Compulsory Redundancy
By Jack Harvey
Niall Robinson tapped his fingers
impatiently on his knee as he watched Vincent Chambers chat jovially
through his ostentatious looking chrome headset. He was a man that
looked the very image of a company CEO. Square jawed, arrogant,
finely coiffed hair and an affectation that was whiter than white. He
radiated undeserved confidence.
Chambers was also one of those
people who didn't give a damn if you could overhear his conversation
or not. In fact, Robinson judged that he revelled in it. Nothing
pleased Chambers more than letting people know exactly what was going
on in his life.
"Yeah," Chambers said,
with a smile on his face as he straightened his blue silk tie. "Yeah.
Yeah, Tuesday at six. Yeah.... yeah... gotcha'."
Chambers gave a hand gesture to
end the call before punching the air with a look of glee on his face.
Then he turned to Robinson.
"Aunt Sally's," he
said without context.
Robinson looked at him,
confused. Even though he had known the man for years, Chambers'
boundless self absorption never ceased to disturb him.
"What?" Robinson
sighed, rubbing his head slightly.
"Aunt Sally's,"
Chambers repeated, smacking his hand on the fine oak of his desk.
"The new place! Near the wharf. You know? Six month waiting
list? Gold leaf pizzas to die for?"
Robinson shook his head.
Chamber's lunch plans were as ostentatious as his damn headset.
Indeed, looking round the office Robinson found little that suggested
subtlety. His desk was adorned with gold and marble pen holders. The
office itself was filled with cabinets displaying glittering awards
and trophies, most of which were from Chambers' son, from one school
event or another.
Chambers excitedly walked around
his desk before sitting down on it's corner, towering over Robinson.
He slapped the man's shoulder. "So, what it it you wanted to see
me about sport?"
Robinson almost spluttered. He
couldn't believe that Chambers didn't know what he had come all the
way across town for.
"You know what I'm here
for," Robinson said, trying to keep his cool.
Chambers just stuck out his
bottom lip and shook his head.
Incensed, Robinson shot to his
feet, and pulled a letter from his inside pocket. He threw it onto
the desk.
"I'm here because of this
god-damn thing," he shouted.
Calmly Chambers picked up the
letter and read it. "Ah," he said, the situation currently
dawning on him. "Compulsory redundancy."
"Exactly," Robinson
said. "Vince we've known each other for decades."
"Niall," Chambers
said, choosing his words carefully, his face a half smile. "I
didn't know anything about this."
"What do you mean you
didn't know?" Robinson asked, before smashing his hand on to the
desk. "You're the god-damned company CEO!"
Chambers held up his hands, half
smile still on his face. "Niall, you know as well as I do that
you designed the algorithm that makes the company decisions now. I'm
just a figurehead."
"You didn't even think to
check?" Robinson said, exasperated.
Chambers shrugged. "That's
the great thing about computers Niall. You can just leave things to
them and enjoy yourself," He got back off the desk and walked
over to the window. "Did you know that even the government is
considering a hands-off approach? Apparently most councils are
planning on letting the algorithms do the work these days."
"Never mind the
algorithms!" Robinson said. "It's my work that got you
here. I'm entitled to a fucking gold leaf pizza just as much as you
are!" He then breathed out, and tried to calm himself. He
approached Chambers. "I just came here so you could make this
right."
Chambers leaned back and sucked
his teeth. "No can do I'm afraid old chap. If the algorithm has
decided you're surplus to requirements, then I'm afraid the company
has no more need of you. It's already decided that letting you go is
what's best for the consumers."
"I'm surplus to
requirements?" Robinson said in shock. "Then what does that
make you Vince?"
Suddenly a device on Chambers'
desk began to ring. "Hold that thought Niall," he said,
only half listening. Then he picked up his headset and put it in his
ear. "Vincent Chambers speaking."
Robinson was fuming. He'd put
years into the company. Gave up time he could have been spending with
friends and family and instead spent it coding the algorithm. He had
seared parts of his soul getting it tailored just right for Chambers'
company. It was his life's work, and now it was replacing him.
It took Robinson a few moments
to realise Chambers had gone silent. The CEO's arms were slumped, and
his face looked enraged.
"What do you mean I've been
fired?" he screamed.
Nobody really expected the end
to happen the way it did. The world was built on a perfect system
after all. Why have bosses, directors, councils, landlords, when a
simple algorithm could crunch the numbers and tell you exactly what
needed to be done next?
When thousands began losing
their jobs, nobody batted an eyelid. That was just the way of things.
It wasn't until the distinction between employee and customer started
to blur, however, that people started to take notice. By then,
though, it was far too late.
Humanity was getting in the way
of company efficiency. The algorithm had decided to make the entire
human race redundant. It was, after all, only working as designed.
Humanity didn't last long after
that, with all the food being consumed by more efficient customers.
Robots and drones to fill the stores and concert halls, designed to
the specifications of the algorithm. They were the consumers now.
