Opus Veda

Days drifted by. London was soggy and hot, smothered by overcast. Kasia began each morning making Eva's breakfast - rice cracker, oolong tea, anxiety gummy - before necking her own pills and heading out.

She worked daily, hanging on to the month's bonus from one call to another, always hitting her targets, always playing with danger by not exceeding them. For her employers, to be merely satisfactory was a negative, though they never wanted perfection either. Something had to be labelled 'needs improvement'.

In her free time she shared content with friends, trending briefly with her rant on Riese Elektronik's lack of gamification. Other companies had games between calls - virtual hubs where colleagues mingled, and wheels of fortune after good reviews. All Kasia had was the jungle screensaver. One friend countered that those workers could pay for extra wheel spins and game time from their salary, and many bled themselves dry. This comment annoyed Kasia. It took the wind out of her argument, detrending it. She left the friend a passive aggressive thumbs up emoji.

After her last shift she queued outside the supermarket, wishing for the day she could live in a good neighbourhood and get food delivered. For now she waited with the dregs for supplies to carry home. The checkout offered her prearranged boxes disguising what some pundits called rationing, where shoppers agonised over the best times to queue before popular boxes sold out. Kasia chose her preferred Sichuan box - familiar, easy to cook, forever in stock, with agreeable flavours.

She walked home with the box cutting into her fingers. Beggars pleaded for handouts, making her swerve from street to street. A truck of Chinese soldiers scared one of these vagrants away. She thanked them, then saw their leering eyes. The beckoning motion one of them made. She ran down the road, chased by a truck full of raucous laughter until her pursuers got bored and drove on.

* * *

It was strange seeing daylight on the estate when shifts were bookended by twilight. The weather was pleasant and clear, a breeze calming the naked sun. Kasia watched the block from the walkway outside her door. Screeching children played, enjoying their dwindling months in person before technology lured them online forever. Young mothers stood alone in doorways, gossiping into phones. The elderly cackled from inside their flats, hooked to traditional online games, as teenagers did similar with new releases. Kasia only connected with Sermon and Imany. The neighbour to her left was a Hong Kong refugee who stayed indoors, surviving in complete isolation. Kasia was grateful for one less avenue of social stress.

She went indoors, and a realisation punched her in the stomach. Eva was at school. Imany was out. She had one chance. She checked the door lock and equipped her headset, entering the second password to reveal apps she didn't want Eva seeing. A panel of rendered actors entered a studio as popups reminded her of payment tiers.

As a free user she had stock actors on shuffle, with one daily skip if she wanted someone else. The next tier, 'Player', disabled shuffle and allowed infinite skips. 'Cupid' tailored actors to feed desires many customers had yet realised of themselves. 'Aphrodite' offered real celebrities. Some of these were still living, either wanting more fame or caught in bad contracts. Most were deceased, unable to defend themselves. A few sought-afters were jealously held by their estates, but industry lobbyists were eroding their rights, and many relatives of these stars backed down to financial settlement.

Kasia could afford none of these, instead seeing another carrot out of reach, another incentive telling her to work more. She dismissed the popups, set the scenario parameters, and used her one free skip. The control to direct the actor nestled in her right hand. Her left hand squeezed through her jeans and took her away.

"Sista."

"How the fuck did you get in here!?" Kasia threw her headset across the room, "fuck you Sermon!"

She had pulled herself up panting and trembling to find Sermon in her kitchenette, shaking a teabag and asking if she wanted one too. He was now gripping the counter for stability. Tears of laughter rolled over his cheeks.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I saw you did your food shop, came to get the beers off ya and to my shock found you skippin' ahead to dessert."

"The beers are in the fridge. I should charge you extra. Kurwa you're a shitbag!" Kasia darted into the wash corner to scour the shame from her hands, "how'd you keep gettin' in here!?"

"You need a proper lock! No use havin' a hack-proof one if a card can swipe the latch. I'll find you a replacement."

"One that doesn't let you in!?"

"An American model? Facial recognition. Bastards even named their company 'Blackguard'. You should see the logo…" Sermon wiped his tears away and raided Kasia's fridge, "who you foolin' around with anyway? Couldn't wait for a nightclub?"

Kasia sat down and sulked. She kept her porn clean - corporations feasted on every click - but doing the deed online implied something too unsanitary for a real hookup in a club.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"It's the same app you recommended me. Probably the same guy you wank over too."

"Not likely Kash. I paid for Madame Aphrodite, chaa."

He pulled out six Tsingtao lager cans and held one up with a suggestive face. Kasia shook her head. She avoided alcohol but food boxes always had some. Sermon always bought them off her. Since he dealt in cash, he left a £250 note on the counter and cracked one of the beers open.

"There's another reason I'm 'ere Kash. Remember Misha on ground floor?"

Kasia pondered. She had a vague impression: a mother across the estate. They never spoke but Misha had added her online. Her profile was covered in pro-caliphate content and fundraisers for a shelter she worked at. Kasia recalled sending a message without getting a reply, and had understood to stop there.

