I REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME I actually understood cyclic, the first day a younger me could finally comprehend the thing connected to my thoughts. Creation, in its most simplistic form, allowing humans to think of any imaginable object and wish it into existence. In fact, the idea that humans ever existed without this tool seemed alien to me, to a lot of children back then.
"Cal, wake up, baby. We're going to be late. Please get dressed!"
My eyes break the effective spell sleep held over them, revealing my mother grabbing clothes off the floor that were still clean enough for me to wear to school. She smiles when she sees my feet dangle off the bed, and she pelts me in the face with yesterday's pants and a shirt I wore over the weekend. I grab them and throw a sharp look at her to stop rushing me, but she darts out of the room to get ready. I slowly put my clothes on and crawl through the rest of my morning routine.
"Cal! Honestly... you are a freakin' 90-year-old man in the mornings. Let's move it!"
I put my controller on and send cyclic flying across the room to retrieve my toothbrush. Mom runs in to find Cujo and me leaning against the stainless-steel sink so we can slowly zap yesterday's gunk off my teeth. She towers over me, her long, dark brown hair dangling in my face as she uses the same mirror to do her teeth. Her companion transforms into a hair dryer which fills the room with treacherous noise.
She looks down and over the noise asserts, "Get him off the counter, dear. You know the rules."
"Mom, you know it's not a real dog. Come on, so what if he's on the counter?" I quickly retort while holding my hand to my manifested, furry companion.
"Your cyclic still collects gross stuff, young man. It doesn't matter what form it takes right this second," she insists with a playful tone.
I let out a loud sigh so she can hear it over the contraption that ruins my peaceful morning, and I move Cujo to the ground.
"Don't worry, buddy," I whisper to him.
She laughs. "I thought he wasn't real, cool dude."
"He's real enough. You've hurt his feelings now... look!"
We stare down and he remains frozen in place with a huge smile on his tiny, furry face and a tail cutting through the air in excitement.
"Come on, dork, I'll drop you off at school today. I have to be at work on time though, okay?"
I nod, and she runs out to pack my lunch. I stare at Cujo and think back to class, studying the history of Serenity and how cyclic started. They were small like me and made big promises like the ones I make to my mom, telling her I'll make a better life for us one day.
When Serenity started out, they were laughed at and disregarded in their crowd-sourcing attempts. They promised the ability to control a synchronized mass of nanites using only mental command, which could then be transformed into anything you could possibly think of. It's so cool they never gave up, and now everyone uses it.
"Cal, I swear, if you don't stop stalling and get ready, I will give you to the neighbors. Move!"
I leave my mental study and make a run for the front door as it closes behind Mom. Today is my history exam, and I get to sit next to Alexis. My hands get sweaty as I think about her, and a lump forms in my throat when I see we're already at the school.
"Do a good job today, baby." she shouts as I jump out and run for the door.
I keep running until I arrive in class and casually walk the last few steps from the door to my seat. Alexis is already there and politely smiles when our eyes meet. "Hey, Cal," she says, looking at the digital display at the front of the room which has the URL for our test on it.
"H-Hey, Alexis," I awkwardly reply.
I have to focus; this test is a huge percentage of our final grade, and I can't afford to flunk it. Alexis is the star student. She could write "cyclic sucks" over and over and still get an A for the semester. My mind races with notes from last night. Serenity's introduction of cyclic was so radical because it promised the one thing that held value to a species as advanced as ours: instantaneous creation. Using programmable liquid metal, they promised the theoretical production of any imaginable object with the thought of its structure and controlling it with the wave of your hand.
What cyclic is now began as synchronizing a minuscule pile of metallic, biomechanical nanites to a controller that looked more like a bulky virtual reality headset than the next step in human evolution. Back then, you could only move this new nanotech on the ground from a short distance away. Shortly after global release, one user discovered how to manipulate their cyclic in such a way it actually levitated off the ground for a few brief moments.
