2069... dystopian future fiction. A work in progress

2069, a dystopian future fiction novel, is my next project. Harriet, a young female doctor navigates the ethical challenges of a world of government led euthanasia programmes and genetic engineering for enhancement in an increasingly economically and now biologically divided society.

She flits between the underclass, populated by the generational poor plus the scarred victims of biomechanical misadventure (her mother is one), and the super-rich with their ambition to leave the planet.

Here is a taster... the first two chapters.

The squirrel lifted its paws and looked back at Jemima Burns through the window. She called him Arthur. He was on his circuit of branch, fence top, then washing line. She had a particularly good view now the leaves had fallen. His paws gripped the branch of the silver birch again, and he was off.

Arthur. So nice to see him again. How long is it now since he passed away? Must be ten years at least.

‘Can I take the tray away now, Mima?’ Roni nudged her on the shoulder. She looked at what was left of her lunch. Quite a lot really. The gravy looked lumpy, and the custard was cold, so she didn’t want to have another go at it.

‘We can save it for later if you like?’ Roni. Such a nice young man. Very kind and gentle. You wouldn’t think he had travelled round half the world to come and work here.

‘When I get back we can watch the film together.’ Oh, that sounds good. I’ve got a date for the cinema. Haven’t been to one of those for a very long time.

Roni rolled the screen over the sticky carpet so it stood just in front of Jemima’s chair. It was almost as big as a cinema screen to her.

‘What’s the film today, Roni?’

‘It’s called “The Ultimate Retirement Package.” We watched it last month if you remember.’ Jemima didn’t, but she was interested who might be in it.

The Department of Health and Age Management, or HAM for short, had issued an instruction to all residential homes earlier that year to show the film to each resident on a monthly basis. They check the returns carefully, so Roni reminded himself to take an image of Jemima in front of the screen to send in.

‘Oh, I like him. He does the afternoon quiz show. Do you like him, Roni?’ The opening titles were rolling. Roni was looking intently at another resident across the lounge who looked as though she might topple out of her chair.

We’re going to show you, the emphasis was on the last word, how you can increase your wealth, and help society at the same time. The part-time quiz show host was pointing directly at the camera.

‘He’s got such a lovely smile. You could almost believe every word he is saying.’

The film went to a washed out sepia colour. A man was on the floor of his house clutching his chest and rolled over and vomited.

Do you want to die alone? In pain? With nobody’s hand to hold.

Jemima’s bony fingers wrapped tightly around two fingers of Roni’s left hand. The film changed to a shot of a graveyard, pallbearers carrying a coffin, a single mourner at a graveside.

And be put in the ground, with no one to grieve for you? That’s wrong, there was one person, she thought.

Well with the ultimate retirement package, you can have a fun wake before you pass away. Why let all the others have a great time? The screen filled with colour. Balloons hung from the ceiling of what looked like a posh cafe. Young people were milling about excitedly, and in the centre of a low stage there was a man, beaming from ear to ear as his children and grandchildren came and hugged, and others were standing in line to put their arms around him. Champagne was flowing and there was a large celebration cake in pride of place on a table. Feel right at the heart of your family, on such a momentous occasion.

‘They really look as though they’re having fun, Roni.’ The party was rocking now with the kids on the dance floor. Then the music quieted. The crowd looked up to a big screen suspended above the stage. It showed an ECG trace, a deep bass tone beating initially regularly, then wobblingly irregular, then it recovered slightly, and then it went to a flat line, with a piercing monotone.

Good-bye gramps! Someone shouts from the dance floor. For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he's a jolly good fellow! The song takes hold. Then, with a chorus of Kerching sounds, red, blue and yellow lights flash at the hips of the onlooking family members, through their party outfits. An excited buzz rises again in the room.

‘I remember when we had coins that could actually make that noise,’ said Jemima. Roni was looking out of the window.

The quiz show man was looking serious. If you sign up for the Ultimate Retirement Package, your family benefits, society benefits, and for the next three months only, the Department of Health and Age Management will throw in an extra 25% on top of your legacy. That’s an extra quarter on top of your saved capital. Think what that could do for your family, His face lit up again. But hurry, the offer ends first of April. Stop burning money like there’s no tomorrow. Make your family proud of you. Attend your own funeral. Don’t miss the fun. Do it the modern way!

Roni’s attention was back in the room. ‘What did you think of that, Mima?’

‘Well, there seemed to be one or two things he got wrong,’ she considered. ‘But the man’s family seemed pleased.’

‘You have a think about it, Mima, and let me know. The annex is only next door.’

Jemima’s friend Miriam had gone to the annex the previous month. She had said “it’s only like eating jelly for pudding.” But of course she hadn’t been back to tell her what it was really like. It did look like a good party though. And Alex and his husband David would probably be able to build that extension they’ve been talking about. I don’t know where we would get all the party-goers though. She looked around the lounge. Miriam didn’t want a big fuss, but I quite like the idea of the party. Celebrating my life and all that. I suppose the staff would come.

‘You can have a chat with nice Dr Harriet next time she comes,’ Roni added. ‘I know you like her.’

