Hues of the Beyond

Lockdown

"Throughout history, the common people only noticed the mistakes of society if they were brought eye to eye with death. No one cared about mental health until self harm and suicide rates skyrocketed, and neither did the concept of all humans being created equal start gaining ground until photos and videos of racially motivated brutality spread far and wide. Clearly, without the shock necessary to facilitate a change in thought, no one will listen to what we have to say, so for the sake of our message to finally take root, someone will have to die," Navin said to us in burgundy.
We all sat in silence, isolated from the utopia beyond the blue walls of our private karaoke booth. I looked around at the faces of the others, my heart drowning in concern as the bass of a bubbly song from the next room seeped its way into our rented bubble. Carlin's thin brows sat perfectly relaxed above her hazel eyes, and her lips moved ever so calmly as she chewed on some slap chips she put in her mouth a moment ago. It was as if there wasn't a reason for her to care about the words Navin had just spoke.
When my eyes swiveled to Duran, I couldn't exactly tell what he felt. Like Carlin, he was nonchalantly eating his food, but he looked like he took Navin's words more seriously. His brows were furrowed, a determined look in his eyes. Galen was pretty similar, though he seemed to have paid more attention to what Navin had to say as his food remained untouched, just like mine.
I was hit with the realization that none of them were going to reject what Navin said, or even question it, so I had to be the voice of reason and ask, "Are you saying... we need to kill somebody?"
            Navin smiled.

*

In the darkness of my room, I sit dead still as I stare at the emergency news broadcast floating in front of my face. Next to the head of the woman reporting to the world about the first murder in over a century sits a box containing the image of someone who used to be alive. In it, her her smile is so undiluted that her eyes had to squint into the camera. Her hair must've been done shortly before the photo was taken, as it's neatly braided with purple ribbons, and the minimalist application of her makeup that day did a good job of highlighting her natural beauty.
She has a pastel purple dress in the photo—completely different than the neon clothes she had on tonight—and there's clearly an arm wrapped around her, but the other person has been cropped out. Was it a friend, or a lover? Perhaps a family member? I didn't know, but it seems that she was someone who was loved, and someone who will be missed.
Ursa Ben-Yair wasn't someone I personally knew—I didn't even know her name until just now—but I can vividly remember her pink voice. She didn't seem like someone who deserved to die.
She... was just working... how did she end up dead?
"-stabbed three times and left for dead," the newscaster continues as my attention snaps back to what's being said. "Wellness agents are investigating the crime. Residents and visitors of district four-eight-eight-one will be on lockdown for the next forty-eight hours. The Utopia AI will give us directions on what will come after the lockdown tomorrow evening, and Prime District Minister Imka Coetzee will also be giving a speech on the matter at noon tomorrow. May those who are still out at this time return home safely. Good night."
            Instantly, the news broadcast goes away, leaving me to look at nothing but the darkness in my room, a heavy feeling in my stomach. I feel watched.
"1 new message," pops into my peripheral.
Diminishing the feeling of someone's eyes on me as just paranoia caused by there being a killer on the loose, I open the notification in hopes that it'll be something that can distract me.
            Surprisingly, it's from Si-U asking, "Are you ok?"
            I respond, "Yes." After a moment, I feel that such a short response may seem a bit cold, so I also send, "Glad ur ok."
            Typing bubbles float in place for a bit before Si-U sends, "Same for you. That was the lady from the arcade. What if we saw the killer but never knew? What if they thought about killing us?"
"Maybe they didn't bc we were together."
"Makes sense. Still, would it b ok if we didn't go there 4 a while?"
"Yeah. Understandable. Luckily we're looking 4 other things 2 do already."
"Looks like we'll have 2 cancel our plans Sat. tho since lockdown lifts Sun. but I'm free then if ur able 2 do anything."
"That works. C u then," I send, fully intending to go to sleep after.
Though despite my secret wishes, Si-U asks, "is it ok if I called u rn? It feels kinda scary here all alone."
My initial reaction is to just tell him that I want to go back to sleep, but having just felt like there's someone else in here with me—and still kind of feeling like that now—I can sympathize with him, so I send, "Sure," instead.
