I wake up yelling her name, throat dry and itchy.
“Claudette!”
I roll out of bed, drag my ass across the floor, and press the liquid button on my tube, and when the hissing ends, I use the silver platter base of the tube to hoist myself up. The liquid is waiting for me. All brown and bubbly. I chug. My itchy throat goes away, but her name remains ringing. Claudette, Claudette. Why can’t I rid myself of the memory of this Withouter? My past has been out of control lately. Random snippets of conversation, random snippets of my life, rush back to me in total clarity, and it’s like I’m living through them again, except this time from a distance, all the accompanying emotions washed with a tinge of nostalgia.
Yide messages me. Vonn, we need to talk. I’ve had a terrible day.
My head is pinging. I waddle over to the toilet and vomit. I stand up and piss. My urine is the same murky brown that it usually is, nothing alarming, no blood or anything. I vomit again. Bright lights flash at my peripheral. I somehow find a way to get back to bed. I pass out. When I wake up a few hours later, I’m stripped. I can’t even remember the last time I rawdogged life. I message Yide.
I need some coin. I’m climbing the walls.
Yide messages back immediately. What are you coming off?
safeUp, I type, the messaging app adding the trademark symbol as an autocorrect. And something called Jaz.
Holy shit, Yide says. You’re on Jaz?
Not anymore.
When was your last dose?
Last night. Before bed. I also took Elysium.
There isn’t an answer from Yide for what feels like forever. I hallucinate my past for a while, seeing quite vividly Middle Management busting into prep and arresting some kid named Derrida 98 for dealing some homegrown pharmas. I never saw him again. Or maybe I just don’t remember seeing him again.
My reverie is interrupted by a hiss.
Yide pings me. Did you get that? I just tubed some safeUp and Elysium. I couldn’t get you any Jaz though. It’s been recalled.
Thanks, Yide.
I somehow find a way to drag my aching mainframe over to the tube, where I order some more liquid to down the drugs. The relief is almost immediate. My body returns to me, but my thoughts keep glitching. I find a way to stand up. I ache back to my bed. Then everything goes blank. I’m in a tunnel, a white light at the end, and then it’s just all darkness, and there’s a pounding sound, pound, pound, pound, and I’m in a kind of vortex, spinning, and the world keeps turning, and then some footsteps, some whispers, ghost-like voices, and somebody is shaking me, and I turn over, fall off my bed, and vomit again.
“For Efficiency’s sake.” It’s a synth I don’t recognize. “X, hand me some plastic wipes, would you?”
My head tips back. Something touches my lips.
“Open up, simul.” It’s X. “Down the hatch.”
Liquid rushes down my throat, then it’s dark again for what feels like another stretch of eternity. Voices float.
“I know I’d be happier if I had more followers…”
“I’ve got a good brand architect you could talk to...”
“Don’t forget to like and subscribe…”
“X, everybody knows that active shooting is the new skinny fat...”
I turn over, try to open my eyes. Lights flash. Then a face comes into view. It’s Yide. She’s sitting at the edge of the bed, swiping.
“Yide,” I say.
It’s all I can muster.
She turns her swipe toward me. It’s an article about Jaz. The headline says: “New Wonder Drug Is Recalled Due to So-Called Nostalgia Loop, Black Market Burgeons.” The long string of text makes my head spin. I feel like I’m going to vomit again.
Yide puts her hand on mine. “How are you feeling, love? All that Jaz really did a number on you.”
My whole mainframe aches. I look around and see that I’m no longer in my persyPod. I’m in the infirmary, in a bed next to Taco. It’s like some kind of fever dream.
“Hey, simul,” Taco says. “Long time, no glass.”
My head is actually spinning. “What time is it?” I ask. “I have work today. Reports. Meetings. Performance reviews. Unread emails. Drops in engagement. New campaigns. Value adds!” I’m screaming hysterically, writhing. My body is strapped down.
“Shhhh,” Yide husses me as she shoves a pill in my mouth. “This is safeUp. You need to get some goo on your stomach before another dose of Elysium. Or anything else for that matter.”
