Day One of 'The Change'

Perfect World story (The Interim)

Sam Fenneper sat on a stool in the bar outside of the Madison Avenue Hover Line Station, on the ground floor of the building housing the offices of Barnes and Tate, -- his job. Umm, his former job. He sat and twirled a brimming shot glass around and around, slowly and with purpose, on the counter. He didn't drink at all, in fact he hated the stuff, but ordered the whiskey out of some sense of habit, waiting for another person to sit down in the empty bar so Sam could toast away his 37 years at B&T with the stranger.

The bar had one small window which faced the glaring afternoon sun, making the room too bright in spots, too dark in others. The bartender was absent. He had appeared around the corner when he heard the front door-- though Sam had walked in quietly his visit was announced, thanks to a bent piece of spring steel hooked to a cowbell that jittered when the door pushed past it-- taken his order and left. The bartender was older, thin, bespectacled... and uninterested in anything but the tv set blaring a baseball game in the back room. Sam wondered with mild irritation why the barman couldn't just flip the game onto one of the ten big screen televisions scattered throughout the bar and sit in here with him, but wasn't the sort to make his curiosity public, so around and around the shot glass went.

Five minutes later or maybe it was an hour, the cowbell rattled again. Another man, alone but for his rigidly rectangular attaché case, walked in and sat at the bar a respectable three stools away from Sam. Magically the bartender reappeared. The man sounded apologetic when ordering. "Soda water. I have a meeting." Hustling, the bartender made the soda water appear, the money disappear, the change appear. Then the bartender was gone again.

The man snorted. "What's his deal? Did I interrupt 'As The World Turns'?"

Sam said, "You interrupted Boston getting their asses chewed off by New York."

"Hardly worth watching, I say. Better off watching me get my ass chewed off by my appointment today."

Someone's gonna raise holy hell with you, huh?"

"Yeah."

We'll, let's have a toast. I've been waiting to toast with any other person coming into this desolate watering hole all morning." Sam raised his glass. "To 37 years... all for nothing." He swallowed the burning liquid and slammed the glass down. "Another!" The magic bartender had one there in seconds and was gone.

"What's that about, friend?" the stranger asked, sipping his soda.

"I've been shitcanned, that's what that's about. Pink-slipped. Been made obsolete. My only consolation is that it wasn't just me that was let go, it was everybody in America with my job title."

"Oh--you're an accountant. I have an appointment with an accountant today to discuss that very topic."

"Yeah? With who? Maybe I know him."

The stranger opened his case and glanced at the black faux-leather appointment calendar. "A fellow from Barnes and Tate Advertising Agency named Samuel T Fenneper."

"Hah! I do know him! Helluva guy."

"Are you him?"

"Pleased. And you are...?"

"I'm Henry B. Nign from the R&R division of Perfect World Inc."

"R&R? Rest and relaxation?"

Henry snorted. "Not for me, I'm afraid."

"Reading and 'rithmetic?"

"Re-evaluation and re-assignment. We make the transition easier for those in obsolete occupations."

Sam replied glumly, "I feel like a milkman."

"I'm assuming you feel a little despondent over leaving your 37 year home-away-from-home."

"Well, that's certainly part of it. I also don't know what to do with myself, from here on out."

Henry brightened. "Then you should be elated, because I am here to help you solve that very dilemma!"

"I've been an accountant my whole life-- what am I going to do now, now that there is no accounting?"

"You take a little ride with me, that's what you do."

Sam eyed him nervously. "You're going to have me killed, aren't you?

Henry chuckled. "Not even a little."

"Okay, so what will be done with me?"

"Well, it's ultimately up to you and the Perfect World geniuses to figure out your next role in life, but if you want my opinion..."

"Why not-- you seem like you've been in this game awhile. Give me your best guess."

"Okay, I will. As an accountant, you had certain qualities which made you a good one, right?"

"I guess. Good enough to stay with one company for 37 years."

"Truly so. Accountants are good mathematicians, they're not easily frustrated and have a love of numbers. Am I right?"

Sam grimaced. "Yes. Lot of good it did me."

Henry continued. "Furthermore, they are problem solvers that employ logical thinking and have strong communication skills."

"I have saved a lot of asses over the years. I've prevented over 8ooo years of jail time from being served by my employers, and that's my humblest estimation."

Henry stopped. "Wow. How did you figure that out?"

"By making government charges go away. I added up all the potential jail time the plaintiffs would have served had I not succeeded in my duties."

