The Kingdom of the Blind

You say "I am rich I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing." But you do not realise that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.

Revelation 3:17

Chapter 1

I read once that in the kingdom of the blind the one-eyed man is king. It isn't true. I live like a rat. Some would say a beggar. But I think rat, beggars can be pitied, treated with compassion. Rats are simply hidden in the shadows and despised when seen. And at least rats never know anything different. That's the peril of reading I guess. Maybe I could bare it better if this life had been all I knew. If I had never read of anything different. Never known the truth.

But still, no king I. I have hunted through garbage for food, scavenged for rags to wear. Never killed, though I have considered it and may be held culpable for some shortened lives. Never yet stolen – for a given value of steal. Taking by finding, that I would have to plead guilty to. See, I tell you only the truth. My pride is in my good conscience, there is little else to be proud of. Save that I know the truth, I am proud of that truth.

You wish to picture me? I guess it is only fair. To many of you HiLifers I am a literal shadow. A blank space where a person should be; something strange, one step away from a ghost. A hole in the world where you cannot pass through, yet contains nothing. See me male, average height, and to you a wasted scrap of flesh. Lank, pale like a refugee from another age. Bowed under burdens you would never understand, ugly beyond belief. Pray you never find out how you look to me. You wish more? My hair is brown and somewhat unkempt, usually too long by half and the beard is like that of an old storyslate pirate. Eyes brown and too close together, nose broken to the left, and pointed. The mouth always haunted me though. A curl at the corner as though I have just heard a joke. I did hear one once, it was of a world where everything was perfect and then man came along and made it even better. That always cracks me up. But I am not smiling now. Besides Julia it seems a long time since I found anything to smile about.

Maybe then I am a king. A deposed monarch, scratching an existence in exile. Ignored and disgraced inhabiting a shadow of a former existence, almost invisible to those in the real world carrying on their own little lives. If so this old plastic garden chair is my throne where I cradle Julia's head in my lap as I wash her hair. I will tell you of her, but that may take a while. We would have to go back quite a long way. As to how she came to be here I know only the end portion, someone else will have to write the rest. But my story I can tell from start to finish. For if this was not the finish I doubt I could face the future.

It started with money, gold to be exact. My grandfather was a coder, he had a friend who had a friend who worked on the original Midas program. He told my father, who told me, that they never meant it to happen. It was just a bit of fun. A clever idea. More of a toy than a way to change the world. Lenses had just started to be taken up. But this to you is ancient history. Go back over 100 years and data was viewed on “screens”, first by using charged particles in a vacuum tube. Later by liquid crystals or light emitting diodes. Experiments were made with electrical and magnetic inks. All of this was used to make an image on a flat surface. They were fragile, expensive and used a lot of power. The solution was obvious. Why have a large image on a surface when you can project a tiny image directly into the eye?

Well it was not quite that obvious to start with. The original lenses were two silica plates in a frame of wires. The wires wrapped around the ears and the end had a tiny microphone that just entered the ear canal. The two plates connected over the nose. Images appeared on the plates which were naturally transparent. Originally it was for data retrieval, information could be projected there and read as though on a dataslate. Greater complexity traded for lower power requirements for what, in appearance at least, was a much larger “screen”. They were a big hit, especially with data entry specialists. But not obviously a world changer. That came next. With Midas. When they chose that name I think the programmers forgot that the “Midas Touch” was a curse. I like to believe that they remembered eventually.

A simple idea, a graphical quirk. The lenses were transparent when unpowered and simply displayed what they were told when they were switched on. Small cameras recorded what was in front of the user. Combining the two you could make text or charts float in mid air, however large or small you wished them to be. Then someone started taking the images from the camera and manipulating them. Playing the user the view in front of their own eyes. First it was a real joke, a program that looked like the lenses had returned to their transparent off state. But in reality it was still a projected image, projected half a second after reality had passed. It made the user awkward and clumsy, as if drunk. Reaching for things and stopping half a second after the hand had knocked the glass over. Those programmers must have had such fun.

Then someone wanted to make the world look different, augmented reality. Technically it was a reflection effect, amplifying the reflections from any surface to a metallic shine. A simple colour filter, dull yellow applied uniformly to any non light source and suddenly everything around you appeared to be made of gold. A joke, a programmers toy. Something to amuse the children. It was the number one program of the year. And it spawned the nightmare.

