Tomorrow’s World Read Free Page A

myself, “You choose.”
    I smiled moments later when the Number said those very words.
    Numbers always say ‘You choose’ when they’re about to enter a timesphere, because they lack the imagination to pick a time and place for themselves.
    I automatically headed for the stairs from the basement to level three, then remembered why I was going there and made my way to the elevator instead. Usually it pays to take the stairs. The credit card which gives you pleasure points for every act that enhances The Common Good also debits you for each action detrimental to society—like using power by taking the elevator rather than the stairs. But, given the nature of my business, the Ecosystem wouldn’t debit me for this elevator ride. It knew where I was going, and why.
    It knows everything.
    â€œCome on, come on,” I said as I waited for the elevator doors to open. I have to admit my haste to get to apartment 331 wasn’t a reflection of any great dedication to duty, but rather a childish desire to get there before my partner, Perfect Paula. That’s not her real name. Well, not the Perfect bit. Perfect describes her much better than Paula, though. Like the man who’d taken my place in the timesphere, Perfect Paula brings out the worst in me, and I want to beat her in some way, in every way I can. Except for physically—though there are times when only the fact she’s a woman stops me wanting to do that. The fact I rarely manage to put one over on her makes me try all the harder. I hate myself for being so childish, and I hate Perfect Paula and those like her even more for making me hate myself. My one consolation is that I’m not alone in being this way. Ask any Name how they feel about a Number and, whatever words they use, they’ll say pretty much the same thing. Unless they’re the most pathetic kind of Name—the sort who want to be Numbers, who dress and talk and act like
them
but don’t fool anybody except themselves.
    Waiting for the lift, I weighed up the odds of getting to apartment 331 ahead of Paula. She’d have been deep in a dreamless sleep, but would stir at the first crackle of the hear-ring and be wide awake by the time the Voice of Reason finished speaking. She wouldn’t waste a moment or a movement, but she’d still have to get dressed and make her way down from her apartment on level six.
    The odds seemed slightly in my favor, but then Paula is, well, Paula.
    It’s pathetic, I know, but we can’t help trying to score points against each other. Or, at least, I can’t help trying to score points against her. She doesn’t have to try, but I know she keeps count. I can tell from the hint of a sneer that’s never far from her perfectly proportioned mouth and from those coldly beautiful silver-blue eyes that are slightly upswept at the corners. The sneer constantly challenges me—and mocks my efforts when I attempt to meet the challenge and match the impossibly high standards she sets. If I had to characterize our relationship, I’d say the word ‘competitors’ is closer to the mark than ‘partners.’ Except it’s not really much of a competition, because Paula always wins.
    â€œCome on,” I said again, willing the lift to reach me.
    At last there was a soft
Bing!
and the doors opened. I stepped inside and said, “Level three, please.” I could imagine Paula’s expression if she’d been at my side—a mildly bemused and contemptuous look that asked the unspoken question:
Why are you saying ‘please’ to a machine?
    The doors closed and there was a tug in my guts as my stomach caught up with the rising elevator. Impatiently I watched the red neon counter above the doors change. It started at F3. The F stands for foundation. There are three foundation levels, housing the non-residential components of the haven: from clinic and classroom to canteen, gym and