Perpetuity

Boon-Nam stood at the wet market stall staring at his dinner. Takatan (grasshoppers) or Mod daeng (red ants). The greasy vender with a vape in his mouth stared at me impatiently waving his arms over his product. ‘Mod daeng please’ 100 Baht credits he yelled and held up a retina scanner for the credit transfer. A pang of fear shot up my throat, I knew I was running low on creds but apparently, I'm ok and can eat tonight.

The year is 2080 in the sprawling metropolis of Bangkok which is now 20 million souls thick. The ever-growing population had resulted in more high-rises and raised streets to serve urban yuppies. The lower levels became slums, covered and forgotten. Every society has levels but ours were literal and as always, the fastest way to the top or the bottom was birth. Boon-Nam means ‘born with good fortune’ at 33 stood in the lower-level weak LED lights, dark water dripping on his head he was still waiting for it.

I walked back quickly towards my block, head down, hood up, mesh snood on. The tetra box felt warm in my hand, I was excited to get back and shovel the sweet crispy ants into my face unjudged. I pushed and squeezed though the shuffling mass of humanity. How could or would so many live here like this? Mosquitos swarmed around the artificial lights in the roof grid. As I moved small metal nozzles emerged above, the auto hail system activated spraying smoke clearing the parasites. Even through my mask it makes my eyes water, the lesser of two evils. Water pooled down here because of the slum's poor drainage, and mosquitos lay their eggs in shallow water. To prevent an endemic, we were fumigated regularly.

I finally arrive home a grey rusted door covered in graffiti, I prize it ajar and slip in. More Led’s greeted me in a long dark corridor, room doors on either side. Roaches ran along the side looking for food or hiding places. Some rooms I passed were sealed by blow torch from the outside. If a tenant died it was sealed to stop squatters, human or other getting in for free. Room 1245, I activated the thumb scanner and went inside.

My apartment such as it was measured 2m squared no window, just a bed slab sink toilet and most importantly the chair. Cable chairs had become the most important feature of all homes. They resembled an old-fashioned Barbour's chair with a blacked-out helmet running via a thick umbilical cable to the ceiling. in the chair, man and machine became one. People worked and relaxed in their headsets. After the shift to home working in the early 21st century they had become omnipresent and helped protect humanity from a myriad of diseases.

My avatar was more me than me. I was eager to wear it and jack in, I lifted it up high, a Quasi-ceremonial motion wide arch lowering when suddenly there was a knock on my door. In all my years here I had never had a visitor, everyone I ‘knew’ was digital. Had someone hacked my code? It was an out of body experience, trapped in indecision I did nothing and froze.

Silence, after a few minutes I crept over to the door, my hand hovered over the open key then activated it. The door slid up hydraulics hissing and reviled nothing no one just the same old disgusting corridor. Then I saw it on the floor neatly outside a small black wrapped package.

I stooped down cautiously and scooped it up. Fine soft black card neatly wrapped around something hard. I retreated inside fugitively and slapped the door pad again. It felt expensive, mysterious, everything was made of plastic or silicon these days you never saw paper, trees only lived in a handful of Eden greenhouses now.

I unwrapped the card carefully inside was a small black book. It had a hard cover and crisp white pages; I had seen pictures but to hold it was quixotic. I wondered as a poor man how much it was worth, and why someone would dropped it out my door?

I began to read, Achara- 04 07 14 27 32 35, Boonsri- 01 05 15 16 25 40, Kannika- 03 05 11 14 21 25, Khun Mae- 02 07 13 15 22 39. The list went on and on page after page, they looked like lottery numbers, which I played religiously every week. This exciting thought stayed in my mind like a firefly, then I saw it Kavinjan- 04 06 12 21 26 29 last night's winner. After his name a blank space and more number, then just blank pages. I decided in a second what I would do, I placed the little black book on my bed and sat in my cable chair pulling the helmet on.