I start back then, before the most primitive int-lenses because that is where my father told me that it started. Back when there was still a choice. He was told this by his father. A man so old he had no implants. I vaguely remember him, a wizened hunched figure. Deep wrinkles in grey almost translucent skin. The smell of age and decay, a giant trembling hand that was placed over my own as he stared into my eyes. He had brown eyes with tears in. The only other eyes I have ever seen are those that stare back at me from mirrors. When things get bad I wonder what I would give to see another pair of brown eyes. I have read that some people even had blue or green eyes. The idea of it is so exotic, so outrageous. The coloured lenses they wore simply to alter how their eyes looked? That is a world we can understand, changing anything about yourself that you dislike without a moments thought. But the idea that nature itself put such colours into eyes? That I can barely credit.

But I digress, Midas had been launched and a hundred million people paid real gold to see the world in a new light. A golden light. Such a toy, and it was only the beginning. Once someone had had the idea the copies multiplied, over and over. See the world as diamond, ruby, as an old low resolution copy. See things as fantastic psychedelic swirls or the clean simple lines of a cartoon. Watch the people in your life drop into an old film or disappear into blackness and neon movement. Maybe some of those first programs used the same code that you are seeing now. No you are not special or advanced. No one has given you a higher glimpse into reality or a new understanding beyond that of previous generations. People have been doing what you are doing for more than a century now. It is old and stale, but the lie has become cleverer since then.

Other devices that had been separate were joined. Reach between your shoulder blades, if you can. Touch the lump on your spine, buried under the skin. Your NekPak would once have been a dozen separate gadgets and trinkets, a voice communicator, a data entry device, a camera, music player and things that we no longer even have words for, so subsumed in the NekPak and your identity you no longer realise that they were once separate things. That you could live without them. Once people did. Never knowing what they needed. Seeing only what was there, talking to only those in their presence. I have read of old explorers who left for months never contacting their families, unable to do so. Marco Polo setting down stories of lands that to him were as fantastic as any alien world you have seen. Columbus losing his way and finding a new world. Scott succumbing slowly to the cold writing a last letter to his wife who would not receive it until months after his death.

This was when a million marketers set out to tell the world the lie that reality was not important. Lenses were life changing things. All you had counted for nothing without a lens to view it through. That with a lens you would be satisfied, that with a lens it would all look all right, and if it looked all right, then it would be all right.

And they succeeded.

I wonder what they could have succeeded at if they had picked something different. There were many things the world needed telling at that time.

In another age I don't think it would have been the end. It seems so inevitable now. But maybe it only seems inevitable because it happened. If someone had chosen a different path then that too would have seemed inevitable. The inevitable joining of governments to reign-in energy use. The inevitable switch to renewable fuels. The inevitable limits to population growth. The inevitable reach for the stars. Sometimes I wonder what a different inevitable would have been like. I cannot think of many that I would not prefer to the current inevitable. Even the silence of a world where life has given in to extinction has its attractions when compared to the truth I live in. But then maybe it is inevitable that I feel this way. See I try to joke sometimes. I do it for Julia's sake more than my own. She loves to laugh and in her laughter we can for a time share the same world.

But I've mentioned Julia again, let me tell you how we met.

A normal day. No a good one. I had just found an uneaten protein bar and was busy etching the word "Ipswich" onto an otherwise unmarked wall.

“Hey”

The sound meant nothing.

“Hey you.” a touch on my arm, a genuine touch. I looked round waiting for the inevitable. But it did not come. A girl was looking at me, as far as I could tell. Somewhere in her twenties perhaps. Looking in my direction anyway.

“Do you speak?” she was definitely speaking to me. I looked around but there was no one else on the street, not that that meant much, she could still be speaking to a lot of things I could not see. But maybe.

“I... I speak.” It had been a while, my voice was croaky from lack of use. Most people could not even see me and those that could never had anything to say that required an answer.

“Why do you look like that?” Not malicious, simple curiosity. “Did you lose a bet, I did once, had to spend a week as a man. That was embarrassing, specially when I needed the, you know, in public.”

“This is just how I look.” What more was there to say. The girl looked perplexed. I relaxed a little. It was interesting to have someone actually deal with me on my terms for a change.

“You chose to look that way? No offence but if you're having style issues I can help, got a gamma 6 in the body morf and can facemod with the best.” Genuine concern. Something else I hadn't seen in a very long time.

