Chapter 2 - The Quota Crisis
Clara pulled Leo tighter against her chest, her fingers tangled in the soft wool of his cream sweater. The harsh red light from the officer’s wrist device pulsed like a dying heartbeat against the polished linoleum floor. Around them, the supermarket had gone completely silent. The ambient hum of the refrigeration units had cut out, replaced by a heavy, oppressive vacuum of sound. Shoppers froze in the adjacent aisles, their phones already raised, recording every second of Clara’s humiliation without uttering a single word of protest.
The tall police officer did not lower his arm. His dark eyes remained dead, fixed entirely on the floating holographic interface projecting from his badge. The numbers scrolling across the glowing blue screen ticked downward with agonizing slowness. Time was running out, and the algorithm showed no mercy for human panic.
“Thirty minutes remaining, citizen,” the officer stated, his voice devoid of inflection. “The penalty for insufficient community traction is immediate relocation to the offline retention facilities. You understand the statute, Clara Miller.”
Clara flinched at the sound of her own name. She had lived a quiet life, avoiding the vanity metrics that ruled the new society, choosing instead to raise her son away from the digital panopticon. Yet the system always found those who dared to disconnect.
“I didn't sign up for this,” Clara whispered, her voice shaking as she brushed a tear from Leo’s flushed cheek. “You have no right to use my child as collateral for your corporate engagement quotas.”
“Rights were deprecated in update four point zero,” the officer replied smoothly, taking a slow step forward. “Attention is the universal currency. If the child fails to cross the threshold of ten thousand comments by sunset, his legal custody transfers directly to the Ministry of digital curation.”
Leo buried his face in Clara’s neck, his small body wracked with silent, heavy sobs. The sheer weight of the modern world had crushed the joy right out of him.
“Mommy, make the lights go away,” Leo whimpered, his tiny fingers clutching the white knit fabric of her sweater until her skin ached.
Clara looked up, her gaze locking onto the cold, unfeeling badge on the officer's chest. She knew she had to make a choice. Fight back physically and lose everything, or play their disgusting game and sell her soul to the machine. She pulled out her own cracked smartphone, her fingers trembling so badly she could barely unlock the screen.
“Fine,” Clara choked out, holding the phone up to capture her own tear-stained face and her terrified son. “Look, everyone. Look at what they do to babies. Are you happy now?”
May you like
The officer smirked, tapping his wrist device to accept the live stream feed. “Broadcast initiated. Let us see if your viewers care.”
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