It looked like silver water silently opposing the laws of gravity as he effortlessly changed the shape and size in mid-air. He first coined the term "stream", which was the fluid-like form the cyclic would take when en route to do something the user requested. Modern historians consider this the pivotal moment which ushered in the tidal wave of innovation we now know as the Cyclical Revolution.
"Wooooooooow" echoes through the room.
I look up to see him—Ryan, my childhood bully—walking in with the newest cyclic controller model. The Mark4, an implant you can get directly behind your ear that makes it possible to stay connected to your nanites constantly. He walks through the crowd of cheering kids who, like me, all wear the Mark3 and have headbands that make the mental connection possible. He sits on the other side of Alexis and stares past her to me. I quickly look back to my notes in fear.
"Hey, Alexis, you see the new toy I got? I'm sure my daddy wouldn't mind if we got you one too," he says with a prideful ego only wealthy fourteen-year-olds can have.
"You're gross, and that's gross. My mother says anyone that gets a microchip put in their head is too dumb to process thought without it. Also, the new controllers are free, you moron. You literally agree to be anonymously studied in exchange for the free implant. Sorry daddy didn't buy you anything special. I think you're more akin to Theodore, the mouse we analyze in science class," she says while swiping through pages on her tablet for the upcoming exam.
"No, it's not one of those implants," he quickly stumbles to get out.
I accidentally let out a quick but intrusive laugh, and his attention snaps to me.
"Something funny?" He stands and approaches my desk, and I pretend not to notice while cramming cyclical history facts.
"Hey! You hear me, you little runt? Something funny to you, Unknown?" Ryan shouts as he kicks my desk. He's a strength user and never misses a chance to remind people. He conjures a large cyclical fist and grabs onto my shirt collar, pushing so hard it forces me backward in my seat.
"No, Ryan," I softly chirp.
"Let him go!" She stands and chokes him, not with her cyclic but her hands. He panics and his fist breaks apart as he struggles to understand what is happening to him.
"Ale—"
"No, do something to Cal again and I will end your privileged existence. Bet on it."
He raises his hands and signals he won't do anything else. Defeated, he slowly walks to the other side of the room while the peanut gallery stares on in horror. They circle back around once he takes a seat far away from us, and they gawk at Alexis and me. She turns back to me and looks down. "I got your back, Cal. Always."
I can feel my face warm. An embarrassing tingle lays on my cheeks, and I just want to escape the day entirely. I form Cujo back into a lifeless pile of nanites and command it into my pocket. I'm the only one in school that has received the optional companion update, and everyone sees it as a silly joke. Most people's cyclic remains in standby mode as their cell phone or a bracelet they can quickly cast out.
The teacher struts in and commands we take our seats. Alexis hurries back to her spot next to me and I awkwardly debate what I should say, but nothing comes out. I dive back into my notes to avoid glances and get some last-minute information compiled in my brain.
During the Cyclical Revolution, the human race, for the first time in millennia, agreed to put aside differences and collectively experience the euphoric period of creation together. As people became familiar with the technology, so it became more integrated into our day-to-day routines until it was just part of the human experience. From executives to laborers, everyone found utility in having their cyclic on them at all times.
"Notes down, the test is starting, Cal. I'm sure you've done plenty of studying before this point, right?" Mrs. Xoftlet says, staring down at me and Cujo, who reformed and now pokes his head from my pocket. Her eyes glare past a wrinkled nose and unkept silver hair which remains in her face so students don't know who she is staring at. To actually see her eyes scares me, and I rush to close the plethora of tabs I have open.
I feel my heart rate increase as she leans over and swipes right to open the testing webpage. She walks to the person behind me and I start freaking out, looking at the first question highlighted on my screen. I'll never pass this, I'll never get to the next grade, and I'll never tell Alexis how I feel or talk to her again. This is it; life is over.