“No you misunderstand. This is how I look. Really.”

“Really? Like you're stuck like that?” The puzzlement had gone up several notches now. After all how can reality be explained to someone who has never seen it before.

“I don't have any implants. What you see is the way my body looks, without lenses.” It is wonderful to tell the truth after so long hiding. And terrifying. I wait a moment for the shouts, the call for reinforcements, the shock prods and nets. Yet she does not look like a policeman, in fact I haven't seen one for years now. Maybe they are no longer hunting me. Maybe they no longer exist. Her expression is not one I ever saw on a policeman's face even when they were a child's nightmare, lurking on every corner, hidden in any shadow. Fierce, watchful and waiting. Yet the girl has a very different look. The utter bafflement of someone's who's lifetime of unquestioned knowledge just turned out to have a hole in it.

“But everyone has lenses. Everyone.”

“But not me.”

“How? Why?” Curiosity mingled with disbelief. Years of certain knowledge fighting against new information. It is fascinating to watch.

“How? Never had them. Why? Don't want them.”

“Gee... You got time for a coffee? I know a great place.”

Now it was my turn to look baffled. I could say I had little experience of women, but it would be more accurate to say I had little experience of human beings. Why someone who found me repulsive would want to take coffee with me seemed curious to say the least. But then when I examined my feelings I realised that despite my own revulsion I wanted to share a coffee with her as well.

“I have time. All you need.” I hoped this was how you talked to women.

We walked down the street. It was near noon and all but deserted as usual. The paving stones were cracked but almost all whole and only a couple of open sewers were visible down the entire street. This area of New London had suffered a worse population crash than most, one reason it was in better repair. We walked in silence, I had nothing to say and enjoyed the sound of someone else's footsteps and breathing. What my new companion was thinking? Who knows. She could have been walking on Mars with an alien war chief, prowling through Valhalla with Thor by her side. A small part of me hoped that she was walking down a street with me. Now someone had seen me I did not want to be overwritten by a prettier sight. Though I must admit I took comfort from the sounds she made and did my best not to look at her directly. I guess I am a hypocrite.

It seemed she had stayed on the street with me as she grunted and nodded towards a govCafe. One of the few still running in the area. Frail splintered wooden chairs were scattered round plastic tables on the pavement. It was spring and still far too cold to be sat outside, but of course that did not matter to the girl who pulled up a chair and leaned back, looking me over again.

“Guess you've got no carbon?”

“True.”

“No worries, I'll buy.” She smiled. I made a note.

“Thank you.” Heartfelt but it was not the coffee I thanked her for. No one had smiled at me in 18 years but my reflection.

“So do you have a name? I'm Julia.” The question, so simple and innocent. The confusion when I did not immediately give her an answer. Eventually I remembered.

“Rob-128”

“You don't need the full handle, we're face not space here.”

“Sorry, then just Rob I think. I haven't used it for a while.”

“OK Rob I think.” A grin.

A naked man waddled to the table, holding a blank piece of paper in grubby hands. His fleshy distended stomach covering his groin. A smell of waste wafted from his legs where he had soiled himself. The café owner I assumed, most people didn't bother to eat enough these days. Actually becoming obese on protein bars took a certain dedication I almost admired. Or would have if I had not spent so much time hungry.

“This guy bothering you Julia?” A gruff voice, I did not look at his face. The hands fascinated me too much. Black nails, brown stains. A trace note in the air... yes they were coffee stains. Maybe they actually served coffee here.

“No Hal, he's my guest. Two coffees, double, super skinny, touch of cinnamon and... How do you like it Rob?”

“However it comes.” I had no intention of drinking anything that was brought out. Unless it really was coffee. I hadn't tasted that in a while. Hal waddled back inside and I looked up at Julia. She was still fixedly staring at me. I shrugged.

“I'm just surprised he saw me. Most don't.” I saw the look of puzzlement again and began to explain. “There was a glitch in HiLife 20/6, it assumes everyone has an avatar to display so when they don't it doesn't display anything, well anything much.”

“But I see you?”

“Yeah, it's weird what version do you run?”

“Me and Hal we're old school. You know run the originals 15/2, earlier if we can get it. The new stuff is so bland. What's the point in upgrading when it does so little.”

