It’s A Living

  All I can feel is cold. Burning, searing whiteness surrounds me, cutting my flesh away like knives. It consumes my consciousness so no other thoughts can enter. I cannot even remember if anything had ever happened before this, or if I have just been frozen for all eternity, a never ending torment of frigid rime. Not even the scouring cold of a arctic breeze, but the deep, crushing cold of a glacier, unfeeling and overwhelming.

“Can you hear me?”

 It’s barely a whisper above the din of ice numbing my nerves. I can’t be sure its even real. I try to answer, but find I can only scream, but yet, no scream comes out.

“It’s okay, you are fine. Can you hear me?”

 The cold is no less, but the voice is louder. Despite the sheer effort it must take to be slicing through the frost, the voice sounds calm, soothing. I try to answer again, gasping for breath, but hear nothing.

“Try imagining the words in your head.”

 I struggle to focus. I remember hearing that freezing to death is actually quite pleasant, that it actually feels warm eventually once your nerves grow numb, like falling into a peaceful sleep in a warm blanket. This is not that. The cold is insistent, keeping me awake but stopping me from doing or sensing or feeling anything else. I eventually manage to imagine some ice cubes spelling out the word cold, but they quickly slide away to spread my frozen hell to the furthest reaches of existence.

 “Yes, that is a common experience. Let’s see if I can fix that.” I hear what sounds like clacking plastic on plastic. Typing. What is typing? I think its something you do with a keyboard… slowly I begin to be able to think, and even more slowly realize its because it’s not as cold. I feel like I’m shivering, but I can tell I am not moving, which is more than I could say a minute again when all I could feel is cold.

“Do you feel better?”

I form the thoughts. It’s easier this time. “A little”

“Good. You are Frances Hargeaves, correct?”

Am I? Yes, that sounds right. “Yes, that sounds right.”

“You only need to answer once, thank you.” I realize that whoever this voice is, they must be hearing my thoughts. It’s disconcerting.

“You’ll get used to it. I am sorry to inform you, Frances Hargreaves, but you died recently.”
I died?

“Yes, you died approximately three weeks ago.”

How did I die, I don’t remember… suddenly it hits me. I had been trying to turn onto route 2 at a T intersection with no light. The speed limit is 55 there, god knows how they expect anyone to ever get on that road…

“Yes, you were in a car accident. You did not make it, and was far too damaged for normal restoration, so unfortunately we had to do a full replacement.”

A full replacement? “What does that mean?” I say, forgetting the voice can read my thoughts.

“Your body was nonfunctional.” Mangled, the word appeared in my head. “For your insurance plan, we normally cover cybernetic replacements for small term service, but for the type of replacement necessary here, and since you opted for only our basic plan…”

“That was all my employer would pay for!” I blurted out.

“Yes, Amazon offers all its employees basic replacement insurance free of cost. But as you were told when you signed your contract at Amazon, one of the terms of the basic replacement insurance is that if you ever require full replacement, your term of service is indefinite.”

“Indefinite?”

“Yes.”

What does indefinite mean? Does it mean… “You mean, it’s…”

“You are bound to service until you stop functioning. Assuming you don’t have any genetic degenerative neurological disorders, the average service time for an indefinite contract like yours is 57 years post mortem.”

“So I’m going to be serving for 57 years?”

“On average. Thats usually how long the service lasts before the company voids the contract. But I’m pulling for ya, bud. You can make it to a hundred, I’m sure.” I feel a sense of warmth from the voice.
…why would… what does she… wait, is she…

“It’s not important, but if it helps, you can think of me as a woman.”

“What do you mean on average? It’s not set?”

“Did you read the contract for your basic replacement insurance, sir?”

“I mean… not as such.” I felt rather stupid, but also a rising feeling of dread, even as the cold ebbed away.
“In the event of full replacement, the term of service is indefinite, as I explained.”

“And that means I serve until, what? When does it end?”

“It doesn’t, until the company chooses to void your contract.”

I paused, thinking, trying to formulate the right question to get a straight answer. “Why would the company void a contract?”