"Good going!" Henry finished. "Finally, accountants have superior analytical ability and solid computer skills. Many of those qualities exist in Perfect World crafts. It seems like you will be invaluable service to PW, Sam. Your next stop will be the Ability Discovery Center, which pinpoints all of your talents, not just the ones associated with your long career; and it gives you a long list of potential crafts in which to exercise your talents. Then you set up your Life Profile, which delves into some pretty intimate stuff in order to let you become a fully functional member of our new society."

"What do you mean?"

Sam heard the long-absent bartender holler at his television in the back room; a smashing sound followed by a harsh electrical buzzing meant the man's beloved Boston was officially trounced, and also that he would need another television for the next game. The bartender whipped around front angrily, checked the drinks, turned on one of the big bar televisions and settled into a remote corner, effectively invisible.

Henry puffed up and Sam could tell he had invited a spiel, so drank his glass and turned it upside down on the bar, giving up. Henry said, "I was among the first wave of decommissioned jobs when this whole phase started-- I was a meter reader, a government employee, and I too didn't know what I would do to survive. Then I learned more about Perfect World.

"It turns out survival is no longer a problem, the way this society is designed. By eliminating so many unnecessary and redundant jobs, our population was poised to be distributed among the remaining important occupations, like feeding and protecting humanity. Since many of these jobs already existed and would continue to do so, there were now many people available to do the work of one, which naturally led to a large reduction in the amount of time any one person needed to work in a week. It also allowed the remaining jobs to be done much more thoroughly, and added many more personnel to occupations which sorely needed them.

"They created the Life Profile. Rather than organize society as we had in the past, with governments and hierarchies and chains of command that fed into our self-centered desire for greed and power, we have taken a cue from the greatest of man's inventions-- the Internet. But instead of letting people willy-nilly create websites and blogs and other means of income production and ego-stroking that causes utter confusion and multiplied redundancy, a mass organization system was designed to make full use of the Internet's power. Now each human's needs are fully met and society's needs at every level are determined by regular voting from all members of the affected parties.

"Since the organization is done exclusively by computer, the Life Profile works best when more information is installed. It handles your work obligations, your educational needs, even the occasional retraining which comes when a person develops boredom with their life as it currently is. Your taste in music, art, food, and other areas of life are organized into the file so you experience wonderful things which are relevant to you.

"As the system continues over years, each person's Life Profile will become complete, having followed them from the cradle to the grave. The software's motivation has been designed for consummate fulfillment for both the individual and the society. It knows each person's likes and dislikes and can match desires of any kind in moments. It also helps organize our use of the environment. It manages our recycling and power consumption, our construction and manufacturing and mining and carbon dioxide emissions to keep a balance of the whole system.

"We call it Perfect World, but please don't think it is perfect... it's just perfectly suited for us as an imperfect society. It makes unlimited allowances for our inabilities and imperfections, which makes complete sense in a truly compassionate society.

"But we have a responsibility to our society as well. We have to give up some unsavory past behaviors, or risk being transplanted to a 'halfway' city, which although a much nicer place than any of our cities have been in the past, it is still not a Perfect World city. We can no longer be any kind of 'ist'-- racist, sexist, nationalist. We have to stop practicing religion and religious observance outside of the home, and eliminate some of the more intolerant religious fervor from our beliefs. We have to practice, and believe, that people are fundamentally much more than their physical appearance. We have to know and follow the ten Perfect World primary guidelines. Only then can we achieve what is dreamt about in the Old Testament-- an Aden-like existence for all of humanity, only without the snake oil salesmen."

Sam absorbed all of that passionate information and sat silently. Then he said, "So what job did you end up with? This one-- recruiter?"

Henry answered with barely controlled excitement. "I didn't even mention that part... I have five jobs! It was determined I had five separate areas of natural ability, and I get to use all of them!"

"Five! When do you have time to sleep?"

"Well, since I work a total of about ten hours a week, I have a lot of free time.

Now occupations are structured so that I can spend a month at each one before moving on, and then I repeat the process. Or, I could work at one a day, calling each job by its day of the week. 'My Tuesday job' and so on. Or, I could work at one job for 40 hours one week, and not work again until the first of the next month, in essence having a three week vacation every month. The beauty is in the flexibility-- because the computer is aware of your issues and desires, it can compensate by shifting things around whenever necessary."

"What about terrible jobs, the ones nobody likes-- who does them?"

