The tree in Niella’s backyard grew strenuously. Scraggled and scrawny under the combined efforts of the grueling sun and frigid night, it did not agree with the extremities seasons have become. There was little consistency to anything anymore, lightning and hailing one day and scorching heat on the next, yet the small tree stood clung to life fiercely despite its dwarfed and stunted size. In direct defiance to the harsh winds that sought to destroy it, its unemotional, bendable, yet stubborn branches lacking in fruits and flowers are its only testament to life.
Besides owning her private natural tree, which has become illegal after all beings have become standardized and artificially grown, Niella was the quintessential inheritor of the “Law, Order and Truth” sector. With glittering black eyes and a face so flawlessly constructed that its element of artificiality cannot be ignored, her every move seized attention. Known for her philanthropy, serenity and peace characterized her persona. Her family knew better. With a heart of ice that can stab like blades and a deeply ingrained, stubborn sense of superior purpose that would all take another lifetime to overthrow, as after all, the girl was not only taught but designed that way.
2213, Still Earth
Niella stood in her wiring room, equipping herself with the Utopia Device where she would spend her next three days. With her back facing the dulled out door, her upright posture made her look tall, lean, strong, and healthy, exposing her curves at all the right places. To the knowing eye, she was evidently a GEN-Modi A baby, or in other words, the daughter of one conglomerate family that has taken over a ministry sector. Like the Japanese Zaibatsus from the end of World War II, the Food, Water, and Oxygen Security; Law, Order, and Truth; Recreation and Education; Utopia Management; Future Force were each dominated by one of rhe five families. Deeply intertwined with countless documentations, economic interests, and the responsibility for humanity’s future, they were the only ones with access to the newest Gen-Modi A baby, the most advanced genetic modification mechanic, which the Future Force Sector released three decades ago. Even the wealthiest civilians only have access to Gen-Modi B, while most civilians can only pay for a solid Gen-Modi G, which already sets them apart from those in the Meta who, according to the 2212 consensus, are primarily comprised of Original Humans (Gen-Modi 0), Gen-Modi 100, Gen-Modi Z, and Gen-Modi Q.
As the future face of “Law, Order and Truth,” Niella must know each sector to not only be a protectorate of the Sector System but also to destroy them when a new selective method of survival is finally found. Even though she’d learned plenty about Utopia growing up, where more than 75% of humans live to slow Earth’s overall resource depletion, it would be one of her only chances to experiment for herself. Standing at the epitome of the Outside world, still “in combat” with nature, she knows well that with all the expectations placed upon her, she can’t choose Utopia even if she wants to. For her, that lack of absolute freedom is appeasing since not even once had she really felt a strong desire for anything growing up. Her future aligned with what she wanted and the purpose she thought she must fulfill.
As a part of her “graduation,” one of her tasks is formally reporting on Utopia after spending three days inside the immersive virtual world. Everyone knows Utopia to be the fate of the proletariat deemed no longer “useful.” Yet, no one knows how the world looks since the people that have gone into the system rarely come out, except for the sector heirs. Even then, they were, to certain extents, sworn to secrecy.
Unhooking all the devices, she let a breath out. Her movements were crisp and sharp without a moment of hesitating as she quickly reset and began the device, steadily stepping in.
For a moment, she closed her eyes as the system adjusted around her body.
Beep, beep, beep.
After the weight of her Utopia set bag that she’d customized slowly secured around her shoulder, she opened her eyes.
She let out a deep breath to adjust to the entirely new world and stepped out into Utopia’s vastly different natural landscape. Unable to hide her excitement, she swirled her head around to look at the blue, green, purple, and yellow butterflies she’d not seen since she was a child. On the right, she looked to a verdant green hill that stood boldly and luxuriantly as it was meant to be there. While thousands of invertebrates had long become extinct, the Outside flew around freely and contentedly. Unlike the wastelands of empty plains with no vegetation she’d grown up around, Utopia looked very much alive. She saw animals and plants-filled landscapes coexisting with skyscrapers and industrial grounds for the first time. People were buzzing around the streets and were concerned and happy with their lives to the extent that no one acknowledged her sudden appearance.
“Hey,” an excited voice broke her out of her daze. She whipped her head around and made eye contact with a boy on a bicycle that was tied to a wheeled carriage. At first glance, she noticed his familiar fake happy demeanor and dramatic eye bags. “Are you lost? Do you need any help?”
