Aden Selection

Perfect World story (The NOW)

Dear Susan:

How is life treating you out in the wind-whipped terrain of Montana? Raw and stark at this time of year, I'll bet. Not to worry... the same is true in the Big Apple. Fortunately I'm not there any more, which is the reason for this letter (why am I writing a letter, again? Are you so ashamed of the human love affair with computers that you refuse to partake of their benefits? Come on, come on... it's just a tool. A completely frickin' awesome tool). You have to hear this story-- it rips!

You know how I love the theater-- I moved from there to New York to be in the heart of it, after all. But you know how expensive tickets have become. I'd managed to wrangle my way into several theaters by volunteering at their coat check rooms, and after the last coat was hung and the lights dimmed I would slip into the back to watch the actors transform the stage. It wasn't optimal, but I didn't care-- I saw literally hundreds of plays that way, and some of them a hundred times!

The last performance I ever watched in New York was this weird open-format deal which started late, ended early and had an exceedingly short run... but it changed my life forever. Here's what happened:

It was a normal play experience, the kind I've experienced for years... at least in the beginning. It was opening night. People, dressed in their finest attire and nickering with each other between sips of fine champagne in cut-crystal flutes milled about the lobby, finding their seats to coruscating chandeliers, awaiting a 'transformative' experience as promised by the lobby posters. "Aden Selection" was the title, and not much else was known about it.

It was a chill evening and I was busy in my volunteer position, assigning mink stoles and overcoats their own identifying code number, ripping the little yellow card on the scored line and presenting one to the owners, attaching the other part to their precious shmatas, smiling pleasantly all the while. I was curious about this presentation and wanted to be there from curtain time, but one tardy patron rushed in just under the wire, checking his coat and his hat AND an oddly colored briefcase, and I missed a minute. When I finally dispatched him I locked up and trotted to the theater doors, pulling up behind him. I slipped into the gloom and watched. Slowly my mouth began dropping.

The stage was set simply... a wallpapered room, a fireplace, several overstuffed sofas strewn about the stage. A single man dressed in a blue-green tunic stood upstage center, scanning the audience, speaking directly to them. Since the curtain was already up I knew he wasn't introducing the play. I thought it odd that he would choose to drop the fourth wall-- this performance wasn't billed as a comedy. He spoke slowly, quietly, and with a clipped accent I could not quite place, but his wording was skilled and compelling. I'll try to recount what he said, as best as I remember.

I don't know what went on before this, but I heard, "... and so I'll just ask you all to stand up, for just a very few moments.

"I have a short questionnaire, the answers of which will make this performance a more individual and personal one, for each of you. Answer honestly, please, if you wish to see the play which was designed for you.

"First... anyone who came here tonight in new clothing purchased for this event, please have a seat."

Not that many people sat, Susan. A dozen, tops. But more importantly, I was intrigued at the odd start to this evening! I had no seat to sit in, but I figured I'd mentally sit down if his question pertained to me. He continued,

"Thank you. Remain seated. Next, anyone who was raised by an authoritative figure, please have a seat." More people sat down. The actor continued on in this way, asking increasingly personal and perplexing questions, and after each some would sit while others would stand. He moved them about, to the left and the right wings, shuffling them until he was satisfied. Then he asked two final questions, after which the audience sat down, heavily, for the last time that evening.

Except for 6.

"Just six people left standing out of this entire audience! How interesting!" He took off his glasses and rubbed them against his tunic, gazing out over the entire crowd, and finished, "Now to better understand this play, remember this: those of you to the left... I will be speaking only to you when I drift over to your side of the stage. The same is true when I move to the right-- my comments are meant for your ears only. Understood? Wonderful. Now, if I could ask the six of you to go through that door over there, we'll begin the performance straightaway."

I'm telling you, Susan... it was the strangest beginning to a play I've ever seen. But what he said next blew my socks off!

"And the young woman standing in the back... if you would please join the other six? Through that door, yes. Don't dilly-dally... we've got a play to put on!"

And of course he was talking to ME. I tried to protest, say that I was just an employee and had work to complete, but he shushed me and glared politely, so I had no choice! I scurried down to the front, following the other six audience members and was last through the door, hearing the latch click firmly. I could just make out his words before I drifted out of earshot, "Who needs 'em? We've just gotten rid of the riffraff!" and the audience chuckled.

Whoa! Is that what had just happened? Had we just been kicked to the curb? I switched back to the auditorium door, but there was no handle on this side-- it was as flat as a wall and as hard to get through. I pounded, but a soft material muffled my wallops and nobody rescued me. Dejected, I trudged towards what I figured must be the rear exit to the theater. I would have to walk around the entire block in that frigid weather to return to the theater entrance. I hoped I wouldn't catch my death, Susan.

Opening the exit door I was surprised... no, shocked really, to discover I wasn't in some grimy and dangerous alleyway-- instead I was looking at an expansive black room. In the center I saw a large boxy apparatus about the size and shape of a short school bus. The six audience members were looking at me and the closest waved me over. "They need all of us before we can get in, dear," she said. She was an older woman with a kind face, and I smiled at her.

