The Independent Market

I scan my chip that’s implanted in my wrist then get on the public vessel. I am exhausted after studying for the marketing exam in the Wikipedia Library on campus. I sat back and closed my eyes, feigning sleep, when in reality I just want to avoid seeing the Trash as we fly around the border of their territory and ours, the Promised Land. The border is guarded by enforcers; their job is to keep us safe from them. I hate to see the Trash. They wear rags and hobble around like trolls, cowering from the sun. As a society, we have failed them. My father says that people like us pretend that the Trash don’t exist because we are walking the thin line between staying Elite and becoming Trash. 

In a history program, we learned that there was a time when America had a mixed economy and a government. However, who knows if it is true or not? You can’t trust anything these days. Our American leaders are major enterprises, and our news is owned and controlled by the big companies. Stories are passed around like a game of broken whispers. 

 My father and his father and his father before him kept journals. My father says that this is the most accurate depiction of time, because his main motivation is to keep a record of just his life, not money and power. My father says that when he writes for himself,  it makes him feel human and not like another machine designed for profit.

The sound of a “ping” signalling my stop wakes me from my musings and I walk home. I am greeted by my father. We are an abnormally small family. The omnipotent - which is what my father calls the major enterprises which run today’s world - offers rewards to the families for each kid they have, for it keeps the economy booming. My father's expression is unsure. He is holding a tablet, and a flashing light indicates that an important email is waiting. I read it: “Troie offers a position in technologique medicine in the pharmaceutical department to Belinda Arrgon ID# 45673. You have proved your intelligence by excelling in your program.” 

I give a small half smile, but inside I’m screaming with excitement. It is an honorable position. The pay is great, the rewards are greater and the accommodations are renowned. I hadn’t even applied to this job, because it was way out of my league. My father is happy for me, but nevertheless he tells me to be careful. The vessel arrives before he’s finished speaking, because the job starts immediately. I don’t recognize the model but it looks expensive. I can buy everything I need when I get to Troie HQ. When I arrive at the company’s front gates I take a moment to admire the garden. A garden! They are so rare. Our world has been ravaged, and all available land dedicated to skyscrapers, factories and transport. To see greenery is a rare privilege.

 I am greeted by my new supervisor: Dr. Lillith. Her cold eyes match her cold smile which incites a shudder everytime she holds eye contact.  I am shown around the facility, and the equipment is all brand new and beautiful. The smell in the facility is so pungent and purified, creating the sensation of an absence of life. I am given my access card and given a contract to sign. I have level 1 clearance, and when I excel, I will be rewarded with new more clearance and rewards. I am notified of the company’s expectations. Only people with level 70 clearance are rewarded with worker insurance. Of course, if I leak any discoveries in this laboratory, and tarnish Troie’s reputation, my contract will be immediately terminated and my father adn I will be downgraded to Trash. I shudder at the thought, then immediately sign the contract. 

I get settled into my apartment. It is a short walk to the lab. I am given credit in my account. I buy work appropriate clothes through the console mounted on the white wall. Each transaction must be approved by Troie so there will be a short waiting period until my purchases can be delivered. I want to send an email to my father, telling him of my day. Troie denies the message. The reason: this is unprecedented for my profile, so I must get my account refreshed and re-enter all my personal information into the Troie network. 

In the lab,I am given an old intern’s project to advance. I don’t ask what happened, but it is likely that he was associated with a Trash, damaging his reputation and that of the company. The experiment is quite brilliant: a collaboration between the marketing and medicine team. We are developing a chip that will be placed in the brain. It will stimulate the limbic system when the subject is shown an advertisement. It will essentially encourage users to purchase the products the company wishes to sell. 

Over the next several weeks, I make some significant breakthroughs. I am rewarded with level 25 clearance, allowing me to move on to human experimentation. I wonder how we get the volunteers for this kind of  project. I assume that Troie offers significant rewards to the elite that do. 

I’m wrong. The experimentation lab is filled with young Trash. 

I don’t show any hesitation because  that would be interpreted by the company as a betrayal. For the next few hours my co-workers and I pretend that the Trash are volunteers, that they are doing this because they were offered a chance to rejoin the Elite, that we are doing them a favour by experimenting on them. But we know that this is not true. The Trash can never rejoin the Elite, and their scared and confused faces only solidify our horror. No one cares about the Trash, and no one will notice their disappearance. I am powerless to help them. Troie does not follow a protocol, it can do what they like to them with no consequences. They will not be held accountable. Should I even try to alert the news, my story would be twisted and anyway, no one would believe me. 

I want to quit. I want to return to my father and live a lesser life. I know this is not possible. I ask my supervisor Dr. Lillith if I can go visit him. She says at our next breakthrough, it would be my reward. I hold out till then. Everyday I continue to with the human experimentations on these barely pubescent teenage Trash. The number of failed tests are but numbers on a chart, while the bodies are dumped somewhere out of sight, but with every improvement and advancement in the prototype Troie rewards me. I am given large sums of credit. The Elite recognize me as I walk down the halls. They call me a skilled innovator, with a cunning mind. We are moving at such a fast pace the pool of Trash must be replenished every few days. 

We are in the final stage of developing the finished product, I can practically taste it.  Dr. Lilith pays me a visit . As my reward for all the hard work and dedication, Troie offers me a chance to reunite with my father. I say no thanks, I’d rather Troie is host a banquet in my honor.