Before she could reject his offer, he had already stopped his bicycle, guided her onto the carriage seat with one hand in the lead and the other behind his own back, and pulled down the blinds to stay concealed against the heated sun. His smile never left his face as he continued to ask cheerily, “where would you like me to take you today?”
Out of a strange feeling of kinship in the alien world, she hesitated and checked her account balance before answering softly: “The nearest five-star hotel please.” It was in her best interest to ask her dad to fill the account balance fully. He didn’t care much about adding or leaving a zero to her fake profile and answered all her requests.
As the boy cycled through the city, he didn’t stop talking, pointing, and introducing store after store, waving to person after person. “... We’re now more than halfway there. On the right is the Casino D’aventure which has both stripped thousands of people of their wealth and brought to fame men like Lincoln who pride themselves over the gambling table….”
On the way, he stopped for a second at the side of the pathway, looked back, and said, “Give me one second.” Stepping out, he grabbed his bottle from his bag and watered the shabby pot plant at the side of the road placed awkwardly outside a dead-looking stoic gray apartment building.
Not long after, they arrived before a magnificent 18th-century Victorian mansion-like building. Its walls were pink, yellow, and baby blue, with grand white doors and no single stain embroidered with gold and silver.
The boy got off his bike immediately after a safe stop to open the blinds of her carriage, leading her into the pristine place. She didn’t even have to make her own booking as he had rushed before her, leaving her on the comfortable leather sofa. With the same smile he had given her, she watched as he chatted familiarly with the receptionist. Walking up the stairs with her, tirelessly rambling about the city, he suddenly initiated the idea: “You just got back to the North right? I bet you need rest. I’m a great cook. I can stay and make you something?”
She chuckled and whispered gently, “Sure,” before opening her hotel room door. She knew the rules for the safety of Utopia. There are records of everything, and criminals are always stopped long before they commit their crimes. Assured safety and guaranteed exit also allowed her an ease she normally wouldn’t carry.
Giving her a grin, he closed the door and said, “I’ll go into the kitchen. If you need anything, just give me a shout. I won’t bother you if otherwise.”
Niella nodded before proceeding into the bedroom of the mountain-view suite. It was too late when she remembered that she hadn’t asked for the boy’s name. She let that thought go.
Lying down on the bed in her feline feminine way, she listened to her breathing for the first time in a while. It had become way louder.
It was sad for her to think that even in Utopia, countless people would try so hard to get money. They were mirrors to the men Niella would see daily on her way from her penthouse to her office on the top floor of the LE Skyscraper when they would crush their own dignities to talk to her, to touch her, to beg her for a job that would bring them power, stability, and access to “truth.” But she was fair. She had never accepted a single request. Some protocols were made to be followed. Like how her dad cruelly said, mercy and pity drive unproductivity. If they didn’t pass the entrance exam, no matter how tragic their backstory is, the company doesn’t need them. The world doesn’t need them.
In her parents’ world, her every move was monitored and evaluated. Entirely subservient to their power and ideals, their expectations of her to become the “hero” buried her desires and sentiments in the rare occasions where she felt them. As the ultimate task of the outside world was to find a solution that would deter humanity from extinction, the generations forced to be plugged into the Utopia are all relying on the Outside to unplug them eventually. But as time went on, the capitalist structure induced corruption that furthered social-economic polarization, forcing billions into Utopia with a solution never found. The expectations for heroes were long forgotten, and Outside’s true mission has long been derailed. Yet for perfunctory means, each young generation of the five wealthy families is brought up with that idealistic “hero” talk arguably as an excuse to overwork and emotionally abuse children until they bend to their family’s will. Niela considered herself no different.
An hour later, she opened the door to the living room. Distant yet familiar sounds drew her attention. The chopping of vegetables on a wooden board, the running tap cleaning the small plates, and the loud beeping of the microwave were all sounds she hadn’t heard in years. Walking closer, the smell of sizzling turkey made her stomach rumble, and through the glass, she watched him with a feeling she couldn’t put her finger on.
Clearly focused on what he was doing at hand, his eyes were on the pots and pans. In his hands were chopping knives, which he used tirelessly cooking and working for no one else but her. With her parents always busy at work, which they valued to be their entire life, Niella was accustomed to loneliness. Yet his sudden appearance seemed to carelessly and unintentionally shatter the habitual solitude she had experienced every day since reaching adulthood seven years ago.