“At least one upgrade did something. Old versions like yours display me as I look, sometimes.” I didn't want to get into a discussion of life mods. “But after 20/6 the system was not told what to show when someone had no avatar, no lens, no nekPak. So it shows nothing. Just a shadowy blob. Enough that people don't walk into me but that's about the lot.”

“So you're invisible... cool... Have you ever, you know, hidden to watch people?”

I thought for a few moments.

“No. Why would I?”

“But you could see the private things they get up to.”

“What do you do, really? I mean without a lens.”

Now she paused to think.

“I guess it must look strange if you can't see what I see.” she looked round. Hal was emerging with two cups. He put them on the table, winking at Julia as he went back inside.

“You know if Hal was just a little younger, but he let slip once his real age was 30.” She winked at me in turn. I could have told her that Hal had lied, and by about 20 years at that. She would not have believed me. She picked up her coffee raised the cup in a salute. So I just smiled, practising, and tried not to look too hard at the cup in front of me. Well it was a cup at least, and the smell suggested coffee had probably been involved. I picked my cup, it was even warm. The white mould that lined the inside of the cup almost looked like froth. The liquid could be the result of a coffee machine, one that had not been repaired, cleaned or refreshed in ten years. I didn't know. I wasn't going to drink it.

Opposite me Julia drank deeply, her face lit up as she swallowed down what was obviously some of the best coffee that she had ever drunk. I tried not to notice the dirt on the cup or the lump of something that had stuck to her lip. She caught my eye, looking quizzical. I raised my own cup to my lips and pretended to take a sip. A little lie to thank her for her kindness. Amidst all the other lies that surrounded her how would she ever know. But something in me rebelled at even this minor deception.

“Isn't this just the best coffee you've ever tasted?” she asked, obviously transported to some culinary heaven. How could I answer? For all my love of truth I really did not want to tell it now.

“It's a little different the way I taste it. But there's a lot worse.” This then was truth, many of the remaining cafés sold only water or even handed out empty cups. Why bother filling them with anything in particular when your patrons would taste whatever they liked. Why spend time cooking when the program in the customer's head would make each meal taste like a feast regardless of what it consisted of. Hal obviously ran the cafe for enjoyment sake and must have taken pride in still using the coffee maker. He went up in my estimation. At least he was trying even if HiLife made his best efforts a waste of time.

HiLife the beginning and the end. The logical follow on to the Midas program. Seeing everything made out of gold was a pretty distraction. Seeing everything better – now that was something even more exciting. It started out in parts, a program that made every woman look like a supermodel, another that allowed you to redecorate your house at a whim. Of course once you've started seeing everything in a new light it becomes a bit of a let down to have to take off the lenses and see things how they are. That your wife is getting old. That your husband has put on a few extra pounds round the waist. That the house is not really an advertisement for a home improvement magazine but in need of work, care and cleaning. Much better to keep the lenses on. I remember when I was only a few years old. I wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted lenses too. Father talked to me like a man for the first time. He told me of the bravery of my Grandfather. Father told me he had tried HiLife back in the first few years. Grandfather had worn the lenses for 2 weeks straight, then taken them off and smashed them. Grandfather realised the snare and warned his family. He saw the truth, saw the trap. So few did. So very few.

I told Julia this, and she reached end of her coffee still trying to understand the basics of reality. I was still trying to disguise the reality that I had a full cup next to me.

“But can't you change anything? How about the hair?”

I considered for a moment.

“Not many hairdressers around, at least who'd work on me. For nothing.” Whenever I could gather my hair into a good handful I tended to take a knife to it. It was clumsy but it kept it out of the way. Julia seemed to find this very exciting.

“I have some scissors back at my place, let me cut your hair for you.” the look, almost pleading.

“Sure, but why do you care?”

“Not being able to change anything? It must be like, horrifying. I can't go two days with the same look. And...” She stopped short.

“Anything would be an improvement on how I look now?” For the first time in months a genuine smile and genuine amusement on my part. The humour was rather on the black side, but then she couldn't see what I could see. Reality works both ways.

“Sorry I didn't mean...” she looked embarrassed. I shrugged. For appearances sake.

Chapter 2

It was an hour or so later when we arrived at her apartment. I had to hold on to her shoulder as the lift reached her floor. All the lights were out. I suppose I should have been grateful that the lift still worked. Of course she could not tell whether the lights were on or off. It was always as bright as day with the sunlight pouring in from the glass roof, or so she told me. There were some practical occasions when lenses were of rather more use than eyes. Her apartment at least had a window, broken and thick with grease but it let in enough light. Rather too much from my point of view.

