Life in the Clouds

  LIFE IN THE CLOUDS

  by Allen Kuzara

  This story originally appeared on February 16th, 2018 as episode 75 on the audio podcast The Overcast.

  “Steve from Boston asks, ‘What are your thoughts about the recent bombing campaign by the WLA? Have the mortar attacks reached you? What would you do if they did?’”

  “Well, Steve from Boston,” Jessica Spencer winked at the holographic display, “I have heard some rumblings in the distance. In fact, in the evenings, I sometimes sit on my balcony patio and watch the lights flicker on the horizon. I know they are explosions, but they’re gorgeous. Steve and all the rest of you guys, I wish you could be here and watch it with me. But I guess you’ve got the next best thing.”

  She changed facial expressions from a smiling girl-next-door to a somber global citizen. “The Workers Liberation Army are a pack of murderous animals. They’re driven by hate and jealousy, pure and simple. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Her bubbly persona returned. “But I’m not worried in the least about them reaching Beaver Creek. We’re two miles up, and those monsters—despite the name they’ve chosen—aren’t exactly the hard-working types. They’ll give up climbing before they reach Denver.”

  Jessica moved in closer to the holographic display as if she was sharing a secret with her seven-hundred million subscribers. “And you know what? Tudisco Corp won’t even let them get that far. And it’s all because of you, my faithful followers. Tudisco has too many contributors in this village, too much money at stake, not to defend us with all their resources. And, like everyone knows, Tudisco has considerable resources.”

  “Well, that wraps up our daily Q and A. I’m Jessica Spencer and this is another edition of Life in the Clouds: One Girl’s Climb to the Top. Follow my channel for another exciting update tomorrow or, better yet, join my tribe and gain direct access to me, my life, and tons of other great features. Until next time, much love!” She took two fingers, kissed them, and blew them to her adoring followers.

  Jessica popped up from her chair. Another one for the record books, she thought. She always loved this moment: late afternoon when she finished her daily channel update. The updates caused her a bit of anxiety from the moment she awoke until she did them. They didn’t have to be elaborate, but she had to do them, or else. The virtu-world was full of forgotten heroes, people who grew Icarus wings and decided they could start skipping updates. They faded away faster than yesterday’s news feed.

  Jessica kept a schedule to keep her followers happy, and it was time for her second shower of the day. She took her first in the mornings after going to the gym. They were quick and perfunctory. But her afternoon shower was long, slow, and purely for ratings.

  She went to the hallway closet and grabbed a towel and some slinky underwear that ordinary people would call lingerie. Then she reached for the bathroom door handle but stopped short. She turned around and raised her finger to the invisible millions of viewers who were projecting into her apartment.

  “No, no, no,” she taunted. “You have to stay out here. That is, unless you are an Exclusive Member. Join now for complete, twenty-four hour access to all things Jessica—no restrictions, no secrets.”

  She entered the bathroom with a smile on her face, knowing she was getting good at that sales speech. She couldn’t wait to check her numbers after the shower when she knew there would be a boost, a bump in the number of new sign-ups.

  Jessica undressed slowly, giving her subscribers their money’s worth. She gazed into the mirror, inspecting the goods. Her body was in stellar condition, a byproduct of countless hours in the gym. Before offering the exclusive membership, she had worried that spending so much time exercising would bore potential followers. But the opposite became true; she was a workout inspiration to millions and an object of desire to millions more.

  “What do you think, guys?” she asked as she turned her backside to the mirror and flexed. “The Glute Master’s working, right?”

  Though she didn’t let it show, she was worried. She knew this game couldn’t last forever. She was twenty-six, and once she got on the wrong side of thirty, these tricks wouldn’t garner her the same attention she received now. She already worked out twice as long as she had when she first started this journey six years ago. She’d gained much since then, but unless she attained Platinum Contributor status, her days were numbered. Platinum was Tudisco’s term for when someone had over a billion followers, and it came with all sorts of assurances and endorsements from the corporation. Jessica figured reaching Platinum would allow her to make it on the extra affiliate royalties alone.

  She left the exhaust fan off, allowing the steam to build. Her concerns and self-doubt washed away with the rush of hot water. Sure, she bore her body and soul for money, but she welcomed the steam and white noise that covered her, guarding her from the virtu-world.

  A red light blinked overhead. She stopped the water and waived her hand, summoning the display.

  CALLER: TANYA CALZITTA

  “I don’t have time for this,” Jessica said. She quickly toweled off and dressed. In her living room, she activated the holographic display with her hand. As she did, she heard mortar shells explode in the distance. They were starting up again.

  “Yes?” she answered.

  “Jessica, it’s Tanya Calzitta from the Every Daughter’s a Diva channel. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

  Jessica had heard of Tanya. Everyone had. She was an up-and-comer who held the record for fastest climb from one million to one-hundred million followers.

  “Sure, what can I do for you?” Jessica answered, though she had a pretty good idea why Tanya was calling.

