HELLO KITTY POD STACK- A Short Story

 

    (I was thinking a while ago what it would be like if our phones could, of their own volition, pipe up and speak to us. What if they watched us go about out business and advised constantly….? What if that was part of a whole scene? What if the walls could speak?) 

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Hello Kitty Pod Stack

All Pod Stacks are given cute names. It was thought to increase compliance. After a generation no one knows what the referents are anyhow. But the names persist.

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6AM. (Voice reminiscent of anime’ girl's.) It’s time to wake up James! I’m just going to keep talking until you wake up James! Today is a special day, James!

    This is nothing new to James. It happens every morning of his life in his pod. His eyes open. He jumps up rapidly to avoid hearing anymore of the voice just then.

Be sure to shower James! This is a special day!

    Instant obedience is the quickest and least annoying option. Built into the one-piece module that is his very own pod is a tiny shower and toilet unit. Luckily for him, he is thin. His skin doesn’t touch the wall of the shower. After a rapid warmish shower with heavily mineralized water, he towels off quickly and goes to the hooks where he hangs his one-piece garments. They are pale green and made of a fabric that sheds soil. He has three of them. He hand washes them in his all-purpose sink from time to time. He chooses the freshest one to wear.

Better eat quickly James! You have five minutes.

    Food bars come in four colors. Yellow, green, brown, and orange. Nobody really knows what they are made of. He chooses yellow. It has a slight citrus tang to it that he prefers. But he will eventually have to eat all of the assortment. He hates the green ones. They come in an olive drab kind of green and taste like some spoiled plant matter he thinks. But he is not sure what kind. He has had little experience with the outdoors in any case.

     He has a hot water pot, so he can make a cup of instant coffee. Of course we would not recognize it as coffee. But that’s what the pod calls this drink. The pod voice is his constant companion.

Hurry James. They will bring her soon! It is your wedding day!

    He is supposed to be excited about this. He stares at himself in the small round mirror to the left of the door. He has no idea what to expect. He is more appalled than anything.
    He has heard that years before his present, they tried to make jug babies, but it didn’t work very well, and they don’t need that many babies anyhow. They decided to go back to the natural method, in a sense. For one thing, naturally bred children were more able and useful than the jug kids had been. They also looked better.
    He doesn’t know much about the lives of the mothers. The word "mother" has a strange taste in his mouth. If fact, he has seen very few girls in his daily life. Sometimes when he walked about outside the pod stack, he would see a girl walking also, but they never spoke to each other.
    From birth until 18 years, he lived in a boy's facility like a government school, but with beds and meals. There were caretakers to mind and instruct them. There were no girls in his building. Affectionate relationships were not meant to happen.
    When he was 18, he received his own pod and began a type of work. Some work required a human mind. Artificial intelligence had not worked out well. It had caused so much destruction of infrastructure that it had to be scaled back. Part of James’ job was to repair the damage. He was a re-organizer. He was now 22 years old.

His wandering thoughts snapped back to the present when the pod said: 

Open the door, James. Martha is here.

    Standing in front of the door James says "Door Open." The door slides to the left into the wall. Standing outside are two uniformed state nurses, dressed in black pants and tunics with various insignia. Between them, staring at the floor, is apparently, Martha. The black clad nurses, of indeterminate gender, more or less shove her through the doorway.
    “You will have five days, then we will return to fetch her,” one says.

Close your door, James. Bring her in.

    Martha has been crying. Her face is grubby with tears and dust. She is small and very young. He supposes that she is about 16. If she were clean and well-dressed and happy she would have been a pretty little thing. But she is wearing a pale blue coverall of the ubiquitous type. She is blond and has grey eyes, almost silvery.
    It occurs to James that she is terrified. He realizes that he is also terrified. He wonders what kind of people think this is acceptable.
    An idea comes to him. It is a totally new concept to James, that he might want to protect someone.
    “They say your name is Martha. Hello. I am James. Please sit. I’m sorry for all of this.”
    Martha doesn’t speak but moves slowly to his one chair and sits, still looking down. Her hands are folded together on her knees. She looks about to take flight.
    James has pencils and paper. Not everyone does, but he likes to write things that the pod can’t read. There is a love of privacy in James. He picks up his pad and writes ‘I will not touch you. Don’t be afraid.’ He casually hands Martha the pad. She scans it and hands it back quickly.
    He writes again. He feels the pod trying to look over his shoulder in a sense. But he has tested the pod. It can’t read his handwriting.
    ‘You know there are places where people don’t live like this Martha?’ Once again, he hands her the pad from his seat on his bed. She reads and nods. She looks up wide-eyed. She nods again. 

    She gestures for the pad and writes, 'everybody knows.'
    He writes. ‘Are you willing to risk cold and exhaustion, hunger and maybe even death to get out of this?’ He hands her the pad. This time she takes it eagerly. “Yes, James. Yes,” whispers Martha.
    “We’re going to go walk around the square,” said James loudly. He gathers up all the food bars, putting them into his various utility pockets. He doesn’t know what to do about water but decides they will chance finding it. He has some of the local scrip also. He hopes they can use it.
    Martha stands and walks with him to the doorway.
    “Open door,” orders James. Martha takes his hand like a child. They walk out of the door and out of the building and keep going.