"It's wonderful isn't it! I couldn't believe that I could get an apartment overlooking the river on my budget. I mean it's a bit on the small size - yeah alright it's pokey as hell but for that view I can put up with a kitchen that, well I never use anyway…" she talked without stopping, rummaging in various cupboards. I walked over to the window. To my surprise there actually was a view of the river. It's concrete banks succumbing to the ravages of time. The water flowed slowly, a muddy brown. But still, here and there grass had forced its way through paving stones, even the occasional tree grown hiding a little of the horror that New London had inflicted upon the area.

"What do you think?" she had come up behind me and was watching over my shoulder. I looked back almost directly into her eye sockets. I realised that she was almost as tall as I was. This close it was apparent that her lenses were not entirely matt black. A lighter smudge where they reflected the light from the window. A dark shadow where I blocked the light. The sight disturbed me so I looked back out of the window.

"Peaceful." I replied. "I like it when the trees break through."

"Break through what?"

"The concrete."

"What concrete?"

I sighed, I'd forgotten again.

"What do you see Julia?"

"The old river, the park, a few apartments here and there, but it's almost all trees. Isn't it?" a tone halfway between a questions and request for confirmation.

"Some trees, not many. And it's a canal, not a river. They put it in concrete a long time ago. When we still moved things by water. There are traces of an old path where horses would pull the boats. The canal is from the old city. Before New London."

"My version is prettier."

"Sorry. You're probably right but I only see what is there."

"Here I found the scissors."

She led me over to a chair in the kitchen.

"Hope you don't mind but the floor here is easier to sweep up." she smiled sweetly, unaware that the floor had a film of grease and had not been properly swept, possibly since it was built. I tried not to step on any of the rotten food that had collected over the years. My shoes stuck to the floor. Julia was barefoot oblivious to all of it.

I sat, looking at the scissors in Julia's hands. They may once have been hairdressers scissors, they were around the right size. The metal was pitted and rusted - they had obviously been kept in a damp place. I doubted the edges would still cut but was proved wrong as Julia took a chunk of my hair in her hand and cut it. She grunted in faint surprise, then made a couple more experimental cuts.

"This is weird, your hair doesn't cut right. Can you do a re-grow."

"Depends, if you don't mind waiting a month I can." again that frozen moment as Julia's mind tried to come to terms with our clashing realities.

"Woah, yeah. Is that how hair usually grows? OK I need to think about this for a moment." She paused then made some more smaller cuts, the grunts of surprise occurring now and again. Cutting the hair of an avatar was presumably very different to cutting real hair. I closed my eyes and began to relax. Listening to her breathing then humming something tuneless under her breath. Her body brushed my shoulder and I shivered. I hadn't been touched in so long. Something deep inside seemed to ache for the contact.

"Are you cold - I can turn up the heat?" she asked misinterpreting the movement.

"No I'm fine." It was fairly cold but I doubted the building actually had any heating. NekPaks control the nerves that detect temperature. To Julia the flat was cosily warm and always would be, whatever the temperature actually was. It was much cheaper than supplying the power for a boiler.

Not that there were many working power stations these days. She moved onto the beard, trimming back the worst excesses. As her face moved closer to mine I closed my eyes.

"Sorry, it's not quite what I was trying for." Julia sounded apologetic.

"Got a mirror?" As soon as I said it I wished I could bite it back.

"Sure in the bathroom." she gestured to the only other door in the open plan apartment. The small kitchen taking up a corner, a shapeless rectangle that could have been a bed or a low couch took up most of the rest of the space. In the gloomy light of the single window it didn't look too bad until you got close. I skirted it and opened the door, holding my breath in anticipation. The light was broken, somewhat to my relief.

"Sorry, too dark in there. I'll have to have a look when I get home."

"Oh." she paused. "Do you want to stay for a bit. I was going to eat."

I looked at her. I really wanted to run. I didn't want to touch anything she prepared, but she desperately needed to eat and perhaps staying might encourage her to.

"Only if it puts you to no trouble - if you have a spare protein bar perhaps?" I may have found one but that could always be eaten later. She seemed pleased and waved me over to the rectangle which turned out to be some sort of bed and sofa combination. I managed to find a relatively clean bit of it and sat gingerly on the edge. Julia crashed around in cupboards for a moment.

