Part I – Ideal Offspring

“I’ll get those, Mikey,” Bobby said with concern in his voice.

“But I wanna get-em,” he countered.

“OK, I’ll just make sure you don’t fall.”

Mikey leaned his knee up on the counter and dodged the cupboard as the door swung inches from his face. He grabbed four cups one at a time, placing them on the counter. He swung the door back closed and slid his foot back onto the chair. Bobby removed his hands from hovering over his little brother’s midsection and grabbed two of the cups, taking them to the table. Mikey slid the chair across the floor before retrieving the other two glasses.

“Both of you go wash your hands,” Mom said.

“Come on, Mikey,” the older brother encouraged.

The two kids emerged from the bathroom and sat down at the table.

“Dad, can we play Trouble after dinner?”

“Sure,” he said. “Is that OK with you, Bobby?”

“Of course. I still need to take revenge for losing last time!” He said, smirking at Mikey, who smiled back up at him.

“Bobby,” Mom said, “Did you get your test back yet?”

“Yep,” he smiled, “I got an ‘A’. I need one of you to sign it for tomorrow.”

“Great job, son,” Dad said. Changing the subject, he reminded the family of his late night planned for the following day.

“I forgot,” Mom said. “I won't be here either. Bobby, will you be here to get Mikey off the bus?”

“Sure, but remember I am going to John’s house for dinner, so will someone be here before I need to leave?”

“Yes,” Mom said, “I will be back at 4:00, and I think you will be leaving at 4:45.”

“Great. I will make sure I finish my homework before you get home.”

The family was silent for the rest of the meal, then Bobby picked up the dishes and Mikey rinsed the table. The family operated as a well oiled machine, readying the kitchen table for evening games in a short period of time. The evening went on as normal without fights or struggles. Bobby finally won, and Mikey jokingly teased him about finally taking the victory.

They relaxed as a family for another hour and then began their nighttime process. Bobby always encouraged Mikey to stay on track, teaching him to brush his teeth and even helping to tuck his little brother in for the night.

His own evening lasted an hour longer.

“Mom, Dad?” He started, “Did you think about getting me a phone for my birthday?”

“We did, Bobby. We are concerned it might get in the way of your responsibilities.”

“I’m turning 13 this weekend, and all my friends have phones of their own,” he said.

“I know, Bobby, and it might seem like we are being tough, but we also know phones can have a negative impact on our lives.” Dad said.

“You are responsible,” Mom said. “We don’t want to let anything break that. If you develop good habits now, they will be with you forever.”

“All that being said,” Dad said. “We think it would be good to test it out how you respond to a phone while you are still young, so we will give you one.”

“Thanks!” He yelled out, then silenced himself to not awaken his brother. “You’re the BEST!”

He kissed both his parents and brought the three of them in for a group hug.

-----

Bobby stood in the driveway kicking around a rock between his feet. He heard the sound of air breaks in the distance and straightened up his posture waiting for the bus to stop in front of his house. He approached the bus to grab Mikey’s hand for the big step off the bus. The two boys ran into the house together.

“I need to do my homework, Mikey, so let’s grab a snack and I want you to get something to do on the table.”

“I want a cookie!” he said, running off to his room.

Bobby heard some shuffling as Mikey opened and closed different drawers in his room. He emerged from the room with a coloring book and some crayons, sitting at a table in front of a big cookie. He slid the plate over and sat at the chair next to his big brother and colored while Bobby struggled through a round of math problems.

The door opened shortly and Mom walked in.

“Hi Mom!” Bobby said.

“Hello boys. How are you doing?”

“Look Mom! I colored this for you,” Mikey said, showing her a cleanly colored page of Thanksgiving turkeys.

“That’s nice, dear,” she said. “I’ll hang it on the refrigerator.”

“My homework is about done, the cat is fed, and Mikey had a snack already. Is there anything else I need to do before getting ready to go to John’s house?”

“No, son. Have a good time.”

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Audiobook link below

Part I – A Shortcut to the Long Game

Douglas sat on the mahogany ridge leaning in toward the young lady who just pressed herself across the bar asking for a margarita.

“Come here often?” He asked.

She glanced over at him and let out a quick smile. “Once in a while,” she said, fixing her glance on him.

