Long Division (4 page)

‘I’ve already ordered mine,’ a bloke named Jason was saying.

A girl, Clara, swore, accepting a book from a patron. ‘Lucky bastard! By the time I tried to place my order they were already backordered three months!’

Jason grinned.

‘Wait,’ Alex, one of the others, said slowly, ‘we can order them?’

Jason dove for one of the computers and keyed something into the search bar. YouTube came up. I stepped closer, craning my neck to see.

‘They showed this during the tech announcement the other day. It’s bloody insane if you haven’t seen it yet!’

It wasn’t professionally filmed, and from my vantage point not near the screen it wasn’t exactly the best of views, but I had a good enough window to catch what was happening.

A speaker was on a stage; behind him, a bit blurry, was a massive screen. He was holding some sort of small headset in his hand—a little like the old wearable tech—I couldn’t quite tell. The sound wasn’t too great either. I strained to hear.

‘…once you see what this little headset can do, I think you’ll begin to understand just what this is going to mean for the world from here on out.’

He gave the audience a wry look and then slipped the device onto his head. The crowd was chattering excitedly.

‘Screens are overrated, aren’t they? Isn’t the mind a much better place? A much more private place? How would you like to access all of your apps, all of your networking sites, all of your videos and documents and phone calls
just
by thinking about it? Read a novel with your eyes closed, anyone?’

I rolled my eyes. Yeah right. Like he could ever demonstrate that. The crowd in the video seemed to agree with me, besides a few claps and whistles.

‘Or consider film. Taking video of what your eyes see is nothing new. But can you transmit that to any screen just by thinking of it?’

As he scanned the crowd, I watched the huge screen behind him blink to life, showing his eye view. They screamed and waved and I could hear people round the photographer muttering their dubiousness.

Jason laughed darkly. ‘Can you imagine that? Oh, I’d have some fun!’

‘That’s fake!’ Alex scowled.

‘Keep watching,’ Clara chided.

I had to admit I wasn’t that impressed. Anyone could fake that.

‘But, I know what you’re thinking…Anyone could fake that. But what about your imagination? Your imagination is the window to all creativity, yet how much of it gets lost from thought to the process of making it happen?’

As he spoke, I watched the screen above his head. It was now scrolling with the words he was saying.

‘What if you’re a writer? What if you simply think the ideas and they appear, all nicely written on your computer at home?’
He chuckled to himself.
‘And what else? How about…’
He paused in thought, then turned to the audience.
‘Well, give me some ideas! What do you want to see?’

The audience was in confused silence.

‘How about we start with something simple. A blank canvas.’

The screen was wiped of the words he was speaking. It went white.

‘We need to give it some colour. Trees?’

Trees grew in the space.

‘What else?’

The audience started to shout things now. Some inappropriate, some bizarre, some quite creative. The speaker pointed to several people and, as he—I supposed—thought, they appeared. The screen was soon filled with a vast world, like a film, of dragons and a castle and a dark sky of planets and stars. I was amazed. Could it still be false? Yeah. He could have had all it ready before; had picked certain audience members to shout it out but…but what if it
was
real?

He gave the audience a look.
‘Anything you want! Dreams, fantasies! Anything you can create, imagine, picture in your head, you can record.’

The audience was talking so loud now I couldn’t hear the speaker. I watched as two stagehands walked out, carrying with them a table containing three things. A pitcher of water, a lamp, unplugged and a chess set. I frowned.

Alex was so excited Clara had to shush him twice.

‘What if you’re disabled? What if you have limited mobility? Or are just too damn tired to stand up and turn that light on?’

He turned to it. It flicked on.

A few people in the audience shrieked excitedly.

‘What about boil water?’

This took a bit longer, maybe thirty seconds, but again, it worked. The clear pitcher was soon frothing with bubbles.

‘No? Well, how about chess?’

And then he stared at the chess set. And the piece
moved.
Actually moved as he
looked
at it.

The crowd went mental and the camera’s image went to blurry streaks of colour and light.

‘And this is just the prototype! Give this two, three years? The possibilities will be endless! For those with head chips already the technology is here sooner than you can imagine. This is the future of creativity and learning and of life and it all starts here!’

The crowd was screaming. The footage finally died. I tore my gaze away from the computer, mouth dry.

Alex stepped back, eyes wide. ‘No way. That is
not
real!’ A shaky laugh permeated his voice.

Jason was excited. ‘I swear! And it’s almost here. I’m getting the headset
and
the chip upgrade. I’m not getting left out on this.’

I felt little of their wonder. I didn’t
like
this technology. It didn’t seem right. Call me old-fashioned, but this just seemed…wrong. Giving people this type of technology? How could anyone think it was good? How could it
not
be regulated?

Our boss finally noticed our distraction with the screen and shooed us away.

As I obediently, and somewhat mechanically, went about my tasks of helping to close for the evening, I felt a gnawing sense of dread start in my gut, and I didn’t know what was causing it. Surely I was not so bothered by InVizion’s technology! What did I care? It was nothing but a phase.

I huffed my breath as I finally clocked out. Why would anyone want to record their dreams?

My head was spinning with unhappy thoughts as work ended. I didn’t want another wave of depression to hit me. I wanted to escape it, yet it was already creeping in on the edges of my consciousness. Just below my sternum, it was growing there like some living thing, blossoming up in a dark cloud. I was all too familiar with the feeling. God, I hated it.

I sent a text once I was free of the building. It wouldn’t solve the problem but it might hold it back.

SO DID YOU GET ALL OF YOUR PROBLEMS SORTED TODAY?