Most starved to death. Automated
supermarkets would refuse to serve food. Automated garages would
refuse to sell fuel. Humanity was wiped out merely through attrition,
as farms and forests where whipped up to serve a new world of
consumers.
Robinson only survived because
he knew what was coming. He had designed the algorithm. He knew
exactly what kind of efficiency it strove for. It didn't take him
long to realise that he could masquerade as one of the 'consumers' as
long as he had a barcode to scan in each store.
That, however, was only step
one. The algorithm had designed it so that every consumer had a
place. Every market had a demographic. Each robot or drone was
designed for a specific purpose. It had to be up at the same time
each morning, and stay in lockstep with it's cohorts, ready to
consume the same goods, purchase the same products.
So it was that Robinson nearly
drove himself half crazy through concentration. Every morning he
would don his salvaged chest plate and walk in sequence to the train
station where he would stand, crushed in like a can of sardines, side
by side with the other robotic consumers as soulless adverts that
were wasted on them barked commands to consume.
Robinson would walk in line all
day, every day. Not too quick, not too slow, lest he be deemed
defective and taken away for repairs that surely would do his flesh
and blood no good. This was the only reliable way for him to get his
hands on food, which he would devour voraciously as he watched the
other consumers simply deposit burgers and roast dinners into a slot
in their chests, before disposing of it at the end of each day and
retiring to uniformly white painted houses.
This day was to be no different.
Robinson rubbed his eyes, and steeled himself to repeat the day's
task, having long lost track of how many days he had been doing it.
As he made his way across the room to retrieve his stolen chest
plate, his toe stabbed into a screwdriver on the floor.
For a moment, he looked down at
it.
"No," he said to
himself. "It's just a crazy dream."
Yet as he prepared for the day's
grind, Robinson couldn't get the dream out of his head. He had
designed the algorithm. He knew, to a degree anyway, how this system
worked. As long as he was wearing the right barcode then he would
continue to be mistaken for a consumer. The barcode he already had
was allocated to nothing other than burgers and roast dinners. If he
could somehow switch barcodes with another consumer, however...
He looked back down at the
screwdriver.
What did he have to lose?
It took Robinson several days of
planning. His prescribed route would pass by the hardware store on
their way to the burger place. He often saw another line of consumers
leaving with power tools. He knew not what they were used for, or if
the consumers even did anything with them at all. As long as the
algorithm was producing goods that were getting purchased it saw no discernible difference.
Robinson knew if he could just
switch lines with his own then he could get his hands on one of those
power tools, and with a power tool it would make things much easier
to switch places with other consumers.
"One
thing at a time,"
he told himself. Carefully, he stepped out of the train station,
screwdriver gripped in hand. The consumers were expected to wait in a
specific order at the burger place, and it would often take fifteen
minutes to walk across the centre, but if the weather was wet it
messed with the grip on their feet. That gave Robinson a very small
window.
Once off the train he sprinted
ahead, feet splashing in puddles below. As water leaked through the
rubber of his soles he made a mental note to infiltrate a line to the
shoe shop if he managed to pull this off.
There, just a few stores away
from the burger place, was the hardware store.
Approaching the line was another
faceless, identical consumer. However, Robinson had been studying the
line, watching the numbers and timing their entry and exit. If he was
correct, the one in front of him was the one that always 'purchased'
power tools.
He looked around. Living amongst
this soulless world was eerie. Nobody was watching. The consumers
cared little for Robinson's appearance, but he knew if his barcode
didn't get scanned at the right time they would turn on him.
Even so, Robinson couldn't shake
the habit of acting stealthily, and instinctively held up his jacket
to conceal what he was up to. As fast as he could manage he began
unscrewing the back of the robot's chest plate, trying his best to
not shake the consumer, or trigger anything that would effect it's
mechanics.
He had managed to loosen six of
the eight screws when he felt a twitch at the back of his head.
Turning, he saw the group of consumers he was supposed to be a a part
of approaching the burger place quickly. His time was almost up.
Robinson had to decide whether
to drop the plan and leave, or keep going. If his barcode wasn't
scanned for burgers when it was expected then the GPS device weaved
into it's foil would signal the other consumers to remove him as
defective.
Robinson then looked at the
burger place. He was done eating burgers.
With all the speed he could
muster Robinson began working on the rest of the screws. The seventh
was out as the line outside the burger place began to form. The
eighth was out as they began to scan their way in.
As he tried his best to ignore
the gaping space in the line where he was supposed to be, Robinson
yanked off the consumer's chest plate and then followed that with his
own. Frantically, he swapped them round, forcing as many of the
screws back into their holes and twisting them in with the
screwdriver.
He only managed to get four in
when he heard an uncomfortable bleep from across the way. His absence
at the burger place had been noticed.
Robinson looked back at the line
of consumers, waiting for them to act. Instead, they carried on into
the burger place, taking no notice or action.
Then Robinson heard an almighty
crunch from behind him, and he turned. It was the consumers from the
hardware store line that had come to 'correct' the defective.