Henry chuckled. "Can you name one, Sam? It's 2109! We've automated most horrendous jobs and are in the process of deleting soul-crushing ones right now. The last remaining jobs which cannot be automated and are still necessary are spread around all of society, so that no one person ever has that job as their full-on livelihood. Let's pick an example. Say we still have to clean the landscape of trash by hand. The computer determines how many man-hours are necessary to do the job, then places that item in everyone's 'occupations' file in their Life Profile as a job with 'special rewards'. Any person could choose that job for the day and earn the reward, which is usually something restricted to the general population because it is rare... like a trip into space, for example."

"I see. Sounds like you've got it all figured out."

"Not me, Sam. The Perfect World was designed by a guy who called himself only 'The Founder' over 100 years ago, a man who was living during a time of runaway greed and deception. He envisioned Perfect World obtaining a foothold into current society by first building private cities and importing people who were Perfect World naturals into them to prove the idea's viability; and once they did the concept was expanded to cover entire countries. But there's always going to be some people who will never yield their beliefs, and for them the reverse became true-- only a few cities nationwide remained as 'holdout' cities, with the citizenry maintaining the behaviors and enduring the pains which have plagued old society for thousands of years.

"We're in the middle of that plan right now... the Perfect World cities have proven their worth over the last hundred years, weathering economic change without a ruffle and maintaining the highest continuous standard of living found anywhere on Earth. There is no crime, little illness and the people are content and happy. That's why 'The Change' is occurring now... to make the rest of the country work as well as places like Aden, Pacific City and St Calm."

Sam gave him a baleful look. "I know all this, Henry-- I watch television. I just figured it would all happen after I was dead-- I didn't think the plan would progress quite so smoothly, since nothing the government ever does happens quickly or within budget."

"You're right. It's a good thing the entire venture was privately funded, with no government help whatsoever. As a matter of fact, the PW cities began to be self-sufficient after only five years, and provided the United States with the new technology to again become world leaders in only a decade after that."

Sam scratched his head. "What technology was that? I forget."

"Stellar Energy."

"Oh, right... the ability to reap large quantities of electricity at night using the powerful but infrequent particles emanating from starlight. That was meaningful technology, I'll give you that. It allowed man to finally stop burning fossil fuel and began reversing global warming. We will have icy poles again, thanks to Stellar Energy, and have already begun planning the rebuilding of coastal cities the oceans infringed upon."

"True." Henry said. "It also took the teeth out of the OPEC nations and eliminated their stranglehold on US government policies. We learned how to make products without oil too, so with nothing left to sell, the Middle East lost much of their power, which knocked them back to riding on camels and living as nomads and helped bring about the Secular Overthrows of 2050."

Henry packed up his attaché and latched it with two sharp clicks. "Yes. When Perfect World came in and rebuilt their cities and societies."

"Humph. It's way more than they did for us when our society broke down. Their 'assistance' was just to hike oil prices."

Henry nodded soberly. "Their bad. It was that rash decision which gave us the impetus we needed to end their reign on power production and create new technology. Speaking of which, PW scientists also invented the BLUR line."

"I love the BLUR! I mean, how can you hate a twenty minute train ride from New York to Los Angeles? The only thing which could make it cooler is windows."

"It's completely underground and inside a tube! What would you see?"

"I don't know. I just know it would be fun to watch the country blur by."

"That's a great idea! Just think," said Henry, "if you were to design something like that, you would be viewed as an invaluable member of Perfect World and might not need to work for a long time. It would probably be built within a few months of the approved design!"

"Hmmmm," Sam hummed to himself, suddenly oblivious to the conversation, scrunching up his face with internalized calculations, Sam's happy place. "If there were a camera mounted on a pole above the BLUR tube

which beamed an image down to the train as it passed by, you'd be able to see it on a screen mounted inside the car. If you wanted to see the whole trip, you'd have to install enough cameras to get one image every 30th of a second. If that trip takes 20 minutes, the speed would be 7500 miles an hour, which is 11,000 feet per second. Mounting 30 cameras in that distance means there would be one every 366.66 feet, or 36 thousand cameras for the whole trip. If you wanted to 'see' out of both sides of the train, use rapidly rotating cameras." He laughed triumphantly. "Ha! I just invented real time scenery for the Bullet Levitating Underground Railroad!"

Henry smiled broadly, and said nothing-- he just looked at the former accountant until Sam noticed and asked, a little uncomfortably, "What are you looking at?"

"Oh, nothing," Henry said, patting him on the back. "Just the newest citizen of Perfect World."

Copyright 2009 Bruce Ian Friedman