Someone Unlike You

At Pervading Bank, there are three types of members we help. The Distracted, The Quiet, and The Loud.

The first of our members are the ones with their faces stuffed in their holograms, keeping up with the newest trends of our society. Their sero-chips are so full, they don’t need human connection like the rest of us. Although they may seem rude, they’re actually the worst off. They’ve become too dependent on their chips to supply their daily dose of serotonin that it’s become its only function. Unless they need our help to refuel it with currency. 

The second is The Quiet, and they’re… well, creepy. They stare a lot, writing their requests in their holo-texts, never uttering a single word. Sometimes I wonder if they even talk in their heads. They aren’t as bad as The Distracted, though. At least they realize they need human connection. An endangered pastime. And although I know it’s hard for them, I’m happy to see them try. It would be nice to get a vocal response every once in a while.

But my favorites by far are The Loud. They come in with their booming voices, talking about the latest inventions, the weekly simulated party, and occasionally the weather. They talk from the moment they enter to the moment they leave. And when they do, a sudden hush falls onto the ground floor. It’s uncomfortable because then I realize how alone I am. And how it’s the norm, and I’m supposed to like it, but I don’t. 

Every interaction differs from the beginning to the middle, but the endings are always the same. 

I verify their amount.

They nod.

They hold their wrist under our withdrawal meter, and they recharge their chip.

They nod again.

And then they leave.

And it’s silent again. For that brief moment, a thought crosses my mind. What if no one else comes in? A part of me feels good, like I’ve been let out of a repetitive dream. But then, I feel dread. Because I’m afraid I might wake up. And I don’t know what scares me more. Realizing I’m in a prison or realizing I don’t want to leave it.

But eventually, like always, someone comes in. And the algorithm repeats. 

Verify

Nod

Recharge

Nod

Leave

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Verify

Nod

Recharge

Nod

Leave

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Verify

Nod 

Recharge

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Uh? The tips of my fingers feel weightless on the levitating keys as I look up at The Loud—I mean, Jabari. He introduced himself. Most people don’t, so I try to remember the names of ones that do. His big chestnut eyes slightly sparkle in the bright, white lights and when I give him my attention, they sparkle a bit more. Within an instance, my hands drop into my lap, and when he notices, he leans in. My breath slightly hitches and to this, he tilts his head.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” My words come out breathy and flush, but I make no attempt to speak again.

With a shake of his head, he says, “Yes, I probably should.” My chest feels like it’s about to fall to my feet, but he shakes his head once more. “But I don’t think I want to.”

His words seem to fly out of his mouth, bounce through my head, and land into the pit of my stomach. It flutters and a feeling I can’t describe claims ownership over my features. As if he has some secret power, the corners of my lips soar into my cheeks, making them rise. I can feel the edges of my eyes crinkle as my lips stretch past my teeth.

His eyes, like stars parading in the night sky, enlarge, and with the look on his face, my mind scrambles for a reason. A gasp falls from my lips as I clamp my hand over my mouth. What was that? 

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, biting into my bottom lip in hopes it will obey. 

“That was weird,” he whispers back. “But I kinda liked it.”

My mouth does that thing again. And the dancing butterflies at the pit of my stomach rave at the notion. Dragging my fingers into the corners of my lips, I try to force them back down. But every time I look at him, my features seem to want to sparkle too. I crumble my lips together and they beat the odds. Pulling apart and up, they claim their stance. I try and I fail and I try again. But they succeed. 

Jabari stares in silence. His eyes are glossed and his mouth wags in thought. My personal battle for his viewing pleasure. When I accept my defeat, he says, “The simulation is glitching.”

The beating wings wreaking havoc over my stomach, take flight.

They weave through my veins and rumble in my throat and before I know it, I release a loud, “Ha!”

Nearly scaring myself out of my chair, I slap both hands over my possessed lips. It’s the only plausible explanation. I feel like I’m under a spell. 

This time my erratic outburst captures everyone in the room. And when I cower at their attention, Jabari does the unthinkable. Like marionette strings taking hold of his features, the corners of his lips rise too. And when I get to see it for myself, my body ignites. Ah, I understand now. This action is different. Better. It makes me feel… warm? No—it’s indescribable.

Jabari jumps at his own action and his white teeth beam in the sun as if it only rose this morning to add to this moment. “You broke me,” he says. 

“System Shutting Down.” My station’s voice cuts our moment short and its light dims until it’s gone. I glance at Jabari, but he’s already looking over my shoulder. 

“Kayla,” my boss’s voice rumbles against my back and I straighten in posture. Jabri’s bright features flicker for a second, but then he looks at me and they remain unchanged.

I have to force myself to look away and give my attention to Brooke. With her bun tugged so tightly behind her head, her straight-lined features look bleak and too forced. 

