Vernacular

The rain fell unrelenting among a thirsty world, but even the ground could not drink it. The city streets were lit only by the glow of billboards and digital signage covering the windows of the towering buildings. John Kline walked quickly, his head down and eyes on the sidewalk, wary of risking exposure to the toxic downpour even with a treated umbrella and protective poncho, luxuries most were not afforded. Reaching his destination, he scanned his keycard for entry into the lobby of the Vernacular Tower. A large ad above the awning of the door exclaimed, “Vernacular! Communicate YOUR way!”

The scanner beeped and a green light lined the interior of the glass door, signaling his permission to enter. Once in the antechamber, a lilting female voice said, “Please stand still for sterilization.” The room became saturated in violet light and a pressurized spray was emitted from the corners of the ceiling followed by a drying blast of warm air. The lights regained their fluorescence and the doors to the lobby opened. John closed his umbrella and pulled back his hood, moving towards the check-in desk.

“Good evening John!” the receptionist said.

“Hi, Alicia! They have you working on Saturday this week?”

“Oh, I volunteered. Lenny wanted an extra day off to teleconference with his family. Plus, it means I get an extra shower allotment next week and I plan to luxuriate in it.”

“Kiddos are with Maria this week then?”

“Yup! You know it still baffles me that she decided to go over to the Connections branch. If it were me, I would have stayed right here and gone to a different floor. I hear Connections doesn’t even have Sun simulators in most domiciles. She must have really wanted to get away from Lenny, I guess.”

“I guess so. She’s just lucky corporate signed off on the transfer as well as the divorce at the same time. Normally they make couples work it out with a company counselor before they ever think of letting them split up.”

John placed his thumb on the scanner and an orange line of light moved from the tip of his finger to his knuckle and back. A micro-pin pricked his thumb to verify his DNA and the door to the elevators lit up in the same way the entry doors had.

“I don’t think it was all luck, John.” Alicia leaned in to whisper, even though they were alone in the lobby, “I think she volunteered to take a resource cut just to get away from him.”

“Well better not let ‘them’ hear you talking about that. You know how they feel about discussing resource allocation.” John gave her a quick wink and she returned the sentiment with a wry smile.

Once on the elevator, John scanned his keycard and pressed “2” then “7” then “ENTER”. A green approval light shone, and the lift began to move. He reached into his pocket, fingering the silver locket therein, feeling the curves of the heart and the etching on the metal. The elevator arrived at his destination, and he stepped off toward the 27th-floor security checkpoint. He removed his poncho and placed it and the umbrella on the conveyor. He walked through the scanner and was greeted on the other side by a shrill buzz and bright red lights and the same voice from the detox chamber said, “Please stand in the designated square, hold your arms above your head, and remain still while your Personnel Safety Team completes their inspection.”

John did as he was instructed and waited. The security door to his left opened and a man clothed in black slacks, black boots, and a blue polo came out.

“Oh, hey John! Didn’t expect you to go setting off the contraband sensor.”

“Hi, Steve! You know me, always the rebel.”

Steve chuckled at this, saying, “If anyone were more Vernacular than you, I haven’t met them.” Steve began using his scanning wand to work around John’s body. “In fact, they should have your face on that board outside.”

“Well while I appreciate the sentiment, I’m just happy to be here!”

The wand beeped over John’s pocket.

“Can you turn out your pocket for me, John?”

“Sure can.” John produced the locket to show Steve.

“That’s a nice little trinket you have there!” Steve said.

“Thanks! Corporate gave it to me during a weekend retreat on 108. Dan Butler himself, actually.”

“Whoa! You got to meet Dan? I didn’t think he ever left the top floor except by personal helicopter.”

“That’s just a rumor, Steve. Dan’s just like any of us. Real down-to-earth guy, that one.”

John popped the locket open to show Steve a picture of himself and Dan shaking hands. The opposite of the locket was etched with, “Thanks for all you do!”

“I don’t usually take it out of my domicile, but since I was going outside today, I thought I could use the encouragement,” John said.

“You went outside, eh? Why in the world would you want to do that?”

“Check inside my poncho pocket and you’ll see.”

Steve stepped over to the conveyor belt and dug around the poncho until he produced a book. Examining it, he read the title aloud, “ ’Nine Ways to Maximize Performance, Organize Your Life, and Become the Best Asset YOU Can Be!’ Seems like you could have just bought this on your tablet.”

