An excerpt from Perpetual Imaginers:
There was no way of making extra money once affixed into the dream state - other than via the mandatory extraction, what provided the data funding for Cloud TV, a reality platform that mined the dreams of all those swimming in the sea of the “permanently imagining”. The state of “permanent imagination” was a “choice” now made by millions, with an upward incline of interest and participation. There were no living expenses to worry about, except for those of sustenance and maintenance of the body and pod - all of which could be afforded on the minimal funds guaranteed by the PI’s (permanent imaginer) output. Society had been split for 30 years: between the dreamers and wakers, and those who championed the rights of those who slept.
Of course, some dreams were worth more - the more imaginative the dreamer, the more their data was worth on the Dream TV Market. Those who who did not opt-in to having their bad dreams banned (some could not afford this feature, whilst others were afraid to live in a place completely freed from the dark) were paid more for their nightmares, especially when more violent and tragic, or when filled with self-destruction; self destruction like overdoses, gambling addiction. Intel behavior - they all had increased watchable value. The money would go into Heartchain account devoted to keeping them alive (an IV of fluids, vitamins, energy). The third kind of coveted dream data was that of the older cloud folks - those who still had memories from before humans had converged with the AI hive - now referred to as “The Great Merge”.
Like the distinct human experience of having sex without one’s private fantasies immediately acted upon by their enslaved body. That long ago time of making love to someone and fantasizing about another, in the comfort of one’s mind - without the thought being transferred to an immediate action, or transference to the AI hive of the other. And the now extinct feeling of “indecision”, not knowing what one truly wanted - the anxiety of choice between Indian or Thai takeout - those moments of indecision erased fifty years ago. Seeing this on Cloud TV (the 24 hour loop of millions of people now permanently stuck (with their consent) in dream state, was for some people the only way to vicariously access an extinct emotion. The ones that had been cast away once the hive had fully merged with the cerebrum.
A protest had recently broken out, outside of the electro-magnetic fields encircling the main cells of the “permanent encampment”. An older man held up a screen with large neon yellow text, “Those that Sleep Still Feel”. A young girl with a dandelion entangled into her ECG helmet held up a flimsy screen with an image of a chaotic still: an underworld of ancient Grecian statutes, Egyptian tombs, feral cats and a pink unicorn in mid-gallup - grey soot covered its pink hooves, its nails painted a sparkly silver - a color that was no longer allowable due to the Color Code of 2055; silver/grey tones caused depressive dips in brain waves that hindered productivity. That flower child had extracted the picture from one of her favorite dream reels: an anonymous body tied to a REM mine-machine coded as PI89765. Even though she had no semblance of the dreamer’s face, she had some hunches - the Permanent Imaginer was probably around her age, 8 units of extraction, when she had crossed over. Another sign could be seen from where Oliver hovered, “Rights for Dreamers”. If he had still been hooked up to the hive, he would have easy access to the faint historical association he felt - the act of remembering, now an evolutionary vestige.
Oliver had been executing route memory exercises since his unhinging (what the data rebels called the process of disfiguring from the hive attachment). Everything had been erased: facial recognition of his mother, thousands of years of philosophy, history and art - his preferences, amassed from 33 years of experiential data mining. He would never forget the first morning post-disfiguration, waking up and trying to make himself breakfast. He made the first thing he could find - a bowl of instant mocha protein oatmeal only to realize that he abhorred its gloopy texture and the sourness of the mocha flavor. His grandfather, Barkley, had spoken about the Time Before “The Great Merge” - he had always been a luddite - refusing to participate in the first wave: the era of Facebook, Instagram. He had proudly never sported a smartphone (before they even knew about the thought extraction). He had an inkling of what things were to come - pre-cognizance of the cyborg conversion.
The merging happened in the third world first - Haiti was the first country to allow for the experiment. Marked as the new form of democracy - “The Great Merge” would facilitate access to immediate data and thought-reaction (like the lamp in ones pod turning off at the thought before, “I wish it was dark”). It was the pre-thought mechanism that had caused the merging revolution. To be faster than ones own thoughts - connection to the singular machine made the brain more efficient.