Taking a deep breath, she approached and leaned onto the kitchen counter, “You learned cooking from your mum?”
He looked up, evidently surprised by her question, before answering: “Yes, I did. She loved cooking. She used to do it all the time.” His eyes remained on her as he spoke as if he could not remove them. She was used to being looked at, but there was a strange unfamiliarity in the glistening clarity of the boy’s eyes.
“Does she still cook?” Niella asked tentatively, her own eyes also glistening but with the reflection of the dusk, catching onto the ‘used to.’ “You don’t have to answer.”
“She’s been sick,” he said with relative ease as he poured the sizzling turkey onto a plate with mashed potatoes and beans. “Stage four cancer. I hope her surgery turns out well.”
“I’m so sorry, I hope everything works out,” she spoke softly but earnestly. There was a voice inside her that urged her to tell him to go back to his mum. Yet she selfishly wanted him to stay, convincing herself that there must be a reason for his conscious choice.
“I hope so too,” he replied. Turning around, he opened the oven where he had placed other dishes for them to stay warm. “I didn’t know what cuisines you liked so I made some of each.”
Niella’s eyes lit up as soon as the smell traveled to her nose, “what recipe do you use?”
“There is no recipe, how good it tastes depends on how good my guest is. I learn from experience and every time, I make it slightly differently. That’s the beauty of it—” he responded, starting to carry the plates onto the dining table.
“You don’t need to do that, we can just eat at the bar stand,” Niella cut him off gently.
Their eyes met again, and he laughed before shaking his head, “Eating at the bar stand? That sounds illegal. Eating is an important event, you know?”
Niella considered arguing the highly inefficient and unsustainable irrationality of the matter but decided to refrain. She was here to investigate, not to engage in a dispute with the lower-Gen humans. After savoring her first spoonful of soup, she inquired, “What is your life like? By the way, this soup is exquisite.”
“My life? It’s tedious. I work all day and when I have time, I visit my mother.”
She nodded, eyeing him up and down before asking, “how did you get into your current job?”
“My time is sporadic and I can’t maintain a job that requires routine for personal reasons, this just seemed perfect. What do you do?” He answered with an easy smile.
Niella pondered for a moment, “I’m a manager. I oversee small businesses and startups.”
“That’s fascinating. It sounds much more enjoyable than my work. My life is much more monotone,” he commented without the bitter edge Niella expected him to have. “Do you drink?”
“Of course,” she whispered charmingly.
“Cheers.”
As they conversed, the hours slipped away, and Niella found her becoming gradually intoxicated by not only the bitter, dry wine but the foreign warmth of the new place. Built to be the quintessential family heir, Niella was never one to be caught drunk or breaking the rules, yet in this strange world, by eight pm, she and the boy was spilling secrets left and right. It was as if she had been a plant living in dark corners, finally seeing the sun for the first time. Naturally drawn towards the light, there was a unique tingle in her heart.
“My parents had high expectations for me when I was growing up, and I tried to follow them as much as I could. The incessant competition was… emotionally taxing,” she confided.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he said, his eyes sincere.
Niella found herself fixated on his lips as he spoke, realizing that she only understood half of her native tongue. “It’s okay. I’m quite happy now,” she replied, unsure if it was true. After a short moment, she asked, “Are you?”
“Most of the time, I’m not,” he replied candidly with a smile. From across the table, the girl poured him another drink. He shook his head, did not take the glass, and elaborated at her curious eyes, “I’m not the son my mother wanted. She must be ashamed. I can’t even do the bare minimum of helping her stay alive.”
She was at a loss for words. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the limitations he talked about, but never once had it seemed so natural or close to her. She could do nothing more but sit beside his powerless, imperfect, and vulnerable soul. Across the table, she reached for his hand and squeezed it softly.
Looking down at her watch, it was already past midnight, and weariness was seeping into her bones. Looking at the empty dishes, she hesitated.
Noticing her hesitation and surveying the dishes, he chuckled and said, “I got it,” before cleaning up. He quickly compiled everything and brought it to the sink.
Niella also stood up. She took out a five hundred bill from her wallet before returning to the living room. By then, he was done with the dishes and stepped out of the kitchen.
“I’m not worth that much,” he refused gently to the money in her hand.
“Just take it. How about this?” Niella asked before grabbing a 300-dollar note.
“That’s still way too much.”
