On November 8, 2014, I was walking down Xiannian Boulevard, on my way to make a drug deal. The streetlights overhead flared a brilliant bluish-white intensity, bathing the sidewalk in an over-saturated hue. On my right side loomed the massive NeoShanghai Economic Tower, a gargantuan building of glass and carbon-steel that always reminded me of an oversized can-opener.
The western-facing side of the Civil Pacification Barrier that surrounded the structure was adorned with globular turrets, darkened domes containing high-powered video cameras. These cameras used radio waves to constantly transmit video and audio to authorities without the use of wires. The cameras were said to be so powerful that they make an electron microscope look like a daguerrotype.
This information was passed along to central data-banks that store and organize every piece of video and audio information absorbed by the automated sentries. The rumors stated that any criminal activity caught on the surveillance network was reciprocated by a late-night raid by the Urban Tactical Enforcement Agency, who would kick down your door and handcuff you before you even had a chance to remember what you did wrong. The tin-foil hat types believe that the Social Oversight Bureau, the ones responsible for creating the Civil Pacification Barriers, used surveillance data against high-ranking members of political and corporate organizations. I didn’t buy into such notions, but I do admit that the possibility made me shiver from time to time.
I didn’t let any of this knowledge bother me as I walked along the imposing barrier toward my destination. I glanced at my cyber-phone, checking for incoming digita-letters from my dealer. Nothing. I hurried onward, ignoring the beggars and vagrants that were crowded around the Civil Pacification Barrier and huddling underneath the protective glow of the street-lights.
“Directions, please.” I said aloud. A bright green arrow flashed on the screen of my cyber-phone, directing me towards the high-rise apartments where my dealer, Z-Disk lived. A small but high-resolution image of the apartment building in question also appeared on the screen. The structure resembled a giant cybernetic rectangle, with the sides of the building traced in glowing red lines that indicated the residence was “guarded” by the Informational and Electronic Filtration Network, a lovely invention by the S.O.B. designed to monitor residential information networks in order to prevent cyber-crimes as well as meat-crimes. The rumors surrounding this system were even more nefarious than the ones surrounding the C.P.B.’s. I tried not to think about this stuff as I neared my destination. I tried to focus on the crime I was about to commit. Give the money, take the drugs. Don’t get caught by The Net.
While I was considering the simplicity of this crime, I heard a powerful whooshing sound above me. I craned my neck to look at the source of the sound. As I began to resolve the shape of a hovering Automated Aerial Apprehension Unit, I suddenly felt extremely hot. It wasn’t like the heat of an open fire or a space heater, it was all over, it was inside of me. I imagined that this was what a meatball felt like if you left it in the microwave too long. I collapsed to the pavement, dropping my cyber-phone in the process.
As I writhed in agony, I heard the footsteps of an Urban Tactical Enforcement agent draw near. The helmet-clad officer slapped carbon-steel handcuffs on my prone form and hoisted me into the air with a single arm. I could hear the movement-assisting hydraulic servos whine in response. With a single motion, the agent unceremoniously dumped me into the back of a U.T.E.A. pick-up truck and closed the carbon-steel Suspect Pacification and Restraint Device around me. Busted.
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