Project Serenexi

 

It was a cold clear morning on Proxima Centauri, when the shift change siren blew twice for the call to work. Hanek Jones, his face hidden in a hood of green fur, walked lazily through the air-lock of the Utopian Ministry, savouring his last breath of un-processed air. 

            The foyer smelt of industrial pine and stale farts. At the far end a brown mural, peeling from age, stood above the stairs to the labs. It depicted a rural scene, seven metres wide: the happy farmers, with sickles, joyfully gathering the harvest. Hanek went up the stairs. He took them at a pace. The heating only worked properly when the data processors were running at max capacity, during a code white threat to utopian stability, the current threat status was code pink, it had been for months. They were due for a code white, Hanek could sense it. The Compliance lab where he worked was three flights up, and Hanek, who was twenty and had more energy than he could use, ran up the stairs, without stopping to warm his body from the cold. On each floor, next to the stairs, the name of the lab was stencilled in red spray-paint. He sped past Productivity, which caused him hours of tedious corrections, and up to the second floor, past the secretive blacked-out windows of the Counter-Revolution Lab. NO UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL BEYOND THIS DOOR, ran the warning beneath the lab sign. Hanek hated the smug faced Counter-Rev operative technicians. They viewed their work as more important than everyone else’s. Hanek told anyone who’d listen, that it was his diligence in the Compliance Lab that kept them in the code pink status. He was the first to whine that the Counter-Revs had it easy because of everyone else’s hard work. What did they even do? Hanek thought to himself as he sat at his desk.

            Inside the Compliance lab a large black screen with a map of the Proxima Centauri flickered with multicoloured data readings. Most of the settlement dots were blue which indicated satisfactory levels of compliance. A few flashed pink indicating potential danger. There were no white lights. White lights were very bad, nobody wanted to see white lights. There were very few green lights which indicated contentment. Hanek put his eye-set on and began his work turning the pink lights to blue. The stabilisation system could have done the work without Hanek. His only purpose was to authorise each adjustment before the super-computer put them into action. Most of the adjustments were routine, increased leisure time for miners here, better equipment for agricultural workers there, but every so often, a temporary chemical adjustment to the water supply had to be authorised. The architects of the Utopian Ministry didn’t trust the Matriarch 5000 super-computer enough to let her administer the many different water-soluble salt based drugs necessary for Utopian Stability.  Hanek was one of many human checkers that signed off the chemical adjustments needed to keep the planet in a perpetual state of Utopia.

            Hanek was very pale due to a lack of sunlight and over-reliance on supplements. Everyone billeted in the polar base Utopian ministry was given access to UVB therapy but it was not mandatory. His green over-alls had faded from hundreds of high-heat hygiene washes. The billet had frequent outbreaks of frost-lice. They fumigated regularly in an attempt to destroy them, but the frost-lice were tough little bastards, some of the larger ones could survive the menthol scented death gas.

            Hanek’s first pink flasher was a text-book fix. A small percentage of a mining colony in sector X had refused to follow their quota targets. This was a Productivity problem he said to himself as he authorised a small dose of a performance enhancing salt to the miner’s on-site water supply. He made sure the light would stay blue by dialling down their quota target by half a ton. He hated it when he had to help Productivity with their work load. He was trained to ensure that people obeyed laws on mass. He was basically a Counter-Rev operative without the badge.

His eyes squinted in fearful disbelief as scores of lights went from pink to white. His morning had gone from dull and predictable to ass clenching chaos in less than a millisecond. The phones rang. Nojo Smith, Utopian Captain, made a short conference call announcement, “Code White, emergency meeting of team leaders in the mess hall, everyone else manage your stations as normal…Counter-Revs to supervise Productivity and Compliance.”

            “Fucking Typical,” Hanek said to rest of the lab, who didn’t look up. He had long regretted accepting his promotion to team leader. At the time he was eager to show what he was capable of. He had taken on a huge weight of stress for a small increase in pay. He rolled his eyes at the Counter-Rev operative tasked with supervising Compliance as he passed her on the way to the mess.