We piled into the apparatus at the urging of another man, who wore an outfit similar to the onstage actor's. There were eight plush and roomy chairs around the perimeter, each next to a window.

The man stepped inside and shut the door, which seemed far too substantial for what we were in, seemingly a piston-controlled VR machine like the Air Force flight simulators.

He strapped into the front chair and swiveled to face us. He introduced himself as David and smiled, but then gravely he said,

"What you are about to see is real. You have been chosen to experience this reality because of the answers you gave, or didn't give, in the theater. The play is of no significance but will satisfy the remaining audience. After this is over, you may attend at a future date with my compliments. What you will soon see, I am certain, will make pale anything you have ever seen before. Remain strapped in your seats. This can be a violent and unpredictable ride."

Susan, I was beginning to feel a curious excitement. David pressed a series of buttons on a console mounted in his chair and the machine began spinning, slowly at first but quickly speeding up until the room outside became a blur. Then, like a washing machine it stopped, in just a few rotations, leaving me somewhat queasy. In a few seconds we were moving forward, quickly, right towards a wall! More than one of us screamed when it hit! The ride lurched appropriately and the wall smashed before us, complete with deafening noises. I relaxed, knowing this had to be the VR part, but boy did it feel real!

On the other side of the wall was the end of a large tube, perhaps eight feet in diameter. The ride 'rolled' towards it and joined, and one man made a sexual reference as we slid into the tube. I have to admit, we all chuckled. Then we stopped, for there was a dead end in front of us. A rotating red light flared and a buzzer resounded; the dead end irised open and we were staring at an infinitely long tunnel, as straight as I have ever seen. We rolled forward and I heard the door iris shut. Tension in the cabin was tangible. David pressed a flashing light.

It was like getting shot from a cannon! I have never felt a VR machine exhibit such a raw surge of power! I did not know how they could fake that, but we certainly could not be experiencing what our eyes told us we were! For at the front below the window was a digital readout, and as each section of dimly illuminated tunnel passed by, the readout changed. Right out of the gate it read 150 mph, and second by second the number jumped: 300 mph, 600 mph, 2000 miles per hour! Even the SST couldn't beat that speed-- but it wasn't done! 5000 mph! 8000 mph! 12,000 mph! 16,285 mph! Finally, 18,800 mph! Detail of tunnel walls disappeared as the crazy velocity caused tertiary moiré patterns to dance on the walls. We were smooshed into our seats, another effect I could not explain, because I could feel the pressure in my chest, in my limbs, on my face!

The scene changed. The tunnel appeared to be made of glass here and we watched scenery. Sort of. Mountains sped by like signs on the freeway, on occasion hiding behind a greenish veil that I realized to my shock must be entire forests whizzing by! I thought I saw a city, but it was gone before I could get a fix on which one it might be. Then the glass ended and we were plunged back into darkness.

Where was he pretending to take us? To China?

There was a clock on the console as well. We had been in the tunnel for 7 minutes when all of our chairs spun to face backwards simultaneously. There was a window back there too and we watched the blurry past shoot away at speeds too fast to recognize. I recognized the next feeling though, Susan-- it was the brakes. There was no railcar squealing like we hear in the New York subway-- this was all effect and no sound. My throat closed up as a giant hand crushed me into the plush seat and I may have blacked out for a moment because the next thing I knew we were back in the dimly lit room.

Or so I thought!

Because when David unlatched that door, we were showered with golden sunlight! I squinted to cease the photovoltaic pain and stepped from the machine. When I could open my eyes, my breath caught. We were outdoors, it was warm... and we were not in New York City. No, we were far from there. We were... well, I don't know where we were!

It was a city, Susan! But not one I've ever seen before, not even Dubai! It was clean and modern. It was spacious. There was incredible foliage everywhere, meticulously manicured. And the skyscrapers, oh my god! There was one that had to be a mile high and a mile wide! It was off in the distance, but I could see airplanes taking off and landing on the roof! 747's! There were also no cars anywhere, and no advertising. There was no rust on any of the metal surfaces-- it was as cared for as a theme park.

We walked along the platform where our machine had stopped. I turned and was surprised that it had transformed from its frumpy bus shape and was now sleek as a missile! I figured the former design was a faux front that dropped off when we first spun... I couldn't be certain but my mind kept trying to decode the newness into manageable facts.

The sidewalk beneath my feet was not concrete, and gave a little as I stepped. I looked up to David with a question on my lips, a thousand of them actually, but he touched his own with a finger and handed me and the others a small plastic Hershey Kiss. He kept one and pressed it point-first into his ear, motioning for us to do the same. We did, and my head was filled with soothing music. David said, "You won't be needing me any more. I'll see you around!" and strode off to a pleasingly curved ramp that swallowed him in darkness.

I was about to protest-- I felt I needed him rather a lot-- when a voice emerged from the music, not just beginning the way a speech might but rather as if the speaker had been one of the ethereal singers that had been part of the piece, trailing off her last note and beginning her first word in a smooth uninterrupted flow.

