A Day in the 'Burg

I’m Jane. I live in Block 43 with my mom, dad, brother, and grandma, year 2084.

Our government installed chips were hacked about 50 years ago, and added a function allowing you to Jump into someone's chip and control their body. That lead to a new world order where the government’s sole job is to prevent Jumping.

On the way home from getting groceries I see Fred, my friend from when I was in school. He’s in the same boat: working to support their family instead of for themselves. He asks if I want to go to Dean's Den later for pool, once I drop off the groceries.

I make it to the bar in record time, despite being a five mile walk. The nearest tram stop is fifteen miles away, our landlord doesn’t allow bikes inside, and the metal shortage means there’s a chain link shortage, so 30 credits on an unguarded bike is better spent on rent.

Three drinks in and my head starts feeling fuzzy, then all goes black. When I can see, I look down at my hands, clench them. I can’t control them, someone else is. I’m being Jumped. Suddenly, my beer is in my hand, and the person Jumping me breaks the end on the bar, swiftly stabbing both Fred and another patron walking by.

“Wait, hey! Stop! STOP!!” I say, but the words aren’t vocalized, just to the person Jumping me.

“Fuck, you’re not supposed to be awake. What the hell?” the person who Jumped me says.

“What's happening to-” my voice goes silent. I can feel myself try to make the words happen but no sound comes.

“Elliot, I don’t know what's happening, but she’s conscious,” the stranger says to someone.

I watch in horror as my body continues to murder everyone in my favorite bar. All my friends are going to be dead. What the hell is happening?

My Jumper finishes dispatching the bar in four minutes, leaving no one around. Before unhitching themselves, they say:

“3:00pm tomorrow. Be ready.”

When they exit my chip, I feel my muscles ache from exertion, the warm blood on my hands, slowly sticking and drying. I wonder if I have time to wash it off before leaving. I remember I have pockets, and a hooded jacket on, and take out through the back door. There’s a window looking out to the street, someone would have surely seen me destroying the bar and patrons. Mickey, who runs the bar, is sitting against the back door, bottle stuck in his carotid. I scoot his lanky body out of the way before stealthily leaving out the back door, and immediately vomiting. My body is exhausted, and I’ve never seen this much death.

No one’s awake when I stumble home, so I take a shower. Today isn’t my day for one, but I have to hide the evidence, and I can work extra to pay for the water used.

“Good morning sweety, how was Dean’s Den?” mom asks in the morning. She sees me stumble in, hopefully I only look hungover.

‘Well, uh,” do I tell her I got Jumped? Do I lie? I’m a convincing liar but what do I say? “Dean’s was fine, saw the gang. They’re moving to another ‘burg so it was our last hoorah.”

“Aw, that sounds fun!” Phew.

“Yea,” I see flashes of the blood soaked barstools and Mickey with his punctured neck. Whatever, I have to walk to work. I pray that I’ll be off before 3:00pm like I’m supposed to be.

“Welcome to Burger Land. What can I get for you?” It’s not much but at least I’m employed.

“Hey, I heard you’re down to get Jumped,” a stranger in the drive through says.

“Uh, what?” I look around, even though I’m the only one on the headset.

“Don’t worry, no one can hear you, and I’m jamming the line in case anyone is bugging the joint.”

“Honestly, who would be bugging Burger Mart?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I mean,” what the actual fuck is happening, “I didn’t really like it the first time it happened-”

“There’s a grand in it for you.”

“Hold up-”

“You have five seconds to decide, and order me a single with cheese, no pickles.”

“Uh, y- yes, I think-”

“I’ll have coordinates for you when I pull around,” anonymous stranger man says.

“Jane, Jane!” my boss calls.

“Oh, shit,” I say under my breath as I put his order in.

“Language, that’s another point. One more and you’re out.”

Fuck, I think to myself. The stranger pulls up to my window.

“That’ll be 5.75, sir.”

