Day of the Monitors

Day of the Monitors
by Amriel Simpson

    Chapter One ~ 2089

    The teacher’s sincere voice began the lesson...

    “By the end of the twentieth century all sociological studies were successful in achieving one uniform and universally accepted conclusion.  What had begun in the 1970’s as an entertainment medium had completely overtaken the mental preoccupation of the world’s youth by the mid 1980’s.  Our nation’s top leaders and scientists had decided against the proverbial taking of arms against this heretofore perceived sea of technological trouble and, in lieu of making waves, decided to go with the ebb of the flow.  Thus was implemented a system by which popular entertainment and social control could be united in technological matrimony.  The science of scorciology was born as the love~child of this marriage; and with it, the monitorization of every member of the world’s public and the new popular philosophy of “naturotechnoscorselection” and its main credo: “survival of the highest score.”

    “SCORE HIGH OR DIE!” The students chimed in unison.  The words were after all more familiar to them than their own country’s national anthem.  Besides, with every sociofinancial opportunity in the world meted out to them in direct proportion to their relative position on Globenet’s daily High Scortune 10 Billion~list, readily available for perusal by any person of authority in the world with the move of a mouse and the click of a button, the words meant more to them even than national pride; they were an almost biblical proverb.

    “Yes, that’s right...I like your spirit, class!  As you kids know, I am particularly fond of your group...heh, heh, it makes me pleased to say that this is the highest~scoring class I’ve had the opportunity to teach in six years~~and as you all know~~the higher you score, the higher I score!” Heh...anyway, as I was saying...”

    Xantor smiled as he sat next to Amriel.  It made him proud to know that the future held such a high probability of sociofinancial success.  Amriel flashed a fake smile back to Xantor, the artificiality of which was completely lost on him as he dwindled into a semi~catatonic state of pubescent bliss which did not, by the way, preclude his ability to expend the exact minimum percentage of attention to the teacher necessary to maintain the 51% classroom average he expected of himself.

    “Video games,” Mr. Bateman continued, “by early 1998 had occupied 63% of the leisure time of the average young person in the world.  Six months after the Masterson and John Study was conducted, they were implemented as the literal system of government for the entire globe.  A monument, I must say, and a testament to human progress in the technological age began in the 19th century and continuing to a lesser degree, even to today.  Young~Owens Business Associates, Inc., as you may remember in the e~text, had invented the score~band in July of 1998 and had financed its research privately, selling the idea to every world government within three months’ time.  Of course the transition process was very gradual, as the public backlash against such a system could have resulted in a massive resistance, due to the public’s general technophobia in those early days.  By 2011, however, history was made, when motivated by the promise of higher paying careers; members of the general public began to voluntarily wear the bands around their foreheads, which connected with microwave data transmission, the thoughts and actions of the cerebral cortex to the Globenet computer information system of each individual participant.  At the rest, as they say, is history...The scorebanding system has been successfully used for 78 years now and crime rates have dropped exponentially every year until it is virtually non~existent now, standing at .001% (http://gnt.videogamestatistics.gov) of the population currently.  Please look at the chart in your e~texts on page 281”

    “This is a remarkable improvement over the archaic methods of maintaining small police~forces to watch over the public.  The invention of the computer, and the subsequent policing capabilities of Scoreband and Globenet services have provided society with the greatest social stability the world has ever known.  The merging of moral and monetary ideals gave us all the incentive to perform morally favorable acts to benefit all of society while simultaneously providing an accurate account of an individual’s moral standing by the simplest glance of a score on their headband.  Well, that’s all the time we have for today, remember to read pages 293~321 in your e~texts and I’ll expect your reports on the history of Globenet on my desk by 3 P.M. Friday.  Score high or die, class, and I’ll see you here tomorrow!  Good afternoon.”

    Xantor shoved his e~text into his pack.  As he stood up from his desk, he smiled one last time over at Amriel, who was fishing in her purse for a piece of nicotine gum.