"Laa laaa laaovely to see you here in Aden..."

Aden! That was in the play's name-- Aden Selection-- and I immediately realized our little group had been selected from among the theatergoers to come here to Aden, which must be this gorgeous city's name! Now I needed to find out why, but I wanted to hear the rest of the message.

But there was none.

She said it was lovely to see me in Aden... and then shut up! What was going on? Experimentally I said "Hello?" and she returned, close as a whisper.

"Hi! What's your name?" Merrily, eager. I said my name and she rolled it around her mouth a few times. "I like it! It's original and positive!"

I thanked her and asked her name. "Call me Jolie. I'll be your guide while you are here."

I said "Aden?" and she said, "Uh-huh! And I bet you have a hundred eighty-two questions, so start!"

I liked her, Susan! She was reading my mind! "Where are we?"

"Nebraska."

Nebraska! Two thousand miles from New York! And we had gotten there in 12 minutes! That's why it was still sunny-- it was a little after 6 and the sun hadn't set yet! "What is Aden?" I had to know!

Jolie took a breath. "Okay, here's the ten-cent explanation: A couple of billionaire geniuses had an idea for a new social system based not on money but on humanity, reasoning that the point to a society is to serve all the people in it. Equally. They built this city with their funds, intending to fill it with forward-thinking people whose psychological profiles best fit the mission."

I felt smart! I had guessed! The play must have been an elaborate ruse to obtain an initial positive cross-section of New York's inhabitants, and the actor's question sequence had honed them further, all for the sake of trying to find new citizens! Jolie continued.

"Aden has no money, no competition, no stress. Everyone is entitled to anything they desire, and Aden has most everything. Most jobs outside Aden have been abolished here and most people only need to work about ten hours a week. Aden uses a complex nested computer network... and that's me... to automate most mundane, dangerous and difficult jobs--"

I stopped her there, and you know why, Susan. I practically shouted, "I'm talking to a computer?!"

"Yes. Perhaps I should have led with that?"

"Yes!" But the truth is, I did not have a clue that Jolie was a computer, until she mentioned it! I realized then how different the two philosophies must be, Aden's and ours, because they seemed so... advanced! I eased her with "Well, you seem like a nice computer..."

"I'm the best! she blurted, and then stepped back. "I mean... I'm okay... I guess."

I laughed and asked Jolie to continue, and she obliged.

"Okay, so I automate most of Aden, which frees up the minds of our citizens for the task of enlightenment. To that end, Aden promotes critical thinking and is a fact-driven society-- you won't find any myths here."

"What kind of myths?" I felt rude for interrupting yet again, but I was intrigued.

"For example, all of our tall buildings have a level called the 13th floor. We enjoy our black cats as pets. And we only accept practices which have passed muster using the scientific method. So no charms, no astrology, no voodoo, no chiropractic, no curses, no homeopaths, no deities, no flat earthers. The list is very long."

Wow, I thought. No god? Aloud I asked, "And everyone goes along with that?"

"Yes."

That was it, Susan, just yes! I can't begin to describe how relieved I felt! Jolie went on.

"We educate all of our inhabitants, find all of their strengths and develop them, which bolsters our city when these people begin to exercise those talents. Art is rampant and takes on every form-- music, painting, dance, theater, sculpture-- and a few you haven't seen yet. There is no crime, no obesity, no depression, no sexual tension. Delicious food is provided; beautiful lodging is provided; health and safety is guaranteed. There is only one law, and it is more of a guideline--

Hurt no one: Not physically nor emotionally

Accept every one: Both emotionally and physically."

She stopped, said "Whew!" and I giggled. And then I began to cry. And I was not the only one-- the others must have received the same ten cent tour as I because they were crumpling to the floor, holding each other, sobbing for all time. Jolie was silent during my realization, but the music had returned, an uplifting chorus that sang a portent of hope.

The transit platform, and indeed all of Aden, had seemed near deserted when we first arrived. Looking up now, blinking through my tears, I could see all manner of people approaching us, smiles on their benevolent faces. Slowly they approached, surrounding us, hugging and stroking us like long lost pets, loving us like families after a war. The men and women that surrounded me all seemed so beautiful, but I realized then that they were just normal, average people with craggy lines and hard expressions that had been turned by this city of peace into faces of joy and serenity, of mirth and intelligence, and I returned their touch as if to exchange their gift.

Jolie piped up. "Are you hungry? Tired? Inspired?"

Susan, I shouted "All of those!" happily, laughing because without another word the crowd knew my needs and I was being swept along to have them attended by this group of well-wishing Adeners, and after a meaningful glance back at my travel companions receiving similar treatment, I went along, full force, to meet my future.

And I'm here still. I never left!

And I want you to join me. I want my baby sister to live the wonderful life I have found here. There will be a knock at your door tonight at 9 pm. Go with them, honey. You will not be sorry.

Much Love,

Syrecce