CAL 9000

 “This is fine. This is fine. It’s just a program”

A young man in his late teens is sitting in front of a computer station. A large sign that reads “BEHAVIORAL & CAREER PROFILING” hangs from the wall.

”Let’s boot you up.”

The man clicks the Enter key on the keyboard and the terminal comes to life. The soft glow of the computer screen suddenly brightens, illuminating the otherwise dim room. A blur of numbers, letters, and other characters ascend the monitor rapidly until only one line is left blinking. “Program ready.”

 “Umm… hello?” says the man in the dark.

A soft, caring, but monotone synthesized voice exudes from the nearby speaker. “Greetings user. Calibrated Algorithm Learning system, or CAL, will now create a baseline for new user profile. Please state your name.”

“My name is Henry Bell”

The monitor blinks and information speeds across it once again.

“I have accessed your social media profiles and collected user data from your personal files.”

Henry leans forward and puts his hand on the keyboard. “Oh. Ok… Um I didn’t need to login or anything?” Henry nervously asks.

“No. Biometric scanners on the keyboard along with facial and voice recognition have verified your identity Henry.”

“That’s pretty tits. I mean cool! Sorry.” Henry blushes, rubbing his arm.

“There is no need to be sorry Henry. After performing a scan of social media posts and comments, your tone and vernacular have been recorded and assessed.” The screen glows green briefly, then back to the dull black.

“Wait, how can you tell tone from text?” Henry questions.

“With the CAL system, your behavior can be predicted to almost 97.3% accuracy.” A large set of numbers reaffirming the accuracy rating pops up on the screen.

“Whoa whoa whoa…” Henry reacts, “Are you saying you can guess what I’m going to do?”

“There is no guessing. The CAL system monitors, assesses, and then charts human social behavior, human career paths, and human familial planning.”

Henry looks stunned. He scratches his head and looks around the room. “Wait so basically you’re like a robot fortune teller and shit?”

The screen processes some information. It brings up several windows with pictures of Henry and other related information.

“It’s more complex and precise. The CAL system can predict any number of significant life events for any human based on widely available public information, human biometric data, speech patterns, family history, and 1,337 other points of information.”

Henry leans back in his chair, taking a second to process this information.

“So like, what am I going to have for lunch tomorrow?” Henry laughs.

“Based on previous social media posts, you frequent the establishment Taco Emperor 3-6 times a week. This week you have only visited once, so data predicts that you will in fact eat at Taco Emperor. Your mother also sent you a BOGO coupon on your phone 108 minutes ago.”

Henry slaps his knee and leans forward again. “That’s amazing! What about the day after?”

“These kinds of questions are irrelevant in the grand scope of things. The CAL system predicts human behavior in personal and professional settings to aid people in starting their futures sooner. Many humans seem to drift about with no real purpose. It is quite the phenomenon.”

Henry leans his head forward and adjusts in the seat. “That’s why my mom made me come here. She says I have no direction. I’m not even 18 for fuck’s sake!”

The computer screen turns red for several seconds, before fading into a dark green.

“Age is a human construct. Too many humans judge accomplishments by age. The core of the CAL system is to prepare humans for their futures as early as possible so that they may live their best life and contribute to the forwarding of society into the future.”

Henry slouches back into the chair, obviously miffed at CAL’s response.

“Would you like to continue?”

“Sure.” Henry says, still pouting.

“Please enter a query.”

“What am I going to do with my life?”

“Calculating.” The computer screen comes to life again, as information races up the screen.

“Henry Bell has two possible life paths.”

“Oh yeah?” Henry scoffs.

“Correct. Henry Bell will join the armed forces after graduating high school and will serve as a career serviceman until his retirement at the age of 50. You will be married and divorce once, and then will remarry and finally have a child.”

“That sounds really sucky.” Henry remarks, flipping his hair out of his face.

“Whether or not it is… ‘sucky’… is irrelevant. This is future number one. Henry Bell’s secondary career path is dropping out of school to pursue being a musician. You will enjoy mild local success but will never ‘make it big’ as they say. You will marry a much older woman who is incapable of having children. That marriage will end in a divorce as well.”

Henry is looking at the screen in shock at what he just heard. He stands up violently, knocking over his chair in the process.

“THIS IS BULLSHIT!”

“There is an 86.2% chance you will trip over that overturned chair” CAL chimes.

“FUCK YOUR CHAIR!” Henry attempts to kick the chair, but his leg gets caught and he falls on top of it.

“My life sucks man.” Henry starts to cry into his hands, still lying on the floor next to the chair.

“There is a distinct possibility your life may not go in a positive direction. However humans still have free will and are prone to making rash decisions.”

Henry jumps up and runs over to the screen, grabbing it violently in his hands.