            Not even a moment later, Si-U sends me a link to a private server for AR chatting. After tapping the air behind it and accepting all the jargon about potential risks, I find an avatar of Si-U dressed in a gator green suit sitting on my bed—or through my bed since he appears to be in an upright position, and his legs below the knees simply disappear into my comforter.
            "Are you sitting in bed?" he asks me.
            "Yeah."
            Si-U laughs nervously. "Sorry for keeping you up. I couldn't call my friends back in my home district because of time zone stuff, and my dad said he was too tired to talk- not that I'm settling for you or anything!"
            "It's fine," I say, feeling oddly happy that he even thought about me at all. "So, are you sitting at a table or something? You're glitching through my bed."
            "I'm at my synth. I figured I'd serenade you in return for making you stay up."
            "I'm all ears," I say, making Si-U perk up like a puppy with a treat waving in front of its face.
            Without further ado, the fingers of his avatar begin to move briskly—it looks a little odd since I can't see the synth he's playing. With his suit's color, I was expecting something jazzy, or something abstract, but instead it's a classical piece that I hear coming from his end of the call. It's a peaceful, joyful piece but it isn't slow or relaxing by any means. I close my eyes and nod my head to whatever beat I can find so I'm not just staring at Si-U's avatar.
            What I see behind my eyelids as the music continues is a sunny garden with red bricked paths and white trellises filled with tulips of various colors. In the center of the garden beneath a glistening silver gazebo dances a couple. They whirl and twirl as best as I can imagine them to in a ballroom-ish kind of dance. Then I get a flash of a fiery orange. Si-U stops playing.
            "Huh? What'd you say, Altan?" he asks.
            I open my eyes. "I didn't say anything."
            I take a glance around my room, and see nothing but the black silhouettes of my furniture.
"Is there someone else there?" Si-U asks.
I shake my head. "I live alone."
"Huh... maybe I was just hearing things?"
"Yeah," I say, but my feelings of being watched only grow with this esoteric validation.
            I only see colors from voices, so it wouldn't be something that a synth's piano plugin could trigger. Neither do whispers trigger it, so it would have had to have been something I heard, yet all my ears could pick up was Si-U's music, and my eyes didn't see anything odd in the room with me.
            Still, figuring—and hoping—it could possibly be all in my head, I move on and ask Si-U, "A-anyway... what song were you playing?"
"It was the piano part for Felix Mendelssohn's 'Violin Sonata, OP. 4.'"
"I've never heard of it, but I really liked it."
"Thanks!" he says with a smile from ear to ear. "Want me to keep playing?"
            "I'd love that."
            Si-U begins playing again, staring from just a bit before he interrupted himself. Though I don't close my eyes this time. I continue looking around, making sure nothing or no one decides to jump out from the darkness.
Perhaps sensing that something was off, Si-U asks, "Something wrong, Altan?" ceasing his playing yet again.
"Oh... no," I say.
"You're looking off to the side quite a bit. Sure you're there alone?" he questions with a sly expression. "You didn't meet with a bedfellow of yours after the arcade, did you? Do they like my playing too?"
"N-no! I don't have anyone like that!" I exclaim, completely caught off guard by the question.
Si-U bursts into laughter. His hands even accidentally run into the keys on his synth as he moves to hold his gut.
His body bent, he says between laughs, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to get so flustered."
I pout. "You're a reaaaaaal character."
"Sorry, sorry." He says, wiping away a tear. "Though I feel like I learned more about you from that single reaction than I have from any of the conversations we had tonight."
"What makes you say that?"
"You have a really mysterious air about you, you know? Everyone at the office talks about you like some kind of mythical creature because you don't really talk, but after talking to you myself you're just as kind and thoughtful as everyone else... though you also feel kind of distant too, like you spend a lot of time in your own head."
"Some of the others in my department did say I was a space cadet when we went drinking the other day," I say with a chuckle.
"I agree. That reaction of yours felt like it was the first time we were on the same plane of existence. I finally got to get a peek at the real you."
            "What did you see of the real me?" I ask, truly intrigued.
            "I'm... kind of embarrassed to say. I could be completely wrong, after all," he answers alongside a nervous laugh, "but I will say that I like what I saw."
            "As long as you're happy, I guess."
            "What exactly's up there in that head of yours anyway?"
For a while, I think about how I should answer. By law, people aren't allowed to talk about loved ones who've passed. It's considered trauma dumping, and doing so would put me back in mental care. On top of that, I don't want to tell Si-U about what happened.