As my mind races about my biggest regrets in life, I feel a hand gently rest atop my right arm. I look down to see painted fingernails, chipped and bitten off; they belong to Alexis. I look up and she smiles, nodding it will all be okay. "I got your back, Cal. Always," she whispers as she carefully lowers her tablet to reveal the first answer of the test. I feel the same embarrassing tingle come across my face again, but this time I smile and feel the warmth flow through my entire body.
The test goes on, and whenever I need assistance, I let out a quiet cough and tap the question number since she is so much faster than me.
Question: In the most recent update, Serenity announced three classifications. What are they and what makes each class different from the other?
I know the answer and ecstatically type about the newest and coolest things cyclic can do.
Serenity recently observed a unique identifier between the nanites and the human assigned to that specific cyclic, isolating three distinct classes: strength, spirit, and intellect. Strength users are able to focus their physical strength through the nanites and amplify it on an exponential scale. Spirits have increased companion functionality, speed, and an almost premonition-like ability. Intellect users have incredible management of cyclic, and the streams you can multitask with, creating masterpieces in seconds where others take hours.
The test is over and I stare at the last question, 54:68, thinking about what would come from dividing people into three classes and when I should be classified. I pull Cujo in front of me and hope to be spirit so I can finally have a real friend.
I look to Alexis who leans over and pats Cujo on the head. "I think I'll get one of these too. It's so cute! What do you call it?"
"His name is Cujo," I slowly let out.
"Cujo, it's nice to meet you, sir." She giggles.
The claims from Serenity feel like superpowers, but for some reason you can't pick which class you want. After testing, you are either one thing or you're not, and that scares me.
I lean toward Alexis, and she moves closer to my face. "Alexis, what do you think—"
The teacher suddenly slams his hand on the desk.
"Cal, wake up. Wake up!" Alexis shouts through the apartment.
"I'm awake," I softly murmur.
"I'm heading to work. Do you need a ride or anything?"
"Nope, you're good. Go ahead, babe."
I can hear bare feet smacking against the floor as she runs to the bedside, my love coming to kiss me goodbye. I close my eyes and pucker my lips, ready for my wife's sweet farewell.
"Aaaaaa," I sharply belt out as an elbow dives into my chest. I open my eyes to see her trying to contain laughter, leaning against the bed on our floor.
"I'm so, so sorry," she muffles into the blankets. She looks up with the brightest smile on her face, and cheeks blaring red through her cream makeup.
"Um... what just happened?" I carefully ask, sitting up to avoid another flying elbow.
"No, not telling you. You'll only make fun of me. Got to go!" she shouts, trying to leave again.
I start laughing as she hurries for the door. "No way, little miss. Excuse me! Can I have that kiss at least?"
She peeks back into the bedroom and shields her face with her hand, amber eyes peering through her fingers.
"You tripped over your own two feet again, didn't you?"
She rolls her eyes and slowly walks into the bedroom again for that kiss.
"Easy... easy... almost there," I tease as she approaches.
"Hush, you. Here, love me again. I'm sorry," she states as she presses her lips against mine.
"Always will. Clumsy."
She laughs and turns away. "Alright, going to work for real this time. Need a ride today?"
"I do not. Sadly, nowhere to go as usual," I manage to get out before the door closes.
I do like that she asks about my day before darting off every morning. The whole not being employed thing makes me think she asks only to hint at something, but that's alright. She means well. I mean, we are adults now; I should be years into a career, and with that providing a mutual sense of security. It's not like I'm not looking, I just can't decide what I want to do with my life.
I've worked dozens of jobs that didn't make me happy, that didn't serve the actual betterment of my life. Seeing Alexis prospering in a career she enjoys makes me as happy as can be, I just can't relate to it. I can't find anything where I don't have a boss and get paid to live my best life, as the old-timers would say.
As I lay here enjoying the warmth of my bed, I look out the apartment window to the city. A living, breathing machine of people going in and out of each other's lives for moments to accomplish tasks only important to them. Sheeple. Suddenly, my cyclic forms into a display in front of my face hovering just above my body still glued to the mattress. A live stream appears and blasts a random, intrusive commercial that feels like it was built solely for me.
