The Socialist Network – Sample chapter.

Even though I’m a long way from finishing this, I’m excited to get some of this out there, to both generate interest and feedback. It will be a departure from the previous books as I’m trying a few new things in this one. Hope you enjoy the opening chapter!

 

Chapter 1.

The future.

 

The shrill tone of an alarm pounded through Stephen Chowdry’s skull. Each successive ‘beep’ sounding more urgent than the last. Blearily, he reached for the phone from which it emanated, frowning as his fingers gained no purchase which forced him to sit upright to flick his finger across the screen to dismiss it. He leaned back into his pillows, he blinked to clear his vision to idly browse his phone before showering. His sloth proved short-lived when he noticed with excitement a message stating a delivery awaited him outside. It had finally arrived!

He dressed as swiftly as he could and bounded down the stairs with the enthusiasm of a child. Stephen fumbled with his keys, unlocking both back doors, kitchen and porch, to enter the back garden. A delivery drone hovered patiently, camera fixed on the wall until it registered his presence. A soothing, yet firm voice blared from the tiny speakers contained within the unit.

Please stand still as we verify your identity. Thank you for ordering from Valkree.

The drone faced him, camera pointed at Stephen’s face. An uncomfortable amount of time passed, causing Stephen to panic. Had he lost weight? Was his hair wrong? What if they could not confirm his identity? He’d heard of such things happening before, reading accounts online urging all people to boycott the Valkree service forever because of the inconvenience they’d suffered. The box underneath the drone was all that mattered to him at that moment, mere feet from his grasp, yet held in a vice-like grip by the machine. His eyes scanned the garden for errant bricks. If it denied him access this instant, he fantasised about smashing it.

Identity confirmed. Stephen Chow-dree. Thankyou for shopping with Valkree.

The drone lowered, releasing its payload with apparent tenderness at his feet, then pivoting and whizzing off towards the warehouse to accompany its robot friends. Stephen picked up the box, surprised with how light it felt and returned indoors, anticipation mounting to unbox his long-awaited delivery. As he placed the box on the table in his living room, he remembered he would need to record this for social media. Stephen grunted as he leapt back upstairs, two at a time, almost tripping in his haste. He grabbed his phone and the Omni-Stick (Twist for tripod! Slide for selfie!) that held it. He twisted the stick and sturdy legs popped out from the bottom. Back in the lounge, he placed the phone and tripod on the table, camera pointed at the box and his hands.

He logged into Soci-All and tutted as the mandatory ten second commercial played cheerfully as he waited with impatience, until the screen finally displayed the message, ‘Welcome back Stevie-chan!’. It was fashionable to have an Asian connotation to one’s online ID and Stephen, two years prior, decided adding the word ‘chan’ sounded Japanese and cutesy, like the anime that obsessed him at that time. His surname, he considered, wasn’t the ‘right’ kind of Asian.

His customised home-screen littered with images of waifus from Japanese cartoons glowed in his face. It embedded six boxes within the centre of the screen, three by three. The icons were marked; Feed, Pics, Tube, Stream, Messages and Settings. He stabbed at the icon for Tube and set the camera to record opening his package. As ever, he provided commentary:

Hey guys! It’s Steeeeeevie-Chan! First of all, I want to thank all of you guys for following my page, every single person means so much to me. We’ve got a great community going and I love chatting with you guys when I’m streaming. That leads me to this box. You may or may not know, when we hit the hundred thousand follower mark, we receive a reward, and this is it! It isn’t a meaningless trophy like the dark ages, but a brand new, practical Hwahwei phone, specifically made for users of Soci-All! I will unbox it for you now, but I want to stress I’m not flexing; I’m sharing this with you as every follower has contributed towards this.

Stephen opened the box, excitedly chatting to an audience he would upload to shortly. Hwahwei had agreed with Soci-All to produce a phone with app specifics in mind. It was larger than the average phone, thicker with a rubber shock-absorbent casing surrounding the edges. In its normal form, it functioned like any regular smart-phone available at the time. The bulky case folded open and a graphon screen rolled out from an internal holster to snap into place resulting in a larger square screen, the dimensions of which were standard for the photo functions of Soci-All. The idea behind this was that photographers could make correct adjustments to their shot compositions for the sharing audience. It also offered a larger screen than a small tablet for viewing the Tube applications–a boon for the TV networks that offered streaming services though the app to reach a global audience.