The stranger man, I’m assuming, hands me cash. Wow, I haven’t seen real money since I was a kid and my brother found a quarter on the ground. We still have it in our emergency money jar.

“Keep the change,” he says, looking at the wad of bills. There’s a piece of paper stuck in there, and coordinates, date, and time are written in sharpie, hastily, barely legible.

The buzzer on the register goes off, yelling for money. He gave me six credits, I pocket the quarter, and he drives off when I hand him his burger.

I tried to block out the stranger man’s interaction today but, a grand?! A whole grand? That would help my family so much.

“Oh, sorry,” I didn’t even see the guy as I bumped into him.

“No worries,” he says. Strange. First Adam, the grocery store clerk who always - except for today - hits on me grossly, now this guy.

Shit. Where’s that paper?

“Hey!” I yell after the guy, but he’s already gone. Then a can falls in the alleyway. I follow the sound, and he’s turning down the end of the alley. I start to run after him but I hear people at the end of the way talking. Then the loudest bang and I see the guy fall on the ground.

“No, leave him. They’ll get the message,” someone says around the corner, a woman I think.

As their footsteps recede, I peer around the corner to see her cape flying through the air, and a large man holster a comically small gun.

They left the coordinates, they’re still crumpled in his hand. Then he moans and moves.

“Aw, fuck,” he says as he coughs up blood.

“Aw, fuck is right, my guy,” blood doesn’t scare me anymore, and I have no choice but to steal back the paper from this dying man.

I make my way back through the alley, walking fast but not too fast, hood up. Today just isn’t my day, and it’s time for a shower. Thankfully I don’t have any blood on me.

Then it happens, I start to feel the same fuzzy feeling like when I first got jumped. I check the time: it’s 2:59pm.

This time, we run. We go towards the grocery store I always shop at, moving too fast for Adam to realize it’s me but-

“Good, you’re here," Adam says.

“She is, too,” the stranger who Jumped me says.

“What?? That changes things. The mission is off.”

“She can see and hear, but not do anything.”

“You’re sure?” Adam is deeply suspicious.

“Positive. She won’t be a problem,” but then the stranger reaches his hand into my pocket.

“This handwriting, that’s freelancer code.”

“Fuck, she’s probably been followed. Get out now,” Adam orders.

The all familiar spins from getting...Unjumped...whatever...come and- I wretch.

“Ugh, you couldn’t have done that outside?” Adam growls. That’s the kind of typical Block 43 animosity I’ve been expecting this whole time.

“What the fuck is going on with me, Adam? I need answers now. First I get Jumped at Dean’s. Then he’s like 3:00pm tomorrow. Some guy in the drive through at work offered me a grand to get Jumped. The fuck man-” this time I make it outside of the store to vomit.

“You wrecked my store! Get the fuck outta here you hooligan!” Adam yells, then whispers “Come back when we close at 11:00pm.”

“Alright, fine.”

I stumble home, and there’s a brown paper bag with my name on it, and the words “for last time.” It’s shaped like a stack of money. The door opens just as I walk up. I have to hide the money.

“Oh, Jane! Did you hurt yourself? Careful with those steps, I trip on them all the time. Come on, dinner’s ready.” Phew!

“Thanks, grandma.”

“Grandma? I’m no grandma yet!” Her dementia gets worse everyday, but there’s no nursing home in this Block.

“Jane Loth IV?” someone from behind me says. A woman, I think, maybe the same woman from before.

“Yes?” I say. Once I turn around I can see her cape.

“Where did you get that package?”

“I don’t know, it just showed up today. Grandma, go inside. I’ll be there in a second.”

“Mind your manners kiddo, I’m not that old,” grandma muttered before retiring inside.

Then came a bang, just like the one before.

My legs gave out and I fell against the door. They must have shot me in the spine.

“I don’t know who you are, but I know what you’re for, and we simply cannot have that,” the woman with a cape said.

“I’m not for anything, I’m just trying to live.”