“The other hundred is for your clean up and groceries,” Niella’s face was all flushed by the wine, and she ignored his refusal. “How far away is your house from here?”
“Around two hours,” he responded.
Niella hesitated not for long before inviting, “you should stay. I kind of want you to stay.”
He laughed and shook his head. As he was about to leave, the hail clunk plonked onto the hotel roof. He waited for it to subside for a few seconds, and when it didn’t, apologetically, he turned back and said sheepishly, “Yes. Sorry, I really might. This weather looks horrendous.”
“I’m serious,” she said, her eyes lingering on him. “Stay.”
“Do you want something?” He asked gently. Obediently, Niella nodded her head and gave the first bright smile of her evening.
Their eyes met, and there was nothing she needed to say. She saw him nervously gulp.
“Come get it,” his voice sounded a little hoarse.
Not hesitating any longer, Niella closed the lights. In the dark, she walked close to him until each other’s breathing sounded just as loud as their own.
Their eyes met. At that moment, everything else melted away. Lost at sea amidst their individually troubled lives, in each other’s gaze, it felt as though the whole world had come to a standstill.
Slowly, their lips touched.
The kiss was delicate yet profound, like an exchange of tenderness and warmth transcending the physical realm. Their lips touched softly, like the fluttering of butterfly wings, and at that moment, time stood still. As they held each other close, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only powerful and fragile tingles. The incessant crashing waves even fall shy to the drumming beat of their own heartbeats.
Beep.
Something that sounded like the microwave broke the mood.
Turning even more flustered, Niella walked away much faster this time and did not return. Shutting the door behind her, she took a few deep breaths and calmed down her racing heartbeat. Tears began to uncontrollably stream down her face until she had no choice but to walk into the bathroom and bury her face in cool water. Even buried underwater, she was sobbing. Years and years of suppressed emotions and forced maturity has made her forget how young and impulsive she really was.
As she collected herself once again, she bent over the sink, images passed by in her flawless memory like ongoing scenes of a horror movie, reminding herself of who she was and what she must do. Suddenly she remembered her five-year-old self, who stood excitedly outside the Halls of the Utopia Department, pointing and proudly saying everything she had memorized from the textbook. She remembered the man walking by who had heard her and laughed mockingly before saying, “Utopia, my ass.” She also remembered how quickly he had pulled away after a quick phone call from her parents to the “big scary men” inside the building.
By the time she made eye contact with the face in the mirror, her eyes were cold, and the tears that were in her eyes dried. It wasn’t such an emotional moment. Perhaps this was God’s gift to her, a three-day taste of freedom. She was ready to take it.
By morning time, when she stepped out of her room at around ten in the morning, he was no longer there. The little anticipation she had for the day dissipated immediately. Walking to stand before the huge glass window, she looked out to the beaches, valleys, oceans, and luxurious trees that she had only read about with only emptiness in her heart. Suddenly, he emerged from the kitchen.
“I think I love you,” he said with flushed cheeks.
Days passed quickly. On the second day, she paid for his mother’s hospital fees behind his back as an anonymous donor and found more stable work for him since she had nothing better to do. By the third day, it felt as though they had been in love forever.
“I think I will love you forever,” he said with a big, pure smile. Unlike any, he has given before. “I want to be with you forever.”
She smiled back resolutely and unwaveringly like every other couple madly in love. It was all until she gently shut the door. Walking to the large windows, she took a last peek down at the bustling city nightlights beneath her.
She took a deep breath and said a silent farewell before logging out of the game with no further hesitation. She knew what she must do, and she had always known not to be greedy. A taste was enough. There were thousands of people relying on her to make something of herself. She was always the emotionless one anyway.
Reality snapped back in almost immediately. The world warped for a few seconds until her feet hit something hard once more. Landing roughly, she felt her ankle give out with a twist beneath her. Hissing from the sharp pain, she let her eyes slowly open.
For the first time, she felt the chills crawling back into the edges of her bones. Despite her thick, layered clothing, it was as though her skin was bare. Naked, she felt pain, she felt cold, and she knew that she was alone once more.
She stood up straight, adjusted her posture, and turned off the system. Stuffing the machinery into a box, she knew she was never going to use it again. Although her actions were calm and steady, her mind raced through her new memories.
She would have to make up for her mistake. Almost nothing she could do in the Utopia would matter unless she impacted major turns in a user’s destiny. And she knew she had.