“Me too,” Douglas replied, “but I received a job offer in Ohio, so I’m savoring my last few days here.”

“So you’re a recent grad?” She asked.

“Comp Sci,” he confirmed.

“Me too, El Ed,” she said, sliding onto the barstool. She smiled at him again, asking after the fact if the stool was free. “I’m off to California.” She said, adding, “It’s the only place I could find a job.”

“Too bad we’re going our separate ways. We could get together for some fun if you were also coming to Columbus,” he nodded his head,

“So much for all this ‘opportunity’ they promised us. It sucks that my debt is five times higher than my gross salary,” she said.

“Me, too,” Douglas said. “That’s as gross as it gets. At least I received an entry level position, but I might make more working as a barista once I factor in tips.”

The bartender arrived with her drink, but Douglas beat her to paying for it. The man smiled at both of them, asking if about anything else the couple needed before returning the credit card.

“Thanks for the drink. I’m Sara, by the way,” she said.

Douglas formally introduced himself and continued his conversation about the debt load. He was a classic geek, complete with spreadsheets about his expected take home pay, expenses, and even how much…or little he could pay off on his debt.

“I would like to see that spreadsheet,” she said, placing her hand on his.

“My apartment is only a few blocks away. We could continue this conversation there…”

-----

“Fifteen years,” he playfully slammed the table with his hand.

“There must be a faster way,” Sara said.

“According to the numbers, not without a pretty quick and dramatic raise. Hopefully, I can stay at the company long enough to collect a higher salary, then I will make more than minimum payments.”

They punched numbers and spent the duration of the evening looking at different scenarios and talking about ways to cut as many costs as possible. Every bit helped to pay down the debt, but still the salary numbers were nothing next to the debt. The evening ended with an email to his new friend and they both slipped into the bed together.

-----

Douglas woke up slightly hungover and looked over to an empty bed. Sara had woken up early in the morning and left, leaving a note on the nightstand thanking him for a wonderful evening and promising to email him soon.

His bones creaked as he stretched his way out of bed and put on his clothes from the previous night. With only a day of packing ahead of himself, hygiene didn’t cross his mind, however, thinking about ways to shortcut his way to prosperity did.

He flipped open his email, sorting through dozens of scam email messages. “If only one person in ten-thousand falls for this, it’s a big payout.” he said to himself.

Douglas opened up a text editor and started scribbling down notes.

NAME

ADDRESS

BANK ACCOUNT

VERIFICATION

PHONE NUMBER

PERSONHOOD CREDENTIALS

He stopped to read the last words. “This is the key,” he said aloud to the empty room. “How can I get personhood credentials for a person who doesn’t exist?”

The recently rolled out blockchain-based cryptographic codes and documentations were making waves for many businesses to use the new system for verification that a person was really a person, and not a computer bot. The credentials can also identify such a person if the system administrator setup the computer for an identity check.

Douglas looked at his wallet and looked at the ID card containing his own credentials. His finger ran over the RFID chip that broadcast his own personhood credentials. He remembered the times he needed to use his card for online transactions to prove he was a real person. The Internet said this was a foolproof way to get around ubiquitous artificial intelligence that took over the Internet a few years ago.

“I need an identity for someone who has been in the system,” he said. “But I don’t want to steal one.”

He turned on his Tor browser and started a hidden onion service search for clean, valid identities. He clicked through several sites selling stolen identification, but ultimately found one site showing promise.

“Our IDs are grown, not stolen. Each identification comes with a birth certificate, social security number, and an Internet profile. They are real–yet fake–people you can acquire for a small sum.”

Douglas saved the URL in his text file. He wrote under that a name, ‘Steve Rand’.

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Part I – The Underbelly

A soft drizzle collected in a small water puddle on the edge of an old warehouse. A hooded man looked both directions, making sure no one followed him. He stepped over a small pile of trash in the entrance to the alley, placing his old boot into the puddle disturbing the water. He cautiously walked down the alley with only the faint glow of an old sodium city light that cast eerie shadows down the forgotten corridor.

“That’s close enough,” a man whispered. “Do you have the money?”

“I do,” the hooded stranger whispered.

“And you have the fantasy?”

“Yeah, I brought something.”

An old wooden door creaked open, allowing a small sliver of the old streetlight to shine a narrow beam of light into the dark room. The hooded man entered, and after, a porter closed the door behind him.