There was no way of making extra money once affixed into the dream state - other than via the mandatory extraction, what provided the data funding for Cloud TV, a reality platform that mined the dreams of all those swimming in the sea of the “permanently imagining”. The state of “permanent imagination” was a “choice” now made by millions, with an upward incline of interest and participation. There were no living expenses to worry about, except for those of sustenance and maintenance of the body and pod - all of which could be afforded on the minimal funds guaranteed by the PI’s (permanent imaginer) output. Society had been split for 30 years: between the dreamers and wakers, and those who championed the rights of those who slept.
Of course, some dreams were worth more - the more imaginative the dreamer, the more their data was worth on the Dream TV Market. Those who who did not opt-in to having their bad dreams banned (some could not afford this feature, whilst others were afraid to live in a place completely freed from the dark) were paid more for their nightmares, especially when more violent and tragic, or when filled with self-destruction; self destruction like overdoses, gambling addiction. Intel behavior - they all had increased watchable value. The money would go into Heartchain account devoted to keeping them alive (an IV of fluids, vitamins, energy). The third kind of coveted dream data was that of the older cloud folks - those who still had memories from before humans had converged with the AI hive - now referred to as “The Great Merge”.
Like the distinct human experience of having sex without one’s private fantasies immediately acted upon by their enslaved body. That long ago time of making love to someone and fantasizing about another, in the comfort of one’s mind - without the thought being transferred to an immediate action, or transference to the AI hive of the other. And the now extinct feeling of “indecision”, not knowing what one truly wanted - the anxiety of choice between Indian or Thai takeout - those moments of indecision erased fifty years ago. Seeing this on Cloud TV (the 24 hour loop of millions of people now permanently stuck (with their consent) in dream state, was for some people the only way to vicariously access an extinct emotion. The ones that had been cast away once the hive had fully merged with the cerebrum.
A protest had recently broken out, outside of the electro-magnetic fields encircling the main cells of the “permanent encampment”. An older man held up a screen with large neon yellow text, “Those that Sleep Still Feel”. A young girl with a dandelion entangled into her ECG helmet held up a flimsy screen with an image of a chaotic still: an underworld of ancient Grecian statutes, Egyptian tombs, feral cats and a pink unicorn in mid-gallup - grey soot covered its pink hooves, its nails painted a sparkly silver - a color that was no longer allowable due to the Color Code of 2055; silver/grey tones caused depressive dips in brain waves that hindered productivity. That flower child had extracted the picture from one of her favorite dream reels: an anonymous body tied to a REM mine-machine coded as PI89765. Even though she had no semblance of the dreamer’s face, she had some hunches - the Permanent Imaginer was probably around her age, 8 units of extraction, when she had crossed over. Another sign could be seen from where Oliver hovered, “Rights for Dreamers”. If he had still been hooked up to the hive, he would have easy access to the faint historical association he felt - the act of remembering, now an evolutionary vestige.
Oliver had been executing route memory exercises since his unhinging (what the data rebels called the process of disfiguring from the hive attachment). Everything had been erased: facial recognition of his mother, thousands of years of philosophy, history and art - his preferences, amassed from 33 years of experiential data mining. He would never forget the first morning post-disfiguration, waking up and trying to make himself breakfast. He made the first thing he could find - a bowl of instant mocha protein oatmeal only to realize that he abhorred its gloopy texture and the sourness of the mocha flavor. His grandfather, Barkley, had spoken about the Time Before “The Great Merge” - he had always been a luddite - refusing to participate in the first wave: the era of Facebook, Instagram. He had proudly never sported a smartphone (before they even knew about the thought extraction). He had an inkling of what things were to come - pre-cognizance of the cyborg conversion.
The merging happened in the third world first - Haiti was the first country to allow for the experiment. Marked as the new form of democracy - “The Great Merge” would facilitate access to immediate data and thought-reaction (like the lamp in ones pod turning off at the thought before, “I wish it was dark”). It was the pre-thought mechanism that had caused the merging revolution. To be faster than ones own thoughts - connection to the singular machine made the brain more efficient.