Evolution was over.

Or, at least, that was what everyone said. Brash didn’t know, nor did he care. What was the point of evolution if everything was done for them by computers? Smaller teeth, lactose tolerance…who cared? It wasn’t like humanity would be doing anything monumental anyway. 

Brash had lived in Neo Caladrius his entire life and, like everyone else, saw no issue with its way of life. Though it had initially been an average city under the name Metropolis (average name, right?), when technology began to advance from DVDs and consoles to computers and streaming, technological companies saw potential in the nation’s most landlocked city. Where better to put hundreds of thousands of computers? Before people knew it, the town was overrun with skyscrapers, the likes of which were filled from head-to-toe with wires, flashing lights, and server boxes. With a city blocked from the sun by hundreds of five-thousand-foot-tall skyscrapers, the name Metropolis became too boring. Some genius proposed Neo Caldrius, and from then on, the city continued to expand. The computers soon became self-sufficient, and humanity’s importance fell drastically. The trend spread across the country and, within only a decade, the nation itself was practically one huge motherboard. 

But that wasn’t enough. Just like humans, computers had their evolution. 

Where they’d once aided businesses and kept track of files, computers soon began to carry out humanity’s daily tasks. They bought groceries and delivered them to your home. They cleaned your room and put everything up just as you asked. They learned recipes and made you whatever you wished with one simple command. There was no need to leave the house anymore, and so people isolated themselves from one another, their robot companions keeping them company. At first, these machines appeared as simple drones with wide, cute eyes to give them a puppyish look. Then, with the introduction of mandatory headsets, AI companions could look however you wanted them to. For an additional thousand dollars, you could buy another, and another, and another. People built their dream families with AI chatbots, forming relationships with their screens. Life went digital. Headsets never came off. Even if you did see someone out walking on the sidewalk, likely to get a part to fix their drone, they kept their headset on. The government made it mandatory to do so. The only places you could take them off were in the company of your own home, or at school.

School. What a complicated business.

Everyone had to pay for an education, but the difficulties came when families had to decide if they wanted their children to take it digitally or in person. In-person school was much cheaper and often considered the “poor” option, while online school was expensive yet customizable. You could pick your teacher and code them for your specific learning style. You could choose to share your classroom with other users or have it full of personally customized chatbots. Of course, many people adored this system. After all, who wouldn’t want a life catered to their every desire? Those who didn’t approve were few and far between, and if they dared to rebel, they were swiftly put down. In fact, just a few years ago, a couple had tried to stand up against the technological giants that ran the world. The idiot husband was put down like a dog; the woman changed her mind and became a loyalist. Serves them right for trying to stand up against the system. 

Brash had gone to virtual school for as long as he could remember. Where most kids got their first headset on their first birthday, he got his at only six months of age. His parents, a power couple who practically owned the city, had managed to snag him a headset small enough for him, claiming they wanted to get him adapted to the blue light. Most of his childhood was spent in that virtual world. His first birthday, his kindergarten graduation, his first date…all those memories were pixelized in his mind. Each year for his birthday, he was gifted another chatbot to keep him company. At this current moment, he had a collection of seventeen, with another one coming in July. 

“Brash!”

The voice, instead of echoing from down the hall, hollered in the speaker over his right ear. His surroundings– a dark-walled bedroom with dozens of band posters on the wall and a black bed in the corner– glitched momentarily as, with a click of a button, he turned his head.

“What is it, Mom?” His microphone collected the words, amplifying and then spitting them out in his mother’s headset just a few rooms down.

“Dinner is ready!”

The feeding tube on the corner of his headset lowered down to his mouth as he wandered to his feet, twisting the left controller to open the door. The virtual hallway was covered in pictures of their family avatars in various poses, their usernames sitting proudly above their heads. His own, Brash1876AMN907, glimmered like a star against the white paint. He found pride in his username, especially considering it was a 907. Only the elites and their families had usernames that ended with those three numbers. Like the surname of a wealthy family, it indicated his status and told other users not to tangle his cords. 

“Brash!”

“I’m comin’, alright?!”

Turning the corner, his eyes immediately fell upon a collection of large, juicy hamburgers sitting on the table. The smell wafted in from the fan above his nose, causing him to salivate. He loved hamburgers, and he loved it even more that he didn’t need to chew them. The feeding tube would do all the work for him. 

His mother, a tall, blonde avatar with glimmering green eyes and an almost unnaturally thin waist, stood at the table’s front, her arms crossed. Her username, Amy540ZST907, shook in agitation over her head. When he approached and plopped himself down in the chair, she let out a huff. 

“It’s about time you showed up!” Her voice was laced with irritation as she glared down at him, the dozens of pixels she had for eyebrows creasing in frustration. “We need to talk, young man.”