    “Great lecture, eh?..” Xantor beamed.

    “Yeah, great...Mr. Bateman really knows how to strip things into their socio~politically economic relevant respective essences and assimilate them into an efficient and easily understood common frame of reference for us and stuff...” Amriel said between the smacking of her nicotine gum.  Her scoreband immediately registered a +280 due to her eloquence in speech.  “Hey look,” she continued, “you lost 300 points for not paying attention in class, hee hee”

  “So, listen, anyways...” Xantor continued, “I was wondering if you could wait up for a second and let me ask you something.”  As his scoreband registered a -100 for the use of the non~word “anyways”, a surge of intense nervousness began to pulse right through his vascular system, causing beads of armpit moisture to run down his torso. [I hope she doesn’t say no]

    “Sure, what?..” Amriel smacked back.

    “I was wondering if you’d let me take you out to Burgertron after school for some Soythies and Frefries or something...I mean, um...we could like compare our notes and references for the Globenet report and stuff y’know...help each other out!” [she’s gonna say no, she’s gonna]

    Xantor’s scoreband let loose with a <ZSHWANGG!> and a +150 appeared momentarily in the center of the viewscreen in the small box attached by the metal headband implanted into his forehead.  [I’ve never asked a girl out before...is that why I got a +150?...What will she say?  I hope she doesn’t...]

    “That sounds wonderful” Amriel smiled, and for a moment the world was lit up like a hole was punched through the sky that let the sunlight pour in.

    “I’ll see you out in the parking lot after three, then” Xantor smiled as he saw Amriel’s scoreband register a +50.

    “Yeah, I’ll see you at three, then...” Amriel slung a small leather purse around her left shoulder and headed out of the classroom and down the hall.

    Xantor walked slowly behind her and turned in the other direction to go down another hall to his last class of the day. [I can’t believe it...she said yes...she said yes...she said yes...]

    Auto mechanics was boring to Xantor.  Something about installing a new cam~shaxel voltage regulation pump gasket cover on a quad~intake superblower manifold unit or something.  As he awoke, at the sound of the e~bell, he noticed he had lost another 500 points [for dozing off in class..aw].  He sat for a moment as if he were thinking about something but stopped himself and remembered...

    “A point lost is wisdom gained,” he smiled to himself, “besides, I’m still +350 for the day!  A day without a point is like a day without a point!”  He was thinking that if he had a mother, she probably would have had that message displayed on an e~sampler in the kitchen.  He was babbling to himself with giddy excitement, “all of my hard work is beginning to pay off...”  He practically skipped out to the parking lot and waited patiently next to his ride. [Where is..NO! DON’T THINK THAT! That’s a bad thought..what if..STOP!]

    “Hi, Xantor...” Amriel beamed, punctual and happy girl that she was.

    “Uhhm..Huh~h~hi!” Xantor choked.  For a moment he wanted to back out with an excuse but he ignored this feeling~~ after all he had waited for this moment for all his life.  He continued.

    “If you’re ready, just go a~h~head and hop in...”

    “Ooh, a CLASSIC!  What kind of a car IS this?!” Amriel exclaimed with surprise.

    “It’s an ’83 VW Rabbit.  A real classic, indeed!  It was my um.. father’s but he let me have it on the condition that I take really good care of it.”  Xantor replied with authority and confidence.  Amriel stood for a moment with her eyes frozen in place, which had the look of empty pain being fought away and replaced with artificial enthusiasm.  It looked as though she were thinking about something she would rather not think about, or as though she were about to think about something, but had decided against it and opted instead to open the passenger door to the car.  Xantor followed her lead and entered the vehicle from his side.

    Once inside, Xantor noticed that Amriel looked nervous and fidgety.