2

Dr Harriet Sparkes was looking at her feet. The floor was just starting to move. Clouds of yellow, green and red blew around beneath her, and then started to coalesce, picking up the rhythm of the pounding beat as bright pulses, defined shapes, gathered then dispersed. She could see her friend Claudia’s toes poking through her gold lace ups, and Gina’s were encased in multicoloured shroom leather. All six feet were taking small synchronised steps. Harriet felt the floor respond, a perfect response in timing and intensity, nurturing the rhythm, resisting when necessary, giving when needed. It made her feel like the best dancer in the world.

Harriet tilted her head back. The sound was rising up to the vaulted ceiling, filling the air gaps between the buttresses, their stones reflecting back the colours sent up from the floor. Whoever the genius was who thought of buying up the nation’s churches as JelliShake venues, well, they must have made a lot of money for their corporation, she thought. This is just brilliant. Silent for so long, and now filled with sound again. Not very monastic though.

Saturday night was the one opportunity to see her friends. They had grown up together in the village, but Claudia and Gina were pretty well confined to screens all the week. She was lucky as a doctor. She had the freedom of a gubernator to take her to patients if they needed face to face. She needed the “Goobie” more often than you might think.

The pace of the music was picking up, accelerating, rising in pitch and then stopped suddenly. The girls looked at each other, faces excited in anticipation, knowing what was about to happen. A big bass drop, and they started moving again to the new rhythm. She breathed in the scent of sweat and perfume, and felt herself moving as one with the mass of bodies, bathing in the pond of primitivism.

Another bass drop, the music was getting louder, the colours more intense. Impulses from the floor led her feet, rippling from side to side with a low vibration almost barely perceptible at first, then sending waves up her legs. Her friends’ faces flashed in front of her, lit from below, their ecstatic grins building. The frequency of the vibration rose. Gina was the first to go, her eyes shut, as trillions of her cultivated microbe gut lodgers released their load, each one measured in picograms, but collectively a substantial dose carried from abdomen to brain, a massive endorphin rush. Her head down, her hair swept from side to side. Harriet watched as Claudia went next, and then she gave in herself, the frequency now matching perfectly the trigger for her biome’s release.

Bodies were scattered over the floor, some sitting stunned, others curled up, yet more just lying watching the lights play on the ceiling. JelliShake gave way to JelliRoll, the floor moving up and down in low waves as chill out music played. A collective calm settled in the church.

They dragged on their coats for the hundred yard dash to the community centre next door. Harriet had booked a steam pod, so they could chat after the ’Shake. Cold drizzle was falling as they wove between the tilted gravestones, trying not to trip. A big drip, knocked from the bare branch of a small tree as Harriet brushed past it, fell between collar and neck, giving her an icy wake up call.

It was warm in the community centre, and they rushed to their glowing pod, sealing the flap behind them. The steam rendered the walls opaque, and they felt safe divesting themselves of clothes before sliding into the hot tub.

‘Look. Gina’s still gone,’ Harriet said, settling herself on the submerged shelf, and looking across to her friend’s face with its eyes shut above an ecstatic smile.

‘Either she’s sitting on the best jet, or she’s stuck in the Merse,’ added Claudia.

‘I think she’s mersing. It’s all rainbow unicorns and gonks sitting under bridges with her,’ they giggled. Gina was spending a lot of time immersed in the Metaverse.

‘She told me she’s swapped brands of biome fuel this week,’ Claudia said. Harriet had been thinking of doing the same. In a couple of sentences they had covered the two topics they always talked about, in fact what everybody talked about: what’s happening in the Merse, and how crap or excellent your biome fuel is. It’s important. Those little friends in your gut decide how happy or sad you are, and they need feeding. And if they’re not happy, your mersing will go astray, let alone the JelliShake climax.

‘Anyway, I haven’t told you about Alfredo yet.’ Claudia leaned towards Harriet, confidentially. ‘He’s really cool.’

‘Don’t tell me, he’s really hairy.’

Claudia gave her a gentle punch to the shoulder. ‘How did you guess?’ They laughed.

‘I’m in my nest, you know the one at the top of the tree that’s lined with fur. I can see right across the forest, I’m higher than any of the birds. And you know I only accept visitors if they bring a bunch of bananas with them. So, I'm cosily curled up when the tree starts to shake. It’s quite gentle at first, then it gets a bit more vigorous. Someone’s climbing up. Oh, that’s nice. The bananas come through the hole first, then Alfredo’s lovely face, black hair tousled, nice glint in the eye, about a week's worth of beard, teeth whiter than you can imagine.’

‘I know, he was dragging a substantial bit of “timber” up with him.’

‘Yes of course. But better than that, the hair on his body was so thick it was almost as though it was woven. When he lay on top of me, I couldn’t force my fingers through it, I was stuck.’ Claudia paused and stood up and reached over to her drink on the side behind Harriet. True to her Merse, her bush was wild, spreading from stomach to thigh to buttock. Harriet withdrew and turned her head slightly.

‘So what’s been happening with your mersing?’ Claudia enquired.

‘Oh, just the usual.’

‘Still stuck in the last century?’

‘Yep.’