Dome Nine
John Purcell
Dome Nine
A Classic American Myth Re-Imagined
(LFB/MGM)
By John Purcell
Copyright 2013 John Purcell
(A quick word about fonts: the character Bim speaks almost inaudibly. To reflect this, his dialog is intentionally written in a smaller font size. This difference has been preserved in EPUB format, but not in HTML. Other formats may vary.)
Part One: Dome Nine
Chapter 1
10.11.2173.9:29PM
I’m not sure why my father programmed me to keep this diary, since I remember everything that happens to me. Even so, each night before shutdown I spend 60 seconds creating a text file about the previous 16 hours. On average, I only spend 1.3 seconds, because there isn’t much to report.
Today, for example, I went to school, which is always the same, then I went to work, which is always the same, and then I came home, as I always do. After my chores, I helped my great grandniece with her homework, helped my grandnephew with an accounting problem, and played checkers with our iPup. Then I came up to my room and watched TV until shutdown.
These are the things I do every day and remember in every detail, and yet I’ve created and stored thousands of text files, all very similar, documenting these events. I have trouble understanding what purpose this serves.
This morning, however, something happened that is worth reporting: I had a thought that seemed to come from nowhere. It’s such a simple idea that I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner.
As of today, I will begin using this diary to set down my experiences as though I’m reporting them to someone else, instead of to myself.
I realize this entry is very short, but I am going to use the remaining 59.7 seconds before shutdown to scan my processors, to try to find out where this new thought came from.
Entry complete.
Chapter 2
10.12.2173.9:29PM
My thought was triggered by a burst of new program code. This is highly unusual. I traced it back to processor 443K and hit an access code I couldn’t break. I will keep trying to break it, but I’ll need over two hours of uninterrupted processing time. This won’t be easy to find.
In any case, my name is Teo. TEO stands for Trans-processor External Overlay, a piece of circuitry my father invented. My TEO’s allow me to think as humans do.
I live in Dome Nine, in the Greater Philadelphia Seacoast Complex, with my grandnephew, Drake Jomes, his wife, Eppi, and their daughter, Luma.
I’m in 5th grade at Ryesong Elementary School, which is 1.1 miles from our house. Luma, who is ten years old, is in 5th grade as well, and we walk to school together every day, except Sundays. We walk home together, too, but I drop her off and continue on to DynaLink International, where I work.
I’ve been working at DynaLink for 79 years 337 days. Mr. Wu, who runs DynaLink, is much kinder than his father, who died in 2141. One week ago, he threw me the only birthday party I’ve ever been given. It was just the two of us and took place in his office, but I thought it was a nice gesture.
Even though she’s my great grandniece, I consider Luma a friend. Today at recess, she punched Dogan Nath for calling me names. On the way home, I told her she shouldn’t have done it because I have no feelings to hurt. She said it hurt her feelings.
Luma looks much the way her grandmother did at her age, although she’s smarter by far. She’s prettier, too, but this is obscured by her short hair and tomboy clothing.
As for my own appearance, my father did everything possible to make me look like a normal ten-year-old boy. I think he was successful, aside from my pale skin and coarse, blue-black hair. Generally speaking, though, it isn’t my appearance that gives me away. The fact that I don’t age, for example, is impossible to conceal. I’ve been 10 years old for 100 years.
Luma did something unusual at supper tonight, which is related, I think, to punching Dogan today. She made a fuss over the fact that I hadn’t been invited to Rayleen Scott’s birthday party, even though I’m not, as a rule, invited to parties of any kind.
Eppi, the perfect housewife, called us to the table and dished out the casserole.
When Drake asked Luma how school was, she said, “It was horrible! Rayleen Scott was handing out invitations to her birthday party and she walked right past Teo’s desk. She just skipped him!”
Drake is unimpressive in every way, although he seems to believe the opposite. He gave Luma a condescending look. “Her birthday party? Are you kidding? Teo doesn’t want to go to a birthday party!” He turned to me. “Am I right or am I right?”
He was expecting me to agree, but I appreciated Luma’s concern, so I said, “I have no feelings one way or the other.”
Luma frowned. “That’s not the point anyway! Rayleen invited the whole class, except Teo! That’s just rude!”
Drake took a gulp from his martini. “Here’s an idea! Why don’t you invite a few WaitTrons, maybe a couple of JaniTrons, really liven things up?”
“Cut it out, Dad! Teo isn’t a Menial and you know it. He’s smarter than me. He’s smarter than you!”
Drake’s face, already flushed, reddened some more. “Watch yourself, young lady!”
Eppi was poking at chunks of bean curd with her fork, off in her own world. She looked up for a moment. “Luma, that’s enough.”
Luma slapped her palm on the tabletop, rattling the dishes. “I don’t care! I’m telling Rayleen tomorrow that I’m not going to her party unless Teo goes!”
Drake said, “When does this pointless gathering take place?”
“After school on Saturday.”
“On Saturday? Teo has to work. He can’t take time off to go to a party.”
I said, “I have 647 vacation days saved up.”
Luma beamed at me, then turned to Drake. “See? It’s settled! Teo doesn’t do anything at that stupid job anyway!”
Drake gave her a sarcastic smirk. “Now who’s being rude to Menials?”
Luma stuck out her tongue, ending the discussion.
When I came up to my room, I turned on the TV. They were showing It Happened One Night, but I paid no attention to it.
Luma hadn’t noticed, but I hadn’t agreed to go to the party. All I’d done was state the number of vacation days I’d accumulated.
I spent some time trying to figure out whether or not I wanted to go. That was difficult, though, because wanting is mostly a matter of emotion. Comparing both situations objectively was of no help.
I also thought about what Luma had said about my job. She was both right and wrong.
I test computer code for DynaLink, Monday through Saturday, 3 to 6 PM, 50 weeks a year. Mr. Wu always praises my work, because I’m approximately two hundred times faster than the humans who do the same job and I never make mistakes. In addition, my work earns us extra GR chits. So to say I’m not doing anything is obviously incorrect.
But I have no idea what all this code is used for, because the DataStream is strictly for GR use. No one I know ranks high enough to use it, except Mr. Wu. I have never seen the DataStream myself, or been told the purpose of all this code. So, in her own way, Luma had hit on the truth.
It occurs to me now that I don’t find my job very meaningful, or school either, for that matter. Without them, though, I don’t know what I would do with myself.
Entry complete.