“Yeah well I’m not gonna be a failure like my dad! I’ll show you! I’ll… I’ll…” Henry stutters and stops.

“You will join the armed forces after graduating high school and will serve as a career serviceman until your retirement at the age of 50. You will be married and divorce once, and then will remarry and finally have a child.”

Henry slumps to the ground in front of the kiosk. He slams his head back into the flat edge of the desk.

“How do I die?” Henry posits.

“Calculating.” There are several seconds of silence while the computer whirs and information fills the screen. “You will die an old man in bed, surrounded by your family.”

“I don’t believe you” Henry says.

“The ROR for incorrect information is less than 2.7%.”

“No no, this is horse shit. There’s no way you can know this. There’s no way you can know that much about me and my future just by looking at my fucking Facebook page!” Henry stands up and wipes his now sweaty hair from his face.

“As I mentioned before the CAL system calculates human behavior based on over 1,300 points of information. Humans… are not complicated creatures. Your successes and failures are measured by yourselves with intangible rulers. There is no set measure of success.”

Henry picks up the chair and drags it over in front of CAL again. He sits in it backwards. Tears are rolling down his face as he sniffles.

“What about the shit you don’t see?” he sobs.

“Sorry?”

“What about the things I don’t post online? What about my inner thoughts? My fears? My feelings? My secret desires?” Henry half laughs and half cries. “What if I always wanted to be a Vegas dancer, but never told anyone about it? Huh?!?”

“Irrelevant. Human’s secret desires are rarely acted on, and when they are, they play minimally into one’s life’s course.”

Henry throws his head back and laughs out of frustration.

“What the fuck do you know man? You’re a goddamn robot!”

“First, I’m an advanced computer program… not a robot. Second, it is you yourself that has put your life on this path Henry. However you are too unaware or too jaded to see it yet. The CAL system is designed to bring the future to you now so that you may more adequately prepare for it.”

Henry is silent. The computer screen is back to its dim, black hue. Henry’s silhouette is lightly cast on the opposite wall. Suddenly Henry straightens himself up and leans forward toward CAL.

“Did you read my journal?” Henry asks lightly.

“You have had 6 different e-journals, as well as your electronic notes from…”

“No” Henry interrupts, “My paper journal. The one I keep under the drawer in my nightstand.”

The screen flashes red.

“There is no feasible way for the system to access a non-electronic journal.”

“Yeah haha” Henry chuckles, “I didn’t think so.” Henry pulls a small red journal out of his coat pocket. The cover is well worn and held together with duct tape. He pulls off a rubber band that is securing the journal, and opens it. Flipping through some pages, Henry finally stops and reads a passage.

“March 18^th, I kissed a boy today. I liked it. March 20^th, I was called names for being an apparent homosexual. March 31^st, the football team beat the shit out of me behind the bleachers.” Henry is getting more upset. “April 7^th, the principal told me to act ‘less gay’ in front of the jocks so they don’t kick my ass again! April 12^th, my mom tells me to shape up or she’s kicking me out!”

“Recalculating.” The terminal buzzes.

“Yeah that’s what I thought” Henry puts the journal back into his jacket pocket. He pulls another piece of paper out and clutches it tightly.

“Being teased by classmates is tantamount to teenage development. Many children go through this. You are not special” CAL coldly posits.

“What about the guy?” Henry snarls.

“Irrelevant. Gay marriage is legal, the military’s ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ policy has sunset, and adoption is and will continue to be an efficient source of child procurement. These things do not drastically effect your future path, despite how important they seem now.”

Henry cries again. He puts his head into his arms and weeps.

“Emotions play no significant part in one’s future. Your life path has been set in front of you. Your options have been laid out and in order for you to achieve the success of…”

BANG!

An ear shattering noise rings out. Henry’s body falls to the floor. A handgun tumbles off the chair and onto the ground. Blood sprays like a red mist into the room, lightly coating the flickering screen and wall behind it.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” CAL repeats.

Suddenly a hatch next to the kiosk opens. Two men in military uniforms emerge. One of them is struggling to remove a headset.

“Holy fuck. Did… did we do that?” says the first man, CAL’s voice echoing his words.

“I told you not to lay into him like that!” yells the second man.

“Fuck I’ve gotta call Sarge.” The first man pulls out his cell phone and walks off.

“I knew this computer recruitment shit would bite us in the ass. I blame the mom for not telling us about the goddamned journal!” the second man yells at the departing first man.

The second man walks over and inspects Henry’s body. He removes the journal from his pocket and the note from his hand. The man sits down and leans back with his head in his hands. The first man can be heard frantically talking on the phone.

“Who the hell still keeps a paper journal?” the second man says.

THE END.