A Glibertarians Exclusive:  Breaking Out, Part I

Sector Five, Level Eight, Thunberg-121

Denver G-126 (he/him) was excited as he left his Minimal Personal berth.  Helena R-223 (she/her) was meeting him for a quiet dinner, and Denver had reserved a personal booth in the Sector Five Refectory.  The dinner would be largely soy patties and 3-D printed proteins, with nothing but recycled water to drink, but Denver was excited all the same.

As he walked through the crowded corridors of the self-contained Modern City of Thunberg-121, he mentally reviewed everything he had gone through to arrange the date:

  • Before speaking to Helena, Denver had checked with the Cultural/Racial Rectification Authority and confirmed that Helena R-223 (she/her) was certified compatible with Denver in racial and cultural privilege level, gender identification and amativeness.
  • Denver had properly filled out the Social Interaction Permissions form, Helena had countersigned without any alterations to the agreed interaction guidelines (personal contact by handshake, hugs allowed on spoken assent of both parties) and had submitted the completed form to the Social and Sexual Interaction Regulation Authority. After the date, both Denver and Helena would have twenty-four hours to confirm that those guidelines had not been exceeded, on pain of fine and/or confinement.
  • Denver’s Weekly Ration Allowance contained enough credits to cover his planned protein draw to go along with the soy ration.

This was dating in the 22nd century in one of the Modern Cities of the North American People’s State.

Denver looked up at the great dome covering the city.  As usual, the sky was a dark red; gusts of wind blew black dust over the dome.  The environmental calamity brought about by the selfishness of the capitalist governments of the early 21st century was still, as always, right there outside the safe, protected, self-contained city dome.

Denver harbored some doubts about that.  The winds never seemed to change direction, and one gust of black dust seemed much like all the others.  Wouldn’t the weather change from day to day?  He was careful to keep those thoughts to himself; voicing doubts about the history inculcated in them in the People’s Academies would lead to demerits in his Social Credit Score, and a concomitant denial of services.

Indeed, just his insistence on traditional pronouns had already prompted some interviews with officials of the Cultural/Racial Rectification Authority, concerned about Denver’s “adherence to patriarchal norms associated with the racist and sexist standards of the past.”

His Social Credit Score had taken a five-demerit hit after the latest of those interviews, but Denver felt some pride in standing firm.  He was a Kinsey 1.2, confirmed in the mandatory Sexual Preference testing he had taken at ages six, ten, sixteen and twenty, and felt the traditional pronouns best suited him.

Overhead, the display of environmental ruin gave way to the afternoon newscast.  The face that took up the display was (for most people) comfortably androgynous and neutral in skin tone.

The newscast began:

“This is Fionellia B-344, ‘they/them.’  Communications with neighboring Modern Cities are still disrupted by the ongoing environmental conditions outside the dome.  A carefully chosen team of experts, selected by the People’s Bureau of Equity in Repair and Maintenance Functions, have now been approved as having an acceptably diverse mix of gender identities, cultural and racial backgrounds and sexual preferences.  Work on restoring communications is expected to begin in the next Designated Work Week.”

“The People’s Equity Court today sentenced captured thought-criminal Gerard T-226 to six months in penal retention and one year in accelerated re-education and re-orientation, after xe was found guilty of expressing incorrect thoughts about the gender identity of another xerson using the Sector Six Refectory.  The People’s Equity Court released a statement condemning the presumption of gender expressed by Gerard T-226, and all nine members of that Court will be retiring for extensive therapy for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder brought on by their reading of the transcripts of the thought-criminal’s statements.”

“In other news, the People’s Council for Spreading Truth and Preventing Disinformation has made a statement…”

Denver tuned out the rest of the newscast.  He was so sick of the approved news.  Every day, he thought, it seems to get more bland, more approving of anything the People’s Councils do, more ignoring of all of us down here in the corridors.  Sooner or later, everyone will be sick of it.  I wonder what will happen then?

He knew he was supposed to stop and pay attention to the approved news, but he had other things on his mind, and was willing to risk another demerit on this Social Credit Score if anyone noticed his disregard of the approved news.  He could see Helena R-223 ahead, near the entry to the Sector Five Refectory, waving to him.

Helena was, to Denver’s improper thinking, attractive.  She was a little shorter than Denver, who would have been considered very small by 21st century standards; generations of restricted, environmentally conscious diets had seen to that.  Both young people were thin and pale despite their enforced “diverse” ethnic backgrounds, with wavy black hair.  Helena was a tad lighter-skinned than Denver, and he was afraid that her lighter skin tone may have cost her points on her Social Credit Score, but he had never asked her about it.

Denver had heard rumors that in olden times, men were noticeably taller and stronger than women, but he wasn’t sure whether to believe it.  He smiled tightly to himself as he hurried towards Helena.  Despite exercise plans being proscribed as “ableist,” he had spent the last few months doing surreptitious pushups and sit-ups in his Minimal Personal’s tiny bathroom, the only place in his quarters not “observed” by government-run cameras.  The government repeatedly denied that these cameras existed, but everyone knew they did.  He knew Helena had been secretly exercising as well.

Denver and Helena were planning something.

“I greet you, Denver G-126,” Helena said as Denver walked up.

“I greet you, Helena R-223.  How was xir day?”

“Fine.  Shall we go in?”  Helena winked at Denver.

They presented their approved Social Interaction Permissions form to the attendant and were shown to the small booth, surrounded by “privacy screens” that both knew did little to ensure privacy.  So, to evade curious eyes and ears, they spoke in an informal code while eating their soy patties and protein blocks.

“Are you ready for the next Designated Work Week?”  Helena asked, meaning:  Have you thought about the plans we discussed?

“Of course,” Denver replied.  “I’m always ready to do my part for society.”  I’m ready to do it.  I’ve saved enough protein and soy to last three days, like we talked about.

“Everyone I know feels that way,” Helena agreed.  Our co-conspirators are ready, too.

“Do you know where you’re working yet?”  Do we know how to get outside the city dome?

“Soy harvest, like usual.”  Brietta U-626 has plans for the lower maintenance levels, including the access ports and egress hatches.

“Do you have your work uniform ready?”  Have we got the respirators and protective gear for the environment on the Outside?

“Oh, yeah.  I’m ready.”

They made small talk over the balance of the meal, and when the standard meal timer chime rang, they vacated the booth so the next shift of diners could move in.

“Shall I set another time for us to eat together?” Denver asked as they went back out into the teeming corridor.  When are we going to make the attempt?

“Sure, I’d like that.  A week from tonight?  That gives us time for meal arrangements and the social permissions.”  One week from tonight, we’ll do it.

The two young people smiled and went their separate ways, without so much as a handshake to draw the attention of the Social Interactions Assessment cameras.

We’ve waited long enough, Denver thought as he walked away from the Refectory.  Long enough.  It’s time something changed.  It’s time people learned that things can change.

***

Come gather ’round people

Wherever you roam

And admit that the waters

Around you have grown

And accept it that soon

You’ll be drenched to the bone

If your time to you is worth savin’

Then you better start swimmin’

Or you’ll sink like a stone

For the times they are a-changin’