Zion

Chapter 2

 Upon entering the Hub, a Perfect's Core Card is temporarily deactivated, as the Hub is unable to transmit within itself. For this reason, anyone with the slightest inkling towards Self-Thinking is not permitted entrance. The Hub too, is the only setting where Speak-Talk is necessary.

"This is a rather disturbing discovery, A7173," says A1821 in a neutral, husky voice.

"I could not agree more. It is as if they vanished into thin air," A7173 replies, oos' voice identical to A1821's.

"A discrepancy this great must have a logical explanation to it," oos says matter-of-factly.

A7173 is highly concerned about the mysterious disappearance of the vast number of Perfects, but oos finds oos' mind straying. Not quite as terrible as Self-Thinking, but more along the lines of a pale sense of relief. Relief, that one's brain is no longer part of what feels like a world-wide highway. Being connected to the Web, allows one to cruise along at light speed, taking in the sights of everyone else's cognition and simultaneously sharing oos' own.

Only a few Perfects are afforded the opportunity to enter the Hub, as the danger of Self-Thinking is exponentially higher than usual. A7173 is still relatively young, but has shown to be a formidable asset to Zion. At fifty-seven years old, oos still maintains the same appearance and exuberance as the day oos matured (as all Perfects do). In this time, oos has shown no indication of such a heinous crime as Self-Thinking.

A1821 logs into the system via the central control unit, a large screen that stands proudly in the center of the room, which has an ominous vastness to it. A dim light emanates from the floor itself and gives a ghost-like appearance to both great, grey structures which stand conversing. The screen illuminates with a blue glow and an AI voice fills the room.

"Hello, how may I assist you today, A1821 and A7173?" it says in the same husky sound emitting from the two Perfects.

A1821 responds, "We have noted a slight issue in the number of Foxtrots and Golfers who should be active."

"And what seems to be the matter?" the system says, bringing up the figures, "If you are referring to those unaccounted for... you need not be concerned; a mere lapse in data rectification."

A7173 interjects before A1821 is able to speak.

"There is clearly more than a simple lapse at play here –"

"You are implying that I am mistaken? Surely you are not suggesting –"

"I am not suggesting anything. The data is irrefutable!" A7173 says, raising oos' voice.

The system speaks again, maintaining a constant tone of voice, never faltering.

"A7173," it begins, "I sense an emotive use of tone in your voice. Is this correct?"

Emotions are not something that A7173 was even considering. For it would be impossible to comprehend, especially if one has not the ability or tools to define them. Is it impossible though? Could A7173 have faulted and fallen into the trap of Self-Thinking? Is it conceivable that A7173 is experiencing the undefined nature of emotions? No, not possible. That would have surfaced during entering the Hub. Unless... unless this short span of time spent disconnected from the Web has allowed such things to trickle into the mind of A7173.

"Merely ensuring the upholding of Perfection in all we do," oos says, faces A1821 and utters oos' need to leave. "As long as my efforts are no longer required, I shall return to work."

A1821 considers A7173 for a moment.

"As you were."

A7173 turns on oos' heels and walks briskly to the exit.

Outside the wind has picked up. The two guards, regardless, remain stiffly in place at their posts. Reconnected to the Web, all is well with A7173. Oos returns to The House of Governance. Oos enters the glass case on arrival and rises to the tenth floor; not once recalling the events of the morning. A7173 retakes oos' seat and almost on cue, a buzzer blares. A nutrition bot, whose sole purpose is to provide each Perfect with their daily nutrient injection, enters the floor. A7173 stretches oos' arm out and the nutrition bot locates and injects the clear, gooey substance into the optimal vein for direct entrance into the bloodstream.

The remainder of the day is a blur of white walls, Perfects, bots, harsh, synthetic light and is summoned to an end by yet another siren. All currently working Perfects are to return to their places of dwelling. The night-staff are to now take over. This ensures that Zion is permanently running, save for the switch over time.

Like an army of ants, all marching along in continuous flowing lines, each member of every building funnels out onto the walkways and continue along towards the A/biotic Transporters. Nobody speaks. All thoughts are the same. There is the rumble of feet along the walks, which is drowned out by the growing wind. From a bird's eye view, a swarm of grey specks continue on for what seems like ages and upon reaching their destination, disappear. Each Perfect transports back down to the ground, where the housing pods are located.

Zion is built in a circular shape with the least important facets of the civilization on the outer Rim and the most prevalent structures and business toward the center. The outer Rim hosts the manufacturing sectors where vehicles, weapons, pods, and even Nutri-vials are manufactured. Next, are the Perfect training centers where each batch of Perfects is groomed and taught the practice of their class. Thereafter, Growing Houses can be found to occupy all the next generations of Perfects. Each Perfect is grown from an identical embryo that has been engineered to Perfection and then replicated to ensure no weak elements may be found within Zion.

The fourth rim is home to the Dispatchers where all Perfects, besides Alphas and Bravos, spend their time before being assigned tasks by the Collective Thinking of all matured Perfects, made possible by the Web. Although Perfection is prevalent within Zion, there is a belief that science is never complete and therefore there is an entire Rim dedicated to the work of Bravos. They constantly attempt to discover and create new things, no matter how difficult the task may be. Last and most importantly, is the housing Rim, where all Perfects sleep when not on duty.

A7173 reaches the glowing blue arch, steps through and continues on with the hoards of other Perfects. The street is now lined with rows and rows of pods stacked much like orbs encased in a smooth, white structure. Ascending to the twentieth level, the side of each housing block is equipped with a hover lift. A7173 catches the next ascension aboard the hover lift which glides up and along each floor, stopping only when requested.

A7173's pod is on the seventh floor, exactly in the middle. The hover lift stops, oos' pod door swings open and A7173 steps off of the lift and onto the strong metal slab that extends the length of the building. Oos walks into oos' pod.

Inside, A7173 crouches down and stares out through the glass door. All there is to see at oos' level is the neighbouring housing block. Oos watches as other Perfects begin settling into their pods, whose interiors are made up of only a flat, firm, white mattress – much like a hospital operating table. Within half an hour all lights go out, the entire housing block is thrown into darkness and all Perfects lie in their pods awaiting the release of the sleeping gas. All except A7173, who simply sits and stares out; like a goldfish in a bowl.

The sleeping gas not only renders the Perfects unconscious, it also eliminates the possibility of dreams or nightmares, which will not only hinder a Perfect's performance the following day, but is also a clear breach of Self-Thinking laws. Whilst asleep, each pod scans its occupant for any illnesses or shortcomings and administers the required procedure or medication.

A7173's pod does not administer the sleeping gas.