“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.” —Robert A. Heinlein, Time Enough For Love
Welcome to the Renaissance Humans Newsletter, where I focus on sense-making and story-telling in the turbulent twenties. The Renaissance (“rebirth,” in French) spanned from the 14th to the 17th century and marked a period of cultural, artistic, and intellectual renewal in Europe. A Renaissance Human fosters curiosity, creativity, critical thinking, and character in a journey of never-ending learning. They cultivate Mind, Body, and Spirit, in service of Community, and oriented to the Transcendentals.
NYC Midnight Short Story Round Two! Let’s go! Genre: Science Fiction, Object: A Checklist, Character: A Counselor. Sadly, my journey ended here, as I did not make it to the final round.
The first thing I noticed when I entered Counselor Tyna’s office were the pictures. They covered the plasticore walls. Grinning, animated loop shots of couples, fidgeting happily. On beaches, in restaurants, on wedding days. I was going to be in one of them, I decided. My mother always told me to think positive. The place had a chemical scent that I couldn’t place. Reminded me of a hospital. Strong citrus and one of those big flowering bushes in the old city district.
Counselor Tyna shook my hand with a firm and dry grip before sitting back down behind her desk. She wore an elegant pantsuit with a white rose on the lapel, her hair drawn back in a tight bun. I wore my best shirt for the meeting, and still I felt underdressed. The Counselor gestured for me to sit down in a chair that felt as uncomfortable as it looked—all sharp lines and cold metal.
Then, she smiled, revealing a bank of perfect white teeth. “Craftsman Mychael? What seems to be the problem?”
I squirmed in the seat. “My… partner informed me last week she was pursuing separation.”
“Already?” The counselor peered at the data pad on her massive steel desk. There was nothing else on its surface. “It’s only been… six months.”
I shrugged. “Felt like longer. She didn’t even tell me in person—she used a chatbot.”
“And this is the… third partnership cancelled prior to nuptials, is it not?” The counselor peered at me through pink-tinted eyeglasses. I knew she had gestalt software running in them, to assess my body language and vital signs. The better to find matches for Citizens. All the Counselors did, at least from what I’d heard.
“I — I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Can the model…. Can it ever be wrong?”
“The Harari Protocol has a long track record of proven success. It’s a proprietary algorithmic model of the highest order, and employs holistic, ultrareal-time data from every Citizen. Their backgrounds, experiences, jobs, friendships, and leisure activities.” She gestured around the room, at the sea of smiling faces.
“So, it’s like a checklist?”
The counselor smiled at me. “Oh, it’s much better than a checklist. It rarely makes an unsuitable match. Very rarely.”
“But what happens in cases like mine?”
She looked down at the Pad. “Oh dear. It is not suggesting anyone for you, at present. It is, however, recommending some slight, nuances, in order to become a more viable partner.” She glanced up at me. “It says here you enjoy woodworking and hiking. Have you considered switching up your hobbies? Maybe try drone racing and running?”
I frowned. “But I like my hobbies.”
The counselor nodded thoughtfully. “I understand, but statistically, these other hobbies may be a better fit for your psycho-socio-economic tier. More attractive to suitable partners. To the algorithm.”
I considered. It might not be that bad. Running was kind of like hiking. And I’d dabbled in drones as a child. Finally, I nodded. “I’ll give it a try.”
“Excellent.” Counselor Tyna stood up, extended a hand. “Let’s meet in three weeks and see what The Protocol says at that time. You’ll see the calendar invite by the time you get home.”
For the next few weeks, I dutifully ran on the treadmill at my exercise facility. Sometimes I would see couples working out together, running next to one another, and I knew someday that would be me and my partner. I ordered a basic drone setup and spent a weekend remembering how to fly them. I made a makeshift racecourse inside my apartment, buzzing in and out of vacant rooms. The woodworking set gathered dust in the spare bedroom, and my hiking boots sat unused in the closet.
“What does it say now?” I asked Counselor Tyna at our next meeting. She wore a different colored pantsuit, with a pink Rose this time.
“This is strange,” she replied, scrolling through the data pad with a practiced swipe. “The Protocol is still not suggesting a matching candidate for your profile. I’ve seldom seen this. There is one thing I’m certain will improve your viability.”
I leaned forward in the chair, trying to ignore the sharp edges that dug into my thighs.
“Redesignation. A new job field in an up-and-coming occupation is sometimes what makes the connection.” The counselor pursed her lips. “That is, if you are truly interested in finding a partner for life.”
I loved being a Craftsman. I got to work on special projects that people seemed to enjoy. My father had been a Craftsman, and I’d learned the job from him. I used to send my mother pictures of my finished work. She kept a scrapbook I would page through whenever I visited. “There’s no other way? Certainly, there are viable partners that are interested in Craftsmen. Maybe you could widen the locational selection criteria?”
