Running Out Of Ronel

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space . . . or so they say. At Space Incorporated, we disagree. Our vacuums boast the quietest motors on the market, as well as the longest running time. And, for a limited time only, our most affordable option, the Silt Sucker 5000 is available to purchase for five easy payments of only 19 cornecs a month! Contact a Space Incorporated distributor near you if you live on Earth, Mars, or Enceladus. If you live outside of these regions, or if you have other questions or concerns, contact Space Incorporated at 1-800-SpaceUS. That’s 1-800-772-2387. Call now before time, or Space, runs out!”

Alexei stepped away from the recording device and sat down in the break room with a sigh. God, these are corny, he thought. He picked up the recently published biography he’d been reading, immersing himself once more in the life and times of one Clark Gable, an actor from the 20th century.

Those were the days, he thought. None of this digital imagery to “correct” an actor’s appearance or to create a background more pleasing to the audience’s eye. No digital audio “improvements” either, to smooth out an actor’s voice, modifying the pitch and cadence to a nice, even tone that “the viewers” would “most appreciate.” According to the surveys anyway.

The surveys controlled everything. Nothing was real anymore; everything was just a response to whatever the survey of the day indicated the public wanted. And the pay reflected the fact that actual acting was a thing of the past. All they needed was the body.

Oh, companies had tried to go “full digital,” but it turned out that the adoring public had bored of the machines after the novelty wore off. They wanted the human behind the image, even if the image was quite different than the reality. They needed the tabloids and the stories that went along with them. So the television industry had to comply.

But they certainly didn’t need to pay a living wage. Because at this point, literally anyone could do it. The real talent now came from the director and the screenwriter. Even for commercials like the one Alexei had just finished.

Twenty minutes later, just when Clark Gable was being cast for the role of Rhett Butler, a voice called into the break room, “Alexei, 20 quintels.”

“What?” Alexei cried in disbelief. “That’s not even enough to pay for lunch, even if I just eat Ronel bars!” Ronel bars were ground, compacted oats, stuck together with guar gum. It was an exaggeration to say that 20 quintels couldn’t buy one, but Alexei was an actor, after all. Exaggerating was a way of life.

“Well,” Kaladier, the young man at the entryway, said, “the initial surveys indicated that the Space Incorporated commercial just wasn’t gripping the viewers well enough, so that’s all you get for that one. Better get back out there and put in your number if you want more Ronel bars.” He shrugged and walked away.

Alexei picked the story back up again and tried to drown himself in it, but he couldn’t. His mind kept wandering, thinking back on the choices he had made in his life leading up to this point. He had always wanted to be an actor. A real actor! And here he was, mouthing the same words the toothless junkies would say if their number was drawn from that damned machine. And they would be paid the same amount he was, an amount determined by the faceless masses behind the surveys.

He should’ve trained as a builder, he reflected. Builders couldn’t ever be replaced by machines, that was for certain. The decisions they made every day changed the shape of civilization throughout the solar system. He could have. His birth numbers were high enough to allow him that option. Instead, he had chosen to be an actor. He sighed again and put the story back in its place.

Better put in my number, he thought. I’m almost out of quintels, and the Ronel bars won’t pay for themselves. He went out to the Drawing Room and entered his information into the machine. The room stank of the junkies’ filth, even though a robotic cleaner roamed the room, sweeping, mopping, vacuuming, and organizing as it went.

Within minutes, his number was drawn. He took his slip and read over it. Unlike his “competitors,” he liked to know what he was getting into before he started his readings, to give himself time to get into character and prepare properly for his role. This time, the slip said:

“Attention, Adventurer! Are you slipping your way through a lackluster existence, knowing you missed your opportunity for fame, fortune, and glory because of one bad decision? At The Universe Beyond, we understand how you feel. We don’t think it’s fair that you had to choose your life’s path at such a young age. We were there once too. But now, you have the chance to start over! To begin down the career path you should’ve chosen! To find out more, no matter where you’re starting from, call us at 1-800-HELP-NOW. Again, that number is 1-800-435-7668. Limited spaces are available for training, so call now!”

Alexei stared at the slip for a moment in disbelief. Then he slid it into his pocket and stole into the bathroom, where he pulled out his phone and dialed: 1-800-HELP-NOW.

Author's Note: I wrote this as part of a first-chapter contest. I hope you enjoyed the read. If you'd like me to continue the story, please let me know. In fact, I'd love to hear what you think either way, so feel free to leave a comment, click the heart, and subscribe for free!