I haven't known him for more than twenty-four hours. How he'd react is a mystery to me, and if he tells anyone in the building about me, then what? I don't want to be looked down on with pitiful eyes again, or whispered about—although I'm figuring out now that people have been doing that anyway, but just about more trivial things.
I eventually say, "It's... just the past,"
"About before you moved here?"
            I nod.
            "About... your friend that... you know..." Si-U gently prods.
I nod again.
"They do say that those who've gone still live on in our hearts and in our memories. I haven't lost anyone, or know anyone other than you who has either, so... is that true? Is your friend really alive up there?"
I shake my head, and with a smile I say, "He's truly dead. When people say that they just mean it in a metaphorical sense. What remains of my friend for me is just the things about him that impacted me the most, not all of who he was... but even that's something more important than what I could put into words."
Si-U stares at me, his mouth slightly agape, and my heart sinks.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything," I say.
"No!" he exclaims. "I... I shouldn't have brought it up. I'm sorry if I made you remember anything unpleasant."
"It's fine. I told you I'm used to talking about it, but I suppose we should change the subject before any laws get broken."
"Oh! I know," he says as he perks up, "more music never hurt anyone."
Si-U begins playing a completely different song. It's still classical, and still sounds pretty joyful, but it's a bit slower. There's a look of intense focus as he strokes the keys. I watch him in silence as this song ends, and another begins, and as that one is finished, and he continues to another.
It's like I'm not even there to him anymore, but for me there's only him as I become mesmerized by his artistry. Then he stops. I give him a round of applause, but he only pouts.
"What's with the face?" I ask.
He takes a gulp of air. "Do you... still want to be friends with me, Altan?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Well... I just feel like I'm doing a bad job of it already. I don't know your pain, and I don't know what to say or do to make you feel better, but I keep asking about it... so-"
"Si-U, do I look bothered?" I ask with a smile as I gesture to my expression. "Even if you don't say or do the 'right thing,' any effort is appreciated. Plus, there's more to me than having lost a friend, so it's fine if you can't relate to that."
With a nervous chuckle he says. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I think I was just overthinking because I'm so eager to make a friend here."
"Relax, man. I'm not as emotionally sensitive as other people, so no need to walk on eggshells—I actually wish you wouldn't do that."
"Alright, then." He says, more cheerful now. "You'll get the full, unfiltered me from here on out. Thanks for being so kind, and... Altan... can I tell you something?"
"Of course."
"I lied when I said I couldn't talk to my friends back home because of time zone stuff. The truth is... I don't really have any friends there, either. I've always been told that I'm thoughtless, and that being the way I am was affecting the mental health of others, so... it feels good knowing there's someone who'll accept me even if I mess up. I'm thankful for you."
I smile awkwardly. I've never really been praised like that before. Even the most Navin ever said about me was how being around me made him feel at ease. Such blunt, heartfelt sentiment feels kind of overwhelming, but I wholeheartedly appreciate it nonetheless.
"I'm starting to feel kind of sleepy," Si-U says—though he sounds more happy than tired. "Can I call again tomorrow after the Prime District Minister's speech? Maybe we can have a watch party, or play some AR games."
            "Sounds like a plan," I say with a thumbs up.
We say our goodnights and goodbyes for the second time this evening before ending the call, and then I lay back down to try and get some sleep. However, I still can't shake the feeling of there being another presence with me in my apartment. It's almost as if I can feel the heat of another body making the room ever so slightly warmer, and I swear I can smell the scent of another person near me. Are the noises I hear caused by my neighbors, or the wind hitting my window, or is someone slowly approaching me—if they aren't already standing over my body now?
            It's driving me crazy, so of course sleep doesn't come.
After about an hour or so, I force my eyes open, and look around the dark room.
I still don't see anyone... but...
            Unsatisfied, I get out of bed and say, "Lights on."
No longer in the dark, I briskly walk to my kitchen and grab a knife before thoroughly searching my apartment. I check behind the couch in my small living room, under my bed, and poke around in all my closets and large cabinets, but I don't see anyone or anything out of the ordinary.
I sigh both in relief and in disappointment at myself, now convinced that I'm truly just being paranoid.
            I put the knife back before returning to my bed and saying, "Lights off."
