you out the front of the building.” Lawrence winked at Winston and then walked off.
Winston and Mauritius smiled at each other uncomfortably and walked together out to the front of Blue Tower, where indeed a limo was waiting. A short man in a uniform complete with a black hat and white gloves stepped out of the car and opened the door for Winston. Winston gently guided Mauritius into the car with his hand pushing softly on her back. Once Winston had climbed in, the driver shut the door, and soon the car was heading back to Winston’s apartment building. Winston stared nervously at the seat in front of him the whole way home; he was scared to even look at Mauritius. His thoughts were racing in anticipation of the night.
Finally the limo arrived at building 2084 and Winston escorted Mauritius up to his room. As he opened the door the two looked into each others’ eyes. Winston noticed remarkable sadness behind Mauritius’ beautiful hazel eyes and her perky smile. He knew what he had to do, he had decided it a long time ago. Winston gave a sympathetic smile and guided her into the room. He went straight to the BlueAssist screen, signed in. He strode over to Mauritius confidently, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her body close to his, her heaving breasts pressed against his chest and her soft skin contacted his. He looked her deeply into her eyes and brushed her soft luscious lips against his. The passion of the kiss grew wildly and Winston ran his hand along the back of her silky dress. Mauritius pulled him even closer with her tender hands. Winston could taste her, smell her and feel her, she was invading every aspect of his senses and he gladly succumbed to the feeling. He raised his strong hands up to her neck and gently brushed a strap of the dress over her right shoulder. He then pulled away and looked into her eyes longingly.
Winston turned around and walked over to the BlueAssist screen. He turned the system to ‘Love Mode’. This was a mode that enabled couples to be intimate with each other without being watched by BlueHR, really it was the only acceptable reason for not having the system switched on. Even still, BlueHR did not look favourably on overindulgence, so if ‘Love Mode’ were used for too long a period or too often, it would often attract suspicion.
Privacy at last, thought Winston. He turned back to Mauritius and looked at her apologetically. “I’m sorry for that outburst, but it was necessary. We now have about an hour of freedom.”
Mauritius looked at Winston and gave a hesitant smile, not sure exactly what he had in mind.
“Mauritius, I don’t want to do anything that you don’t feel like doing, I know that Blue Corp is forcing you to come here tonight and umm… satisfy me, but I just want you to know whatever happens in this hour will never leave these walls, all BlueHR will know is that you came here and will assume that we spent a passionate time together.”
Mauritius was still hesitant and suddenly became self conscious of the precarious dress she was wearing, she folded her slender arms so that they blocked her provocative cleavage. She wasn’t exactly sure how to respond and simply stood there searching for words, gulping like a goldfish.
Noticing her sudden discomfort, Winston went to his cupboard and grabbed a casual business jumper and the jacket he had been wearing when he had arrived, and walked over to Mauritius. He offered her the jumper, which she quickly grabbed and put on. Mauritius still looked extremely uncomfortable and hesitant.
Winston motioned his arm to the grey sofa, “Would you like to take a seat?”
“Umm… Actually, could I use your bathroom?”
“Sure,” Winston replied.
As Mauritius closed the door of the bathroom behind her, Winston sat on the sofa, holding the jacket in his arms. When he heard water splashing from the shower, he quickly thrust his hand into the pocket of the jacket.
His heart raced as he pulled the object out of his pocket, he had been thinking about it ever since his fingers first lingered on it whilst walking on the street. Quickly he brought the object up to his eyes to examine it. Winston recognised what it was instantly; it was a Blue Corp ‘data key’. Every worker possessed a ‘data key’ that was used to sign in to Blue Corp computers and could hold a large amount of data as well as any files of the projects that the employee was working on. Winston immediately knew what he had to do with the key. He put the data key in his briefcase along with his own key. Winston looked at his watch - only forty minutes before he had to turn the BlueAssist screen back on. How could she take so long in the shower?
Steam poured out into the room as the door of the bathroom opened. Mauritius stepped out with a soft white towel wrapped around her, covering her naked body. Her wild red hair was dripping water on the floor and beads of water ran down her face, along her slender neck and were funnelled down between her breasts before being absorbed by the white towel. Mauritius looked over at Winston, “Umm may I have some clothes to change in to?”
Winston sat flabbergasted momentarily before leaping up and going to get some clothes from his cupboard. He handed her a pile of clothes, but as he did the rolled up socks on top slipped off the pile and fell to the ground. Both bent down to pick them up, but Mauritius was much faster. As she picked up the socks, her mesmerising cleavage entered Winston’s field of vision and he stared, transfixed. Suddenly Winston snapped out of the trance and punished his thoughts, you’re a man not an animal, control yourself!
When he looked back at Mauritius he noticed that she was staring into his eyes. Winston stared back into Mauritius’ big beautiful hazel eyes that were surrounded by graceful long black lashes. He wasn’t sure, but he could have sworn he saw her pupils dilate and right then, an overwhelming feeling came to him and he lent slowly towards Mauritius. Winston closed his eyes just before he felt her wet soft lips brush slowly against his. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to do. His heart raced and a buzzing warm feeling spread throughout his body. The feeling grew and he put his arms around her and pulled her close and kissed her with intense passion. She ran her wet tender fingers though his hair, messing up his conservative hairstyle. The water from her body started seeping through his suit. Winston ran his hand along her slender arms and let them slide down her back, lingering on her behind.
Winston’s thoughts suddenly overpowered him and demanded that he stop: Stop it, just stop it now, what are you doing? He stopped kissing her and looked into her eyes. “I said you don’t have to do this, I’ll make sure you won’t get in trouble.”
She stared back into his eyes for some time before responding.
“… But I want to.”
Winston began to respond, “But…”
She gently put one finger to his lips to silence him. He could smell her sweet scent and taste her clean skin. It was impossible to resist, Winston just surrendered to his feelings. He pulled Mauritus close again and kissed her with even greater intensity. She started clutching at his shirt and soon had his tie off and a few of his shirt buttons undone. Winston pulled away from Mauritius’ lips and began to kiss her cheek before moving down to her neck. He let his strong hands rub her shoulders and finger the edge of her towel.
Mauritius pulled strongly on the collar of Winston’s shirt, causing it to rip off, while the buttons flew haphazardly. She threw the shirt on the ground and ran her soft hands over his muscular chest. Winston tugged at her white towel gently and let it fall to the ground. Mauritius’ body was artistic in its beauty; her curves were luscious and sensual. She had a practically perfect body apart from a long scar which ran in a diagonal strip from beneath her left breast to her navel. Winston found this very intriguing and couldn’t wait to discover the exciting life she had inevitably led. Mauritius cheekily leaped in the air and straddled Winston’s chest, he grabbed hold of her and walked over to the bed and flung her onto the mattress. He lovingly kissed and caressed every part of her body until she was screaming with desire, and then made love to her, wildly and passionately.
Winston had never felt so relaxed or happy before, he had no idea how he could develop such an intense love for someone so quickly. The two lay in each others’ arms, breathing heavily, their sweaty bodies clinging to each other. Winston began to try to ask questions about her past and the black cities, but Mauritius invariably cut him off. After two attempts, Mauritius spoke up.
“Oh Winston, that was divine.”
She lent over and playfully bit Winston’s ear lobe before fondling his ear with her lips. Winston heard Mauritius whisper with anger and urgency, “How can you be so stupid? BlueAssist cameras aren’t turned off in ‘love mode’, they are never turned off, it is all a lie.”
They both just lay there smiling, for what else could they do?
posted by Travvy at 3:05 AM
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