next. People cared then didn’t, the 24/7 world and its glut of distraction preventing passion from being sustained. Commercials broke in every four minutes no matter the program, sometimes within the program via product placement. The entire world had become a product placement opportunity.
It was difficult and ultimately depressing to think of the world in such stark terms, so Adam tried to avert doing so, instead attempting to lose his thoughts as he stared into the smooth, patternless ceiling above his bed. He knew if he were cornered and forced to confess his views, he would admit he despised almost everything about the world that had provided him with material opportunity and felt as if no one talked about anything important, interesting, or real. Most people he knew primarily talked about the dividends they were after, or the insipid drama shows, sports stars, or the cameras following the real lives of the most despicable people in the Region. These were people who would be in jail if it weren’t for the ignorant masses watching them on the video nodes. It made Adam upset when he thought about it too much. Why didn’t most people give a damn about anything important?
Regardless, Adam didn’t have room to complain, and the people in his field were more quick-witted than most. As intelligent as Adam’s colleagues in the past seemed to be, they had not usually talked about anything of depth while at work. The weather, new gadgets, amusing mesh videos, and their children or pets dominated pre- and post-shift encounters in the halls, the elevators, the cubicles and after-work gatherings. With the Lightcap project, he didn’t remember any office conversations, if they even occurred. Despite his inability to remember events during work hours that might give him a sense of accomplishment, Velim praised his performance as head of the project in each biweekly meeting and his colleagues treated him as a leader in each monthly meeting, bolstering his confidence as a manager. Room 4C, with its long conference table, became a place he associated with pleasant interactions and contentment. Things for him were better than they had been in a long time, long enough that it made him feel old to think about it.
Velim had seemed withdrawn since their last encounter in the elevator. She was cordial during their meetings, even lavished him with praise on occasion, but never anything beyond business, no acknowledgment of their previous encounters, and certainly no more late-night visits to his apartment. Adam did have late-night visits from his neighbor Hana, since they began dating again two months after he started on the Lightcap project. For some reason, he had begun spending more time on the roof, even sitting in the covered room on cold nights, and they started having long conversations about nothing necessary, which became conversations about their pasts and aspirations. Hana surprised him one warm night by grabbing his collar and pulling him in for a kiss, cutting him off mid-sentence during a story about a college prank. Adam was caught off guard but not at all opposed, their clothes barely half off by the time they fell into bed after stumbling through his front door, years of pent up tension from flirting in the laundry room and elevator and hallways released in the span of a sweaty, feral night of hair-pulling and bicep-gripping bliss. It had been better than he remembered.
They had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, each with their respective apartments. His bed had mostly become hers, with the rest of her belongings safely stored in her own abode. She’d even run down the hall to brush her teeth and shower in the morning. Adam liked the arrangement, conversation and a warm bed. She was flexible both physically and intellectually, able to carry conversation on a variety of subjects, would spend the occasional night in her own bed and had never stolen any closet space
It was difficult and ultimately depressing to think of the world in such stark terms, so Adam tried to avert doing so, instead attempting to lose his thoughts as he stared into the smooth, patternless ceiling above his bed. He knew if he were cornered and forced to confess his views, he would admit he despised almost everything about the world that had provided him with material opportunity and felt as if no one talked about anything important, interesting, or real. Most people he knew primarily talked about the dividends they were after, or the insipid drama shows, sports stars, or the cameras following the real lives of the most despicable people in the Region. These were people who would be in jail if it weren’t for the ignorant masses watching them on the video nodes. It made Adam upset when he thought about it too much. Why didn’t most people give a damn about anything important?
Regardless, Adam didn’t have room to complain, and the people in his field were more quick-witted than most. As intelligent as Adam’s colleagues in the past seemed to be, they had not usually talked about anything of depth while at work. The weather, new gadgets, amusing mesh videos, and their children or pets dominated pre- and post-shift encounters in the halls, the elevators, the cubicles and after-work gatherings. With the Lightcap project, he didn’t remember any office conversations, if they even occurred. Despite his inability to remember events during work hours that might give him a sense of accomplishment, Velim praised his performance as head of the project in each biweekly meeting and his colleagues treated him as a leader in each monthly meeting, bolstering his confidence as a manager. Room 4C, with its long conference table, became a place he associated with pleasant interactions and contentment. Things for him were better than they had been in a long time, long enough that it made him feel old to think about it.
Velim had seemed withdrawn since their last encounter in the elevator. She was cordial during their meetings, even lavished him with praise on occasion, but never anything beyond business, no acknowledgment of their previous encounters, and certainly no more late-night visits to his apartment. Adam did have late-night visits from his neighbor Hana, since they began dating again two months after he started on the Lightcap project. For some reason, he had begun spending more time on the roof, even sitting in the covered room on cold nights, and they started having long conversations about nothing necessary, which became conversations about their pasts and aspirations. Hana surprised him one warm night by grabbing his collar and pulling him in for a kiss, cutting him off mid-sentence during a story about a college prank. Adam was caught off guard but not at all opposed, their clothes barely half off by the time they fell into bed after stumbling through his front door, years of pent up tension from flirting in the laundry room and elevator and hallways released in the span of a sweaty, feral night of hair-pulling and bicep-gripping bliss. It had been better than he remembered.
They had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, each with their respective apartments. His bed had mostly become hers, with the rest of her belongings safely stored in her own abode. She’d even run down the hall to brush her teeth and shower in the morning. Adam liked the arrangement, conversation and a warm bed. She was flexible both physically and intellectually, able to carry conversation on a variety of subjects, would spend the occasional night in her own bed and had never stolen any closet space
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