Preservation

20 years. 240 months. 7,300 days. The amount of time I have had this gods dammed chip in my head. 

***

“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!”

I open my eyes as a few seconds pass, my chip buzzes, letting me know that it’s activating for the day. The sensation of the pea-sized piece of metal nestled inside my frontal lobe still feels foreign, despite years of integration and constant software updates. It's a constant reminder of how intimately connected we are to technology in this world. What even is intimacy anymore?

“BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!”

I sigh, turning over and hitting the top of my alarm clock. There it sits on my nightstand stagnant, except for the blinking June 13th, 2050, in bright red letters and numbers. The world as we know it is hyper-connected between networks of minds and technology. My one piece of disconnection is the old-fashioned alarm clock not attached to the chip in my mind. It stays stationary, not traveling anywhere with me, letting me know when to start my day each morning – the clock grounds me in the reality of my research. It allows me to wake up every day and ponder the question of how humans lived in the early 21st century before the disease of 2030 ran rampant throughout our world. This is the core of what I study at the university. The disease altered the human brain in such a way that without the chips we have implanted inside us, we would not be able to function. We would be – vegetables essentially – silently awaiting death. Twenty years later, here I am, researching and reading anything I can find in my chip’s stream and the museums we have here – my favorite being “The Library.”

From my studies of the early 21st century, I've discovered that people's interactions with technology were confined to devices separate from their minds and bodies. Yet, in my interviews with individuals from that era, it became evident that these devices held immense significance – they were treated as extensions of themselves. One interviewee even stating that their friends treated the devices as an “extra limb.” People rarely ventured anywhere without their devices. They served as sacred possessions, “seamlessly” integrated, and connected into every aspect of their lives and society. 

***

My office is my haven, it’s where I can be alone in most ways. I stand on the threshold of the door – a single, large desk sits in the corner of the room across from my only access to light. The far-left side of the room holds an entire wall of shelves full of my personal favorite works of art – books. Each one of these books is a window into the past, a retelling of lives lived and lost, and a reminder of the creativity that slowly dwindles with each passing day – the reason for my research. My walls are relatively blank aside from a few pieces I have been able to pick up on my travels. In the 21^st century there were numerous ways one could paint or make art of their choosing, but now everything is digital. I find comfort in having acquired such rarities. I work at the university closest to my home, often preferring the brisk walk in the mornings. While I look forward to coming into the office, it can be lonely, seeing that I’ve never even met my colleagues in person. They prefer to work from home. I teach various classes, but my passion lies in my research. The stream says that colleges will fade out in the next 10 years, which means I could be out of a career. Because why get an education when you already have anything you want to know without even having to think about it? I’m already seeing these effects in my small class sizes. 

Currently, I’m reading literature that was published in the early 21^st century to study that period. Afterall, literature affects the world more than most care to admit. I have read everything from this book called Twilight by Stephanie Meyers to The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. I recently concluded that each of these pieces affected their era in separate ways. 

Today, I don’t have anything to teach so I head over to my favorite museum hoping to gather some more books to delve into.

***

Per usual I am the only one here. I walk through the stone archway always noticing the intricate carvings on the tall ceilings. The scanner beeps as I pass the front desk reminding me to scan my chip so that I’m checked in. 

The shelves are lined with row upon row containing books of all genres. Their spines are cracked and withering with their age. Their stories sit behind glass cases that the science professors created to aid in their preservation. The modern technology the university has been developing is prevalent here in keeping the booksin acceptable condition. I believe the creators mentioned that the decomposition rate for books slowed when the light was minimal, and the temperature was low; hence, the protective glass keeping the knowledge of the past from my fingertips.

I look around, trying to figure out where to start my search. Wandering deeper into the endless shelves, my fingers trail along the glass cases that hold the books captive. I rake the dust from the windows as I go, a witness to the lack of life in this building. And then, amidst the rows, I see it – my next read. It looks unlike anything I have picked up before. I walk closer, the dim lighting making it hard to see. The cover is colorful, full of pinks, purples, blues, greens, and yellows. It looks as if the back of a human head is plastered on the front cover. 

“Feed.” I read aloud in a hushed tone. 

Interesting name for a novel. Its cover is slightly faded, but still, something about it draws me in. I tap my head, signaling for my chip to lower the glass. 

“Feed by M.T. Anderson.” I read to myself. 

The name sounds vaguely familiar. My heart pounds as I flip through the yellowed pages. I love that smell. I imagine that a long time ago there were whole buildings that smelled like this, of books. No thanks to the protective glass, it keeps everything sealed up tight. Bringing the book to a nearby chair, I settle in.

“Hey stream, what time is it?” I speak to my chip.