“Johnny will see you now.”

The hooded man nodded and walked toward a soft glow emitting from the bottom of a door. He knocked once and then walked in. The technology in the room juxtaposed the run down warehouse. A techno cave certainly didn’t seem the type of room found in an old leaky building at the end of condemnation.

At the far end of the room, a man with long, greasy gray hair sat perched on a stool, his hand on a computer keyboard scrolling down pages of text.

“I’m almost ready for you,” Johnny said in a tired voice.

“Take your time. You know what happens if this doesn’t work the way you described. Sheriff Bonson already has enough on you to send you to jail for the rest of your natural life. These ‘experiments’, as you call them, are not sanctioned.”

“I know the risks,” Johnny said, “And I know what I’m doing. Threatening me is not in your best interest. I’m the only one who can make your candidate win, after all,” Johnny said.

“The edge you can provide is the only reason you’re not in police custody already.”

“First things first. Give me the money and the fantasy.”

The hooded man reached into his pocket to retrieve a zipped up hard case. He ran his hand around the edge, discovering the zipper to open up the box. Inside, a stack of hundred-dollar bills sat atop a photo of a woman with some text scribbled on the back. The man handed Johnny the money and held up the photo.

Johnny flipped through the stack of bills, assuring they were all the same currency. He tossed the stack onto his desk and reached out for the photo.

“She’s pretty. Do you know her?” Johnny asked.

“Nope, just took snapped the picture. As you instructed, the fantasy is on the back. You said it would be vivid.”

“And it will be,” Johnny replied.

“The boss wants to know how this works. Will I remember the procedure as vividly?”

“If you are paying attention, yes. Nothing we do here will remove any memory. Remember, I am in the business of making them ex post facto.”

“Out of nothing?” the hooded man translated.

“Exactly. First, we need to prep you. That is the part you’ll remember perfectly. Then we need to place you in a dream state for the simulations to run. Then we wake you up and you will have experienced the most glorious passion you have ever experienced with this woman, and you will remember it perfectly. Are you ready for the preparations?”

The man nodded.

Johnny pointed him to a chair and gestured to sit down. Johnny retreated behind the chair, out of the man’s view. He felt his hood slide down, finally revealing his worldly hardened face. Johnny came back into view with some electrodes for an electroencephalogram. He attached them to the man’s face and then retreated before returning with some wrist restraints.

“What you are doing?” the man protested.

“I need to strap you down,” Johnny said. “The process might make you move too much. It works best when nothing becomes detached from the movement.”

“Go ahead,” he growled.

Johnny tied him down in the arms, wrists, and feet. Finally, Johnny affixed a mask resembling a virtual reality helmet on the man’s head.

We are just about set up. Now I have two serums I will administer. The first puts you into a dreamlike sleeping state. When you are in this phase, we execute the experiential virtualization. We will then administer our second phase that will place you into a REM sleep when we do the neuroplastic assembly to complete the memory implantation. Once solidified, we will then wake you up and you will have experienced the most passionate evening you have never had. Are you ready?

The man nodded in the affirmation, and Johnny stuck him with a needle. The man exhaled a deep breath once the needle punctured his arm. In a few brief minutes, the EEG screen indicted the man moved into the expected dreamlike state. Johnny hit a few keys on the keyboard and a light on the headset indicated a successful start.

----

The man’s eyes shot open as he immediately awoke, devoid of any grogginess that could ever accompany a twenty-minute period of sleep.

“How was your night last night?” Johnny chuckled.

The man turned to him, surprised to see someone else in the room. He looked down, expecting to be unclothed, and he looked for the women he was with.

“Where’d she go?” he said to Johnny.

“She was never here. But you remember her, don’t you?” Johnny said.

“That was the most passionate evening I have ever experienced. I remember every perfect detail, including the birthmark. I remember every position, every word, every feeling. Are you sure this never happened?” The man inquired again.

“I’m quite sure,” Johnny said. “Here is a tape of the whole time you were out. The process only took twenty minutes, but it felt like all night. This is how the technology works. A dream can take seconds, but it can feel like days. We create the dream, expose you to it, and then cement it into your mind. Hopefully now, your boss can see what I can do for him. Please, tell him all about your experience.”

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