“Yes?” I manage to say.

“Say goodbye to your customer and go home for the day,” she looks at Jabari and I already hear him rushing to his feet. “You’re not feeling well,” she accuses.

I feel my mood fade and my once lifted mouth drops into my weighted spirits. “I feel fine.”

Brooke begins to speak, but her eyes find Jabari again, and I turn around to face him. The tug of his lips calls for mine to do the same, but Brooke grumbles. “You need to leave. Both of you.”

Jabari rushes out of the bank, and a part of me wants to run with him. But I don’t. I gather my things, walk to the basement, and scan out. I don’t know how many days I’ll be off, but I don’t want them. I want to work. It feels wrong not to, and I don’t want to be looked down on for it. It keeps our society functioning as it should.

The sero-chip stabilizes us by forcing us to do the same thing. To keep the harmony. Every morning, each neighborhood gets the same ingredients to make the same breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We have the same wardrobe depending on where we work. We can have the same virtual parties, watch the same videos and shows, listen to the same music, and it fills our serotonin levels. There is no world hunger, no jealousy, and no one is left out. Therefore, we have minimal physical interaction with each other. Humans hurt humans, so it’s better to coexist apart. 

It’s the motto of our world. 

~~

When I reach outside, the bitter wind competes with the sun. I trudge down to the cobblestone, but before I get very far, the tips of someone’s shoes brush my own. Jabari. At his arrival, my features lift and his features do the same. Wasting no time, he pulls my things out of my hand and continues to walk alongside me.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get you into trouble with her boss—”

“No!” I shout, noticing how his coily hair waving in the wind makes him look free. “It’s not your fault. In fact… it was my first time.”

His bushy brows raise up in question, and he finally offers me his dazzling eyes. “Wait, you mean to tell me, you’ve never gotten into trouble?”

I shake my head and a series of musical breaths dance out his mouth. “You do everything you’re supposed to?”  

My shock is blatant. “You don’t?”

“Hell, no! Where’s the fun in that?” 

I tap my finger onto my wrist, and my chip activates. He scoffs at my answer and pulls my hand into his. My body buzzes like an army of bees have been released and when he pulls me closer, I feel dizzy. I think he’s killing me. 

“I bet I can make you feel more than your chip ever could. Something real.” His breath tickles my face. And as my insides stir, I decide if it’s my death he’s truly after, he can have it. Because I’ve never felt more alive. 

He captures my attention with a raise of his finger. “But… you’re going to have to trust me because we’re going to break a lot of rules.”

My features can’t help themselves and with a meek breath, I whisper, “Okay.”

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Kayla Cooper

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His grip tightens around my hand and pushes off his heels. We launch across the street and my heart jumps like a jackrabbit. I feel revitalized. I want to explore the world with him. I want to dream with him and I want— 

Kayla Cooper

“Kayla Cooper,” the woman’s soft voice calls the image to fade. Suddenly, I can no longer feel the way his delicate fingers wrap around my skin. The thumping of my heart feels like pain and the future I eagerly await slips through my hands. The feeling of my plush sofa materializes in my back and my eyes reluctantly flutter open. A woman is the first thing I see, and she helps me to sit up.

“Where am I?” I slur. The world is lived in slow-motion and my limbs feel like weighted stones. 

“You’re at home.” The women’s voice is so soothing, it must have taken years of practice.  

With a weak nod, I scour the room for him, but he’s nowhere to be found. And though I already know her answer, I can’t stop myself from asking. “Is… Jabari here?”

She looks away, fluffing my blanket. “Your serotonin levels got dangerously low. You missed work, stopped eating, and have been sleeping too much. You weren’t acting like the rest of society, so I had to do an immediate simulation to boost your levels. back up.”

Like poking holes in the film of a destroyed camera, her words cut through the fragments of my memories. My spirits plummet and I fall back onto the sofa. “So, I’m really alone?”

She doesn’t answer, but I can hear her response in her silence. We all are. I screw my eyes shut in hopes the simulation won’t wear off. 

But it will. 

I try to remember his face, his smell, and the feeling of his touch. He has hair and skin like mine, his eyes sparkle like constellations, he lifts my sullen features, and elevates spirits. With him, I experience the unthinkable. Liberation. 

I try to lift my mouth, but unlike the simulation, they’re determined to do the opposite. That’s right. I can only do it in the simulation because in our society we don’t need to.

As the doctor packs up her things, I finally get the nerve to ask her. Though I know I’ll forget as time goes on, I want to put a name to it. “What were we doing? That thing—”

“You were smiling,” the word sounds somber on her lips, and with a quick look back, she nods and she leaves.

And it’s silent once more.