Dating : We the Liked

“A TOAST,” Anna raised a crystal glass of 2029 Dom Pérignon, “to the fruit of our reps!”

“Our reps!” replied Anna’s colleagues gathered around a table of fine linens and sumptuous food. All of them drained their glasses, except one.

“What’s the matter, Ivy?” Anna asked with a nod to the nanochip in Ivy’s wrist. “Not drinking? You’re still a few craft cocktails shy of damaging your impeccable rep.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ivy. “I don’t mean to be a downer, but isn’t anyone else concerned?”

Struthio lifted his head from his plate. “About what?” he croaked through a mouthful of foie gras and sweet wine.

“About tonight’s election,” said Parsons. “‘Much ado about nothing,’ if you ask me. Our people aren’t going anywhere.”

Anna twisted her mouth. “Parsons, weren’t you the one, last week, whining whether or not to hedge your bets against a new government?” Parsons cast his eyes down to an empty glass. “Anyway,” Anna rolled on, “nobody but an ignorant fool would vote for them. We will not lose.”

“If that did happen,” said Schaden, “and I am confident that it will not, then at least millions of others will be worse off than me.”

A server responded to a signal from Parsons’s empty glass and filled it to the brim. Anna recognized the waitress. “Mary?” she said.

Mary looked just long enough to place Anna’s face from her school days. She recalled how Anna had always been part of an in-crowd. “Yes, Ma’am,” she answered, and discreetly faced away.

Anna tilted her head to try and catch Mary’s eyes.

“It’s the digital golden age for goodness sake,” said Parsons. “It holds those draft-dodging, dishonest degenerates accountable for undermining the order of things.”

“And punishes those who refuse to comply with administrative rulings,” added Struthio.

“It’s an adaptive and continuously improving system, which keeps us safe and facilitates a healthy market economy,” Anna proclaimed with divided attention.

“It exposed the academic fraud at my last job,” said Ivy, emboldened by the others.

All eyes were on the only chipped-one at the table who had not paid a compliment to The System. Schaden sensed the scrutiny and leaned in for all the beacons to hear, “And uh . . . an innovative means to advance the rule of law?” The others smiled, and Schaden relaxed back into his meal.

Anna watched Mary rush between the tables in dutiful response to the torrent of signals from the tableware. “You know her?” said Ivy.

“Years ago in school and only in passing,” said Anna. “A radical of the worst sort. That’s what the posts said.”

“Well,” said Ivy, “look at the two of you now. You are the supervisor — the most coveted position in the High Ministry — while she, she just is.”

Anna returned a self-satisfied smile. “Yes, I am.”

After several minutes of appropriate conversation, Anna bid farewell to the others. On her way out, her dental nanochip settled her proper share of the bill, signaled a car, and opened all the doors. Two steps to the curb, into a pristine self-driving car, and Anna was whisked off.

The unshared, sans souci ride to her apartment took rep-restricted lanes past cars stuck in heavy city traffic, avoided busy intersections, and followed exclusive detours around construction work. Anna’s premium music played in the background while the video screen displayed election returns from her personalized newsfeed. It had been a close race, but Anna’s candidate was sure to win once all of the district reports were tallied. The car swiftly arrived at the guarded entrance to Anna’s building, and she settled in for another blissful night’s sleep.

* * *

Anna woke to the crackle of static from her virtual assistant. Not my music channel, she wondered, and feeling far too refreshed for a workday morning, a glance at the clock confirmed she had overslept. She hopped into the shower and luxuriated beneath the steaming spray as she adjusted her schedule: “First,” she spoke to the beacons, “a message to the techs regarding the failure of my virtual assistant; Second, contact Parsons about — What the fu . . . uh . . . uh!” Anna recoiled from the stream of water, which had gone icy cold. “S-scratch that last item. Report a problem with the hot water.”

Anna bound down the steps of her apartment building and entered the waiting car. Inside, she found a man asleep beneath a crumpled business jacket. There must be some mistake, she thought, but there were no other cars. Then it occurred to her that the alarm malfunction, cold shower, and now this rideshare were all the result of a dead nanochip. “Add dentist visit for a capacitor check.”

The car ride was bumpy, the floor sticky. It reeked of sweat and stale beer, and dissonant music accompanied pornographic displays elicited by the businessman’s signal. Anna wrinkled her nose at the lump snoring beside her and fantasized about ripping out his nanochip. The car jerked to a stop behind an endless row of cars. Anna sat helpless as the cars in the rep-restricted lane — her lane — whizzed past.

The hellish ride ended at the curb on the side of the street opposite the High Ministry. An arrival tone aroused the businessman who cursed his way out of the car, grumbling “they can’t do this to me,” and then he disappeared into what Anna regarded as the lowest of the ministries, the Bureau of Hospitality Services. She waited for the car to swing around to her side of the road until she recalled the problem with her nanochip; reluctantly, she got out there and walked across the street.

Anna nearly broke her nose on the glass doors. “Shi-oot!” Her predicament drew condescending looks from the others whose functioning nanochips opened doors ahead of them. “Darn capacitors,” she said loud enough to excuse her to no one in particular. Perhaps if she got close enough to the door scanner, even a weak response from her nanochip might work. Anna stepped aside to press her face against the glass and snarled her tooth right up to the receiver. “Anna!” Schaden’s voice cried out from behind. Anna turned — red.

The doors hissed open at Schaden’s approach. “Can you believe it!” he said. “He actually lost! And the new ministers wasted no time running their moral algorithms against our lifetime data. It may be the fastest reputation recalculation ever. My rep-score dipped a bit, but then my position at the Ministry is only mid-level.” Schaden took a breath, and Anna anxiously eyed the open doors. What had happened began to dawn on Anna.

“Honestly,” said Schaden. “I am surprised to see you here. Not that I’m not happy for you, but I took you for a true ‘if we’re right, they must be wrong’ loyalist.” Schaden cupped a hand against his mouth. “Like me,” he whispered, “you must have behaved a bit, uh, independent, outside the office.”

Anna nodded in false agreement.

“After you,” Schaden gestured toward the open doors. Anna could have entered and temporarily avoided embarrassment, but the inevitable security escort back out of the building would be far more shameful.

“Thank you, no, Schaden,” said Anna. “I think I’ll take a short walk first.”

Schaden shrugged and passed through the doors, which closed behind him. Anna brooded over a stark realization. She was roused from sleep by her virtual assistant but not with her premium channel. The shower turned on, but the hot water was rationed. A car had waited, but it brought her to . . . Anna forced herself to look across the street at the lowly Bureau.

Her nanochip had not died, Anna was loath to accept, it was she that had lost her life to a system of reward and punishment based on the conceit of changing norms, which now decided she would no longer be “liked,” “followed,” “tagged,” “checked,” or “viewed.”

The doors swooshed open behind Anna. Turning in a fleeting moment of hope, she watched that radical of the worst sort, Mary, stride past to begin her new position in the High Ministry.