"Catch!" the bar came spinning through the air and I snatched at it before it fell into anything that would make it inedible. As I pealed back the wrapper Julia bounced over and threw herself sprawling onto the sofa-bed. She had her own bar and was wolfing her way through it. I chewed more slowly. Flavour was all in the mind, at least for her. For me it was dry, tacky with the taste of tree bark, oak maybe. I had tried all sorts after learning a while back that willow-bark was a painkiller, but not really knowing what a willow looked like. When I finally found a book on botany I went back and worked out which tree was which. Still after the winter months and the slim pickings they had provided I could forgive the taste of the bar and appreciate the feeling of a full stomach.

"So how old are you anyway? You look ancient." Julia spat out crumbs of protein as she asked. I finished chewing before replying.

"Dunno. At least thirty, I think. Could be forty. Probably less. Father never was one for counting off the years and I never got into the habit."

"Do all 30 year olds look like you, really I mean?"

"Most look worse." I thought of the malnourished, wretched creatures that that human race had become. I do not know the current life expectancy. The average once reached over the 100 mark and Grandfather went well past that point. These days if it is much beyond forty I would be surprised.

"Right, I better make sure I date 20 year olds." a remark with such seriousness I couldn't resist chuckling, which set Julia laughing. For a few minutes we could have been anyone from anytime.

Chatting about anything and nothing. Enjoying each others company. I could have stayed their, perched awkwardly on the edge of that sofa-bed for hours. Until:

"What do I look like? To you?" and there it was, the question I really did not want to answer.

"Can we leave that for another time?" Julia raised an eyebrow

"So you think there will be another time?"

"Oh. I…" I must have looked distressed as Julia put her hand on my arm and smiled.

"I'm kidding, you really haven't spent much time around women have you?"

"Any would be closer to it." I looked out of the window at the darkening sky. "I have to go, its risky in the dark."

"It's a no-crime neighbourhood. There's no problem."

"Not that. The streetlights in my area don't work, one pothole and I've got a broken ankle."

"What a wonderful world you live in." Julia remarked dryly.

Julia walked me out of the building and we stood for a moment in the early dusk.

"So your place next time?" She asked, suddenly sounding unsure and vulnerable.

"Of course, when?"

"Tomorrow - same café?" I nodded and walked away. Halfway down the road I turned and looked back. Julia still stood outside her building, the windows uniformly black, like lenses. A girl living in a perfect world, yet looking lost and lonely. I wondered how many people lived in this road. The high rise flats could have housed a thousand families, yet there was no sound, no light no evidence that anyone other than myself and Julia even existed. I looked back again when I reached the end of the road. Julia had returned to her apartment. And I was alone again. In the middle of New London.

New London. You live here and probably know so little of it. You should. It may be soulless but it has a history. At one stage it was home to almost 50 million people covering most of what had been the Middlelands. Its centre a small old city of less than half a million. But the tower blocks have gone up for mile after mile in all directions. New London's construction began after the Ipswich riots. Of course even if you have heard of them you will not have heard the truth of them. Every electronic record of them has been altered time and again to fit the current mood, the current narrative, the current need. I read the official history once, at least the current official history - even that is hard to find now. Not the biggest lie that was ever told to you, but still, another one on the list. They used to say each story had three sides, his side, her side and the truth. I never quite believed it. I only ever saw truth and two sets of lies. The lies of London include stories of heroic struggle and dignified sacrifice. The people of Ipswich so moved by the plight of London's refugees that they gave up their own homes to the newcomers. A whole town uprooting itself to the middlelands to build a new city for the displaced, their example inspiring many other to do the same. It is a moving story, noble, a parable of human virtue that speaks to later generations. But it is not true.

While there was still some light I moved quickly. But as the sun dropped the light faded. About halfway home I accepted that I was not going to make before sunset and I sat by the roadside for a few minutes in the hope that the moon would rise and shed a little more illumination. It was a clear night and so I leant back and stared up at the stars. Beautiful, distant - but not sufficient to see by. A few twinkled brightly in their fixed pattern. One moved quickly from one horizon to the other - or at least as much of the horizon as I could make out between the buildings. All wrong for a shooting star. Probably one of the old space stations still orbiting silently. Still waiting for the humans to return. Waiting in vain.