“Dan supposedly has a paper copy and I thought I would splurge and get my own. That little bundle of bound papers cost me three days of personal internet privileges, but it was worth it.”

“If you say so, John! You take care now.” Steve placed the book on top of the poncho and retreated through the door to the security room, and it slid closed behind him, an audible lock clicking into place.

“Thank you for your patience and dedication to keeping our personnel safe!” the female voice said, “You may now proceed!”

John collected his belongings and walked through the automatic doors to 27. The ceiling overhead was blue, cirrus clouds drifting lazily through an otherwise untarnished sky, the emulated sun was bright and warm on John’s skin.

He made his way through the maze of cubicles, some empty but others filled with weekend warriors looking to earn some extra resources, or just showing their dedication to Vernacular in hopes of being promoted someday. John gave the casual hello here and there. The exterior cubicle walls were digital displays as well, reminding employees of things like, “Vernacular brings together a disconnected world!” and, “The more you bring to the table for us, the more we can provide to everyone else!” Janet Halpin asked him how the weather was outside, and he gave the programmed response that, “It was never as nice as it was inside.” They shared a quick laugh before John moved on, heading toward the server stacks he called his office.

John once more scanned his keycard and the door to the stacks lit up green to allow him in. Once inside he was greeted by Emilio, who typically performed server maintenance and upkeep over the weekends.

“Getting in some OT today John?”

“Just doing some pro bono work, so to speak. I figured I’d get an early start to next week.”

“You gotta stop making the rest of us look bad.” Emilio laughed and went back to his work.

John navigated the maze of stacks, a dim blue light emitted from the ceiling overhead providing the only light for the sterile room aside from the yellow, red, green, and blue lights from the servers themselves. John made his way casually until he arrived at the main console. He scanned his keycard on the console lock and gave him permission to open the protective housing. John retrieved the locket, opening it up to the picture of himself shaking hands with Dan Butler. It was true that he had gotten it at the retreat on 108. A prize for his hard work and dedication to making Vernacular the best it could be, or so they said. What he hadn’t told Steve was that Dan hadn’t given it to him at all. It had been Dan’s executive assistant. Dan wasn’t there at all that weekend, but the agreement John signed to attend the retreat meant that he was required to tell other Vernacular employees that he was there and that he had personally given him the locket. A show of Dan’s love and dedication to his Vernacular family.

In reality, the photo was edited to make it appear as though he had been shaking the CEO’s hand when it was actually his assistant. John had looked forward to that retreat. He wanted to meet Dan. Dan, who had inspired him as a teenager. Dan the innovator who lived at the edge of the world and who invited the Vernacular family to live there with him. Dan, who provided for John and the rest of the company, kept them safe from the toxic rains that never stopped falling. Dan, who was going to personally thank John for all his hard work and a life of dedication to the company.

Dan wasn’t there, though. John suspected he may not exist at all. That was when John started to really question what it was all for. All his efforts; the long nights, the weekends spent in the stacks instead of relaxing in his domicile, the forfeited food allotments in favor of working. Was any of it worth it? What had he gained? He stared at the locket. “Thanks for all you do!” stared back.

John removed the picture from the locket and discarded it, retrieving a small memory card that was taped to the inside of the pendant. The real reason he had braved the rains today. He shut the main console down, inserted the memory card into the reader, and then booted the console back up, forcing it to run the program on the card.

A cascade of software failures rippled through Vernacular. The artificial skies went black. Cubicles and computers alike power cycled to nothing but blank blue screens. Every door in the building unlocked itself and the security stations went offline until their individual operators switched on a form of manual detection that did not require a software to run.

John walked slowly to the window of the room. He had never been able to see outside through the windows of the building before. The exterior signs had been too bright. Now Vernacular was a beacon of darkness in a city of lights. The rains fell outside and from the 27th floor the empty streets reminded him of veins emptied of their blood. A body with no life inside of it, propelled forward by necessity rather than possibility. He was sad, but also relieved.

Soon, Personnel Safety would come for him. They would terminate his employment and his life. NDAs would be signed by all who knew John Kline even existed, banning the use of his name or mention of his memory. Emilio would get the stacks up and running sooner rather than later and life at Vernacular would go back to the way it was just moments ago. Until then, though? Well, until then, John thought, until then I get to see the world for what it is. Until then, I get to be free.