"Yea we're friends, why?"

"She came home from work the other night and Joey wasn't there."

Kasia shrugged, "is he not with the other kids outside?"

"If Eva was gone would you be askin' a drug dealer for help two days later?"

"Why'd she wait that long?"

"Embarrassed to say obviously. Probably thought he'd just turn up."

Kasia blinked. Sermon swigged his lager, realised he was chasing a dead end, and carried on.

"She went to Imany. Imany's checkin' the nursery and... she sent Misha to me."

"Shit it must be serious," Kasia snorted, "I'll share a post and let you know, alright?"

"Sounds handy, since you got your fingers in so many pies..." he flicked his middle finger. Kasia tried stifling her laugh but it burst through, making him flinch.

"That bloody laugh o' yours... poor Eva's got it and all."

Still giggling, Kasia rattled the lock at him and shut him outside.

She spent the rest of her day reacting to things with friends. The TV played a calculated, bottomless list of clips, pranks, displays of wealth, and brilliant feats. Eva charged indoors and told the TV to play Britpop instead, ignored her mother's protest at the overrated new genre, and climbed on her bunk. Kasia began microwaving a black bean stir-fry.

"How was school?"

"Well annoyin'. The teachers were yappin' about the Reds all day but they won't actually say what it's about if you get me."

"Haven't seen much either really, but for once there's a bit of gossip in Kendi. You know Joey over the square?"

"Yea, hyper little shit he's well irittatin'. Is he dead?"

"Might be. Have you seen him around lately? Apparently he ran off and the neighbours are searching."

Eva mumbled and continued browsing on her phone. Something caught her attention.

"Guess what's back on later tonight!?"

Kasia raised her arms, "It's only the next season of Penthouse: Soho!"

Of all the reality shows, Penthouse: Soho was closest to home. Its contestants preened and fought to win a luxury flat in a block of former winners; a tower of poor people bathing in riches they weren't raised to use healthily. The post-season downfall of each winner entertained as much as the show itself.

"I'm literally gonna audition on my 16th birthday! At midnight! Won't we look good in one of them flats!?"

Kasia balked, partly for the disaster contestants courted, partly because Eva would have the looks to get in.

It was the first time Eva had floated the idea. Kasia decided it was time to switch to Polish. The language of lecture.

"Relax my daughter! Even if you win they will cause you many problems. Mental illnesses, and bad men will follow you where you go! Men aren't all bleeding aunties like Sermon. And besides the Penthouse won't let you take your mother -"

"What else could I do!?" Eva stuck with English - an act of defiance, signifying her mother was being overdramatic, "I can handle my own mental health, and I wanna help us both one day-"

"Absolutely not. Look out for yourself Evie. You deserve your own place and your own life."

"Ojejku can't we have both?" Eva gave up with a huff, "I'll be online. Grab me when it's on will ya?"

She hid in her headset as Kasia fretted. An ideal future was impossible to construct: something like Eva with husband and child, and Babunia Katarzyna visiting every Sunday with a tasty lunch in hand.

It was a stupid fantasy. A memory of life before her own time. Commitment was dead. Intimacy was cringe. Marriage was either a dog whistle for fascist traditionalists, or promoted by nauseating spiritual cliques. Conveniently, both movements tended to get into bed together.

For normal people, venues covered enough vices to render the old ways obsolete. The President's infamous marriage always gave him grief. He had recently spurned polygamy rings, a liberal's pleasure he joked was worth half of marriage, since 'marriage is about two lovers, and polygamy is about one narcissist'. The progressive cosmopolitans were outraged, and he was made to apologise.

Still there remained a comfort in the old idea of romance. The desire to resurrect it simmered within Kasia like everyone else.

Another facile desire to repress with a reality check. She was certainly unable to picture a spouse of her own. She switched the thought off and took Eva's meal to her bunk.

Her chest hurt. She wanted to sit with her daughter, let Eva rest against her and tell her about the virtual worlds she explored. The chance of rejection scared her too much. She took her own dinner to the table and ate alone.

Eva checked her homestead's farm yield and opened a daily loot crate - a randomised parcel of unique cosmetics. She dressed her character up - a cutesy humanoid fishman trained to use magic - and joined her allies in hunting down a ditched friend. This reject didn't fit in anymore, had been kicked out, and foolishly sought sanctuary in a safe-space server.

The band found their target and chased her into a cave, where they unleashed a fusillade of spells and hurtful messages. The reject was told to kill herself if she wanted the attacks to end. Eva said nothing but hurled balls of fire and frost at the girl, who stood motionless as her health bar evaporated. Eva didn't want to do it, but if she held back her friends would target her next.

There was something heavy in her throat. Her eyes felt watery. She wanted to sit on her mother's lap and play something with her, but she was afraid of being laughed at. She was too old for that now.

Kasia yanked her arm.

"What!?" she ripped her headset off, startled and angry. Then she saw her mother's fear.

A fist hammered on the door. Both girls jumped. A line of blue light beamed under the door.