A Lungfull of Sacrifice - SciFi Short Story - Steemit Exclusive

Time. The price of everything is always time, Harrison Page thought to himself, panting as he stared at the bright holographic clock. It floated gracefully above the heavy oak desk that stood between Page and the woman who would seal his fate. The holographic clock projection vaguely reminded him of his first daughter’s nightlight, shining in his memory from over a thousand years away. Her name was Harmony. The light of the nightlight was blue. Her smile made him happy.

It was getting hard to remember after so long, memories of love and joy replaced by centuries of dull, mind-numbing labor. What did happy feel like? Why were Harmony’s name and light saved in his memory, while dozens of other children melted in Page’s mind into a blur of faces and goodbyes?

The medical officer hurriedly flipped through the files in her tablet, never lifting her cybernetic eyes from the documents displayed. Her ghostly face was pale, semi-translucent skin stretched over the bones of her skull, the implants and brain function enhancements of a medical officer jeweling her hairless head with silvers and blacks. She skipped through the documents far too quickly to have read them in depth, all the while shaking her head from side to side. This wasn’t their first dance, even if the memory of the previous meetings was but a sensation of deja-vu.

“Mister Page, given your decreasing levels of productivity, diminishing mental capability, maintenance costs over the past century and current contribution to The Company,” she said calmly, her eyes still focused on the tablet, finger swiping back and forth, “there is absolutely no way The Company will fund this organ replacement. Or any others.”

Page tried not to wheeze as he shut his eyes to formulate a reply. The light of the holographic clock tinted the darkness behind his eyelids in a soft blue.

“You are condemning me to death,” he said after a long pause, opening his eyes to try and face his de-facto executioner.

“Mister Page,” the officer said, still flipping through documents on her tablet, “everyone dies.”

“They don’t have to,” Page noted.

“Yes, Harrison, they do,” the woman replied, finally lifting her ageless artificial eyes to look at the man sitting before her.

“Because of money?” he demanded, gasping for breath. Money was always the bottom line. Time and money. That was something no one ever forgot.

“No, Mister Page,” the medical officer replied calmly, her face void of emotion. “It’s because we each have a purpose. A role and place. And at some point we stop serving that purpose and we die. We must all sacrifice something to make room for something else.”

“I can still work. For another two decades at least,” Page gasped. It was the only thing he remembered how to do - work. Skills, hobbies, friends, family, emotions - they all became a fading mush of recollections worn out by time. But what was the alternative? The cold embrace of non-existence? “If I could only have one more lung and…” he tried to barter with the medical officer and knew she expected it.

“You’ve had seven lung replacements in the past century,” the medical officer noted dryly. “You are the oldest employee on record to serve the company and community as a waste disposal manager. It is Management’s final decision to discontinue its investment in your ongoing upkeep.”

Page clenched his fist trying to keep his composure. They’ve had this argument before. Over a dozen times. Every time one of his lungs gave in to the effects of the fumes in the waste processing facilities, Harrison sent messages, appeals and documents until one of these meetings was set. And then he’d beg for his life yet again, promising to work harder and better. It wasn’t always her, but it was always the same ancient dance.

It’s been over four centuries since he was reassigned to the “muck” job, having become redundant in his previous position as a virtual scenery designer. They just got an algorithm to do it. So Harrison found himself in “the muck”. Everyone working the muck knew it was their last stop. It’s where Company employees went to die. It’s where the memories of life lived faded into nothingness, leaving minds full of muck, bodies running on survival instincts, inertia, and whatever budget The Company would see fit to spare to keep them shoveling in the muck till the bitter end.

Some would die on the job. It was easier on The Company and considered more dignified by some. Others, like Page, demanded The Company pay for the artificial organs and enhancements to keep them alive as long as they were of use, like it did for all its employees. But Management’s decision was clear. Overpopulation, scarcity of jobs and dwindling natural resources on Company territories were just some of the reasons some of society’s most useless had to be left to die. They were muck, even though they were the fathers and grandfathers and mothers and sisters of thousands.

“But why me?” he begged. “I work hard. I always did. Why now?”

“Because we must all sacrifice,” she replied, her voice almost losing that icy cool it had when they began.

“You don’t!” Page screamed at the woman, rage and panic spreading through him. He was going to die, while she got to live. The unfairness of it stung almost as much as the understanding that after all those centuries, he still wanted to live. Perhaps more than ever. There had to be a way out. Some other job he could do. Some function he could perform that would make his existence cost-effective. More than anything, he dreaded the humiliating demise of an aging employee in a Company hospice, his mind an empty shell and his body falling apart until he just stopped. He didn’t want to go like that. Perhaps someday, but not yet.

“Mister Page..” the officer tried to reply.

“No!” Page shouted, his face blushing crimson and sweating as anger raged in him. “In all these centuries, all these meetings for my life, and you never even told me your name. You sit behind that desk, with all the power and your fancy super-brain while I… I…” he paused to pant and the medical officer took the deep breath he wished he could.

“We must all sacrifice, Mister Page. For the good of The Company. For the good of our race. We birth children so they may replace us when it is time. So The Company can only afford to give us what it needs us to have until we can be replaced. We are all but parts, while we serve our purpose.”

Page was still gasping for air when he heard a slight buzzing sound. The medical officer moved from her place.

“The Company does not need me to walk, so I have not stood in half a millennia. My eyes only see what The Company needs them to so I can perform my duties, and nothing more,” she said as her chair rolled out, revealing her legless body, reduced to a torso and arms, equipped to never need to leave her station. “I’ve sacrificed every bit of my body that is of no function to my job.”

Harrison Page stood speechless, his own enhanced but limited eyes looking over the aged shadow of a woman before him, small and vulnerable in the blue light of the holographic clock. Something about her seemed different and somehow familiar.

“But those are not my most painful sacrifices to The Company,” she continued. “I remember everything, Mister Page. The Company made sure I do because it is my mind they need. I remember the blue nightlight, the pancakes for breakfast, the love I felt growing up. I remember it all when you cannot. Because Management ruled centuries ago that your mind did not need the enhancements as it grew old. They didn’t need your mind so they...” She paused and Page looked at her bewildered. Something in his psyche writhed and stung, his eyes tearing up as he gasped for air and steadied himself on the desk.

“My name is Harmony Page-Weathers,” the medical officer finally said. “And my greatest sacrifice to The Company is not a lung or a leg, but my father.”

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Image via Pixabay.com - CC0

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