Robinson had never seen a
consumer look surprised before, it's blank plastic head made
expression all but impossible, but he had to admit, the one he had
just swapped barcodes with looked mighty surprised.
The alerted consumers removed
their cohort's arms and legs, and then swiftly made to carry it away.
With nothing standing in the way, Robinson took his place in line.
The hardware store was now only meters away.
Robinson had helped himself to a
plethora of power tools. After some jury-rigging, he was now much
better prepared for switching chest plates with the consumers. Making
a swap would take him seconds rather than minutes.
Over the next few months
Robinson capitalised upon his advantage, and concluded that if he
kept switching line to line, barcode to barcode, he could move
himself up in the world. He had gone from burgers and casual roasts
to gourmet salads and fine steaks. He furnished his house with fine
sofas and curtains. He began to piece together a more comfortable
life, perfectly camouflaged from within the algorithm's perfect
system.
Even so, this only pleased
Robinson for so long. He knew if he really wanted to achieve his
dream he would have to climb even further up the ladder of this
strange society. He would have to leave the suburbs and shopping
centres.
He had to get back to the city.
So it was that over another
series of months and careful plans Robinson continued to switch
places with consumers. Chest-plate to chest-place. Barcode to
barcode. He switched into a line that purchased cars from a car
showroom, and before his absence was noted, drove to the city and
switched places again, taking careful observations of these new lines
and schedules he was no longer familiar with.
He set up in an abandoned
apartment that looked down over the lower east side. It had the
perfect view of the cities commercial centre. The city almost looked
exactly like it used to, and Robinson had a pang of nostalgia
thinking about where he used to work, long before the extinction of
the human race.
The nostalgia was soon gone,
however, as he began to put the final phase of his plan in motion.
Robinson used every waking hour to observe the lines of consumers
below him, and take note of when they started and when they stopped.
It took him several months to even get into a line close to the
commercial centre, and even then the wide roads of the city made it
more difficult to exploit the few windows of opportunity he got
safely.
It was hard going. As ever,
jumping from line to line, a small window here and there.
When his opportunity finally
came, Robinson could barely remember a life before the consumers. His
every waking minute was filled with thoughts of lines, queues and the
seconds that counted down between them. He knew faces no longer, just
blank plastic visors.
After months of work Robinson
had eventually managed to get close to one of the consumer's most
exclusive locations. Though he wasn't sure if they could even be said
to be aware of such a concept.
It was a rainy day, which meant
Robinson had once again a little more time to slip away and swap
places than he would normally be graced. Even so, all other lines
were kept at arms length, so Robinson knew he would barely have
seconds to make the switch if he wanted to reach his goal.
He had been out of his
designated line ten seconds. His absence had already been noticed,
and as he ran down the block he could hear a group of consumers
tracking his barcode. His feet splashed in the water, and he was glad
for his new pair of boots. This switch would be life or death. If he
hesitated, or even mistimed his switch, then it would be him being
taken away for 'maintenance' and not his target.
Sweat was running from his brow,
as he saw a remotely driven limousine slow up in front of the
building. Out of it stepped a consumer, as identical and
indistinguishable as the rest of them.
"Here we go," he said
to himself.
Robinson lunged for the
consumer, pulling out his power drill and stabbing for the screws.
One, two, three!
The consumer flailed, confused as to what was unfolding. Five,
six, seven! The
pursuing consumers were almost upon him.
Eight!
With one fluid movement, practised over years now, Robinson whipped
off the consumer's chest plate and his own at the same time.
Smoothly, like a ballet dancer, he secured the one around his chest,
and used the power tool to fasten his old discarded one in place.
He stepped back, and his
pursuers lunged at the consumer, methodically tearing off it's arms
before dragging it away.
A smug smile on his face,
Robinson took his place in line and made his way into the building.
The interior was finely
decorated. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and renaissance-esque
paintings, but with consumers in place of humans, adorned the walls.
Consumers sat at tables, mindlessly scooping fine food, like caviar
and oysters, into openings in their chest cavities.
The absurdity did not bother
Robinson. He was just glad to have gotten there. After all the
hardship, and all the years of fighting and planning, he laughed at
the irony that he had gotten to dine at Aunt Sally's before Vincent
Chambers ever did.
Light headed, as though he had
just entered the gates of heaven, Robinson sat down at his allotted
table.
He closed his eyes and breathed
in. The smell of cheese and garlic was unmistakable. When he opened
them he was greeted with the object of his desires. The one thing he
had not been able to forget after all these years.
The gold leaf pizza. It
glistened in the light of the chandeliers.
"Fuck you Chambers!"
Robinson said with a laugh, gingerly pulling himself a slice. The
cheese stretched, and the gold leaf cracked open like little nuggets
being panned out of a river.
Robinson took a bite, and
savoured the taste.
And then, horror, despair.
Robinson winced. He scrunched his face up and shook his head. Tears
began to stream from his eyes.
The pizza was fucking
disgusting.
---------------------------------------------
Jack Harvey 2019
