The following text is an excerpt from the novella ‘Hypercapitalism: A Future Memoir’ by Andrés Vaccari, published in Hypercapitalism and Other Tales of Planetary Madness (Wanton Sun 2023).
>> PURCHASE HYPERCAPITALISM
I arrived at the Office. Sarah was at her post, staring into the distance. The screens were off, the place silent and still.
‘Where is everyone?’ I said.
Her body went rigid at the sound of my voice. ‘It was a brutal night at the club. Didn’t you hear?’
‘I don’t remember seeing you there.’
‘You know I don’t go to those places. Are you okay, O’Hara?’
‘Yes. Why?’
She was speechless. A protein bar materialised in her hand, and she chewed. My gaze wandered around the Office.
‘Don’t you dream of getting out of here, Sarah?’
‘You look strange, O’Hara. You look… younger. There’s not one hematoma on your face.’
Ray showed up at the entrance. He looked a mess. Apparently, the party had become even more exciting after my embarrassing departure. An exoskeleton supported the left side of his body. In the place of his left eye there was an empty socket rimmed with black scabs. Ray had tried to mend his wounds with cheap biotech. The grafts didn’t stick, the one over his eye especially.
I laughed until I choked. ‘Ray, baby! Bad night, huh?’
Ray took his place and gazed at the readings with his good eye.
‘You always hope,’ he said. ‘You always say no, it can’t get any worse than this. Nothing can be worse than this. You tell yourself that this is it. You’ve reached the bottom of existence. But it seems that there is no worst, only infinite layers of worse.’
‘What do you want to be, Ray? A feature or a bug? A customer or a shareholder?’
June arrived. She took her place, ignoring us, fresh and radiant as always.
I couldn’t keep still. I had to act. I had to direct my new energy somewhere. My Office mates didn’t interest me.
I heard the doors buzz, just in time. The Efficiency Reinforcement guy had turned up to announce the monthly earnings.
‘Two million eight hundred and forty-eight for the month of May!’ he yelled with self-satisfaction. It was the unsinkable belief of Efficiency Reinforcement that the regular singing of sales figures improved morale and performance.
I raised my voice. ‘What the fuck do we want to know that for? We never see any of that money.’
The Office was completely silent. I had everyone’s attention.
The ER guy snapped. ‘That is a very unprofessional attitude, Mister Whoever-you-are. I will make sure your superiors are informed of your oh-so-radical comments.’
‘My name is Lionel Matthew O’Hara, Technical Officer, and I’m sure you resent your superiors too. After all, they give you the shitty jobs. You are a middle-middle and that’s all you’ll ever be.’
The last of his composure drained away. ‘You’re an asshole. A nobody.’ He chanted. ‘No-body, no-body.’
I punched him in the face. He seemed to expect it, because he took the fist with aplomb and fired a right hook. I deflected his arm. A new awareness moved me. I elbowed him in the nose and slammed him to the ground. With his defences down, I unloaded years of loneliness and frustration in a flurry of blows.
He was lying on the ground, his eyes bright crystals of terror.
Look at you, Lionel. A lion! My lion. Come on, think about our interport, honey.
I drew on my forehead with bloodied fingers. I zipped down my pants and traced a circle of urine around my new territory, englobing Ray, June, Sarah and the machines in our sector. June blew me a kiss.
I like this new man. I just generated a fun clip for the networks. You’re neglecting the networks a lot, honey love. Things can only get better! Did you know there was a song called that, back in the 1980s? In the Great Age of History, how exciting!
James arrived as the ER agent was dragging himself out through the access. James looked at him in disbelief. He smelled the breeze and recognised my scent.
‘You!’ he blared.
I fixed my new eyes on my prey. ‘I’m requesting a promotion.’
He laughed. ‘You don’t have what it takes.’
With my gaze steady on James, I motioned for Ray to come over. He took a few steps forward, radiating submission. ‘Ray, man, how much do you make a week?’
He moaned.
‘HOW MUCH!?’
‘Four… four hundred and twenty.’
‘Four twenty? Fuck, that’s nothing! That’s shit!’
Ray cried uncontrollably. ‘Please… please…’
‘Don’t worry, Ray. Things are going to get better. Do you notice anything wrong with my pants?’
He looked down. ‘No, sir.’
I slapped him on the good side of his face. ‘Come on, Ray. Look harder.’
He studied my pants again. ‘One leg is a little higher than the other.’
‘Well done. Now fix it.’
James and I laughed, then I let him kick Ray around a little, but I could sense he was cautious, unsure of how far I would go.
