Network
Information. The vital key to human evolution. The inter generational current of ever swelling human knowledge, flowing ceaselessly through time.
Independent of the biolgocial constraints of individual memory, it has allowed humanity reign over Earth. All great leaps in human ingenuity were carried by increased transmission of information. From language to writing, telegraphs to telephones. the internet to the Network.
The free flow of it, therefore, marked an incredibly important turn in history. Good for some, bad for others.
“Why do I need a guitar teacher? I can teach myself”
Increasingly powerful computer programmes rendered bureaucratic jobs obsolete.
“Why the hell would I employ an accountant? TaX can do it for me for free!”
The invention of object printing furthered the feeling.
“What's the point of a carpenter? I can print my own furniture.”
Augmentation too.
“Why do I need a doctor? I can download the skill for practically nothing and diagnose myself.”
Over the millennia human society was slowly transformed, becoming increasingly entangled within the Network. The physicalisation of information. The climatic, inevitable and ultimate realisation of human evolution.
And then the fatal questions were asked.
“Why do I need a bank? Encrypted currency is actually a safe alternative to state money!”
“Why do we need banks..?”
“Why do we need countries?!”
War followed.
Platform companies struggled to maintain the Network. Countries vanished, cities strengthened.
Two opposing forces emerged– the East and the West.
Billions died.
The Networks user activity shrank to it's lowest in centuries. Whereas once close to eighty percent of the world's population had been engaged through brain linking, barely one percent of humanity remained linked at all!
Each region had local networks developed, but large swathes of servers had effectively been self destructed through encryption measures by terrified politicians. Huge amounts of information was unreadable and an almost total ban on interaction between the regions meant years of technological and social devolution.
But, encrypted is not the same as destroyed. Centuries of devoted computing power finally began to pay off for the West. Gradually more and more servers were decrypted, the West Network gathered more information. The Network grew.
Then somebody had the idea to give out free Network access. Temporary augmentation theatres were set up around the territory. Queues stretching for miles
“Finally! My Grandpa used to tell me stories about augmentation, you can learn anything you want! For free!”
Despite the murderously enforced ban on any form of communication between the East and the West rumours began to trickle through. “Free Network access! cheap augmentation! I've even heard they have nearly twice as large a network as ours!”
Emigration suddenly became a problem. It never had been before. And countless died during the Great Rush. Bodies littered the borders – rivers ran red, sewers were choked and the warm, rancid stench of rotting flesh clung heavily to the nostrils of border proctors. How long could someone last in conditions like that?
The East crumbled, the Network was finally reunited.
People rejoiced.
At long last, augmentation became a requirement of Earth citizenship. Of System citizenship.
And all the while the statesmen provided the platform.
“Statesman Rosenheim” the thought sharply awoke the statesman.
He blinked, his head awash with conflicting information. He hated being linked in. The citizenry were used to the intrusive and mind altering feeling the chip induced, but Rosenheim.. he wasn't used to this. He was only linked twice a week, to "communicate the current situation". Although recently there had been a lot more information to share..
The Rosenheim's had always been Leaders. Ever since his ancestors had been involved in the original development of primitive object printing. Originally they had been titled directors, but during the Great War they became known as Statesmen.
Back in the distant past it would have been a difficult position, at constant war with other rivals. At first a war of marketing and technology, gradually a war of destruction and technology. But since the fall of the East the job had become a very comfortable one.
That was until ten days ago. The day the network malfunctioned.
“Enter”. He transmitted. A large door behind him shot wide open with a loud rush of compacted air and a boy walked through.
He turned and went to speak, but the words got stuck in the back of his rarely used throat. He coughed, clearing the phlegm from his airways.
“Disconnect” he rasped.
The young boy standing before him touched behind his ear, his pale, stretched face showing no emotion. A faint, blinking light stopped.
“And..”
“Statesman, we've been forced to isolate the entire South-East. We estimate that every single inhabitant of the South-East Isles is infected.”
Infected with the virus. Infected with the unknown virus that was seemingly infecting through the Network. Rossenheim didn't want to here this.
"Have we any more information?"
The boy cringed slightly. "Sir. We, we.." the panic was clear on his face. "We can't even get close to it. We have no way of studying it's effects. Any contact we try to establish has resulted in severe loss of life. All we know is pretty much what we knew ten days ago; it's a virus, transmitted through the Network, that sends people insane."
The statesman swallowed hard. 'We're fucked,'he thought.He could tell that the boy was thinking the same as him. He looked as if he was struggling to hold back tears.
"Sir, is it true that a lockdown's planned?"
"Yes. A full-scale lockdown will begin shortly."
Silence.
It wasn't just the gently humming whirr of the room. The Network was down. He couldn't link.
Rossenheim would become one of them, he couldn't face it. It had been like this for six days now,
six lonely days. He knew what had happened. The virus had made it's way through. How? He didn't know. How could he? He was without Network. He knew less now than he did the day he was born.
Everyone else was gone though. He'd seen the feeds before the whole place had gone into darkness.
Rosenheim stood there shakily, his recently procured gun in hand.
He wandered like a zombie to his shelf, extending an arm slowly, purposefully, picking up his
most prized possession – another relic from an age gone by. An artifact, some would call it. The embodiment of the most important action of the early second millennium. The symbol of union, the formation of the West, the cementation of the Statesmens ruling position in society. He studied it closely, the last thing he would ever see. He knew what he had to do.
He raised the gun pointedly, deliberately, immediately, pulled the trigger and fell to the ground. The gun dropped to the floor.
Next to it the other relic, now unrecognisable to any being alive for what it truly was. The
information lost in abstraction, lost with the death of the last of the Statesmen. A sleek box of white plastic housing a small silicone network. A glass screen facing upwards with new cracks running through it like the estuaries of a river, a random network of disunion. And above it, in blue, green, red and yellow letters were two words, raised slightly from the surface.
Two words The symbol and heritage of a now forgotten company. The company of the Statesman. The company that finally realised humanities connection to network. The company that ultimately destroyed it all.
Google Ipad.