“3 p.m., Dr. Bates,” my stream responds.

“Thanks. Can you tell me what time period the book I’m looking at is from?”

“Feed by M.T. Anderson is an early 21st-century novel.”

“Perfect.” I say sounding satisfied. 

“Could you be any more monotone...” I sigh, flipping through the pages mindlessly.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Can you repeat your previous statement?” my stream asks.

“Ugh, I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” I mutter, bringing my hand to my forehead and closing my eyes. I should have picked a better voice for my stream when I first got my chip. A flaw to the software thus far, you can’t change the voice. I should send a message to the company about that. 

“Message sent Dr. Bates.” Stream says catching me off guard.

That’s odd. It’s getting hard to know what I say out loud and what I think in my mind anymore.

I begin to read the first few pages, quickly becoming entranced by the narrative. The story is eerie, yet disturbingly familiar. In the world that Anderson created, I can see that technology is deeply intertwined with their human existence. People have brain implants called "feeds" that give them constant access to everything that they could ever want – shopping, social media, money, entertainment. I feel as though I’ve heard this before, but I can’t seem to put my finger on it.

The main character meets a girl named Violet who tries to resist this overarching influence. Her feed starts malfunctioning, and it begins to affect her health. Oh no. The corporations have trademarked everything, even the clouds. What on earth is this meat with eyes? The corporation that installed Violet's feed refuses to help her, deeming it unprofitable for them to fix her implant. So, let me get this right...because Violet tries to do something different, she is deemed unprofitable, and not worth it to the corporation to help? 

Turning the pages, I feel a growing sense of unease. This world that Anderson describes, with its corporate dominance and technological dependence, mirrors our own reality in unsettling ways. How could a book written so long ago foresee so much of what we are experiencing today? It seems like Anderson knows more about my life than I do...and if he knows this much, how much more did he know?

And...why was it dismissed in its time?

***

I finish the last page and close the book, sitting in the silence of my thoughts. 

“Hey stream, what time is it?” I speak to my chip again, wondering where the time has gone. 

“11pm Dr. Bates.” My stream says back to me.

My mind races as I think about the corporations in Anderson’s world, exploiting and controlling every aspect of human life...without them even realizing it. It’s chillingly familiar – trademarked clouds, meat with eyes, and a society in decline. The parallels to our present are too stark clear to ignore. I close the book for a moment, staring at the faded cover. Could this be a warning?

I glance around the library, suddenly aware of the silence. The shelves, the glass cases, the preserved books – they all seem to whisper secrets from the past. Maybe if we listen to and read these stories the outcome will be better. My chip buzzes softly, bringing me back to reality.

"Hey stream, show me recent news on chip implants."

A flood of information fills my mind. Reports of glitches, constant buzzing, malfunctions, and an increasing number of people suffering from unexplained health issues like migraines and sores. Just like from the story. Is nothing being done to combat these issues? Why haven’t I heard about it? 

I swallow hard, my pulse quickening. What if Anderson’s fictional world is more than just a story? What if he was trying to tell people something in the early 21^st century? I recall the interviews I conducted with the early 21st-century people, their tales of reliance on external devices mirror our current dependence on implants. It seems like the people figured out a way to never have to leave their devices behind. But what about the disease? I always thought that the disease is why we all had to have chips implanted in our minds. But where did I get that knowledge? 

“I told you Dr. Bates.” My stream says in a cheering tone. 

Suddenly, I feel like bugs are crawling inside my skin. 

I can’t shake this feeling and this book.

“Feed.” 

I set the book down on the table. If the corporations continue feeding without being noticed, our world could end up just like Anderson’s. We’re already on the brink.

Determination hardens within me. I need to dig deeper, uncover the connections, and find a way to stop this. The answers might lie in the past, in the words of a novel that once did go unnoticed and were dismissed. With a newfound resolve, I stand up, grabbing the book from the table.

“Stream, find me all available data on M.T. Anderson and the societal impact of “Feed” in its time.”

As the information floods in, I know what I have to do. This isn’t just research anymore. It’s our lives. If I can understand the warnings Anderson embedded in his story– just maybe – I can prevent our world from spiraling into the same fate.

The stream tells me it’s 3 a.m. and reminds me that I should get some sleep. I take a deep breath and one step forward still clutching the book in my hands. Books aren’t allowed outside of this place. I scanned my chip, so they’ll know exactly what I... 

“They already know what you have Dr. Bates. They already know

what you plan to do. But as you know books aren't allowed out of...”

I ignore the warning and push through the museum doors hearing the alarm sound behind me. 

The fate of our future might just depend on me. But first, I need to get some sleep.