The safeUp makes my stomach burn. Yide turns on a gooDrip that’s running out of the side of my neck.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she says, “but I declined the doctors. Your funds are nil, and Bee Hive’s mandatory insurance never covers anything. I have your bed and gooDrip on my account. You can pay me back later.”
“Thanks, Yide,” I say. “You’re a good colleague.”
“Hey,” Taco says. “What about me? I’m paying for this private room, you know. And I let X and Yide move my simulScreen so you could fit your bed.”
“You’re a good friend, too, Taco,” I say. “How’s the laser wound?”
“Infected. Plus, turns out I have a rare form of inefficiency called PSDFG or something like that. A psychSimul told me that.”
“You have PSDFG?” I try to sit up, then remember I’m strapped down. “That’s why I started taking Jaz in the first place.”
“Jaz? My psychSimul recommended candyCaine. It’s hellaMethy. In a good way. Do you want some?”
“I think Vonn has had enough,” Yide says. “We’re trying to get him back to baseline.”
My glance lands on the clock. “Shit,” I say. “It’s past noon. I’m so freaking late to work.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Yide says, “you’re not going to work today. You were having seizures, like, less than an hour ago.”
“But I have a performance review,” I say, glassing over to my workPod. I have two thousand unread emails and three hundred internal messages. Two-hundred and fifty of those messages are from Zed. Twenty are from PR. The latest one from PR says “No call, no show is unacceptable”…I scroll through some of Zed messages:
We’re on the call, Vonn…
Need an update on Younder performance…
This is a big engagement drop, Vonn…
Ginger just called. She said engagement is up 20% in the last hour. Nice work! Really glad we launched the demandContact ad. You’re a rockstar and we are family!
I lean over the cot and vomit on the floor. Then, over the sound of Yide yelling at me to stop working, I message PR saying that I’m in the infirmary. The response from PR is almost immediate: Next time you are in the infirmary you need to let us know sooner, Vonn. No call, no show is simply unacceptable. We will book a call when you get back to review the infirmary SOP. In the meantime, please let us know every hour, on the hour, that you are still unable to work. And don’t forget to let us know if we can help in any way! Just remember, Bee Hive is a culture-first company that puts people over profit and prioritizes a safe, inclusive, supportive workplace with a focus on correct pronouns, worklife balance, and a community that is way better than the dysfunctional families of the olden times. We hope you get some rest and feel better soon!
I vomit again. Then log off.
“Yide,” I say. “PR is up my ass.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Yide says. “It’s probably just auto AI responses. I’ll take care of that.” She waves a hand, then looks away. “Vonn, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“About everything that’s been going on with you.”
“What’s been going on with me?”
“Everything. You’ve been total mal and glitch lately. Ever since that night at The Underworld.”
“Remember when you wanted to unGlass,” Taco says. “That was so mal.”
“So mal,” Yide repeats. “And then all that shit you were telling us about that Withouter named Claudette. And the device you swallowed. And the spa interrogation. And, you know, you’ve just been so unhinged lately. Like, sending me vacuum links and shit.”
“You sent a vacuum link?” Taco’s avatar turns pale. “What do you need a vacuum link for, simul? That shit is gnarly. I’ve known kids, their mainframe never works the same again. Like, they can’t plug into dNet the same way. It’s all glitch, you know, and they end up in a malWard, wasting away, just staring into the nothing surround the rest of their lives.”
“I got the vacuum link from X,” I say, as if this explains everything.
“Wait,” Taco says. “Is that why you were glitching earlier? ‘Cause of the vacuum link?”
“Nah,” Yide says. “I don’t think so. X and I used the link too, and we’re not glitching. I think it’s clearly the Jaz comedown.”
“Wait a second,” Taco says to Yide. “You vacuum linked too? I mean, I would have expected as much from X. But you, Little Miss Rule Follower Yide? I am shocked.”
“Believe me,” Yide says. “I’m not proud of it.”
And then I start to freak out. Like, proper freak out. Because I can’t remember anything. Nothing. My own name, a blank. My past, a total blank. Where I am, why I’m there, the people around me, blank as plastic.