Nobody was safe. Someone was always watching. It was a hellbent world to live in.
I lived in New York City. Doesn't sound so bad, right?
Wrong.
It might not have been bad 50 years ago, but it was 2080, and I certainly would not describe my life as enjoyable in any capacity. I lived at the corner of Broadway and 37th Street, just south of midtown. Now, you might be thinking: that's a pretty good house in a pretty good neighborhood! While technically speaking, you're right, you forgot about the one thing us urban residents have to deal with.
In 2072, the federal government decided to implement a system to help lower crime. Known as Operation Iris, the project featured cameras and digital wristbands. While invisible, every single person must always be wearing the wristband. It essentially was a walking bomb that could and would instantly kill its wearer if they got out of hand. The camera, on the other hand, was a small, flying drone-like CCTV camera that was constantly broadcasting everyone's activity to what was known as the Eye.
The Eye was a large underwater building that sat nestled beneath the Upper Hudson Bay, between Manhattan and Liberty Island. It had millions of monitors, each tracking a specific person's every movement. It was constantly under watch by hundreds of federal employees, known as Pupils. By technicality, as a collective, they held more power than the president himself. They were essentially able to legally kill anyone they wanted to, whenever they wanted to.
As much as society had learned to move on from this unfortunate lifestyle, I had not. I hated every moment I had to live this godforsaken way. The Pupils, at least to us street folk, were the reincarnation of Satan himself. Not a single person I knew had anything at all good to say about these evil agents.
In fact, I found myself being tracked as I walked to my job, passing by my usual coffee store this time. I wanted to throw the Pupils off by skimping on my typical routine. I hurried straight to my job. I worked as a camera operator at a morning talk show.
It was called The Roy Topper Show, its host providing its title, and it was the most watched television show nationwide (at least, that's according to the Pupils). However, the studio was on the twentieth floor of the building. Not too convenient when you're in a rush. And now I especially was. I checked my watch to see it was already 8:50. The show would be starting in only ten minutes.
I dashed out as the elevator reached the studio floor, nearly knocking someone over in my rush. I burst into the studio, expecting to be the last one there, only to discover it empty. That's when it hit me. There was no show this morning. Mr. Topper was on vacation with his family, and there were no shows all week. They'd only let us know this past Friday, so with a groggy Monday morning mind, it was easy for me to forget.
Upsetting, considering I ran all the way here, but relieving to know that I'd be off the rest of the week. I took my time on the way back, walking across the city in the middle of a weekday almost felt surreal. It was much emptier than I'd ever seen.
I finally got back to my apartment, the CCTV camera still following behind me. The familiar stench of the building filled my nostrils as I reached my floor. I headed back to my room, hoping to get some rest. However, I soon found that my roommate was there and active.
Reggie worked on the Staten Island Ferry, though it was apparent he wasn't working today either. I walked in, throwing my bag down on the chair and falling face first into my bed, face muffled by the pillows.
Reggie, on the other hand, was glued to his phone, as per usual. "Hey Leon," he said. "What are you doing back so early?"
"I could ask you the same question," I shot back.
"I asked you first though."
"If you must know, Mr. Topper's off this week, so we all have off too."
"Wait, so you're off for the whole week?"
"Yes…will that be a problem?"
"Depends. Are you getting paid?"
"Reggie. I'm not working the whole week."
"Then it will be a problem."
"Why's that?"
"Because I'm not working either."
"What?! Why?!"
"My boss said that they're giving me a rest, they're temporarily giving another guy my job."
I placed my hand on his shoulder. "Reggie, they're firing you."
He stepped back in surprise. "What makes you say that?!"
"They are, Reggie. I'm right on this one, just don't argue with me."
He leaned back in his chair, as this was obviously news to him. I took the opportunity to speak once more.
"So if neither of us are working for at least a week, how are we going to support ourselves? I mean, we're already scraping rock bottom here. How will we get by without any income?"
Reggie stroked his stubble. "I don't know, there's gotta be something we can do, right?"
I just sat there, unknowing of the answer. "I'm not sure. All I can do is hope so." The weight of our upcoming financial responsibilities hit me as well. "Plus, the landlord wants our rent by tomorrow. We've been putting it off for nearly three whole months now. It's bound to be ridiculous at this point."
My roommate sighed, slapping his hands to his thighs and rising to his feet. He paced back and forth a few times, before turning towards me. His words were nearly a whisper, but their impact was a shattering scream.
"Why are living in this shithole, Leon?" he said. "Why is it that we, men who could do so much more, condemn ourselves to this lifestyle?" In response, all I did was turn my head, looking behind me to find the CCTV camera still on my tail. Reggie did the same, reminding him of his own restrictions.
I don't know what it was, but as I stared into that void of a lens, the red dot mindlessly blinking away, I was suddenly inspired. I turned to my friend.
"Reggie, I know how we're going to make money."