Nicholas Smith - The Biomass Revolution

Inside the apartment Spurious was greeted with the familiar sound of Anya’s voice. She was the artificial intelligence his flat was equipped with.

“Good evening, sir, what can I do for you?” she asked.

While Anya was nothing more than a hologram appearing on a stand in each corner of the square room he called home, she had the capability of fixing him dinner, turning on his favorite program on the blue screen, regulating the water temperature in his rain room and explaining any new laws the legislature passed.

Spurious set his bag down on the ground. “Would you warm up a cup of tea for me please?” he replied.

“Certainly sir. Is there anything else?”

“Any news about the new Biomass factory?” he asked.

Anya’s image jumped from one stand to another as he walked through his small apartment towards the kitchen.

“No news yet, but let me check the mainframe. Give me 31 seconds.”

Spurious smiled, grabbing a full mug of warm tea from the automatic food processing counter. He admired her attention to detail, something programmed into her years ago. She was connected to the same system as all the other AI’s and held considerable power. Her intelligence was remarkable. She was the ultimate multi-tasking machine. In a millisecond she could be warming up his tea while combing through a massive database of information. It was, in a way, frightening to Spurious. On the one hand she catered to his every need, but if he broke any State law she could report him through the system immediately, prompting a visit from a Royal Knight.

The thought sent a chill up his spine as he made his way to the loft nestled against the east wall of the apartment. Beneath the bed was a leather couch with a perfect view of the blue screen protruding out of the wooden floor in the center of the apartment. He sat the mug down on a table and headed for the marble rain room jutting out of the north wall of the room.

“How was your day, Anya?” Spurious asked, running his hand through his wet hair.

“It was the same as any other day; I downloaded new updates from the State system and read the latest legislation up for debate at the Capitol building. Shall I prepare the rain room for you?”

“I’d appreciate that very much, Anya, please set at 88 degrees. And while you’re at it, why don’t you describe some of the interesting pieces of legislation to me. What type of laws are they going to impose on us this session?”

“Sir your tone would not be looked upon positively by Council of Royal Knights. I think you should…”

Spurious quickly interrupted her. “You aren’t going to contact them, are you?” Spurious asked sarcastically, as he walked towards his rain room, still shaking from the cold.

“As you know, my loyalties are first and foremost to the State, but as you may know I’m programmed to keep you happy, clean and well fed. A quandary, isn’t it? So technically it would go against the purpose of my very existence to turn you in to the CRK.”

“And don’t ever forget that, Anya,” Spurious said, smiling, as he stripped out of his work clothes and entered the rain room.

He crouched and sat on the marble floor, resting his back on one of the stone walls. The warm liquid poured down his dark hair, matting it to his head as steam rose around him. Instant relief rushed through his body as he finally began to warm up. His feet tingled as the blood rushed back into his toes. Closing his eyes, he drifted off to sleep as the water massaged his anxiety-riddled body.

Time: 7:50 a.m. January 23, 2071

Location: Sector of Governmental Services. Lunia, Tisaia

Spurious approached the gates of the SGS building, nodding at the two fully-armed guards who stood motionless at each side of the stone entrance. The blue glow from the soldiers’ goggles followed him as he walked towards the offices. For a second he paused to check his watch, stealing a glance at the Knights’ shiny armor suits.

Tin Cans. It’s what the rebels called them on occasion. But Spurious knew they were nothing like the tin cans his tuna salad came from. Their armor was made of a material called gmetal. It was bullet proof, in most cases, and covered their bodies from head to toe. Their armor, combined with the blue night vision goggles attached to their helmets, allowed them to fight in the most extreme conditions.

Spurious forced a smile at the two Knights and continued forward until he reached the gates. It took only a few seconds for the laser to scan his identification card, prompting the gate to swing open. He cringed as the metallic entrance whined and creaked.

Slowly he passed through the stone square surrounding the massive SGS offices on all sides. Leafless trees extended out of the frozen ground, their naked branches reaching towards the gray brick walls of the building.

The office itself was four stories tall and housed about two hundred workers total. The windows were replaced after a sniper killed a worker a few years back. The glass was removed and in its place, the SGS insignia had been edged into the brick.

The top of the office had a copper dome roof tinted dark green with age. All four outside walls had been overtaken with massive vines crawling like bloated veins across the brick exterior.

Spurious entered the first floor of the building, relieved to be out of the cold. He took off his wool beret and tucked it under his armpit, continuing down the hall lined with cubicles on both sides.

His office was on the third floor and could be accessed only by stairs. The elevators had been shut down after another law restricting energy use was passed a few years back. The floor was unusually busy and he shuffled through the crowd of employees to his cubicle, quickly peering into Lana’s work station, which still remained empty. She had now been gone for three days straight, and he was beginning to worry.

He took off his thick coat, dressing the back of the chair. The first part of his day was always the worst, but he found ways to pretend he was not at the office. Sometimes he imagined he was at his apartment listening to his pirated copies of old industrial music by DJs from the early 21st century. Other times he imagined he was reading one of the philosophy or history books from his freshman year in college. Mostly though, he just imagined he wasn’t at the office, and was perhaps strolling through the beautiful State courtyards and admiring the fountains. These modern gardens had been constructed by the State for that very reason, to remind the citizen they lived in a world of relative safety and abundance, much different than the world outside the great walls.

As he settled into his desk he noticed his blue screen was glowing again. He swiped the message button.

Urgent — Open At Once.

His heart stopped and a wave of anxiety rushed over him as he scanned the title of the message once again.

He sat down to examine it closer. It was from an anonymous source. Typically, messages like these were quarantined by the technology workers, but somehow this one had made it through their constant scans.

Should I open it?

Without thinking, his index finger clicked on the holographic blue screen. The message instantly appeared.

Spurious: Meet me at the Ale House tonight. Don’t be later than midnight. Come alone.

As soon as it appeared the message was gone. The burning uneasiness rushed through him again, intensifying. His heart began to race, and his breathing became labored.

Spurious tried to calm himself, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. It wasn’t every day he received an urgent message asking him to meet an anonymous person outside of work. He stared blankly at his cubicle wall, his mind beginning to race. Whoever it was from, he had all day to make a decision on whether he would meet them.