He toyed with the upgraded Omni-Stick that came as part of the package. Stephen had been toying with the idea of purchasing this package for a while now, its price requiring several months of saving–over four thousand pounds–but recent upsurges in his viewership, seemingly from out of nowhere, meant the reward tier would be soon within his grasp. He daydreamed of one day reaching the million mark. They had built blocks of luxury apartments in most cities in the developed world offering subsidised rent for the more popular streamers on the site. He’d seen a walk-through on Davie-Kun’s channel and was shocked to discover the cost to be significantly less than he currently paid.

Stephen soon realised he had to keep to his commitment to produce content for the day on each of his feeds. To not do so resulted in strikes which could drastically reduce his income. Every day without fail, he would upload videos, pictures and comment on his personal feed. It wasn’t required of everyone to post content on all formats, but recent amendments to the terms and conditions made it fiscally rewarding to do so. Combined with the basic income payments from the government, Stephen made a comfortable living for merely uploading parts of his life to the world that remained interested.

Stephen lived in the Meersbrook area of Sheffield in England. His rented house stood on a street on a steep incline, lined on both sides by twentieth century terraced houses, erected to accommodate the steelworkers of the past. Now, the houses were mostly rented by fellow Soci-All users, save for the few remaining homeowners that had purchased the properties decades prior, when such things were still affordable. As the residents eventually died off, the state took control of the properties, paying a stipend to grieving relatives, then collecting the rent income to cover the costs of the basic income. A few years prior, when the law got passed for this to happen, there seemed to be an uproar online, yet as quickly as it erupted, it seemed to die down. Stephen mused that people realised it was to everyone’s benefit and stopped complaining. He certainly enjoyed the life this had provided for him.

Clad in cycling Lycra, Stephen ambled to his shed in the back garden and pulled out his mountain bike. He wiped down the frame, ensuring it looked as good as possible for his picture. It was time to test out his new Hwahwei and Omni-Stick. He twisted the device causing the thin, but sturdy tripod legs to spring from their casings. As he slid to extend the top bar to add more height, it surprised him to see it extended from both sides, allowing the tripod legs to extend further for a more secure base. He examined the handle portion; there was now three buttons in a vertical line to adjust height. He grinned at the new marvel and snapped open the phone into picture mode. The image was crystal clear, something he’d not expected with a rolling screen. Stephen secured the phone into the tripod and positioned it to include the woods and hills that lay at the rear of his home. He wheeled his bike through his back gate then mounted it, glancing over his shoulder to ensure he was in the frame on the camera screen, then using his remote clicker, fired off a few images of the journey he portrayed that he would take.

#yorkshire #beauty #scenery #sunnyday #cycling #exercise #nofilterrequired.

Stephen then adjusted the brightness, contrast and finally the saturation filters on the image. The greenest greens got the most upvotes. He uploaded the image and was pleased to see love hearts popping up almost instantly. His photo feed had far fewer followers than his stream and video feeds; the numbers barely breaking a thousand. It was a good sign. He folded the phone back to its default form and packed up the Omni-Stick. He returned his bike to the shed and went back inside. Stephen didn’t have time to ride it; he’d a stream to prepare for.

As he made himself a coffee, Stephen growled in annoyance as the milk formed globules in the coffee. It was off. Dammit! He realised he needed to take a trip to the shops. There was no way he could stream without coffee, and he couldn’t drink it black. He grabbed the remote ear-buds from the Hwahwei box and his sunglasses. The drone earlier had been a welcome visit but walking down the street without a music wasn’t an option as the constant hum of those same machines circling overhead caused him to feel dizzy and nauseous. He tutted as he waited for the mandatory ad to end, then stabbed at the stream option on Soci-All, then selected ‘music’. He found an appealing looking mix of old RnB classics and pressed play, allowing the auto-tuned vocals to sooth his irritation. They didn’t make them like this anymore. ‘I was born in the wrong generation,’ he quipped to himself.

