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Natural Woman ...Striving to be Real
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— Cicero
I didn’t start out as a revolutionary, but that’s what I became. You’d never know it to look at me—you’d think me a model citizen—blandly ingratiating. But I’m a dangerous person, a subversive.
I work in the social planning sector of the New York Central Block facilitating implants and robotic betterment. Our motto is simple: Be the best you can. I just completed my assignment for 2035 and have already started laying the groundwork for January 2036.
My task is to convince identified citizens it’s in their best interests to accept technological accommodations or enhancements.
An accommodation enables citizens to perform physical tasks at the level specified by the National Health Council.
An enhancement is an elective procedure that will improve physical appearance and thereby, enhance self-image.
The problem is, I’m becoming more and more opposed to what we’re doing.
Helping citizens overcome physical and mental challenges is one thing—but redesigning citizens to conform to the State’s image of a perfect human being is quite another.
“Do you believe what that woman said, Eva? She told me she was quite happy with her body. The cow’s at least twenty pounds overweight.”
I looked at Marie’s taut, immobile face—I doubt with all her enhancements she could even arch an eyebrow or make an expression.
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her we’d cancel her health insurance unless she reported back in ninety days at the specified weight.”
I had to bite my tongue and appear sympathetic.
I looked at the woman—she’d actually be considered voluptuous and desirable by the standards of the last century—now she was being forced to measure up to national standards.
“I’ll write an article for The New Lifestyle. People have to learn that unhealthy choices affect us all.”
“And did you see that schnozzle?” Marie went on, “My God, she looked like a female Cyrano de Bergerac!”
“Unfortunately, personal appearance is still a matter of choice—but why anyone would want to offend others?”
I hated myself for the snide remark. It made me feel smarmy. I also hated lying, but the truth was, enhanced women ruled—they were everywhere—perfect specimens and near-identical clones of one another.
The only way I managed to avoid enhancement was having the good fortune to be born beautiful—not that I cared about that.
My genetic inheritance protected me from having to accept robotic accommodations or being cosmetically turned into a Barbie Doll.
But I loved being a primitive woman in a world full of artificial hybrids.
Later that night, I sat in my darkened penthouse staring down at the innumerable stars of New York’s Great White Way. Viewed from above, the city was lovely, but I couldn’t escape the spooky feeling imagining millions of citizens walking the streets like toy soldiers and dolls.
Enhancement—the very word was a joke—a mocking indictment of human folly.
I knew legislation was being tabled that would make enhancements compulsory and turn everyone into plastic clones.
My days were numbered—that’s why I sent my Hail Mary into the ether hoping like an MS in a bottle it would wash up and be found by a like-minded individual—a primitive man wanting a primitive woman like me.
Even the term primitive was pejorative—natural would be more appropriate.
In the past, people knew the difference between natural and artificial—why is that realization so hard for moderns to grasp?
That’s why I put an ad in a dating site to see if any man would respond.
I put down my wine glass and went back to my computer wall. My heart skipped a beat—someone had responded to my message!
Unaccommodated and available—was the reply.
I felt giddy—I knew it wasn’t the wine—it was the possibility of being with someone like me. I didn’t want a mass-produced mannequin—I wanted a person with a heart.
The next week was a blur. Every night I checked my computer wall.
Privacy was almost unheard of and avoiding detection next to impossible Still, I managed to get a message through and he managed to respond.
There was hope.
I lay on my bed and dreamt. I saw the two of us living in the wilderness, making a shelter and raising a family. It was a foolish hope, but it sustained me.
There was to be a huge rally in Times Square—a flash mob in support of the enhancement amendment. Everyone in my sector was expected to be there.
The very thought of the charade sickened me, but I had no choice.
We all gathered at the section office and received electric badges and message projectors. The moralistic fervor by which I took hold of my devices and brandished them would have duped a lie detector.
But just as we were lining up by the elevators, I was summoned to the Section Head’s office.
My blood ran cold.
Every subterfuge no matter how well planned or executed runs the risk of being exposed. James Merit, the Section Head, was a former security advisor and although only thirty- five, he was shrewd beyond his years. I feared him more than anyone.
“Come in and sit down,” he smiled cordially.
In the past, I deliberately avoided James for two reasons; he was very perceptive and very attractive. Were he not enhanced, I would have easily fallen for him—but his plastic smile and ingratiating charm sickened me.
“I’ve been reviewing your work, Eva, and I must say it’s not up to your previous standards. In fact, looking back over the past five years there’s been a steady decline in productivity. Do you have an explanation for this?”
I wanted to smash his Ken Doll face, but instead, took a deep breath and summoned up the oily charm that always let me have my way with men.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Merit—I’ve always valued your opinion above everyone else’s—I will try harder in future.”
I cast my eyes downward and dabbed at them with a tissue. He was unmoved.
“I’ve also detected a message sent from your computer wall ten days ago—and you know what that is.”
I looked up in amazement.
“You were clever, Eva, but the technology you accessed is inferior to mine. I was the one who replied.”
My heart sank. I hated him so much; I could easily have killed him, if I had a weapon.
“What were you thinking?” he asked.
I knew it was a rhetorical question, but the game was up.
“I wasn’t thinking, James—I was hoping—but you wouldn’t understand that.”
“Try me.”
“Look, just report me to the authorities. I don’t have anything more to say.”
“How could you gamble your whole future on a man you’ve never met or laid eyes on?”
My anger flared in spite of myself. “You wouldn’t understand that—you freak! You’re so caught up with your appearance and your buttery charm that the idea of being real is beyond you.”
“Is that so?”
I gave him a disgusted look and a flip of my hand. “I don’t have words to express how much I loathe you.”
“Enough to kill me?”
“If I could—YES! I hate you and everything you stand for—you petty bureaucrat.”
He looked at me with a pained expression. “You don’t like the way I look?”
“Are you insane—do you think that’s all I care about in a man?”
“What if I disfigured myself—would that make you like me?”
He turned his hands to his face and began clawing at his skin.
“Stop! Stop! Oh God, please stop! Are you mad?”
“Yes, but only for you, Lady.”
He lifted his hands away from his face, pulling away the last resinous vestiges of a polymer mask.
“As I wrote, unaccommodated and available. Are you still interested?”
I began laughing hysterically—and crying too. I don’t know what it was—a shock perhaps, or a release from stress, or both—who knows?
He began laughing too. We sat there in his office, tears streaming down our faces laughing. He turned on the wall screen showing the Times Square rally and we laughed some more.
Finally, he got up, came over, pulled me to my feet and kissed me so deeply I almost fainted.
It’s been two years since that night and we’re married now. We decided against the wilderness shelter and opted to prolong our silent rebellion.
He, like me, is a normal human being and we’ll teach our children to follow in our steps.
Congress is debating amending the constitution to provide for cyborgs and possibly at a future date, to allow robot citizenship as well.
The average citizen in the United States according to the 2031 census is 40% natural and 60% artificial. The American dream is finally coming into focus.
Life, liberty and happiness will no longer be pursued—they’ll come with irrevocable guarantees.
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