Digital
by Mowlesar Kathiramalanathan
I want to rip my eyes out of their sockets and set them on fire. I don’t think I can take any more today it never stops, the constant flow of information bombarding my mind. I keep thinking that I should be used to it by now, like everyone else. I’ve already used up my hour of silence this morning; the mute lifted a long time ago and the alerts are at full force today. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one to ever use the mute function. The System is what they call it; many think it’s the biggest technological step humans have made in generations. To me, it was the biggest misstep and subsequent fall down a flight of stairs in history. At the ripe young age of 12 is when I got the System. Permanent contacts fused onto my eyes and a microchip implant drilled into my head. At the time, it really did sound like the greatest thing to ever happen. Who wouldn’t want the Internet right there in your head, guiding your every step? The ability to access the biggest store of information in the world with just our brains. An instant connection to everything, on a global scale. The power to get almost any answer you’re looking for to appear right in front of you without the slightest bit of effort. Upload or download anything with your mind alone. A digital world imposing itself on the real one, blurring everything I see. After six years of experiencing this “gift”, I fucking hate it.
I remember when things used to be quiet and calm. People were different; they weren’t caught up in themselves as much. I used to be different. I used to be happier. After the implant, the real you no longer matters. Social Media: Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat and even fucking Myspace. The individuals we create there are the real people in today’s society. They’re all lies, filtered and edited beyond recognition because the people we really are just aren’t good enough for anyone anymore. The worst part is, I could never be like them. Living their lives online, it never made sense to me. Over time, I realized I would never be able to assimilate, and over even more time, others started to understand as well. Living in a world full of lies with nonstop fucking alerts in my own head and on top of that, being the only outcast within it. I think it’s safe to say my life is pretty shitty.
The school trip to the Famous Art Gallery is more pointless than a blind man attempting to play Tetris. I can’t even stare at a painting without a digital window popping up in my vision and distorting my view. Within seconds the painting is completely covered with walls of text and more windows. Articles, facts, notifications from Instagram and Facebook users related to the painting. Everything from selfies of people in front of the painting to digital replicas. All of them blocking the real, tangible piece right in front of me.
Over all the digital pings and alerts buzzing in my head, I hear the soft sound of footsteps behind me. I spin around on my heels and see that one of my classmates standing before me. A little window pops up by his head labelled ONLINE USERNAME: LIL_J. It’s Jeremy. I fucking hate him too.
“Hey, Jeremy,” I greet him with the most genuine voice I can conjure up.
“I’m sorry, who? Dude, how many times do I have to tell you? Don’t call me that anymore. What’s the point of spending hours thinking of a new original username when people don’t even call you by it? Now that I think of it, you’re the only one who doesn’t.” It was obvious that he didn’t really like me, either.
“Oh, I’m sorry, man. I’m still getting used to the new one.”
“Well, it’s not like you called me by my old one, either. Speaking of usernames, I see you still haven’t got one. It’s been years, dude.”
“Well, you know me… my name is unique enough.”
“Tim Robert Vint. How unique,” he replies. “Whatever, man, come on. We gotta take a pic and make an Instagram post so we can let people know we were here.”
“Me? Why?”
He slowly raises his arms gesturing around him. “Do you see anyone else around?” I do have a strange knack for finding empty places. “Plus MisGuidance told me I have to help you with your online presence. She said you haven’t posted anything in a while. You’re losing followers left and right. C’mon, man, I don’t wanna disappoint her. She’s a good counsellor, and I’m not just saying that because of her awesome username.”
“Uh, sure, I guess.”
One awkward picture later, Jeremy uploads the picture using his chip and sends it to mine as well. As he stares into space, I can see the all the edits he’s making. He zoned in on a blemish over his left eyebrow and started to make it disappear. He shifts his attention to his hair and changes it from a dark brown to a bright blonde and his eyes transform from a dark brown to an ocean blue. In the end, the picture is nothing like its original. Just like everything else these people do. He tried to crop me out of the picture as much as he could, but I could still barely be seen.
“Are you gonna post it or what?” he said, sounding annoyed.
“Ummmm, how about you just tag me instead?” As I finish my sentence, I see the colour drain from his face. I knew no one would really pay attention to mine anyway.
“Uuuh, ummmm, ya sure ,why not?”
With some hesitation, he goes back to staring at nothing and I get notification from Instagram and Facebook, letting me know a post involving me has been made. A small window pops up showing me a number under the label NUMBER OF FOLLOWERS. The number slowly starts increasing, but abruptly stops after a few seconds. The same window pops right underneath his username window and the number suffers a significant drop. He shoots me a piercing stare, spins around, and hurries off without saying another word.
Everyone’s gathering at the gallery entrance waiting patently for the automated transit system to come pick us up. Riding the A.T.S is one of my favourite parts of the day because people are usually too distracted to pay any attention to me. It’s also the closest thing I can get to a quiet moment.
