Florida Man Kills a Seagull
Kellan was loitering in a department store, pretending he wanted to buy a TV but really just there to get out of the rain. The news was on, an interview with the CEO of Life Inc., Bradey Barett. Kellan hates that guy—it’s his fault that he finds himself homeless in Florida, two weeks before Christmas—but he has to look at the TV’s, or some uptight shop clerk will toss him out into the downpour.
“So, Mr. Barett,” the anchor said. “I hear today is the 26th anniversary of your wonderful invention, is that right?”
“That’s right, 26 years since the government decided to let Life-Generator improve the lives of everyone in the country.” Bradey smiled, revealing two rows of teeth as straight and white as the picket fence around Kellan’s family home; he was evicted two months ago.
“But it hasn’t been a bed of roses has it? I remember your company and your invention faced serious criticism even as recently as five years ago.”
“Well, you know what they say, you can’t please everybody. But overall I think we’ve had a pretty good run, and it seems like people are finally catching on to why letting an AI make those big decisions is better than doing it yourself. Besides, it’s a guaranteed job, for everyone! No other country has an employment rate as high as ours.”
“And what do you say to the critics who claim assigning people jobs without regard to their qualifications is a recipe for disaster? That it drains the motivation of our youth to work hard and study?”
“I say we’ve been doing it successfully for 26 years, and there hasn’t been even a hint of disaster. Besides, the benefits far outweigh the risks. We now live in a country where no one ever has to worry about being poor, unemployed, or homeless!” Kellan laughed. Oh the irony. A clerk came over.
“Anything I can help you with, sir?”
“Oh, I’m just browsing.”
The clerk frowned and scanned the QR code tattooed on Kellan’s forehead. “Sir, it says here that you make zero dollars per year, and that your current net worth is five dollars, which means there’s no way you could buy anything here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Kellan sighed. It was always like this. If it weren’t for those QR codes he might have a chance, but whenever someone scanned him and saw the life he was assigned, they always turned hostile and told him to get lost. He figured the next thing he’d do was go to the mattress store and see how long they’d let him sleep, but they turned him away at the door. Apparently he can only get kicked out of a place once, because they remember him.
Dejected, he slogged through the rain to the beach. A seagull pecked him, and in a fit of rage he grabbed it, broke its neck in a single, clean snap, and threw its lifeless body into the sea. Then he stood there, soaked to the bone, hands in his pockets, watching the dead bird bob on the waves until it was dragged under, never to be seen again, and he thought, “Why did I do that? What is wrong with me?” The sea declined to answer.
Feeling about as dreary as the weather looked, he slowly made his way to his spot under the boardwalk. He curled up, and in order to forget how uncomfortable the sand was, how absolutely drenched and cold he was, he took a couple sleeping pills he’d stolen from a drugstore, and quickly fell into a deep and dreamless state of non-existence.
Meanwhile, Alyssa was lying awake. Very awake. She was on her third cup of coffee for the night, even though she knew for a fact that it only made it harder to sleep. This was her fifth night of insomnia, and she had finally developed a plan. After her first cup of coffee, she pedaled her stationary bicycle until she felt like her legs would fall off, then she took a long, relaxing bath with every scented candle in the house. It didn’t help. She was exhausted, but her mind was still plagued with worries. Next, she read a very long, very boring book that brother had given her for her birthday. Her eyes kept closing; she couldn’t concentrate, but still sleep did not come, only more worries. So there she stood, sipping her coffee, watching the rain pummel the sea through the plate-glass window of her custom-built house on Palm Beach.
“Fine,” she said, to no one in particular. “You win. I have riches beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, and I am utterly miserable.”
She opened her phone and was immediately assaulted by a pop-up ad.
It read, “Do you ever feel… like you’re living a life… that shouldn’t exist?” Intrigued, Alyssa clicked on it. It took her to a forum full of posts from individuals complaining about the lives the generator gave them. They had jobs they hated, or were upset that they worked hard in college only to get told to drive a garbage truck. Some hated the person they were assigned to marry, or were angry because the generator forbade them from having children. Some weren’t even particularly dissatisfied with their own lives, they just thought the generator was wrong from a moral perspective. She decided to write an anonymous post.
“Some time ago, the generator assigned me an income of five million dollars per year, 10 times the maximum value it’s supposed to be able to assign. I bought all sorts of fancy things, but my life feels hollow. I can’t make friends or bring any of my old friends to my house, because they’ll know right away I have something I shouldn’t. I worry constantly, and lately I’ve been stricken with insomnia. I fear I may die of anxiety if I can’t find a way to solve my moral dilemma. Is it right to keep something I know I shouldn’t have?”
She clicked “post”, and like magic her words appeared on the forum. Within minutes there was a flood of comments, most calling her “ungrateful” or “stupid”, saying she was inventing problems for herself because her life wasn’t interesting enough, but one caught her eye. It was from righter_0f_wr0ngs, the only person she’d seen so far with a username.
“Interesting. Meet me at a Poolside Cafe, tomorrow, 5pm, if you’re not scared.” Alyssa wasn’t scared, or she was, but the idea of someone who could help her deal with this was too alluring to resist. She searched up Poolside Cafe, it wasn’t far, and she certainly didn’t have anything better to do.