"Tired of doing nothing but want to continue sitting on your butt all day? Node-Waypoint Delivery is the place for you! If you're human and have cyclic experience, come on down. See us today and start a career with your very own fast-track path to the future!"
Nonsense, every word. Don't confuse this as pessimism, I generally enjoy most things, but these ads have been reaching out for weeks. Although, the idea of telling Alexis I did something that wasn't sitting at home all day sounds pretty decent. The place is only a quick trip away, and I have nothing better occupying my time. What's the worst that could happen?
A manager talks to me for a couple of hours about some job, or is this just another get-rich-quick scheme that is extraordinarily changing the universe? I immediately throw on some previously worn clothes and jump on the expressway to get out of the building. We have a humble apartment, floor 300A with decent neighbors above and below us. Living this close to the ground isn't what exactly we were hoping for, but it beats the B levels, underground.
As I travel downward, I admire the expanse of buildings reserved for living. From the ground floor, you can't see where these buildings end. They merge into cloud cover that separates the wealthy from those below. I feel a tug on my jacket sleeve and look down to see a small boy.
"Hi, mister," he timidly says.
"Hello there, tiny human. What can I do for you?" I reply, leaning down with a smile.
"I really like your companion," he says, reaching his hand toward the floating dog beside me.
"Thanks, I call him Cujo. I picked the name from a really old movie about, uh, puppies. He's been my buddy since I was little," I say.
"Neat! Well, this is Pete the parrot," the boy tells me while a petite parrot flies up and rests on his shoulder.
"Very cool! How long have you been working on him?"
"Oh, uh, only a little while. I just finished the colors and I think it's pretty cool now too," he says, changing the color of his parrot, green and red with splashes of blue. He moves him to the space between us and commands it to levitate. It jumps from the small boy's shoulder and slowly flaps its wings and floats upward above our heads before he spins it around to show his handiwork.
Before I can reply, his mother calls him back, and the bell for the ground level rings. I get out as they continue down into the earth, probably on their way to school or work. I wave to the kid through the transparent side of the passenger car, and his face light ups with an eager hand whipping back and forth to say goodbye.
As I walk down the street, I watch as Cujo bounces up and down beside me with each step, hovering just above the ground to simulate a real dog walking. His tiny, fabricated hairs interacting with the wind that's blowing against his side. Serenity knew that people would need to store their cyclic while it wasn't being used. Instead of a pocket or purse, they developed a standby mode it would default to while you weren't actively issuing commands.
They still wanted it to be readily available, so this became a happy medium to assure there weren't masses of liquid metal nanites following everyone around. Thus, Cujo was formed. Along with this update, color was introduced to fight the idea that everyone would just have a metallic of mercury floating behind them.
I was still young when the update hit, and I remember Cujo appearing for the first time. The technician told me I could change Cujo into anything I wanted, but I didn't. He was perfect. Cujo became my best bud until I met Alexis. The companion update didn't introduce some artificial intelligence but rather the cyclic implant reading my brain patterns to form something I relate to. Before I understood what it truly was, Cujo breathed life and lived just as I did; he was as real as I was.
We learned new tricks and mastered cyclic together, everything from basic shapes to essential items I could use in my day-to-day. Blueprints were invented a few years later to allow people to construct complex builds without memorizing every minuscule piece. Things like circuit boards or lighting displays that have a plethora of tiny pieces the human brain couldn't possibly concentrate on simultaneously. Masterpiece sculptures, exquisite three-dimensional models, and electronics could be created and stored, called upon later, or sent to other people.
You could buy blueprints, or if you had the capability, you could construct them. A bike, for example, would be a bit easier. You would think of the frame, handlebars, seat, and every part in between until you had a fully operational build. Then you would scan the digital print for recall so you didn't have to stress about rebuilding it.
You still had to focus on the item while you were using it, and depending on what it was, it still came with a mental strain, but it gave everyone the opportunity to create complex everyday items. Electronics were really the driving force behind blueprinting and its takeover.