I entered the digital landscape, leaning forward in my chair I glided towards the floating lottery symbol. My avatar was a handsome pale young man with black hair. I wore a smart green overall with my achievement badges on my left breast. A giant floating coin with King Ramas face on it was oscillating mid-air. I clicked on it and with a loud ring my profile appeared.

I began to throw ants into my mouth, [amend numbers yes/no] [yes] [01 02 13 14 20 25] I know it seems crazy, wishful thinking, and yet. [numbers successfully changed] [well done Boon-Nam] [good luck on the next draw!] 6 days to the next draw. I spend my days and nights in my hab like 99% of humanity working in isolation. I worked as a advertising drone for a large agency. I would swim around social media platforms flashing my digital billboards at anyone I could find. People despised ad drones like me but it’s a living, just.

This week passed slower than any before the firefly in my mind constantly checking the time. Every day I picked up the little black book and turned it in my hands. The time had finally come, Friday night, lottery night. The show began at 7 o'clock with a jazzy dance and techno beats. I lifted my knees up to my chest and watched in cold excitement.

The live show was set in a massive dome like circus tent with flood lights a live audience and the crazy host Hy Yuu. Shouting into a microphone he danced around the stage and talked about previous winners and the fun lude things they were probably engaging in now. ‘Boon-Sri’ ‘Khan Mae’ are in their tropical villas, you could be next he screams pointing at the screen.

A pang of excitement rippled up my spine. The number machine flashed into life, the first number shot out a rotating Holo ball [13], yep. Next [20] I had that one too, I squeezed my chair arms. [01], [25], [14] all followed I clenched my teeth. Last one, [02] a full house as they say. I stared in shock disbelief reading the numbers over and over they were mine.

The host Hy Yuu was dancing in between the floating balls. That’s our draw for tonight beautiful fools and my lotto bot informs me we have one lucky winner right here in Bangkok get your ass down here right now! My digital ticket was floating next to me flashing I knew now it was for real. I screamed at the top of my voice. It lasted maybe 30 seconds joy and energy ran through my body for the first time in my life I was happy I was free.

The few hours were a blur I grabbed my jacket and left the puny flat for the last time without a second glance. I ran down the hall and out into a new world. Zigzagging past people, I made my way to the uplift. The uplifts were giant elevators that took 30 people up level 24 hours a day mostly workers going to clean and serve. Not me I was going to stay, to collect my winnings 30 million creds enough to buy a sky flat, enough to buy 10! I can’t explain the feeling of euphoria it was like a drug coursing through my veins and mind, it felt amazing.

A limo was waiting for me on level 23, I had never had such comfort, soft leather seats Champane and chocolate it was almost too much for me, almost, I had it all. We passed glittering streets so clean, so shiny.

At the lottery building they made a big fuss over me the dancing girls and Hy Yuu shacking my hands. They marched me right up to the lottery machine and transferred the creds in live stream, I wept with joy.

Well, that’s its, happy ending, I bought my sky flat and lived comfortably for the rest of my days with the beautiful, privileged people. Except I never left my room. The little black book was a trick, I tool of an unseen shadowy organisation. The lottery was rigged no one really won, except for the city's elite who sucked the digital joy of the victim like vampires.

When I entered my new numbers, the code triggered a lockdown in my headset, a master code. The little black book had been left at random by an unnamed agent. They drank joy, the joy a person feels when they think they have won, when they think their life has changed. It was like a drug and scientists had figured out long ago how to copy the joy and transmit it to another brain.

They sat in their sky flats donned matt black expensive headsets and shared my euphoria for days. As I was locked in, I had no idea hopping and skipping to my doom. The same unnamed agent entered my hab and removed the little black book wrapping it carefully away. He then sealed the door from the outside with a laser torch, turning and rising to find another born with good fortune.

I lasted three whole days with no food or water in my beautiful dream. Then I died in perpetuity.