A queer sci-fi story set in near-future Toronto, when corporations have gained control of the people.
Violet’s feet hit the dust-covered concrete with a muted
“Yes,” Violet breathed, leaning closer to the other woman. She reached a hand up to touch her face, when suddenly Mercy’s skin began to bubble and distort. Within seconds, the horrible squelching noise filled the space between them as Mercy’s body ruptured, splattering Violet with a sickly-hot torrent of blood and gore.
Violet awoke with a jolt, sitting bolt upright in her bed. Her skin was slick not with blood but with a fine sheen of sweat. She took deep breaths, attempting to slow her breathing to a normal pace. “It was just a nightmare,” she quietly comforted herself, “it’s not real.”
Her watch read 6:18. Ample time before she had to be back at the plant. Back to the impossible task she’d promised Mercy she could handle. She flopped back onto her pillow with a heavy sigh.
Mercy… Her mind flashed a dreamstate image of the tough woman, inches away from her and filled with desire. The same heat she’d felt during the imaginary scene swept across her body as she replayed the snippet – before it had taken a grisly turn – over and over.
While Violet had been attracted to a smattering of people over time, she’d never actually pursued – or been pursued by – anyone. It was hard to find other people conscious enough to reciprocate anything, not to mention the libido-dampening effects of Attentrix and the grueling modern workday. Sure, there was that boy she’d found cute when she was twelve, but that hardly counted. The brief inklings of longing for the woman with the piercing eyes, the tall street vendor with the ropey forearms, the person with the halo of dark curls and the soft lips – but those were all passing observation. Besides, legislation barred any sort of union that could not produce children, so there had been no point in letting those thoughts go any further.
Mercy was the first person that she’d been both drawn to and in interaction with. It felt so forbidden but also so instinctively right. She caught herself in fantasy and quickly pulled back to earth. She might find Mercy attractive, but who the hell was she to assume the sentiment would be returned?
She swung her legs over the bed and rose to her feet, trudging around the small space in her familiar rhythmic way. As she readied herself to leave, her mind periodically drifted into daydreamy scenes – feeling Mercy’s lips against her own, the heat of their bodies so close together, the synchronicity of their breathing, heavy and unified. Not even decades of cultural programming could find the off switch for this part of her brain.
The walk to the plant was uneventful, and by the time she made it to her station she had already figured out phase one in her plan to gain access to the plant location information: Figure out how to get into a third-floor office.
For the first few hours of her shift she kept a casual eye on what little she could see of the rooms. Save for a door and an electronic access pad, there were no other indications of what or who could be inside. Then, the first Attentrix jingle came over the speakers and she saw movement. A man carrying a silver device under his arm emerged from a hallway, passed his hand over a sensor, then stepped inside, the door closing automatically behind him. Violet noticed the green light on the sensor pad, how it didn’t go dark until the door was fully closed.
It seemed as though Managers – or at least this shift of Managers – started their days later in the mornings. Half a dozen people in similar blue suits trickled in slowly over the next while, each one gaining access to a different office, each time the indicator light remaining on until the door swung shut. Violet continued to surreptitiously monitor, noticing the same green light remaining on for exactly 4 seconds after the person had gained access. This pattern also held true for when someone exited a room. She thought back to the many times she’d passed through the front entry to the plant – its sensors had a similar green light that indicated the system was in an unlocked state.
A theory percolated in her mind as she fidgeted with the tiny metal components of the unit she was assembling. If I can find a way up to the third floor without getting noticed and someone is coming out of one of those rooms, there’s a chance I can slip in during that 4-second pause. She tried not to fixate on all of the minutiae – like how she could even get up to the third floor, or how she could guarantee someone would be leaving when she managed to achieve that – instead considering the overarching plan. At least she was making some progress.
When the next corporate-sponsored ad began flashing across the big screen, she stood up and headed towards the break room, coming across a maintenance worker repairing something under the sink. She pressed the button on the coffee machine, prompting a cascade of alternating water and black sludge to pour into her cup. The stuff was even more acrid than the last time, a truly foul bitter burnt taste coating her mouth as she muscled her way through the necessary caffeine. This machine has to be on its last legs, she grimaced to herself.
When she returned her station, it suddenly dawned on her that this was the first time she’d noticed maintenance staff. Were they always around and she was just realizing it now? Her gaze swept the room methodically and she spotted one other grey-clad maintenance worker kneeling beside a large machine, a Supervisor standing over her as she worked. A little higher up, another maintenance worker was tinkering with an access pad on the second level, its light flickering on and off in a chaotic dance. The Supervisors lining the gangway paid little attention, eyes fixed ahead on the Assemblers.
For the remainder of her shift, Violet kept tabs on the sparse happenings of the Managers and the maintenance workers. It seemed like Managers stayed in their offices for the majority of the day, with maintenance workers milling about as instructed by Supervisors. At one point, the access pad that Maintenance Worker 2 was fixing began emitting a series of loud beeps, prompting a handful of Managers to poke their heads out of their respective doors, retreating when they realized there was no cause for alarm.
Save for a handful of observational moments, the remainder of Violet’s shift was quiet. By the time the shift end chimed, she was ready to go home and crash. In spite of her chronic exhaustion, she kept her wits about her as she made her way to the door. The maintenance workers from earlier were also wrapping up, passing through a set of doors into what appeared to be a locker room. Curiously, the access pad for this door seemed to be disabled, none of them swiping it as they walked through.
She kept her eyes forward as she passed through the rank of Supervisors lining the entryway. Once she was clear of the building and walking through the streets, her mind slipped back into planning mode. If I can disguise myself as a maintenance worker and cause some kind of diversion big enough to lure the Managers out of their offices, I can maybe – if the timing is right – slip inside. With so many unknowns on the line, she’d have to figure out the rest on the fly.
She entered her small home and pulled a container of tired leftovers from the fridge, eating it cold. She chewed as she scanned the room, grabbing a discarded wrapper from under a pile of dishes. As she shoveled the food into her mouth, she located an errant pencil, holding it thoughtfully above the scrap.
By the time she made it to her front stoop, she felt like she was floating, buoyed by fantasies of a utopian future where she and Mercy could be together, living in a lush green paradise. She scanned the front stoop, disappointed to see no scraps of paper.