 

In the high-domed mess, above the labs, the team leaders of various departments filed in. The tables were filled with green-suited whispering technicians. At the back of the room there was a projector screen with a masked Utopian priestess waiting to speak.

            Hanek took a seat next to Gene Bluebridge, Productivity team leader, and regular invader of his dreams. She was much older than him which only fuelled his obsession. He wanted to take her round the back of the labs near the vents and give it to her fast. She dyed her hair black and purposely wore overalls two sizes too small to accentuate her buttocks.

            ‘You took your time, they have been waiting to start,’ said Gene. ‘We’re still waiting on…’

            ‘Harmony,’ said Hanek, finishing Gene’s sentence for her.

            ‘How did you guess?’

            ‘They’re always late. They’ve got the easiest job in the ministry and they’re always late. How hard is it to administer low grade cannabinoids and happy juice? The stuff we prescribe has to be counter-signed. They can pump their pinks with as much peace and love as they like, without worrying about an overdose.’

            ‘I didn’t know you hated Harmony that much,’ said Gene.

            ‘They have it easy, we do the real work, I even do your work; my first pink of the day was a Productivity overspill, without me…’

            ‘The whole planet would fall apart,’ said Gene. Hanek smiled and spluttered out a laugh. He shut up when Captain Nojo cleared her throat.

           

Captain Nojo Smith was fiddling nervously with the speaker on the lectern. She wore her golden roped parade jacket to evoke a sense of competent calm. The tasselled jacket failed to hide the panic radiating from her face. When the room was silent she began:

            ‘Let’s begin. You are all aware of the code white status. Some of you are too young to remember the last code white. Others will remember the difficulty we now face. I have been your captain for twenty-two years and I hope I have been just. It has become apparent that we are facing more than a code white. If this were an organic trend in urban management we could do what we always do, and take each white flasher on, until the planet is returned to a state of Utopia. However, it has been brought to my attention that the current white status may have been an act of sabotage perpetrated by someone in this very facility. I did not want to believe it. I have full faith in all of you.

            ‘I wanted desperately to believe it was a malfunction. The Matriarch 5000 may have a caught virus. The diagnostics have found nothing wrong with the computer. I cannot confirm whether it is a computer fault or personnel problem. We believe there is saboteur among us. Whatever the cause of the problem we must act immediately. We can’t sit here accusing each other while the planet burns. Usual code white protocol has been suspended due to the nature of the problem. I now hand over to the High Utopian Priestess,’ said Nojo, who rushed to a seat next to the projector screen. Nojo took deep nasal breaths to calm her shakes.

           

            ‘We have a traitor among us. We cannot turn the tides of unrest with chemical adjustments and increased leisure this time. Someone real or artificial has used our system of urban management against us. They have destabilised Proxima Centauri. A criminal investigation will begin as soon as this meeting is over. Every member of this ministry will be questioned.

            ‘I have authorised the use of an experimental Utopian aid code-named “Project Serenexi.” It is essentially a shower of calming satellite waves. Serenexi has been tested on rats and human subjects. Serenexi is being calibrated aboard the X30 space station and will be operational in a matter of minutes. It is capable of calming entire city populations with the push of a button and may render chemical adjustment obsolete. It is our hope that we can quell the disorder faster than ever before. Normal operations will resume when we have discovered the source of the sabotage. Please enjoy increased leisure time and access to low grade chemical recreation salts and shakes.’

            The priestess disappeared and the room went silent. Hanek shrugged his shoulders at Gene, and then sank back into his chair, unsure whether to be angry or happy that work was over until further notice. With no work left to do, Hanek pulled his hood up, and went back out into the frost.

 

Outside, the frost deepened with the dying sun. High above the data servers a large cloud of steam was rising, and though the sun was falling fast behind the dome, a pearlescent hue of green and purple shone through the spiralling moisture. The servers were running at max capacity and a rush of warmth met him as he came inside the communal area. It was full of red-faced natterers, chemically relaxed, enjoying an early end to an otherwise long and tedious day.  At the far end of the room he found an empty table. He sat in the worn-brown leather bowl and waited for Gene. He waited for over an hour before he got up to go find her. They rarely got time together because of their shift patterns, this was one of the few opportunities he would get to take her back to his cabin, and he didn’t want someone else to ask her first.