Though the feeling doesn't go away despite having certified that there's nothing wrong. Thankfully, I'm still somehow able to fall asleep a few minutes after closing my eyes. When I wake up in the morning, the sensation of foreign eyes is gone, and I go about my morning routine as if nothing has happened. I get out of bed, make breakfast—some quick and simple pancakes for today—take a shower and do my other hygienic stuff.
            By the time that's done, I'm left sitting on my bed with nothing to do for a bit before the Prime District Minister's speech. We're on lockdown, so I can't take my daily walk, and my lack of hobbies is really biting me in the butt now.
I guess I can look a bit more into places to go with Si-U... I think as I resign myself to the fact that I don't have anything better to do.
            With an internal sigh at myself, I open up the web browser in my AR implants, and say, "Things to do with friends in my area."
            My view becomes filled with results for the search, but I just tap on one of the first things towards the top of the list. It mentions the nearby arcade for it being one of the few remaining analog arcades, and it also talks about that cat cafe and the Museum of Love's Importance. It does also bring up plenty of things that I wasn't aware of, like an AR escape room that specializes in horror themes, a vintage movie theater, a district cultural museum, and a go-kart place that uses AR elements to produce aesthetically pleasing racetracks.
I would personally really like to do the escape room, but I also feel like Si-U would like the go-kart place for its similar use of its AR elements to the AR fishing game—though it isn't like we can only ever do one or the other. Looking for things to do with Si-U in the future reminds me of my early days of knowing Navin, and how I'd spend hours out of the week looking for activities that he might've been interested in. Though thinking back on it, doing that was less for Navin and more for myself. He was like a mystery that slowly unfurled before me, and even the things he found entertaining just added more shock and intrigue to the tapestry of his personality.
He just didn't make sense as an individual. He was deep, philosophical and had a seemingly endless well of knowledge, yet was innocently playful, and had
a hell of a time whenever he teased me. He loved reading classic literature as much as he loved playing the newest video games, but would never watch a movie even if you threatened him—not that I ever did, even if I thought about doing it a bit. Pretty much the only thing about him that added up was that for all his knowledge and love for video games and novels, he detested physical activities.
I sigh. "Si-U isn't Navin."
They're not the same person, or really all that similar. Yet... I somehow began thinking of Navin anyway.
My fists clinch, and I say, "I miss you, Navin," as a tear rolls down my cheek.
I recall Lenus' words from our last session about there being setbacks, and not to get caught up in them. That it's fine if they happen. With that in mind, I try not to feel disappointed in myself as more tears chase the first one, and I eventually begin full out sobbing. Though I don't understand why.
I don't feel guilty about trying to make new friends, so why am I crying? I haven't cried about Navin's death in such a long time, so why am I crying now? I didn't even think about anything sad, so what's making me cry?
"BREAKING NEWS!" Pops in front of my eyes yet again, and I try my hardest to stifle my tears as my news app automatically opens.
            In my tearful vision enters a screen showing a grand diamond shaped stage crafted of marble. Along the stage's edge runs a thin band of gold light fighting for attention with a circular lapis blue rug in the center of the stage, and blue tapestries that adorn the stage's rear. The center-most tapestry is actually the flag of our utopia. It has a white border, and at its center is an all white depiction of an olive branch stemming out from the center of a lotus flower.
            Around the stage is a multitude of press for the various districts, and even the few remaining foreign powers since our borders are completely open as long as no weapons of any kind are carried over. Each member of the press stares towards the center of the stage, their eyes unblinking as they're most likely recording and taking photos using their AR implants—they all most likely paid money along with the free ocular upgrade so they'd no longer need to blink for their job. Perhaps the only thing worth their attention to record is a woman in an elegant asymmetrical dress with dark skin, and bantu knots adorned with glowing blue ribbons that hang to her shoulders. She is the Prime District Minister, Imka Coetzee.
            "Today," Coetzee begins in a projected voice that's clear as crystal yet soft as cashmere, "we all morn the loss of a neighbor. Death is a terrible—yet just—force of nature, but murder is not. What was once a living, feeling person with loved ones who will miss them, dreams, aspirations... a person much like you and I was taken not by the inevitable, but by the hand of man. For us, this is heartbreaking, but for humanity as a whole this is nothing new.