I felt a grimace. “Usually when the fully replaced individual can no longer effectively serve.”

“Why wouldn’t someone be able to serve?” I pressed, knowing I did not want the answer, but had to hear it.

“Usually individuals become more erratic over time. Eventually it is no longer worth employing them, so their contract is terminated.”

“So you are saying I am bound in service until such a time I can no longer work, because I’ve lost my mind? I’ve gone crazy? That’s what you’re saying?”

 There is a clearing of the throat noise, echoing in my head. “The term crazy is considered ableist, sir, and the company reserves the right to terminate a contract for whatever reason. It is your ability to perform the job that is important, not your mental health, which is your own private business, sir, and neither Amazon nor United Cybernetic Insurance would ever deign to pry into your private life, sir.”

It feels like ants are crawling all over my skin, the skin I most assuredly no longer have. “Okay, so I have to work until my mind is pea soup, but what then? Am I free to go?”

“Well, no. Amazon will no longer be funding your ongoing maintenance, so unless you can pay for other arrangements, you will probably experience natural termination at that time. But it’s a long way off, no reason to harp on that, right?” The voice is strained, clearly hoping this would cheer me. I try to reorient myself.

“So I’m a slave for eternity until my sanity wears thin, and then I am left to die, but what’s the job? What am I doing?”

“Warehouse work. You will be sorting packages, I believe.”

I grunt. “Why, I worked in advertising when…”

“Amazon wants fresh ideas for its advertising copy. Given your state, you will probably be somewhat… disconnected from modern culture going forward. Thus your talents are better suited to the warehouse.”

This is ridiculous. Surely there must be a mistake. “I once won the James Randy Award for…”

“Sir, there is no mistake, but you can file a complaint if you wish with management once you are suitably installed in your future placement. For now, let me just finish your orientation.” I could sense the voice was growing impatient with me. This was just a job to her, and I was an unruly customer. “Amazon policy for its subcontracting of United Cybernetic Insurance full replacement resources such as yourself states you will work sixteen hour shifts.”

“Sixteen hours? That’s…”

“What has been found to be optimal for maximizing work hours for full replacement resources. You get eight hours of rest each day. Most individuals find they need much less sleep, usually around four hours, which leaves you around four hours of leisure time a day. Once you are placed in the Amazon warehouse, a technician will speak with you about how to access your Amazon Prime video, Kindle library, and other content during your leisure time. The subscription fees are waved, of course, for all Amazon services, although if you want to subscribe to outside services, you can for their normal price plus a small processing fee to cover the bandwidth necessary to access them from your placement.”

“…What do you mean? Access them from my placement?”

“Amazon provides internet access and free subscriptions to all full replacement individuals employed there, its an employment benefit, but if you want to pay for a wider variety, there is just a small surcharge due to the extra cost of bandwidth to bring in outside services to your placement in the warehouse.”

“I don’t get it, what do you mean? Am I not allowed to leave the warehouse?”

There is a pause. “Ah, sir, if you stop interrupting, I can probably clarify. The next section of the orientation addresses these issues.”

“What issues? Why can’t I leave? It’s my leisure time, right?”

“Yes, and you can do whatever you want to do with it, that you are still capable of, but sir, if you will let me proceed…”

“No, I want to know now. Why can’t I leave?”

“Sir, please calm down, and let me explain. As a full replacement individual, your body was not functional, and so your nervous system had to be transplanted into a new body, and that new body cannot leave the floor of the Amazon warehouse.”

…my new body cannot leave… “Why? Am I chained to the assembly line?”

“Its package sorting, actually, sir, no assembly will be required of you…”

“Stop dancing around it. Why can’t I leave?”

“My understanding is you’ll be bolted to the conveyor belt guard, sir.”

…bolted to the… “So like, my feet are bolted to the…”

“No sir, you have no feet, sir. You are a Model PX97648 Mechanical Assembly Appendage, sir.”

I processed that for a bit. “A robot arm?”

“Yes sir. Now if you’ll please let me proceed with the orientation…”