             He braced himself for the wind and stepped back out onto the snow. The night had come and the steam glowed orange by the solitary access lamp. The sky was clear and filled with stars. He peered up as a luminous purple dust-like hue shimmered down over the base and billet. It felt unnatural. He had never seen a fluorescent purple aura borealis before. He checked his eyes, he hadn’t taken any hallucinogens, just his usual blueberry flavoured amphetamine-rich cobra shake.

            He felt a rush of peacefulness as the purple light fluttered over him. The amphetamine that had surged as he hit the cold air faded rapidly from his body. A deep calm washed over him. He forgot what he was doing and why he was doing it. If Gene hadn't come to find him, he may have frozen to death in complete contentment. She guided him back inside the Ministry. His usual repulsion at the smell of the foyer didn’t happen. The smell of industrial pine and stale farts reminded him of home. He thought of his mother dragging him out of the bar, shouting at him to make something of his life, sending him off to work for the Utopian Ministry, and for the first time he was happy that he took her advice.

            ‘What are you wearing?’ said Hanek, with a laughing gas grin on his face. He started to laugh little slow chuckles. He looked around and found everyone around him wore the same silver helmets with clear face masks. The people without helmets were herded lazily up to the mess dome. All of them were stuck in soft gleeful grins. The kind of grin you get when you are too high to remember what you are doing. Their movement was sluggish as if stuck in slow motion. Hanek was taken over to the other helmet-less smilers. Gene was talking to a Counter-rev, in ear-shot of Hanek, but her words didn’t register.

            ‘Look at them all, an entire base reduced to simpletons in seconds. Is it even worth questioning them? Are they even able to remember where they are?’ said Gene.

            ‘Once we fit them with a helmet the Serenexi waves will fade. It’s easier to blast everyone at once. We can’t allow the saboteur to destroy the evidence or take their own life. You guys will be out of a job if Serenexi gets the green light.’

            ‘I don’t think I will be out of a job. These people can barely tie their own shoelace let alone operate a six-ton mining drill. Look at Hanek, you could slap him and he would smile back at you, completely gone. Productivity would drop to nothing if this goes planet-wide.”

            “This isn’t all Serenexi can do. It’s turned up to full right now. We can adjust it to get the desired result. And I’m not supposed to talk about this but as you’re so good looking, I’ll tell you. Once you’ve been hit with Serenexi you can’t go back.’

            ‘Withdrawal?’ said Gene.

            ‘Exactly, nothing, not even high-grade opioids will lull your cravings for Serenexi. You won’t be able to function without it. Sleep is impossible without a blast of Serenexi.’

            ‘All these people,’ Gene gestured to the hall of smiling helmet-less half-wits, ‘will be addicted to Serenexi when the waves are shut off.’

            ‘Precisely, this is the first of many settlements to be exposed to Serenexi. We are going to use Serenexi as a reward for compliance, as an incentive to meet productivity quotas, and as the only true way to feel harmony. It is far cheaper than mixing tons of precision chemical stimulants into the water-supply, and there will be less need for leisure time,’ said the Counter-Rev operative.

            Tears formed in Gene's eyes. She stroked Hanek’s hair and he leaned into her hand like a dog. His life was over. He had become a slave to Serenexi.

            ‘This isn’t Utopia this is…mass enslavement under the guise of Utopia. Who authorised this?’

            ‘That’s classified; you know it is, even if I knew I couldn’t say.’

            ‘There wasn’t really a code white emergency was there?’

The Counter-Rev looked away. His reaction told her all she needed to know.

            ‘You were going to get promoted today,’ said the Counter-Rev.

            ‘I was?’ said Gene.

            ‘But I don’t think you have what it takes for the ranks of Counter-revolution. It’s a pity…’

            Before she could answer he whipped off her protective helmet and the purple waves of Serenexi entered her brain. She tried to remember what she was saying but the words failed her. She sat down next to Hanek.

            ‘Do I know you?’ said Hanek. Gene nodded slowly and began to drool.