The Counselor sighed and gave a slight shake of her head. “I’m afraid the parameters are maxed already. What about Administrator?”
I grimaced. One of my social connections was an Administrator. It didn’t seem like a very good job for me. It was always once of the least probable career paths on my school vocation test results. I hated screenwork. On the other hand, the pay was steady, and I could likely find work close to my apartment. The last thing my mother conveyed to me, before the Euthanist gave her the Final Grace, was her hope that I’d partner and have a child. “And.. you think this will do it this time? A new designation?”
Counselor Tyna smiled brightly, revealing her perfect teeth. “I’m certain of it.” She gestured around the room. “Just a matter of time. So, what do you think?”
I swallowed and nodded stiffly. “Okay.”
“Wonderful. Let’s meet in a month and see what The Protocol says then.”
The next day, I put in for Redesignation, which raised a few eyebrows. Some of my coworkers tried to talk me out of it, because I was good at my job, and I always gave sound advice on their projects. My bosses didn’t mind, though, because the City was always looking for new Administrators, and they got a referral bonus for submitting my name. I retrained for a few weeks and then found employment in an accounting office six blocks from my apartment. The work was boring, but I could daydream while I did it. I thought about vacations with a new partner, all the things we would do together. I imagined a child toddling around the apartment— the three of us moving to a house with a backyard. At the end of each day, I was tired from moving numbers around, but I forced myself to play with the drone, and even entered a competition. It wasn’t fun — too stressful and competitive, but it must look good on my profile. It had to, because Counselor Tyna said it did.
I had a new wardrobe now, and a fancy haircut to fit in with my fellow Administrators. I strode into the Counselor’s office and found her staring down at the Data Pad in glum confusion.
“I’ve never seen this, in all my years in this Occupation,” she began. “The Protocol is still reporting no viable matches, anywhere on the continent.”
I inhaled sharply, my insides twisting in panic. “That can’t be right. There must be some mistake.” I looked around at the pictures, as if the answer could be found in the joyous faces.
“I wish that was the case, Administrator Mychael.” Counselor Tyna shook her head. “I’ve conferred with several of my colleagues, and several reminded me of one last possibility.” She set the Data Pad down. “It’s rather… unconventional.”
“What is it?”
The Counselor stood and walked over to the wall by the windows, gesturing for me to join her. She pointed to a picture of a couple, posing on a boat. Head thrown back in a belly laugh, the woman was cheery, and clearly with child. The man stared gauntly into the camera. “The Rickersons. Still together, ten years on.” The Counselor gestured around the room. “All of them are still together. The Harari Protocol is that good.”
“So, what did the Rickersons do?”
Counselor Tyna regarded me carefully. “The wife—Allyson, she did nothing. But the husband, Stegg—he had a Leucotomic Recalibration.”
I stepped back. “Leucotomic… Isn’t that where they… That’s pretty extreme.”
She nodded her head gravely. “Yes, it’s a carefully calibrated medical procedure that selectively modifies your seven-factor personality traits. There is some risk of memory loss.”
“No way. I’m not doing that—I could never.” I walked toward the door. On the way, my eyes fell upon another picture. A couple with a pair of toddlers running around underfoot. The picture was taken out in the countryside, and sunlight fell over the family. The woman wore an expression of incandescent joy as she looked at her partner. I couldn’t remember anyone staring that way at me. Not once. What would that be like?
The Counselor followed my gaze. “The Neidbergs. Lovely couple. Actually, she had a Recalibration as well, now that I think about it. Said it was the best thing she ever did.”
“Really?” My hand paused, mid-way to the door. I glanced back at the Counselor. “She didn’t regret it?”
The woman shook her head. “Not in the slightest. It was just the right tweak to push her profile criteria into the perfect match.”
I turned, and a hollow ache in my side began to grow. “How long does it take?”
The Counselor stared back at me. “Not long.”
I thought about my mother. This was my last chance to fulfill her wish. But it wasn’t just her wish. I was tired of being lonely, tired of watching my acquaintances match and marry, one by one by one. How bad could Recalibration be? Maybe I would even like the changes to my personality. My mother would want me to do it. I was sure of it.
I sent a picture of our honeymoon to Counselor Tyna six months later. In it, my new bride Serena and I pose on a tropical resort balcony. We both stare vacantly at something off in the middle distance. The smiles on our faces don’t quite reach our eyes. It’s not so bad, though. We were Counselor Tyna’s first dual Leucotomic Recalibration couple matched via The Harari Protocol.
But I’m sure we wouldn’t be her last.
Ugh, this was so horrifying and gripping. Great piece of writing!
Dude. The most horrifying image from the whole story? A wall of nothing but smiling couple GIF's. You just added a new element to my internal visualization of hell.