In a world where emotions can be physically transferred from one person to another, a black-market dealer discovers a secret emotion that has the power to change the course of humanity.
In a world where emotions can be physically transferred from one person to another, a black-market dealer discovers a secret emotion that has the power to change the course of humanity.
Hey! I wrote this between tasks at work, and it's a little rough. I haven't even gone home to edit anything yet. What you read is what you get! I'd be happy to hear any feedback though!
I cried the first time I felt the connection. It's the best way I can describe it with words, like suddenly I had this impending sense of the overall worth of the man in front of me, of his life and accomplishments, and of the sheer struggle he'd endured up to this point. I would have embraced him, I would have made him my brother, and I cried upon realizing the vast significance of him, and all that he was, even as a stranger to me.
Unfortunately I'd just stabbed him, so I began this transcendental transformation as the warmth left his body, signaling he'd had a transcendental transformation of a much different variety.
Hi! My name is Bond. Mark Bond.
My parents were movie buffs but they lacked any sense of theater, okay?
And I did just kill a man, so I needed to take care of that even as I felt the sudden and pressing weight of his immediate absence.
After the fact, I remember not thinking about what I was feeling except in vague "what the fuuuck is happening to me, is this what panic attacks are like?" kind of thoughts.
I've never felt anything like this sense of belonging with another person before, and perhaps no one here has. We're all individuals in a more extreme sense than I even understood.
I'm not what you would probably call a good person. I took emotions from people, sometimes sold and sometimes stolen. Often against their will, because I could sell them and they had what I needed.
And I sold them. People wanted, I think, to feel what I felt then, but in a more controlled way. They wanted to feel connected to each other.
It's too bad we never learned the normal way.
Heaving this guy's body (why had I never even learned his name??) into an unmanned trash compactor took more time than I'd like, but I felt like he at least deserved that. If a random hovergang or a trolley came down the alley and found him it wouldn't go well.
The gang would probably play with the corpse for want of anything else to do, and the AI controlled trolley wouldn't even register it as trash as it crushed the body.
Better this way.
I'd scored well, he had been full of excitement, a jolt of adrenaline, and the sourness of fear all rolled into one. I could separate those out, mete them into packages and get paid.
It was this vast open feeling of being connected that I didn't know what to do with. All of a sudden on my way to the market, I suddenly thought is what I'm doing good?
Like, who the fuck thinks like that?? I was just here to sell! It wasn't my fault he didn't want to give me the goods, and he wasn't the first I'd killed. It's not good to go straight to murder of course - everyone knows that. But that's part of the balance when you source your emotions.
Some people will sell, but if they're desperate it's often easier to steal.
Some people, it isn't worth the fight, so you buy from them. That's where I float, mostly.
And some people challenge your understanding.
The nameless guy's face flashed in my mind again and I felt a sudden drop in my stomach, and a sense I'd done something… extremely not good.
It wasn't until later I realized I was feeling guilt.
I shouldered my way into the open marketplace, wrestling internally with this ballooning feeling of belonging. I suddenly felt bubbly and light seeing Tilma and her hotpot, the screen I'd used a thousand times to buy food.
My regular's faces floated through the crowd and I found I could pick them out almost by feel - not like I was singling out a mark to make a buck off of. But just _noticing_ them.
Christy had bags under her eyes. _I wonder if she'd be up for feeling that adrenaline_ I started, then stopped as a new thought barged it's way in
_I hope she got enough sleep_
What. The. Fuck.
I did not want Christy to get enough sleep. I did not care how much sleep she got. She existed as someone I could make money from. That's it.
That's it! That's it! That's all they are!
I struggled to remind myself of why I was here - which was not to suddenly question my morals. I tried to become like the AI cornerstores ubiquitous to this city - flat, emotionless. If you wanted something from them, you paid the price on the tin.
That's how every interaction in our society works.
_That's how it used to work_ I thought
Fuck me. This was going to get difficult.
Another one of my regulars approached, and I did my best to wipe the sense of confusion from my face. I had a reputation as someone hard to swindle or steal from. I couldn't let them think I was weakening.
Graham. He looks worried. I thought
Enough of what he looks like! I viciously thought back at myself. The growing feeling of being able to sense others was beginning to panic me.
"Hey, Mark."
"Hey, Graham."
Flat. Emotionless. I am an AI cornerstore. He will pay the price I ask.
"Got any satisfaction?"
I hadn't. But I thought quickly, smoothly.
"No. But if you're just looking for relief or the feeling of pride after a day, I can work you a deal."
He looked crestfallen. Fuck.
I could give him a bit for free as an apology for disappointing him
Whoa whoa whoa WHOA
Free.
Had I really just thought about GIVING something away??
No. What- I don't even
"-hoping you had something more …"
Graham quickly stumbled to a halt, eyes in my face.