    “Oh,” he said with a sudden realization, “you’re probably nervous about this archaic seat~belt mechanism..heh, heh..don’t worry, if we get a ticket, it’ll go on MY scoreband!  I keep meaning to get it fixed..but, it still works, here...”  He nervously grabbed the belt and reaching around her (quite by luck) he remembered his manners.

    “Excuse me my lady,” he said with an exaggerated sense of the dramatic and a mock bow, “I’ll just wrap this end around the post here on the side of the seat.  Not legal, but it will protect you just as good.”  Amriel flashed a look of concern at him, as his scoreband registered a -50 for the use of the word “good” in place of “well”, to which Xantor replied:

    “Um, you see my dad never got around to fixing that so I have to wrap it around the post.  Don’t worry, it’s almost as safe as if it uh, were in proper or~der~~huh, huh, here!”  He gave the wrapped around end loop and extra pull and a tug, then added: “for that added protection!” giggling nervously.  Amriel smiled and feigned a look of comfort that was reassuring enough for Xantor.  He turned the primitive ignition system over with his key, starting the vehicle’s engine.

    “First time!~~boy, dad really kept this thing in tip~top shape for all of those years” he continued, unsuccessfully trying to force Amriel’s attention away from the broken seat~belt.

    “What is your father like?” she inquired a little later, when they were a ways down the road.

    “Oh, this is the turn~off” Xantor exclaimed, almost more to himself, drowning out her question, as he made a successful turn onto the necessary off~ramp.  Amriel did not say another word for the rest of the trip, which resulted in a -100 for lack of conversation.  With a smile, almost of relief, Xantor finally pulled into the Burgertron parking lot.

    “Well, here we are...” he said with the air of a coachman of old notifying a royal dignitary of their arrival at a destination of extreme import.

    Suffice it to say, the date really didn’t go all that well.  Xantor was so enthralled to finally be on his first date with a girl that he didn’t really notice the clues, which would have been obvious to most people.  Amriel ordered only a small ice~cream cone while Xantor indulged in a Supertron burger, Mega Frefries, and Mega Soythie.  She ate only part of the cone, mostly picking at it.  She didn’t listen much to his conversation either, (which resulted in her scoreband registering a -175) and added little herself, only agreeing with whatever Xantor said, but Xantor was in love...When they had finished eating, Xantor drove Amriel home.

    “I had a lot of fun with you.  Maybe next time we can come back here again and you can try the Soythie,” Xantor enthusiastically said as she was climbing out of the passenger seat.

    “Yes, that might be fun, sometime,” Amriel beamed back, flashing him what seemed like a huge smile.

    As Xantor drove back to his dad’s apartment, he kept to the regular roads, except that they seemed like regular clouds.

    When he awoke the next morning, he expended an extra effort at grooming himself for class.  He shaved three times, brushed his teeth, and even sprayed cologne in areas of his body he had previously neglected.  He wore his best outfit, cleaned and pressed, and arrived at school early (for which he noticed a +50 on his scoreband).  He walked gaily to his locker, like an excited schoolgirl, go his e~text out, and proceeded to the area where he had known for quite some time was the location of Amriel’s locker.  He was fingering the locket in his pocket that had been his mother’s, engraved with the letter “A” (for Abigail) in sterling silver.  When he turned the corner the first thing he noticed was Amriel standing in front of her locker, kissing another guy!  It was in fact, John Studgeon, the boy with the highest score in their class!

    Chapter Two ~ 2092

    “So you scored with ‘er, then what?” <SHAKE> <SHAKE> The grease dripped down, down slowly in gooey threads back into the pool which filled the bubbling vat. <SHAKE> SHAKE>

    “It was too intense for a high~school punk like you to comprehend” <BEEEEEEP!> Xantor pulled a Doubletron extra lettuce out of the zapper and did the twist as he flopped the tray onto the mechaserver 5000.  “Anyway, why do you want to know?” [Don’t you score enough on your own or something...] <BEEEEEEP!>

    “Order 58 is up register 3B...Your six o’ clock is here, Tanya.  We need to order 58 mega~cases of 12” by 7” patties and~ OH MY...” The manager flitted about the place like a ballerina on speed dancing throughout the workstations with his own brand of motivational management practices.  It consisted largely of flying past everyone while acting as though the world was about to end.  Xantor slammed two synchicktrons down and perked up for the morning rush.  “Lovely blouse, Alice...” The manager’s dance continued down the hall into the office and out of sight.