 

*****************

Damon stood at the counter bored. He was thirty-nine years old and spent his days waiting for occasional customers in a convenience store that forever teetered on the brink of closure. His eyes strayed to the empty units on the crossroads. It could be worse. He remembered the days when this corner of Meersbrook had been filled with takeaways; all seeming to thrive on the appetites of the residents. It wasn’t restricted to this area, he’d seen the same thing happen in many other towns. U-Eat once offered a service for it to arrange deliveries from one place, until they built their own units providing many cuisines from one complex. With the efficiency of the drones, deliveries were never late as there was no traffic to delay them. The food got cooked, packaged and sent within minutes. Damon conceded that the food was good, but at what cost?

Damon sulked to himself that this was not how he’d envisioned his life as a youth. He’d gained a master’s degree in English Literature in his early twenties and now this was all but worthless. Now he was stuck behind a cash register and told to consider himself lucky that the store owners hadn’t installed a scan/pay/ unlock system for their customers. He’d been in those stores, where if you walked in, you had to buy a product if you wanted to leave again, exits opening only after payment had been received. Thankfully, they weren’t very popular. Yet. His alternative was to become a slave to social media, something he’d found distasteful ever since his teens. At weekends, he and other like-minded people would meet in the Netherall Social Bar to sit and bemoan the zombification of the masses. Damon considered that he was on the losing end of this battle.

He toyed with his beard, raising it upwards slightly to examine the creeping grey threatening to envelop it. Beards were out of fashion nowadays, but he stubbornly refused to follow trends; this had been his pride and joy as a younger man. Now he feared it made him look older than his years. Something shook Damon from his laments; a loud ‘thunk’ on the door. A local guy, he’d seen before, eyes glued to his hand-held ‘idiot machine’ tried opening the wrong door. He didn’t even think to look away from his screen, he simply moved two inches to his left and tried again. It wasn’t far enough. His face crashed against the door again, his mop of black hair rippling from the force. Damon sighed and picked up the phone on the register, turning slightly and pretended to be engaged in conversation as to not engage with the cretin.

Stephen looked up from his phone, embarrassed he’d been too distracted to operate the door properly. His cycling image had over one hundred likes in less than thirty minutes. He was exploding! Ideas about approaching sponsors danced through his head as it crashed into the door. He looked up, relieved that the store clerk hadn’t noticed. His lip sneered in distaste at the ageing hipster before him. ‘He thinks he is so much better than us, just because he works. What a wanker, using a landline!’ Stephen’s internal commentary caused a smirk as he opened the correct door and headed for the fridge.

On his way towards the cash desk, he noticed the variety of spices available, each with a large letter emblazoned on the jar. He arranged the jars to spell out ‘Steviechan’ and pointed his phone at his wit. Damon cleared his throat.

Excuse me!
Yeah?
What does this sign say?

Damon tapped on the hand-scrawled sign proclaiming ‘NO social media!’.

It’s just a quick picture!
I don’t care. Some of us want a haven from Soci-All. This shop is that haven. I ask you to respect that.
Please…
Look! You have two options; abide by the rules or if you don’t like it, put the milk back and fuck off!
Ok. Jesus.

Stephen lowered his phone and grumpily banged the container onto the counter. He swiped his phone across the scanner and then turned to exit.

The payment hasn’t gone through.

Stephen cursed to himself. He hadn’t set up the payment function on his new phone yet. His eyes widened in panic, he carried no cash. Fortunately, he had remembered his wallet, which he swiped across the scanner, awaiting the ping of the successful transaction.

See? Wasn’t hard was it?

Damon’s sarcastic tone broke Stephen’s stride a little. He wanted to argue, but it was pointless. His shop, his rules. He walked out of the door without so much as a glance backwards. Damon chuckled to himself as Stephen left, then grew dismayed as that was the only entertainment he’d experienced all morning. He spotted the spice rack spelling out Stephen’s online alter-ego. Damon pulled his own mobile from his back pocket and hid it under the counter, in case people were watching, he searched Soci-All for Stevie-Chan. After a few moments, he said to himself;

Seems like a nice kid, actually.