Fuck. What had I let slip?
A small gran played at the edges of Graham's mouth, clearly evidence of a smirk he was suppressing.
I jumped in "I can't give you satisfaction. But I can give you a sample of something else. For, let's say… $5."
A pittance… but hopefully enough to show I wasn't lying completely through my teeth
I lowered my voice to a whisper "it's not something I've actually felt before. Completely new to me."
Graham had to know of the trap I was laying, it was the oldest trick in the sales book. Novelty was worth a king's ransom on its own, and selling for just $5? It had to be addictive so he'd want to buy more. But if one is already an addict and offered more flavors of what they crave?
Graham eyed me carefully before whispering back
"I reserve the right to take back my money if it's not new."
"You can try" I smirked. He was on.
He fidgeted a little while longer before he came to the conclusion they always came to. I was too big, too fit, and too well armed to fleece today.
He pulled out a credbar and swiped it against my jacket, a little trill signaling the transaction.
I smiled. He'd get something new, alright. And I'll be rid of this loathsome woke mind virus horseshit! I thought to myself.
I grabbed his hand in mine and, concentrating, began the transfer.
He initially looked bored. It wasn't until I grabbed his other hand and really pushed that he exclaimed "Hey, what the fuck do you think you're- you're…"
I gasped with effort, trying to push ALL of the feeling out into him. I didn't want it anymore, I wanted to go back, I wanted to go back to where it was comfortable
Graham's eyes were starting to fill with tears.
I'm sorry I thought
With a jolt I realized it it wasn't working and I dumped more into Graham, who was trying to shake out of grip and beginning to bawl loudly
"I don't want- I don't want to feel" he was saying
Tears blurring my vision as I desperately tried to force the feeling of openness, of connection into him because it was too much and too new and I just didn't -
I was crying too.
Graham and I stood toe to toe, screwing up our faces, and we cried
We cried together
I heard a voice saying lowly, through shaky sobs "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't know what to do, I'm sorry"
I realized it was me
Graham just open mouth sobbed.
I knew how he felt. I felt the same way. The sudden and unpleasant feeling of certainty that you, and your entire existence, and everyone you knew, was completely alone. Except suddenly, you weren't.
I let go of Graham's hands and leaned back suddenly against the wall. Exhaustion washed over me and I belatedly realized I still felt like a part of… something. Connected to Graham and the others in a way I couldn't explain.
Graham lay on the ground and coughed between sobs, taking it in.
"I'm sorry" I said to him, which only made him cry more. He looked pathetic on the ground and I just wanted to make him a cup of soup and sit with him, and apologize for what I'd made him go through.
Others apparently agreed about his pathetic form because I just caught a flicker of fabric before Christy was diving towards him.
"Oh, wait, you probably shouldn't-"
I started to reach for her, to stop her, I figured it was probably a bad idea whatever she was doing.
Christy dove for Graham's pockets, and just as she started rifling, Graham turned to her
I don't know what he was thinking. But I have a feeling it was best that I was alone when I first felt so damn empathetic. Graham reached out and grabbed both her hands in his own
And Christy started to tear up too. Even as she was wrenching her hands away and staring at her palms, tears were flowing freely down her face, as she looked up at me.
"We're monsters. We've always been monsters, haven't we?"
The smallness and hesitation on her voice almost broke me. Like a newborn chick just realizing predators exist, that voice alone communicated a sense of hopelessness and despair that most people had never known.
But I had. I had been directly responsible for some of it, too.
Graham and Christy, two people I'd directly sold heartbreak to, who I'd been the source of happiness for, and who I'd tried to swindle out of every dollar they owned, sat in a heap at my feet, and I just wanted to give them some food and tell them it would all be okay
But it won't be okay
The market had quickly emptied after Christy had proven whatever this was had a sort of contagious quality to it.
Graham hiccuped after a while, his eyes emptied of tears, and Christy wiped her own away while asking
"What do we do now that we know?"
We I thought
"I don't know" I answered. Graham looked at me like a child who for all the world thought you knew the answer and couldn't believe you didn't.
"But" I answered, offering my hand to both of them.
They hesitated before reaching out and allowing me to help them to their feet.
"Maybe we can figure it out together?"
Graham looked down at my hand, then around at the walls of the marketplace, settled under the stairs of a mass transit AI line.
"There's so many" he whispered.
Christy looked at her hand, then at Graham's, and finally, at mine. She grabbed Graham's hand too, making a triangle.
Man. This is really good. Definitely reads like a first draft, but I'm not gonna critique you for that. The concept is great and the execution is almost there. This was a good read and a good idea. Thanks.
Thank you for the kind words! It's true that editing is the better form of writing lol, next time I'll remember that before posting. I'm glad you enjoyed it!
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