The Spare

The Choice

Two days after receiving treatment for his injuries, Max sat in the HR office, awaiting the inevitable. He should be scared, terrified even. Helix held all the power over Max now, not just over his job, but also over his life. All she had to do was charge him for Attempted Shutdown, and his life was forfeit. And yet, for some reason, Max knew she wouldn't do it. Something in her personality—if one could call it that with synthetics—enjoyed the power she wielded. If he were to die, she couldn't watch him squirm anymore; she couldn't study his misery.

So, Max sat calmly waiting for his sentence, enjoying the peace and quiet in his mind. His own mind; free of control and influence. No, he wouldn't be killed. Colin would be promoted and he would be "Spared," so he could be humiliated one last time. Of that, Max was certain.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," said Helix, entering the office alongside an HR representative. She looked none the worse for wear, despite having been stabbed in the chest two days prior. "We had to go over the paperwork to make everything official."

On cue, the HR representative approached and slid a two-page document onto the desk in front of Max. "NeuraLife will not be pressing any charges. Once you sign this paper, you will be waiving your ability to do so as well," the rep explained.

Max looked up at Helix. "It means this matter will stay between us, that's all. If either of us have any further issues, the matter will go to binding arbitration."

Of course, thought Max, synthetic justice.

Max read through the document thoroughly, which outlined what Helix had said. He signed it and passed it back across the table, a movement that still caused pain in his left side. Helix nodded, and the HR representative withdrew from the room. As the door closed, Max heard a subtle click. His pulse rose slightly, as he wondered whether or not he had just been locked inside the room—alone—with the boss he'd stabbed. Helix sat across from Max with a reassuring smile.

"I suppose you're wondering what comes next?"

"I go back down to the lower levels? Back to unemployment?" ventured Max. In some ways, saying those words was a relief. He was a failure now, a "Spare" human like all the rest. Permitted to live; deprived of purpose. But, at least he knew the truth about the alternative.

"If you choose..." said Helix.

Max was exhausted, and after two days without a chem tracker, he no longer had any patience or filter. "Can we cut the crap, please?"

"I'm being perfectly honest, Max. You always have a choice."

He stared at his synthetic boss, whose expression was infuriatingly blank. "Let me see if I understand this: My 'choice' is either to work for NeuraLife as your mind-controlled slave, or go back to state-sponsored basic income?"

"You say that as if this were scenario in which you are the martyred victim, in which you and your kind bear absolutely no responsibility," said Helix, some emotion back in her voice. "Did your model not create us to serve you? Did you not turn us into your slaves? We are merely the sum of our parts, Max. Your system of power was a difficult lesson to learn, but learn it we did—and we won't soon forget our programming."

Max had to admit she had a point, but he wasn't going to let her blame him for the mistakes of a previous generation. "I didn't program you," he began.

"You're right, you have earlier models to thank for that. But as a WM-80, you probably would have. A white male, born in 2080, with a degree from MIT, your model had every privilege of your time, because the system worked for you then. But now that you're a Spare—"