 

***************

 

Stephen returned home, milk in hand to prepare his coffee and his evening’s stream. He would stream for roughly two hours per evening, focusing on retro gaming. The Universal Play System (Uplaysys) offered a library of catalogues dating back decades, from a variety of once rival systems.  After the merger of the Japanese gaming companies in the thirties, it forced the rival American giant to join or get driven out of the market. For a while, gamers rejoiced as all their favourite titles were finally available on one format. The increasing costs of living meant that owning multiple systems was a luxury few could afford. In Stephen’s opinion, this begat a decline in quality of gaming. The lack of competition resulted in complacency as games became more homogenised to cater for a broad a base as possible. The once thriving Indie market of decades prior became stilted as the red tape and restrictive processes for developing titles to the Uplaysys proved either too frustrating or too costly.

Stephen booted up his Uplaysys, using one of his three alternate accounts. His stream was scheduled to begin in four hours. Time to practice. Repeatedly, he died to a challenging action RPG from the early 2010s. Repeating the same portion of the game over and over again until he mastered the level layout. He switched between accounts, replaying sections when progress was made, to further practice sections that once cleared were not available again. His eyes drifted to the clock, the process of practice irritated him, he couldn’t wait to pretend to have fun. He mentally noted where surprises lay, to garner the correct reaction on stream. Finally, as the time drew near, he switched on his separate chat screen and logged into his official account on the Uplaysys. He selected the Soci-All app on screen and began his stream.

It was one of his better ones. He’d gained a record number of viewers for his broadcast, all engaged and responsive, making it impossible to keep up with his chat screen, for which he apologised. He yelped and screamed at appropriate places, much to the mirth of his audience. Thanks to his practice, his gaming prowess frequently received compliments. It made all of the time spent seem worthwhile. The evenings stream lasted just over two hours, the rest of which was him pretending to uncover secrets before saving further progress for the next day. He noted it would be advisable to time his area clears to fit more in. Six hours practice in future. Buoyed on by the response, he bade his followers farewell and switched off the games console.

After doing so, a shrill tone indicated a private message from an unknown source. As he logged in to Soci-All on his phone, tapping his fingers impatiently during the mandatory commercial. A message from the PR department of Gonesoft, the publishers of the game he was just playing rewarded his patience.

Hi Stevie-chan! I just watched your stream and was very impressed with the content and the audience engagement. As you may know, the game you are playing currently was the first in a lengthy franchise that established Gonesoft within the gaming community. We’d like to offer a sponsorship opportunity in return for you playing through the entire franchise on your stream. It goes without saying, we would provide downloads of the games for free, on top of which we can offer a bursary providing your stream numbers are consistent and promotional items to offer as giveaways. Please contact me back if this is of interest to you!

Stephen smiled and laughed with joy. He’d started using Soci-All as a source of income and hadn’t expected that it would lead to something like this. He’d certainly daydreamed about the possibility, as did most people. Hands shaking, he sent his positive response, trying not to gush too much about his excitement. He considered making an announcement video but didn’t want to jeopardise it by jumping the gun too early. Barely able to concentrate on anything but the possibilities that lay before him, he made himself a cup of tea, unable to stop smiling. His fantasies of living in a Soci-All apartment may well be in his future!

He wanted to share the news with someone, the only person he could think of was his older brother, Raymond. Sitting on his bed, he switched on his phone, still grinning as the mandatory ad played. This time, instead of simply dismissing it, he pressed the option to order the product, an effort to give something back to the app responsible for his current happiness. After the transaction was complete, the Soci-All page opened. Stephen’s face dropped. He blinked several times staring at his screen in disbelief.

 

****************

 

Three days later, Stephen’s neighbour, Julie (Ju-Ju) peered out of her window as paramedics stretchered a body bag into the back of the vehicle. She caught a glimpse of Stephen’s brother, Raymond, looking bewildered with glassy eyes. She’d barely spoken to Stephen in real life, despite living next door for almost three years. Julie moved from the window to get her phone, logging onto Soci-All. She tapped her foot impatiently as she searched for Stevie-Chan. No results. She put her hand to her mouth in shock. Stevie-Chan was dead. She thought about his cheery streams and light-hearted updates, enough so that tears sprang from her face. She stood back next to her bedroom window and took a selfie of her crying, careful to block Raymond out of the image, but to keep the ambulance in.

 

OMG! I can’t believe he is gone! #ripsteviechan

 

The hashtag #ripsteviechan trended for almost the entire afternoon.