  “Well, I’m contacting you on behalf of one-hundred twenty-three million viewers who wonder why you’re bad-mouthing me.”

  Another mortar shell exploded close enough to distract Jessica. She turned back to the call. Her suspicions were correct; this was a cat-call, the name for these face-to-face conflicts between female contributors. It was sexist, but it had become a lucrative trope, a feature of a successful channel that viewers had come to expect.

  “I’ve said no such thing, and I resent the implication,” Jessica said, playing along.

  She noticed windows popping up on each side of her conversation with messages and comments from followers. “Take her head off,” one said. “Keep the high-ground,” said another.

  Another mortar shook the floor of Jessica’s apartment. She maintained her focus on Tanya. These moments were critical. If she slipped up now and let Tanya disrespect or embarrass her, she could lose part of her audience. Of course, it could always go the other way too.

  “Did you or did you not interview on the Daily Joe channel last week?” Tanya indicted.

  “Of course, I did. Everyone saw it. My viewers said I was fabulous.” It was important to keep referring to her followers. People liked feeling important.

  More rumblings from mortar fire.

  “I have the vid-feed if you’d like to review it. I know it’s easy to forget things as you get older.”

  Jessica tried to hide her surprise, but she was caught off-guard, having never been called old before. She had underestimated Tanya. She wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

  “You told Joe that contributors with smaller audiences were just poor imitations of channels like yours,” Tanya said. “He went on to list a number of contributors said to be lacking both substance and style.”

  “He listed the channels, not me,” Jessica interrupted. She noticed as she did, the window messages on the viewer had changed. People were talking about the mortar fire, that Tudisco Corp couldn’t keep back the WLA any longer. Spammer propagandist, Jessica thought. Don’t gi
ve them the satisfaction of public acknowledgement.

  “Yes, Joe made the list, but you didn’t correct him. You just kept smiling that two-bit grin of yours while he trashed me and several other major contributors.” Tanya’s voice grew shrill.

  This was an important moment, Jessica knew. She would either fight back and try to match Tanya’s intensity, or she would deflect. She chose the latter.

  “I wouldn’t exactly call you a major contributor,” Jessica said. “I remember these kinds of things used to bother me too when I was just getting started.”

  “Just getting started? I’m a—” Mortar shells interrupted them.

  Go for the kill, Jessica thought. “Yes, Tanya. I used to feel insecure and afraid. I probably even tried to steal subscribers from larger channels like you’re trying to do—unsuccessfully, I might add. But, ultimately, I realized people saw straight through that stuff. If you aren’t genuinely an awesome human being, people won’t care. And pretty soon, you’ll end up right back where you started, in some hole-in-the-wall apartment, working a day-job, wishing you had more time to update your channel.” There, that ought to do it, Jessica thought.

  Tanya looked confused. Jessica had expected to beat her, but she didn’t think it would be this easy.

  “I think you should go,” Tanya said, looking away from the screen.

  “Well, thank you for that,” Jessica said. “I just so happen to be late, thanks to you, for a romantic date with Greg. My viewers remember him, don’t they?” She was in charge now. She was dominating both of their channels.

  “No,” Tanya said, her bratty persona gone. “I mean—you should evacuate. The news feed says—”

  “Sure, sure,” Jessica said. “Wouldn’t you like that. Just because you’re home alone, doesn’t mean Greg and I can’t—”

  Suddenly, a mortar shell struck Jessica’s patio window, exploding on impact. She felt like she’d been caught in a hail storm; tiny pieces of shrapnel pelted her, and the concussive force laid her on the ground.

  Her head struck the mahogany floor, and her surroundings seemed far away like she was watching them through a holographic voyeur portal, the same way her subscribers visited her apartment.

  A sudden pain from her upper right thigh cut through the fog and brought her back to reality. She strained to look down, her neck already stiff. What she saw didn’t make sense: a piece of glass six inches long stuck out of her leg. Reflexively, she reached for it, but the sharp edges sliced her hand.

  “Help. I need help,” she gasped. She waived a hand to activate the display. “Computer, I need emergency assistance. I’m hurt.”

  A warm voice responded. “All emergency professionals are assisting other persons. Requests will be answered in the order in which they are received.”

  Jessica tried to think, tried to understand. But it was all too much. Nothing seemed real.

  She looked back at her leg and realized it was surrounded by a puddle of red that grew larger by the second. She felt the urge to move but quickly thought better of it, fearing she would hasten the bleeding.

  Her display blinked green. That was always good news. Maybe someone was on their way to help, she thought. Maybe her followers were coming to save her.

  She waived her hand weakly and activated the display. A warm voice greeted her, sounding much like the emergency operator. “Congratulations! You’ve reached Platinum Contributor status. Your followers number is…” A brief pause. “One billion, one-hundred six million and rising.”

  Jessica rolled onto her back and gazed at the ceiling. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. An Archaic smile graced her lips. She closed her eyes, and the smile slowly faded away.

 

 

  Allen Kuzara, Life in the Clouds

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