    [65 years of selling burgers and the thing is NEVER ENDING~~ I mean, you flip ‘em in the evening, double~broil them in the afternoon, you drop a case of them on the floor $H!*]  Xantor bent down to the floor to frantically pick up the patties before the manager saw, knowing he was bound to find out at the end of the day when he checked the scoreband reports for accidents and subversions anyway.

    “25 quads of Doubletron triples back!, HEADS UP CREW!!!...the management’s HERE!  Hurry, throw out that expired synchicktron double pronto!  Fill that Soythie machine, hurry, did you remember to put in the solution, Alice???”  Chuck (the manager) moseyed over to Xantor and Phil’s little cranny in the grill area and interrupted some important bun~toasting to hand something to Xantor.  “I know we promised this to you two~and~a~half months ago, Xantor, but here it is~~~better late than never, right?!!”

    Chuck handed a cloisonné pin about the size of a thumbnail with the Burgertron logo embossed on its surface and the words “200K” engraved in silver text over that.  A few months back, Xantor had made his two hundred thousandth burger after just under three years of employment, shattering the previous record of four years, three months, by a landslide.

    “Thanks a lot, Mr. Vinson, wow neat~o” Xantor exclaimed enthusiastically.  He knew that to not speak in Burgertron’s unique style of 1950’s verbal idiosyncrasies was grounds for termination.  Everyone knew the management’s beliefs that “It’s irony the public wants!  It’s IRONY they crave!” so, therefore, the once futuristic burger joint had adopted a space motif with employees straight out of a time machine.  It supposedly gave the place a “Family Friendly” milieu.  Xantor was actually somewhat genuinely thrilled, however, as he had assumed that management was planning to overlook his milestone feat.

    “Least we can do, kid, and please..heh, heh, ...call me Chuck!”  Both parties saw an immediate +100 register on each other’s scorebands as they shook hands and smiled at one another. “Now let’s see some MOTION back there, boys!”  Chuck made some quick notes in his e~log and sauntered back to the management’s office.

    “So, c’mon Xantor, if it was so great with this chick, why don’t you spill the beans?  No wait~~ let me guess, you didn’t even make it ta first base, didja?”  Phil squinted at him with a knowing wise~guy grin.

    The look on Xantor’s face told Phil everything without his having to say a word.  Then Phil felt kind of bad.  “It must be uncool for a high school boy to show up an elder like that, what a poor pathetic loser!”  So he though of something to cheer him up.

    “Hey, don’t sweat it, Xantor, I MARRIED my high school sweetheart and I’m still in high school, and let me tell ya...comin’ home to the same ol’ chick every night day in and day out can equal up to a real drag if ya know what I mean...”  Phil winked as he spoke, knowing that saying a white lie like that would let Xantor know that he felt for his condition.  As if in agreement, because that is in fact what it was, his scoreband registered a +200.  “Besides,” he thought, “Why should I worry about his problems when I’ve got problems of my own.”

    “Yeah...” Xantor sighed.  It seemed to him as though the world were oblivious to his pain.  “Five quads of Doubletron triples up!!! Twenty quads back!”  Then, looking back over to Phil: “Yeah, women...who needs ‘em!”  Phil just smiled back at him, obviously thinking about something else.

    Chapter Three ~ 2095

    “So, you didn’t even get fired for dropping an entire case of meat on the floor?!”  Man, you are lucky!!!”