An update released from the masterminds at Serenity that allowed the nanites to hold an electric current with the ability to automatically charge themselves over time. Almost overnight, people tossed their third-party phones for the ability to summon their own personal device any time they wanted. We could suddenly bring forth monitors or holographic projectors using only the renewable energy cyclic produced out of sunlight or oxygen.
Every now and again, I wish I could travel back to this time. I had just met Alexis, and we were students infatuated with the possibility cyclic represented, what you could create and who you could be, the blissful what-ifs of life before you conformed to normality and paying bills. We would even create blueprints with special notes and pass them during class. I remember making that darling girl a note the first time I said I love you.
I spent so long to get it just right, and when she loaded the print, it was everything I could have hoped for. Her cyclic covered the space around her, creating wind-stricken rose petals circling her feet, up past her body, and finally turning into a bright red "I love you" in front of her face.
Suddenly, a loud humming noise pulls me back to reality. I must be getting close since the holographic signs echo louder and louder through the streets. Cujo hovers close to me like he is nervous about the job interview.
"Make a difference in the world!"
"Go places never before traveled!"
"Experience new horizons to expand the Serenity Reconnaissance Initiative!"
Here goes nothing...
I turn the corner to see a large crowd of people standing around the front entrance of a building. The building is much smaller than the cloudscraper that surrounds it. The blinding metallic gloss that radiates off every other structure doesn't exist on this foreign building. How have I never seen this before? The roar of conversation is deafening with people clustered into every foot of space waiting for a chance at this random job, but why? I feel even more underqualified than I previously believed possible.
"Attention, candidates, orientation will begin shortly. If selected, employment starts immediately, and contracts expire after one year of service. Is everyone ready to begin?" bellows out from this extremely tall and narrow woman in front of the crowd.
She is wearing an expensive three-piece navy-blue suit, all clean and pressed. Her stoic presence sends a chill down my spine, as if designed to intimidate those who look at her. Perhaps a member of the human military. She resembles the born and bred warriors raised in that environment, there's little doubt she's seen battle.
"Hey, man, do you know where the line starts?" I say to the most non-threatening person in sight.
"Yeah, no—no idea. I think we just stand here until something happens, and then we stand there," the guy says, pointing to another door with the words Entrance.
"Huh, yeah, I guess so." I turn back to greet him. "I'm Cal, by the way."
"Luo," he assures with a welcoming hand.
He grabs onto my hand much harder than a normal person should, asserting an odd dominance his father probably told him was good when meeting new people. His shirt is pressed and tucked in, and his tan skin is just as smooth as his finely combed black hair. It's nice to meet someone who seems to have just as little of an idea as me Perhaps my day will be summarized as "I made a new friend" instead of "I was rejected from another job."
"Luo, how long have you been standing here?"
"Me, maybe twenty minutes, but I overheard someone say others have been waiting for two days. With the forward attitude of the woman in front speaking at us and the multiple people in uniform, I'm starting to feel a little out of place." He points to those in the very front in perfect, unwavering formation. Military.
"Don't stress too much, I felt out of place about two minutes ago when I turned the corner to see a fourth of the population made its way for this job listing."
He laughs and quickly turns to me, "What did you say? You're here for a job?"
"We will now begin accepting applications. Line up in an orderly fashion, and we can start analyzing candidates," Navy Blue shouts.
I look around, and everyone is slowly pulling out numbers. Seeing that my new acquaintance is also pulling a number out, I think maybe I am missing something. A strict order for the line my proverbial friend never mentioned.
"What the heck, man. I thought there wasn't a line?" I sharply throw at him.
"There wasn't, and now there is. Being late probably isn't the best practice, idiot. Good luck for... whatever reason you're here. Actually, you don't stand a chance. I wouldn't enter at all if I were you," he states, turning away and dismissing me with a chuckle.