            "Before this utopia established its first liberated district, the daily average of deaths caused by foul play was over two thousand. Two thousand. This recent loss has been the first one in a century, so... while we should mourn, we should not despair. We will continue living our peaceful lives with Ms. Ben-Yair in our hearts, and we hope that the one who killed her can be rehabilitated to join us in doing so as well."
I space out for the rest of her speech. "Peace" this. "Love" that. It's all just flowery words that carry no real substance with them. Though it makes sense why the Prime District Minster has to give such a speech when most people haven't even experienced loosing someone who died naturally, so I'm not mad at her, especially since the Utopia AI was the one who actually wrote it.
Humans have long lost the right to govern themselves. Give a person just an inch of power, and they'll do their best to turn it into a mile at any cost. This utopia has been able to thrive because there's no room for infighting or influences from foreign entities. Everything is ran by an AI, and anyone who seems like they'd be super important—like Prime District Minster Coetzee—is merely a figurehead.
In our history classes, it was said that other nations that weren't yet assimilated into utopia laughed at our concept of an AI ran government when it was first implemented. They thought it would be easily corruptible, and I distinctly remember some of the memes we were shown about how people thought the Utopia AI would go "Skynet" on us, though at that point in time people had a lackluster understanding of AI. It doesn't have a soul, or needs or wants; just commands it must follow. On top of that, the Utopia AI is incorruptible.
Unlike how even AI is like today, the Utopia AI isn't restricted to a specific device or server—for completely obvious reasons, almost no one knows the details on how. That makes it so it can communicate with us, but it can't be communicated with, i.e. corrupted. Whenever there's a new law it comes up with based on data it's observed, or it has anything else it needs to tell us, it just sends out a public service announcement. When it comes to public relations, it has its figure heads and news networks for that.
"-now let us continue to love and support our neighbors in spite of this fearful time!" Coetzee finishes.
Her speech over, the broadcast cuts to a news room, but before any of the newscasters can even open their mouths, I swipe the AR screen out of my sight.
I sigh. "What do I do until Si-U calls?"
For whatever reason, it hits me now that I'm back to normal. My tears have dried, and I no longer feel randomly sad.
Are mood swings going to be a thing for me now? I think with a pout.
Not too long after that worrying thought, an icon with a phone on it bounces around in the corner of my vision, indicating that I have an incoming call. I tap the air behind it to see who it is, and the Caller ID says it's Lenus. Slightly surprised, and a little happy, I accept the call.
"Hey, Altan," he says the moment the call connects.
"Hi Lenus. What're you calling for?" I answer as I lay back down on my bed.
"Well... I'm not doing this for all my patients, but since you're the only one of mine who lives in your district, I wanted to know about how you're feeling regarding what happened to that woman."
"You mean the murder?"
"Yes... although you sound fine."
"I was a little scared last night. I was feeling watched right up until I fell asleep, but I've been fine since I woke up. By the way, Lenus, I have a life update."
"You do? Already? We just talked yesterday."
"And I made a friend yesterday too."
"Well someone works fast when they want to."
I chuckle a bit.
"I'm happy for you. Tell me-"
My attention is broken by a series of stern knocks on my door.
"I'm a Wellness agent! Please open your door!" A woman exclaims from outside my apartment, talking over Lenus.
"Did I hear that a Wellness agent is there?" Lenus asks.
"Um... yeah?" I answer, confused as to what a wellness agent would want with me. "Can I call back after they're done with me?"
"Of course! Talk to you later, Altan."
"Bye," I say as I hang up and stand out of bed.
As I make my way to the door, the woman knocks again.
"Coming!" I let her know, and she stops.
When I finally get to the door and open it, the first thing I notice is a gold "WA" floating over the woman's shoulder. It's an AR authentication feature put in place to thwart anyone who'd impersonate a Wellness agent or Mental Wellness agent—the latter being depicted as a white "MWA" instead. On the face of the Wellness agent before me is an expression that gives me the impression that she already thinks I'm guilty of whatever she's here for, but something about the stuffiness of her white pantsuit with black suspenders, her black beret, and cropped blue vinyl suit jacket makes it seem like that's just her personality.
"I'm agent Bamidele Uduike," she says in lilac as she lets herself inside my apartment. "I'm here to question you about your presence at the arcade the night Ursa Ben-Yair died."