    “Yeah...I guess so...” Xantor hated training the new employees.  Most of them were gone after a month or so, and finding better jobs, which left him with the job of attempting to train yet another one to pretend he was working, while Xantor did most of the work himself.  Still, rules were rules.  He would have loved to be one of them, and find a better job, but when he did have a day off, he was too tired to go out looking, or he would fill out scads of application forms to no avail, many claiming he was “overqualified” for their positions, which really meant that he didn’t have friends or family in the business who could secure him a good job.  “Could you get a case of 12” by 7” patties, Phil?”

    “Yeah, why do you keep calling me Phil?”  My name is Larry!”

    “Sorry, Larry it’s just that my”...Xantor grabbed the sides of his head and pressed as hard as he could.  “It’s just that you look just like this other guy who...”

    “Are you okay, man?”

    “Yeah, I’ll be alright, just refresh the condiments after you get that case of 12” by 7”.  Xantor began to wonder if he were alright, though.  The pills the doctor had prescribed seemed to help him out a year ago, but lately the headaches were returning again and he was having trouble focusing on little tasks or remembering important pieces of information.  Plus, he was becoming irritable and grumpy at a young age.  His score was dropping every day, and he could hardly remember a time when his score didn’t fall somewhat or stay level, as the result of his short~temper.  Everyone he had graduated with in the class of 2089 seemed to be high on the Scortune 10 Billion List, with a couple on the Ten Thousand List, even.  But although he was a reasonably bright person, and had graduated with a 67.4%, well above his own personal expectations, he just couldn’t find the motivation to survive outside the academic world.

    “We’ve got a couple of bus~loads arriving in a few minutes, let’s fill up that bin!”  Chuck Vinson dashed around as cheerily as ever, “Grill looks great, Xantor!”

    [Easy for him to be so happy, he’s got it made, sitting in that office all day, watching the reports on the monitor, coming out once in a while to “motivate” everyone...grumble...grumble]

    -50, not a positive thought! <zshwanng!>

    “We’re all out of the 12” by 7”’s Xantor, what should I do?”

    “What DO YOU, I mean, we are?  But how..

    “Case looks empty!”

    “But I placed that order last week!  We should have gotten it two days ago!”

    “hmm, Well, it’s not there now!”  Larry had a quirky smile on that Xantor found disquieting.  It seemed to him as though this kid was enjoying this moment.

    -50 suspicious thought <zswanng!>

    “Buses are here, why isn’t that bin filled, Xantor!  What’s the hold~up?”

    “Hold on.  Mr. Vinson, I’ve gotta go check something.”  Xantor ran down the hall to the back freezer and threw open the door only to find that Larry had been right.  There were no cases of meat, and the lettuce reserves were dangerously low.  All they had was what was up front, and that would last for one bus, if they were lucky.  “*U*!” Xantor screamed.  Luckily for him he was in the freezer and could not be heard out in the lobby of the restaurant filled with crowds upon crowds of people, who had just arrived from a nearby football game.  “We’ve got no meat!”

    “Xantor, I thought that the ordering was your responsibility now.  When you decided to take on extra responsibilities I asked you if you thought you could handle it.”  Chuck Vinson was direct, yet warm and friendly in a way that Xantor found offensive.

    “But I did order that case of 12” by 7”’s  I even double~checked it like I always do!”

    “Well the scoreband here says you’re telling the truth, still...we don’t have the meat, and it was your responsibility to see that it got done!”  Beads of sweat began to pour down Mr. Vinson’s face and neck as he nervously scanned the increasingly packed lobby of waiting customers.  “Tell Suxxie to push the synchicktrons!  Give ‘em two~for~one but PUSH THEM!  And those extra synchicktrons are coming out of your bonus check, Xantor!”

    “But I was gonna go on vacation with that money!”  Xantor knew that the company could not legally deduct the cost of a mistake from his paycheck, but the bonus checks were another story.  They were an unofficial form of payment used to motivate crew members into doing extra tasks on their own time, at home, for instance, which Xantor had been doing for the last six months to save money for a trip to see his dad.  “This is bu!!S*I!” <zscwanng!> -50,000 points PROFANITY IN A PUBLIC AREA.