Back at school all we have left to do for the day is to get together and discuss the online posts we made today. I need to find a seat near the back and hope I don’t get called out. As I make my way to the auditorium, I get blocked by Jeremy. His nostrils are flaring and his face is a dark red. The pimple over his eyebrow looks like it’s going to pop. He shoves me hard in the chest and I almost trip over my own feet while stumbling backwards.
“What the hell, man?” I yell.
“Why do you have to be like this?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re such a weirdo! No one wants to be in your posts and all your profiles are boring as fuck. You can’t even edit right.”
“Umm, thanks?”
“That wasn’t a fucking compliment. When are you gonna get it? When will you finally do shit right? Do you realize how much my follower count dropped after that stupid picture I took with you?”
“When am I gonna get it? WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO UNDERSTAND THAT YOU LIVE IN A KINGDOM OF BULLSHIT!”
Heads spin and I feel a hundred eyes watching me. Jeremy pulls back his fist and throws it right towards my face. The pain is sharp and spreads right down to my jawline. I stumble, but quickly regain my footing and launch my attack. I tackle him to the ground and start to hammer him with my fist. After the first few, I can feel the blood start to flow and bones begin to shift. The pain in my fist grows with every strike.
“STOP!” MisGuidance is standing over us with two security bots at her side. Their tank-like bodies fill up the hallway.
The two bots lift their robotic limbs with the Taser attached to them and fire right at my face. The pain is unbearable. I slowly lose feeling and my mind starts to slip away. Before I completely black out, a warning sign pops up reading CHIP MALFUNCTION and I hear the echo of MisGuidance’s voice.
“STOP! NOT IN THE FACE—YOU’RE TASING HIM TOO LONG!”
The school trip to the art gallery is more pointless—wait a fucking minute! I’ve done this already, but that can only mean one thing. I’m dreaming. But that’s not possible—the chip prohibits us from dream in order to keep us from doing things in our sleep. I realize the gallery is distorted and the System is popping any notifications in my head. Instead of works of art, the paintings are replaced with posts from Facebook and Instagram users, people from my school. I feel like I’m floating across the ground. After a while of wandering around, I find the place where Jeremy found me. The original painting I was staring at, back in the real world, is now replaced with a picture of him. It’s titled LIL_J. After a few seconds of staring, a window flashes up labelled DEATH. The box has a yes or no question. DO YOU WISH TO DELETE USER: LIL_J? I can feel my hate for people like him stirring within me and without hesitation I choose yes. At that moment I wake up.
I’m back in my room and my mother is sitting beside me.
“Mom? What happened?” I ask with a raspy voice.
“The school security bots hit you in the face with their Tasers,” she says inspecting me with love, “But, don’t worry. Your chip is perfectly fine—the technicians checked it out.”
Right because that’s obviously the most important thing.
Walking towards the entrance of my school, I could tell there was some commotion, which is very strange. People tend to settle their quarrels online. Well, I guess that changed yesterday. It was the school security bots dragging Jeremy out of the school. He was kicking and screaming like a mad man. I cringe at seeing them again. Inhumanly tall and covered in dark black steel. Those red eyes send a shiver through my body.
“IT’S ME LIL_J. PLEASE SEARCH ME UP AGAIN. I EXIST—I SWEAR.! I GO HERE!” The amount of panic in his voice is both satisfying and unsettling.
“I’m sorry, but you need to leave. You don’t exist on our records, or any record for that matter. Whoever you are, you need to leave.” MisGuidance is speaking with a stern conviction.
“NO NO! CHECK AGAIN!” At that moment, he catches my eye. Getting more spastic, he manages to slip out of the bots’ hands.
He charges me with the rage of an angry rhino. He grabs me by the collar and begins to spout. “YOU—it was YOU! Every time I try and access, it keeps telling me I was deleted. DELETED BY YOU!” The security bots come to my rescue, rip him off my collar and carry him away.
It worked! I did delete that mouth-breathing piece of shit and any trace of him off the System. How can they not remember him, though? They were just posting and reposting with him yesterday. Did they also forget the part when I kicked the shit out of him? Surely I didn’t delete him out of their minds? After a few minutes of thought, I realize, in this world, what’s the difference?
As I stand there, another idea enters my mind, and I can feel the tingle around my lips when I get a genuine smile. If this is real, I already know who to delete next. All I have to do is find a place to sleep.
I rush to the school library and find an empty couch on the second floor. I lie down and will myself to sleep.
I’m back in the gallery, but all the paintings are exactly the same from the last dream. All except for the one that once housed Jeremy. It’s a mirror; this time, all I can see is me. No filters. No edits. Nothing but 100 percent me. Jet black hair and the eyes of someone who hasn’t felt pure joy in a long time. I look up and read the title: VIRUS. After staring deep into my own eyes for quite some time, a digital window pops open with the label FREEDOM encasing the same question with a different name. DO YOU WISH TO DELETE USER: TIM ROBERT VINT? With a deep breath, I choose Yes.