The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter

Story

I awoke abruptly, a surge of electricity coursing through my body, courtesy of the familiar jolt from my mood organ. The agonizing sensation served as a constant reminder of society's painful evolution. I rose from my bed, donned my clothes, and proceeded to prepare breakfast. Opting for my usual, I inserted a packet into the SynthiChef, and within a minute, my meal was ready. This cutting-edge machine synchronised with the updated Ideal-world Work Cycle, ensuring that food preparation aligned precisely with every meticulously scheduled minute of our lives. It was the year 2099, two decades following the Enlightenment, a fierce battle for dominance between the nation's two founders, the Keymaster and the Architect. Ultimately, the Keymaster emerged triumphant and imposed the IWW Cycle that governed every aspect of our existence.

En route to the Phantomrail station, I was greeted by a dreary grey sky, its unchanging hue reminiscent of the monotonous repetition that plagued our entire nation for the past 28 years. As a mechanic, my physical exhaustion was a constant companion, an unwelcome burden I carried from the factory each day. Navigating the crowded pavement, I struggled to preserve my waning energy amidst the chaotic rush of individuals striving to return home. The blinding neon advertisements did nothing to alleviate my fatigue. Most people simply adjusted their mood organs, seeking fleeting moments of happiness. Yet, the following day would be no different, perpetuating the cycle of meaninglessness that persisted until our eventual demise. Lost in my thoughts, I found myself unconsciously veering off the main path, drawn toward a quieter area with fewer people. Though the air was smoky, at least my eyes were spared from the assault of glaring lights. However, I groaned inwardly, realising that this detour would add another thirty minutes to my journey as I surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings. Just as I turned to retrace my steps, a glimmer caught my eye. Walking over, a Valyrian steel blade rested upon an artificial bush. Beside it lay a heavily damaged android. This discovery was unexpected, as androids were a luxury exclusively accessible to the upper classes, despite their ubiquitous presence in advertisements. The one before me, however, appeared distinct from commercially available models. The sight of the broken android lying there awakened something within me. I took a seat beside it. Bringing it back was going to be a tough job.

Back in my living unit, I carefully examined the broken android. She was a female model, specifically designed for combat with maroon-coloured armour plates adorning her limbs, black outer plating, a tattered red scarf encircling her neck, and her hair elegantly tied up in a ponytail. Her appearance reminded me of the shinobi warriors I had seen on our family Vidscreen during my youth, a time when my parents were still present. The centrepiece of her armour was a synthetic moonstone, an exceedingly rare material possessing nearly limitless power. As I surveyed the advanced machinery, a surge of curiosity, long suppressed since my forced transition to the role of a mechanic, overwhelmed me.

For the first time in ten years, I defied the constraints of the IWW Cycle, dedicating my nights to unravelling the intricacies of the android and painstakingly reconstructing her broken parts. Although this endeavour compromised my effectiveness as a mechanic due to exhaustion, my mood organ readings reflected a marked increase in optimism. Months passed, consumed by my nightly efforts and the completion of the android's repairs. Placing the synthetic moonstone back into its original position, I eagerly awaited some sign of life. Yet, to my disappointment, the android exhibited no response. I blamed myself for some overlooked error and resignedly departed for work.

Upon returning that evening, I was startled by the commotion emanating from within my unit. Hastily throwing open the door, I found myself confronted with a Valyrian steel blade pressed menacingly against my throat. Recoiling with a yelp, I discovered that the android was now fully operational and bewildered. I had replaced her damaged memory stick, resulting in the loss of her personal memories beyond pre-programmed data. In the moment, all that came out of my mouth was incoherent gibberish. However, after losing a few years of my lifespan, I managed to calm both her and myself, subsequently explaining the circumstances. With no place to go, she became a temporary roommate. Feeling responsible for her memory loss, I assumed the duty of caring for her in the meantime. Thus, for the next month, I kept away from my mechanic role, well aware that such behaviour would designate me as a "dysfunctional member of society," marking me for disposal, an inevitable fate under the Keymaster's governance. As the days ticked down, I succeeded in reintroducing her to the world, forging a bond of friendship.

On the eve of my scheduled disposal, I awoke with an unsettling awareness that something was amiss. An examination of my mood organ confirmed my suspicions, my emotions had been scanned and tampered with. Furthermore, the android was nowhere to be found. Betrayal coursed through my mind, tainting the memories of our time together with a sense of futility. Helpless, I resigned myself to fate.

The following day, I embarked on my customary routine, boarding the Phantomrail and disembarking at my usual stop. As I emerged onto the main path, bracing myself for the abrupt snatch and capture that awaited me, an unusual buzz of excitement permeated the air. People around me revelled in jubilation. The Keymaster had been assassinated. Freedom had been restored to our society. Yet, I felt no better than before. It became clear to me that this gift of liberation had been bestowed upon me by her, an act of self-sacrifice to ensure my continued existence. But I could not accept it. I blamed myself for her demise, attributing it to my own inadequacy. Consumed by this overwhelming burden, my mind could bear it no longer. And so I ended it, wiping it clean with the mood organ.