Here's the latest installment of my current dark scifi project. This is chapter 39. If you're just tuning in, consider starting with chapters 1 and 2. Be advised that this work considers difficult subjects, including suicide. If you're in crisis, please seek help. Help is available here.
Eighteen months after 321, the nation's mental health crisis continued to deepen. The latest wave of this crisis included mass resignations leading to essential worker shortages across the board. Policymakers wanted to pass new laws forcing people to work, but the Domino Coalition had effectively brought government to a standstill. So the best they could manage was to convene a Congressional committee.
This committee referred to quitting workers as victims of Long 321 Syndrome and subpoenaed Jo as an expert in 321 Syndrome treatment. Under oath, Jo testified that 321 Syndrome was a made up disorder describing symptoms that naturally result from living in a broken world. She went on to say that the best treatment for these symptoms was to listen to them. To hear and heed their messages.
After the testimony, Jo was getting into her van when a man in a gray suit approached. "Ms. Lazarus, a moment of your time?"
"What are you, CIA?" asked Jo. "No thank you."
"Please," said the man, calmly but with desperation in his eyes. "Please, I need your help."
Jo shrugged. "Why don't I give you my number and you can call me about it," she said.
"Sorry, it has to be in person," said the man. "Ten minutes is all I need."
"Fine," said Jo, getting into her van. "Hop in, we're going for Thai food and you're buying."
The man got in and Jo began driving. "Whatever is going on, let's start with your name."
"John Frank," said John. "I heard about how you helped Martin Dodd on 321. And I've been paying attention to what you've been doing since then. That's why I think you can help me."
"Okay, what's going on?" asked Jo.
"Nothing good," said John. "The office I work for has been tracking 321 incidents since the beginning. We've collected data on everything that's happened. Recently, someone walked out of our office with a hard drive filled with that data, presumably to leak it to the media. We can't find them. They're in the wind."
"Okay," said Jo.
"I'm responsible for finding this person and recovering the data," said John. "If I don't do this, and fast, my superiors have threatened to release damaging information about me. I'll lose my job, my clearance, and maybe go to prison."
"I can see how that would be a problem," said Jo.
"The real problem is that I don't want to find the data thief," said John. "I should want to, but I don't. The truth is that this information should be made public. 321 is a much bigger thing than that single event, and people need to know about it."
"Shit," said Jo. "What kind of data are we talking?"
"Trends in healthcare, mortality, the economy, criminal justice, all kinds of other stuff besides," said John. "The system went haywire in 2020 with the pandemic, and people were just beginning to organize around a new normal when 321 happened. Since then, everything has come off of the rails. Our modeling suggests that the US will either become a failed state or a high tech military dictatorship within five years."
"This sounds like the kind of thing you could get into trouble for even talking about with me," said Jo.
"I'm in trouble any way you slice it," said John. "What I'm looking for from you is help doing the right thing."
"Do you have something specific in mind?" asked Jo.
"I'm not going to find the stolen data," said John. "But if and when the leak happens, I want to go on the record attesting to its authenticity. People need to know where the path we're on leads. They deserve a say in what happens next. I've made my peace. I want to do the right thing even if I'm tried for treason. In order to do this, I need help laying low and also making my voice heard. Will you help me?"
"Let's eat while I think about it," said Jo, pulling into a parking space.
Twenty minutes later, after a few bites of curry, Jo looked at her phone and then engaged in a text conversation for a bit. Looking up at John, she frowned. "Are we talking about Chaos Guard?" she asked.
"Yes, I'd hoped your Mr Wilkins would be the one they came to with this," said John. "So you'll help?"
"You knew Tom would text," said Jo. "How?"
"Our system has a sophisticated predictive algorithm," said John. "I ran your future while you were giving the testimony."
"You ... ran my future?" asked Jo.
"Yes, and I separately determined that the Hope Gazette was the media outlet most likely to be contacted by the would-be leaker," said John. "My objective was to be talking with you when Mr Wilkins notified you of his next big story."
"So, you can just plug a person into your program to see what they'll do next?" asked Jo.
"It's more complicated than that, but that's essentially correct," said John. "The system is more accurate with subjects who communicate frequently and post often to social media."
"So you're spying on everyone and reacting to what they might do in the future?" asked Jo.
"There's a legal framework in place to justify it, but basically," said John.
"And you're willing to go public with this?" asked Jo. "In support of the leaker?"
"I'd like to record a statement with you there to help with my credibility," said John. "They'll call me unhinged and maybe even lie to the media about my work. Ideally, I'd like to record a video call with you and Mr Wilkins. Tell my side of things before I'm disavowed."
"We could do that," said Jo, her mind in overdrive. "I mean, I'm willing and Tom will probably be up for it. But there's an issue we should talk about first. It sounds like your plan is to throw your life away for your ideals. The thing I'm wondering is if we can figure out a way for you to do your part, but stay safe. Weather the storm. Like, have a life afterwards."
(Feature image from Pixabay.)
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