After a few minutes the cold began to seep in and I gave up on the moonlight. My eyes had adjusted as much as they were going to and I began to make my way gingerly along - watching for darker patches where the pavement might have collapsed through into the sewers. The paving was cracked and uneven at best but, here at least, not rough enough to cause real problems. The rare moving shadows hinted at one or two other people walking the streets. Maybe they still saw it as daylight, or they simply strolled on underneath bright streetlights. While the lampposts were still there, none of the lights were working in this area. Despite the almost deserted streets one of the night walkers nearly collided with me, veering at the last moment. A frown of puzzlement, annoyance maybe, flickering across his forehead and lips as he made a sudden sidestep. The dark shadows of night hiding the eyes. He stumbled, and muttered as he moved off. Probably already forgetting the flicker of reality that had intruded upon his dreamscape.

In truth it always seemed strange to me that even when given the choice most of the cities inhabitants tended to only come out in daylight. It should have made no difference to them at all. The NekPak able to project any image at any time made dusk and dawn simply a matter of choice and convenience. For me however the combination of lack of light, and heat, made the choice something of a forced one and it was with great relief that I reached my home without any further problems.

After the late return sleep was elusive. Tossing and turning unable to settle I replayed the conversation with Julia in my head over and over again. Taking pleasure in the thoughts of company. Searching for any meanings that I had missed. A rather hopeless search. Many of the books I had read talked of subtexts, and body language - neither of which I was likely to recognise with my limited exposure to people. Even if those cues had been given on a physical level, rather than in some version only visible to other HiLifers. When sleep finally came it was fitful, broken with half remembered nightmares of police and the blank stares of impassive bystanders.

I confess I was probably overeager. It was barely dawn when I left and still too early for the sun to be visible over the tower blocks when I reached the café the next day. Real conversation, it turned out, was rather addictive. The only communication I had had since Father died was text based chatboards. It took a certain kind of mind to choose text to communicate when your avatar could travel anywhere. Choosing impersonal symbols over a voice. Those who did presumably had their reasons, but now I was even more confused as to what they could be. While I was glad of whatever contact and information I could get, it now felt somewhat lacking. Something profound I had never realised was missing was satisfied when a real person was there present. Or maybe I had always known and had just put the thought so far to the back of my mind that I had convinced myself I no longer needed it. For all the promise of electronics actually being around a real person was, different somehow. The exchange of information I was used to was useful and often pleasant. But with Julia even saying nothing was worthwhile, words with little or no meaning took on great importance. One meeting and I was already captivated.

I found a low wall and perched on it. Watching the sun rise between the tower blocks. Glimpses of the sun red and angry, gradually making its way above the oppressive concrete. I had chosen well, a spot out of the wind and as the sun rose I felt it warm on my face. The first hints of the future summer that would follow the spring. Back in the garden the first few shoots were beginning to emerge, the promise of another year.

I lay back and thought of history. The workers who built the city. Those who lived in the old city before them. The farmers who tilled the land before either city. Distant ancestors in other countries lying in the sun waiting for the coming of summer and the new crop. Comfortable, still sated from yesterdays bounty and tired from the late night and disturbed rest I slept.

It was a scent that awoke me, my nose wrinkled and I half rolled, half fell off the wall. My limbs had stiffened after time on the cold concrete. Coloured lights flashed in front of my eyes and I felt dizzy momentarily. I put a hand on the wall, leaning against it as blood returned. Julia was watching, a slightly sardonic smile on her face.

"Not exactly sleeping beauty I guess." I said. Rubbing my eyes trying to get them to focus properly.

"Been waiting long?" she asked. I looked up at the sky, the sun had risen further and the shadows of the tower blocks had noticeably retreated.

"I don't know exactly, maybe a couple of hours."

"Do you know what a rhetorical question is?"

"Yes its…" I paused as I realised she was laughing at me. "That was another one wasn't it? Sorry, still working on the whole people thing." She shook her head and handed me a paper cup. Inside was a brown liquid. It had coffee in it. The water felt hot enough to have been boiled at some point. It was probably safe to drink. I smiled, mentally offered a small prayer and tried it. The coffee was dreadful, over-boiled water, course grains floating in it. The aftertaste of something burnt. But drinkable. All things considered I was happy to settle for that.