Letting out a deep breath, she ignored her sore body and fumbled through her closet to find her dress, heels, and blazer. In her mind, she began to map out her report. Her parents had not saved her time to rest. She was to present an hour after she left the game and was already running late after staying just a few minutes longer than she was supposed to.
Frowning, she went through potential solutions to the problem she had caused as she got dressed. She made her decision in seconds with the utter crispness she was born with.
So hurried that she didn’t have time to check on her beloved tree, she started her way toward the Headquarters. Hugging the blazer a little closer to her body than usual, she waved back calmly to those who greeted her walking past like any other day.
She knocked on the Conference Room door with heels clanking against the metallic ground. After hearing a voice of consent, she opened to greet the fifty or so people in black suits awaiting her arrival. In a way, she was home.
Walking to the front and center of the familiar room, ignoring the pain of her feet, with her signature gentle smile, she began to talk in her soothing yet assertive voice, “Good afternoon, everyone. First, I want to thank all of you for coming to watch my formal report on my recent trip to Utopia. I recognize that this is a rare opportunity for me, and I can not emphasize my gratitude enough. I will briefly go over what I saw.
“People in the Utopia have not evolved nor have they gotten any less irrational. Love for them is still what’s keeping them together, easily bendable and breakable. People could work endlessly just to buy a grave for someone who would never even know,” she began as she surveyed the reactions around the room. Content with the result she found, she continued on the same route, “However, I think that we should maintain our current educational depiction of it even though it is flawed and incomplete for the sake of the overall stability of this system.”
Forty-five minutes later, she emerged from the conference room with only her parents behind her. Everyone else has left after asking their questions, mostly satisfied with her report, except for her parents, who have not yet spoken a word. In the empty hallway, she turned around to face her parents. She was ready for their disappointment.
Slap. It hurt just like her ankle. It woke her up just like her ankle did.
“What happened?” Her father demanded. “You said you were not going to mess up.”
Unafraid and without tears, she met his eyes, “An accident. It won’t happen again. I know how to fix it. Utopia Management only checks its systems for these minor errors once in two days. I’ll reset everything by then.” She was used to his violent ways.
Her mother, who had watched her husband’s violence unfold, nodded approval to the solution she proposed, but her dad pressed, “Was it the ‘love?’”
She shook her head slowly with a laugh, “no way. He was an easy target. He told me everything about Utopia. Like I said in my presentation, something as absurd and unreliable as ‘love’ doesn’t exist for the rational person.”
“Alright, I’m glad you still remember who you should be,” her father said loudly before adding, “an hour ago, we found a tree in your backyard. You know it’s prohibited and we’ve already taken it down. Don’t make dumb mistakes like that again, alright?”
Her heart dropped ever so little as she heard the word’ tree.’ But on the surface, her stoicism did not waver as if it was the most trivial news. She nodded and responded, “If there’s nothing else I need to do, I’ll go reset the system.”
On her way back home, she couldn’t help but pick up her pace despite her excruciating ankle. As soon as she arrived, shutting the door behind her, she sprinted to where her tree was. All that was left was a stump and a single green leaf. Bitterly, she let out another laugh.
She’s tried for years to get the tree to turn green. There it was, the green leaf she had always dreamed of. Yet her tree was gone. What was the point of it all anyway?
Later that day, she reset the system. She couldn’t gain access to the memory files. Instead, she could only rebound the events to return everything to its original trajectory. She knew it was cruel, and it pained her heart to do it, but her swollen left cheek and ankle hurt a little more.
Typing in long strings of code, she let the system do the rest of the work.
Niella watched as the code rewrote the rest of the boy’s life. The boy’s mother died in the surgery that was supposed to save her. She watched as he lost the job he should never have gotten, but kept working hard. She watched him fail to pay for the graves he’d saved up for his mum as he had forgotten about the brutality of inflation yet still trying to fulfill his mother’s other last wishes. And she watched him wait for her despite it all, never once losing the painful hope.
Success! The system beeped.
She laughed bitterly to herself, he was much braver than she was.
Then she remembered that she’d never asked for his name. But it wouldn’t matter since she would never see him again anyway.
And, she was to begin her destined job as vice president of “Law, Order and Truth” the day after tomorrow and help her parents carry on their collective vision of saving the world.
As she retreated back to the corner, she shook her head. It was all quite exciting.