    The people in the lobby were looking in amazement, most with their jaws hanging open, as they saw Xantor’s scoreband drop into a negative score, turning the numbers red, instead of the usual blue or green.

    “That’s IT, Xantor!  You’re FIRED!  You may leave by the back exit.  Larry, you’re going to have to show some hustle”  Chuck Vinson returned to the manager’s office to watch the screens some more.

    “That’s IT!!!  After three years???”  Xantor stormed into the manager’s office after Chuck, demanding to be heard.

    “Rules are rules, Xantor.  Now you’ve been a very valuable employee to us in the past and I thank you for that but you were made aware of the policies the day you agreed to this job.  Those people in that lobby and their children heard things from your mouth which are incompatible with the Burgertron image.  Just think what would happen to our business if we allowed everyone to speak that way.  We’d be out of business in a day!  Now I’m sorry but you’ll have to leave.”

    <zscwanng!> -400 UNAUTHORIZED MANAGER’S OFFICE VISIT

    “AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” Xantor screamed down the hall as he headed for the freezer, which he proceeded to enter, still screaming.  He began throwing heads of lettuce, smashing them against the freezer’s icy steel walls, shattering them.

    <zscwanng!> -3000 NON EMPLOYEE IN FREEZER

    <zscwanng!> -2500 DESTRUCTION OF BURGERTRON PROPERTY

    Xantor began to laugh hysterically as he knew his score was getting so far into the red that he may never get back out and this thought only encouraged his wrath.

    “AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!”  He grabbed the sides of his head as another headache gripped him suddenly.  He grabbed at the scoreband trying desperately to stop the pain.

    Just then, the freezer door opened.  Alice from the front register walked in with a nervous look on her face.

    “They thought maybe I could talk to you.  They can hear you out in the lobby.  Everyone’s worried.  Mr. Vinson is thinking of calling in an emergency Federal Police Volunteer.  Do you know what that would do you? Please leave before your score is permanently damaged!  I know this isn’t what you want but..”

  “AAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”  Xantor’s hands ripped the scoreband free from his head, producing streams of blood, which sprayed the frozen walls and lettuce debris.  He threw the metal device against the wall, silencing the alarm which had started the moment he started pulling at it.  Running out through the open door, Xantor pushed Alice aside and grabbed a towel from the first aid kit in the hall, pressing it against his head to stop the blood flow and glancing once more at Alice before leaving through the delivery entrance.

    He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.  A great crowd was forming outside the restaurant, people who had heard the screaming and were now beginning to scream themselves.  Xantor made a dash for it across the parking lot, He had never been quick runner in all his life, in fact he was a very poor runner.  The speed with which he traveled that distance surprised him as left the meandering crowd in their panic.

    In the manager’s office Chuck Vinson calmly got off the phone and walked down the hall to the restaurant’s lobby.  “Great news, people...they have tracked the boy and are preparing to take him somewhere that he can get some help!  And...to reward your patience, the downtown branch Burgertron is offering $20 Gift Certificates to each of you.  Here you go, no need to push.  There’s one for you, okay.  Here Alice, Larry, help me give these out to the nice guests...”  Larry, and Alice each took a small stack of the Gift Certificates and with Mr. Vinson began delivering them to the crowd in an effort to placate their panic.

    The news that night featured a national headline of an “attempted conspiracy by a mentally incompetent young Burgertron employee in some small town somewhere on the West Coast of the former United States.  No need to panic, anyone, the boy was suffering from a rare mental illness we had thought long extinct.  He is now in St. Hopkins Medical Center getting the finest care from the most esteemed psychologists and psychiatrists in the world.  Now, Bob will bring you the latest football results in the PAC~10 finals...”