"You didn't take milk or sugar last time so I assumed black was OK." Julia said, sounding slightly unsure. Coffee was enough of a chance, there was no way I was risking milk which could have been left for weeks. While protein bars contained a cocktail of antiviral and antibacterial agents - probably the only reason for any of the population surviving - it was not something I wanted to trust my life to.

"It's fine thank you." I took another sip. It was admittedly the best coffee I had drunk in about 8 years. The only coffee. She raised her own paper cup in a toast and we fell into step walking down the street away from the tower blocks.

"So how far is your place then?"

"About 2 blocks that way." I indicated towards the old town centre. Some of the original buildings visible over the low-rise blocks that surrounded them. The low rises had blank walls topped by spikes, broken glass and barbed wire. Some even had what looked like electric fencing. Though the chances of anyone having the carbon these days to run the necessary generators seemed fairly remote. Inside the barriers were plain white homes windows plated with doubled up glass shielded by bars. Doors studded and barred with metal. The houses of the officials, the engineers, the powerful. Sheltered from the huge press of humanity that had once been herded into the nearby high-rises.

"Posh area."

"Easier to hide somewhere the police will never look. They always used to patrol to keep people out, never to look for those who were in there."

"Never seen a police patrol."

"I remember them. A long time ago when I was a kid. Some days it seemed like there were police on nearly every corner. Guarding buildings, walking through the streets. Their vans circled randomly you never knew when you would have to run for cover. But as time passed the patrolmen went and only the vans remained. Each year, there seemed to be fewer of them, until one day even they vanished."

"Well there's no crime here. Why would we need police patrols?"

"Why indeed."

"See you do know what a rhetorical question is!" a wink and a gently mocking tone. I smiled.

It is true that old crime is almost gone. What is worth stealing when everything is virtual? Food and water are to all intents and purposes free and while housing depends upon political power and connections for its size and location the meanest hovel appeared a palace to its inhabitant. That was the point after all. Why build well and decorate expensively when you could build cheaply and see all the virtual decorations you like. Any experience you wanted was available virtually and the crimes became those conducted in the cyber spaces. And the policemen became virtually useless. Other than to catch people like me I suppose. Apparently there are now no longer enough of me to justify their existence. Maybe they patrol virtually now, securing the electronic frontier from all invaders. They are welcome to it.

We passed several dozen of the large residences then turned into an area of the Oltown. Here cast iron streetlights still stood, elegantly decorated with artistic swirls of metal. Gently rusting as the paint slowly flaked away. They seemed more decorative than most though I knew from painful experience few actually worked, and those that did shed little light. The tall poles stood like sentinels and at some point they had been modified, the top crudely cut off - often raggedly and new lights fitted. Each appeared to be wearing an old style veiled hat. Mirrored surfaces reflected the light from the top mounted LEDs down while on the upper side of the hat were the dark grey solar collectors that were supposed to charge the batteries. A well-honed design by an unsung genius. But the solar cells that collected power by day had been covered by the dust and dirt of a century. The batteries faithful in their duties over thousands of cycles now discharged in the first few minutes after dusk fell. I had climbed one once, the decorations making useful handholds. It had taken several hours to detach the light box and many more to break apart the components without damaging the contents. Once cleaned I had refashioned the parts into a usable, if very heavy, torch with a solar docking centre. It had worked for a few months, then when I neglected to use it for a week or two the battery had irrevocably died. I reverted back to burning things for light. Progress was not all it was cracked up to be.

The closer we came the more carvings there were. "Ipswich" was on every wall and lamppost. I had done too many close to home and had tried to make myself harder to find by covering the whole neighbourhood. Given how they would have been blocked out by the standard HiLife settings there was unlikely to have been any need, but it had become a habit over the years. A target to achieve. And there had always been the threat of a police patrol taking an interest. We reached my home and Julia stopped. To her there was nothing but a solid stone wall, stretching maybe 20 metres each way, and as least as many up. A great stone cube, featureless and ugly.

"Close your eyes and trust me." I reached out my hand, she took it hesitantly. We walked forward, as we reached the point where she had seen stone she stiffened, feeling rough stone. Then she cried out as I pulled her hand through it. Her eyes opened to see solid stone that shimmered like water as I lead her through. A horrified gasp and she tried to pull away but I was stronger and we stumbled forward. We stood for a moment, and Julia had her second glimpse of reality.