"Wow, okay... Thank you, man. Really, thanks for that. You psycho—" I try getting out, but he is too far in the crowd to hear me. My mind replays the conversation, trying to identify exactly where I went wrong, but I didn't do anything wrong. Competitive jerk.
"Excuse me, sorry. Coming through," I repeat a few times as I push my way to the lady in blue. She is the only hope I have at clearing this situation up so I can still apply.
"Ma'am, my name's Cal. I came here as soon as I heard about the listing. Can I still get a number for the line?"
"Yes. Just be ready to have your implant scanned so we can get your human registration number, and you'll be good to go," she replies.
"Awesome. Is that all I need to apply for the job?"
"Indeed. We need people trained in cyclic, the best of the best... Whatever you're here for, rest assured we have a plan for you," she says while staring down at me from the platform she is speaking from. She holds eye contact with me just long enough for it to feel uncomfortable while she directs me where to go.
She steps down and, even without the assistance of the stage, she dwarfs me in size. She walks me over to the check-in where the other candidates received their numbers. There are easily two hundred people here. Why was that dude so upset one more may be applying? Whatever.
The check-in looks like a tent from the outside, but it has to be made from some unseen user's cyclic. The tent legs hover just above the ground, and the ceiling above shows a glimpse into what looks like the night sky with bright and beautifully defined star constellations. The legs are thin but incredible, detailing similar to ancient Roman or Greek columns. Whoever is controlling this must have spent years perfecting it.
"Get this man a number," she says to one of the workers.
"Thank you so much," I say before pausing to read her badge. "Susan Lenier. Mind if I call you Sue?"
Her faded purple eyes slightly sharpen and she replies, "Actually, I do mind. If my team finds you suitable for a position, you will work for me and be trained and tuned until finally you— Well, I'm getting ahead of myself. The reason you are here was already defined for you, Cal, thus why you were invited at all. Now... may creation guide you, sir."
"And you. Wait, the advertisement said this was for piloting..." I say, confused.
Lenier walks away without answering my question. As she strides off, her cyclic laces itself around her body until they become one, and she vanishes. May creation guide you, I think to myself, the subtitle of Serenity and everything they push for. Eventually, the phrase was adopted by the entire species as a way to wish good tidings onto someone and their creations.
As I turn around to the man giving me my number, he starts loudly speaking to me.
"Do you have any idea what it is that we do here, son? We deliver waypoints to the far reaches of space, allowing us to go where no human has ever gone before. The centralized node at Serenity was the first, equipped with protocol to network the waypoints we set up.
This technology allows us to traverse from one vista of space to the other in seconds instead of years. To expand, however, we must first travel there by vehicle and set up each consecutive node. Once this is done, the pilot will go back through the now-activated waypoint and arrive at the centralized node. The next pilot after him will take over where he left off, traveling another contract length away and setting up another waypoint.
By doing this, we discover new life, worlds, and anything that may be out there. We explore space we've never before encountered. Threats always exist in the unknown, and the universe, by default, harbors immense danger. The average person has little chance to survive this, thus why we need only the best of the best."
This monologue catches me off-guard as I notice the man isn't a man at all but an android, entirely cyclic based. I take my number and acknowledge the bot for the quick summary about the job, though I'm not sure if I feel any better about being here. Only that bot and the advertisement have given me any shred of confirmation into what this event is about. Both Luo and Lenier didn't seem to know what I was talking about when I mentioned being here for the position.
I scan the crowd, trying to understand the environment. People are dressed in suits, military uniforms, and some even have stacks of books. A few manage multiple little creations at the same time, as if practicing for an audition. I have no idea what any of these people are here for.
It doesn't make sense, surely; not everyone cares about a single job this much. Cujo starts acting funny as well. He hovers closer to me with every step we take toward the building entrance. "But why?" I whisper under my breath. "Why are you people here?" Before I can ask anyone, I feel a tap on my shoulder.
"Please come with me. You're next."
"Wait, but everyone else—" I blurt out.
"When you enter the building, please have your cyclic ready. Good luck and may creation guide you."