A little distraction would be nice. And if James didn’t respond, well, then my life would be no different than it had been before he’d shown up. Knowing now what I did about him, I wasn’t sure if he
would—
or if I even wanted him to. But it was worth a shot.

I wasn’t disappointed. It wasn’t five minutes later that I had a reply. Short, but a reply.

BAH!

And then: REWORKING EQUATIONS ALL DAY. OUT OF WALL SPACE. GUESS THAT’S WHAT THE CEILING IS FOR.

I blinked as I reread the text. What?

My fingers tapped over the smooth surface of my phone.

WRITING ON THE WALLS? SURE YOUR LANDLORD LIKES THAT.

I waited for a brief lull in the traffic and then darted across the road. Around me I could hear the dozens of different languages and accents all blurring together in a confusing haze. For once I paid more attention to the people walking past me. People who
looked
like James Nightgood might have sounded. I supposed it was rather stupid of me, but I couldn’t help it. In theory, couldn’t I walk right past him without even being aware of the fact?

Yes. Of course I could. I’d never seen him before. Only verbally spoken to him once.

My mind whirled as I attempted to catch my more important thoughts. I was low on food. Didn’t have the money for it today.

Another text arrived.

WITH AS MUCH AS I’M PAYING HIM I SHOULD DAMN WELL BE ALLOWED TO DO WHATEVER THE HELL I PLEASE TO THE WALLS.

And then:

AND THE CEILING.

I laughed.

SO, EVEN MATHS GENIUSES HAVE DIFFICULT PROBLEMS TO WORK OUT, AYE?

A siren screamed to life from ahead of me and I watched as the white and orange car streaked by. Compared to the quiet atmosphere of the library, London’s streets always jarred me out of the comfortable haze that my work day lulled me in to. I wasn’t sure if I appreciated the life of the city or hated it. It was so easy to get lost. To not matter. It was easy to hide. To not be judged; be observed.

I glanced to those around me. Just about everyone was on some sort of device. All of them sending messages, checking social networks, listening to music or reading the news. I didn’t have a very smart phone. Not compared to the integrated technology nowadays. I hadn’t really felt the urge.

PROBLEMS THAT AREN’T NUMBER RELATED ARE ALWAYS MORE DIFFICULT TO SOLVE.

I glanced towards the Underground station but kept walking. It wasn’t that far, perhaps half an hour’s walk to my flat and I didn’t feel like locking myself in yet. So I took to the street that would lead me home. It was cold and growing dark but it was not as crowded as it usually was. I found it peaceful.

I WOULD HAVE FIGURED A GENIUS AT MATHS WOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO SOLVE ALL OTHER PROBLEMS EASILY!

The smell of food from the open doors of a pub made my stomach remind me how hungry I was. I quickened my pace to be past it and no longer temped.

An attractive dark haired woman walking by gave me a sly smile that almost made me trip over my feet. I didn’t catch people’s eyes. She drifted past me and I turned in a tight circle to watch her go, knowing I looked ridiculous. I almost bumped into several dark suited people in the process. It was enough to shake myself and hurry along on my way.

James texted me again.

THAT IS SIMPLY THE PROBLEM. WHEN ONE IS A GENIUS ALL OTHER SIMPLE PROBLEMS SEEM TOO DULL TO SOLVE.

I rolled my eyes and paused at the kerb, glancing both ways. A few cars rapidly coming but I decided to chance it with the others standing next to me. No one waited for crossing lights in London. No one could stand still long enough.

Once I was across I started typing my next message. I was fairly surprised by just how chatty James was. For someone as aloof as I’d pictured him in my mind, he certainly hadn’t been adverse to the idea of texting a complete stranger for almost two days straight.

MUST BE NICE FORYOU.

I passed by Harrods which was now glowing in the growing darkness. I rarely saw it that way. I rarely saw any of these streets of London thanks to the tube. Riding below ground one really missed the beauty of the city. I was normally so numb to my surroundings that appreciating things like
beauty
was a distant dream. My appreciation of it now was alien to me.

HARDLY. IT’S RATHER ANNOYING. PITY ONE CAN’T HIRE SOMEONE FOR SUCH THINGS.

I stepped round some tourists taking a photo, almost into the street. A bus slid by, close to the kerb and I had to dodge back against the group, almost bumping into the Asian woman holding up her mobile for the shot. I mumbled my apologies sheepishly.

Our conversation was nothing but banter and I reached my flat before I even realised I had. I descended the stairs and kicked off my shoes the second I was through the door. With some tripping over my trainers I slapped the light on and was greeted by my tiny flat.

I tossed my keys to the short kitchen counter and shrugged out of my coat. The silence of my room compared to the streets was usually welcome. Tonight I found it too quiet. I caught myself humming unfamiliar tunes as I fixed myself a meagre dinner, just to beat the stillness.

The only welcome noise—besides the subdued city outside—was when my phone buzzed, which happened every five minutes or so. James seemed to be just as free as I was this evening since he didn’t make excuses; must not have had anything better to do than talk to me. And—as I was about the last thing on people’s lists when it came to forms of entertainment—he must have been quite bored.

I showered and went about my evening routine, my normal rituals interrupted here and there by a text, usually snide or technical, sent by James. I finally collapsed on my narrow bed with a heavy groan. God, it felt good to lie down.

Our talk began to drift to shorter and shorter responses but I wasn’t ready to let him go yet. As much as I hated to admit it, I didn’t think I
could.
So, finally, my curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to know what the bored genius thought of the latest technology buzz.

SO, HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE NEW INVIZION DEVICE?

His reply came back faster than any of the others.

OF COURSE. WHY?

I wondered if he saw it as a good thing, or bad.