The Unilever Series: Dominique Gonzales Foerster - TH.2058


COMCON. Mode Calling

By Violet Rook

“What is your preferred Com Mode?

The image flickered then the sound of a voice, obviously made by a

“Sorry, but who are you. Please give your MRC before commencing.”

I was not allowing such an intrusion into my communication space. What a
cheek. I could feel my adrenaline level increasing, my wrist indicator showed my blood pressure followed and my pulse rate hit 120. Privacy is important.

I was stuck with with a VRS, having to wear sight correctors all the time.
No one told me that once you decide on your form of Virtual Resource Set, that’s the one you keep.

I would have liked one of those skin bands or one or those ear clips, so tiny just attach and after that yearly automatic checks from Medic Control and State Prot and replace every five years. The rich level, get new technology every year, but I’m not in their class. In group five the technology is about 2 or 3 years old.

I could now see this image more closely on my vision correction set
It seemed like a male. I sound very gender minded, its a term used back before Global Time Space Organisation when everyone was divided by biological structure regarding the making of babies. That sounds very odd. Medic Control would be out of a job, no more DNA processing and cloning, what a strange society, no order.

“Your preferred monitor mode please”

“Surely you must know that?”

“Reponse is not acknowledged, a level 5 person is not allowed such terms”

Language is different at level 5.

“Reponse term required”

For a moment I had forgotten to speak the speech required at my level. Whoever I am a clone of, my biological structure was being illustrated via such questioning.

Meanwhile around me the townpod lights adapted to the sunshine level giving illumination to each of the two hundred person living units and their occupants. The visibility was better today, it was possible to look out of the living units through the transparent dome to the distance and see the red domes of the townpods on the Cotswold Hills.

Are they the Cotswolds? I looked them up. There used to be hills with that name.

Names keep changing all the time. State Prot. insists we keep alert.

“My Monitor Reference allows me to contact you”

The image and the voice were clearer now. I always leave my visual and audio on, but never get intrusion. My work pattern is such that I can get it done in less time than the schedule. I thought about mentioning this to the Monitor Officer, but a little time to wonder is not such a bad thing.

“Could I please have your MC Reference before we go any further”.

I had heard of pirates like the old fashion Hackers.

“Please put your VRS into visual only. This is your last warning. Continuation of your use of modes is being monitored. Severe penalties will be incurred if this warning is not obeyed”.

Doing what was ordered would mean that I could only be on visual. I could see official data information from Medic Control and ComCon and MediaEnt, do my work schedule via the programme, and just eat sleep and work. What about my home partner?

“Can I speak with my Home Partner”.

“Monitor readings indicate all modes have been used daily. Your time space allowance for this month is now reduced. Severe penalties will ensure if this is overridden”.

The sound volume was increasing with each announcement.

I only need the visual mode to work, performing public art information in the gallery arena areas.The GA areas were famous once. Must keep alert.

The penalties might be transfer to a less modern townpod. I was told some don’t have light variation, others have six person living units and the food is artificial, it does not even look like bread. It could be even worse, no Home Partner.

No Home Partner?

I reached up to my visual correctors and pressed the required number of times.

The sounds of water ceased, the footsteps of others were silenced. Now all I had was the instructions on the lens telling me a person was behind me, the action to take, how to proceed during the daylight hours. Messages from other people written sometimes in old text, sometimes in digital code, sometimes in the new visual data code. No one speaks much. It is like being able to read minds, only it isn’t. Its really lonely with only the sound of your own voice.

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