I pretended we were on the same side, reassuring James with a few smiles and friendly punches, then I gave Ray one last kick in the head and ordered the subordinates to return to their posts. The crowd behind the cognoglass dispersed, disappointed that the show was over. James looked impressed. At least I’d bought some time.
For the rest of the morning, I laid in wait. When James went to the bathroom, I followed him. I opened the door to his cubicle, and he laughed, puffing out his chest. I grabbed him by his perfect, silky hair, hammering his head against the wall until I held dead weight. I smeared my face with his fresh blood, scribbling symbols of my own invention on the mirrors and screens as if channelling an ancient evil.
I love the new you, my lion. I have high hopes for you, love love love. And for us.
In the Office, Ray and Sarah tried to ignore me. June found me fun, now. ‘So, you killed James, huh? I guess his position is vacant. How’s your girlfriend, that woman you talk to in your head all the time?’
‘She’s not a woman.’
Waves of violence rippled through the surrounding offices. Orgies and minor skirmishes broke out as the crowd at the other side of the walls caught the exciting scent of death.
Look what you’ve started, my love! You have unleashed the roar of the productive forces. Power is the measure of success. The markets love you and I love you first. You are and will be only mine. Forever.
With the blood still fresh, I rode the momentum of my competitive advantage. I took the elevator to level 24,753 and barged into Mort’s reception. I had never been this high. The air was rich, pure and oxygenated. Two medium-high-looking guys peered out from armchairs located by the soaring windows. The secretary sat behind a panel on the other side of the room. My pants and shirt were soaked, but I guessed this kind of sight was common up here.
I allowed myself a moment to reflect and gather strength. From the bosom of a plush sofa, I admired the view of the city. Trillions of rectangular cells emitted a spectral glow that gorged on its reflection. The towers swayed under their immense weight, adorned in curling skyways and wisps of clouds. Across the vast lowland of residential areas, the next cluster of towers was visible on the hazy horizon. And so on, the cities springing beyond.
A fine rain fell against the desert of light. Each drop was a body cast into the void, onto the streets and devices below in a constant stream, thousands at each blink of an eye. They’d chosen to leave by their own hand. The sick, the obsolete, the burnt-out. I could have been one of them.
I headed over to the secretary, one of Mort’s new assets from the night before. ‘I’m here to see Mort.’
‘Mr McPherson is busy.’
‘Tell him that Lionel Matthew O’Hara, next CTO of FuturKorp South-Northern America Agency, is here for his induction.’
‘Mr McPherson has no time for losers. Come back later. Much later.’
‘Oh, no, I’m not going to sit around and wait, honey.’
‘Don’t even think about it. Hey, I said… Stop!’
I gained access before she could reach me. Mort’s executive chamber was impressive. The walls, doors and furniture were carved from old wood in a rustic Country Living style, with recursive faux skylight designs.
El Jefe was disciplining someone at his desk, a guy from Human Resources. A second body was sprawled on the ground.
He detected my presence and the thrusting of his hips came to a dead halt. Four feverish eyes followed my approach. Mort cringed deeply, the graft-seams tugging at his neck and sternum.
‘Let the guy go,’ I sentenced. ‘We have business to discuss.’
‘Business?’ he screeched, doing up his zipper. ‘To discuss? Of course we do! I’m going to put you in your place!’ My impassive temper infuriated him. He took a breath and calculated, deciding to change strategy. ‘I heard what you did, O’Hara. I didn’t know you had the guts. And this makes you most interesting.’
‘We live in the Age of Disruption, Mort. Only the strong are prepared for the opportunities that constant change offers. I want you to know that I’m ready.’
‘Ready for a beating, more like.’
‘You need an ally in technology and I want a promotion. Neat transaction.’
He grabbed the HR guy by the hair and yelled into his ear. ‘You see? He’s a true inno-va-teer!’ The guy slid onto the rug and crawled toward the exit.
Mort offered me some prime gas. We assessed each other as equals. ‘I’m glad you decided to join the winners, O’Hara. I’ll tell you a secret, well, breaking news. I’m also on the rise.’
With a gesture, he activated a panel on the side of the desk to reveal an enclosure. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, where I glimpsed two shuddering shapes, grey skin stretched taut over brittle bone.
‘Certified by Excellence,’ Mort said. Children were a spare blood supply, a luxury exclusive to the upper-middles. He closed the panel.
‘Congratulations, Mort! Let me guess: Corporate Finance?’
‘You are fast. Something like that. Hierarchy Management Logistics.’
This was good news—for him and me.
Mort consulted with his PA then turned to me. ‘There’s a Project Advisor Officer vacancy in Strategic Risk Management Assessment. I’ve already applied for you and issued my recommendation. You and I will go far.’
>> Purchase hypercapitalism
