Re: #1486782
I quite enjoyed this piece of micro-fiction. It glimpses a dystopic world where the mind remains the last territory to be colonized. It brings in all the senses to make the reader aware of the total control these masters weild, an uncanny homage to the present, where our tastes, sight, hearing and touch are constsntly affronted by shit we neither want nor need - microplastics, sound pollution, pesticides, seed oils, cloned animal meat, polyesters etc.. Memories, sometimes digital ones, are a sanctuary in these times.
I'm sure some here have more in common with the protagonist, Mila, and her situation, than me. While the world was built nicely, there wasn't much for me to connect with in her. In so few words, there is not much you can really do; some humour might have done it, or incorporatong other emotion somehow in her arc. However, you succeeded in portraying an imaginative and interesting world with enough in common with our own to make it plausible.
Thank you for the great post. Hopefully my reply procures you a few more sats.
Dangerous Nostalgia
The sky had not been blue for nineteen years. Children learned colors from government tablets. Blue meant Compliance. Green meant Productivity. Red meant Correction. Nobody remembered what the colors used to look like in nature.
Every morning, the city woke to the Voice.
“Citizens, emotional stability is freedom.”
The words echoed from thousands of gray speakers mounted on dead electric poles. People repeated the sentence automatically while walking to work. Cameras watched their lips. Failure to repeat the morning affirmation reduced food credits.
Mila worked at the Memory Department. Her job was deleting forbidden archives from the Old Internet. Music, poems, photographs of oceans, forests, lovers kissing in parks. Anything capable of producing dangerous nostalgia. The State feared nostalgia more than weapons.
One night, while reviewing corrupted files, Mila discovered a short video labeled: SUMMER_1998.mov. She hesitated before opening it. A beach appeared on her screen. Real waves. Real sunlight. People laughing without permission. A little girl ran through the water while a woman filmed her. The camera shook from laughter. Wind touched the microphone softly.
Mila stared at the image for several minutes. Her chest hurt strangely. She had never seen joy that wasn’t instructed. Suddenly, the system detected unauthorized emotional activity.
WARNING:
HEART RATE IRREGULARITY.
POSSIBLE SENTIMENTAL RESPONSE.
Mila disconnected the monitor instantly, but it was too late. A red light blinked above her office door. Correction officers were coming. For a moment, fear consumed her. Then something unexpected happened. She smiled. Not the practiced social smile required by surveillance cameras. A real one. Small and trembling. The woman in the old video had smiled exactly the same way.
Mila copied the file onto a hidden chip and slipped it into her pocket just before the officers entered.
“Citizen Mila,” one of them said coldly, “have you encountered prohibited material?”
Mila looked at the gray walls, the gray uniforms, the gray sky outside the window. Then she thought about the ocean.
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “And I think I finally understand what freedom was.”