The Reanimation Fund

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Short fiction from a recent writing project. This is part 4. See previous posts for parts 1-3. Feature image from Pixabay.

Arthur was an animal in a futuristic zoo. He was free to do as he wished but had nowhere else to go. There were two other people from the past in Arthur's building, both from the 2060s. The building itself was part of a larger campus. With six square blocks of artistic and intellectual amusements, this campus was a popular tourist destination.

Getty followed Arthur everywhere. Sometimes she peppered him with questions. Other times, she stood around quietly. One day at lunch, a question occurred to Arthur. "Do you know if I have any living relatives?" he asked. "I had a sister. Maybe she had kids."

"No living relatives in our database, sorry," said Getty.

"So I'm all alone," said Arthur, disappointed. Preparing himself for more disappointment, he asked another question. "Hey, what would it take to get some real clothes around here? Pants and a shirt."

"That could be arranged," said Getty. "Would you like to go into the city to buy some today?"

"Do I have money?" asked Arthur. "Do I need money?"

"So no one's explained?" said Getty. "Everyone gets some money from the government. Yours can be accessed using a chip that was implanted into your left hand."

"Implanted?" said Arthur.

"Don't worry, it's very small," said Getty. "We call it a multipass."

"So ... I have a bank account in my hand?" asked Arthur. "How do I check the balance?"

"I'll show you in the city," said Getty. "There aren't any kiosks on campus."

When Arthur got into the city, he found it familiar and alien at once. The buildings and concrete roadways seemed perfectly normal while the vehicles speeding by looked like giant insects. Following Getty's lead, Arthur walked several blocks and came to a clothing store. While Arthur thought the clothes on display looked too posh, Getty assured him they were fine.

After being measured by a tailor's wand scan, Arthur waited for the new garments. "I can't believe everyone on campus dresses in burlap sacks," he said. "There are real clothes right here."

"The hemp onesie is an artistic choice," said Getty. "We want the ambiance of the campus to focus on matters greater than our physical appearances."

"So am I going to mess everyone up with my new trousers?" asked Arthur.

"You're the oldest person with us," said Getty. "You really can do what you want."

"So you keep saying," said Arthur.

"But if you understand, why haven't you masturbated yet?" asked Getty suddenly. "It's been several days. You're perfectly healthy. So why no masturbation?"

Arthur laughed. "You want to watch me masturbate?" he asked.

"More like listen," said Getty. "It's for an art piece called 'The Acoustic Signatures of Masturbating Males.' The artist Bix contributed twenty percent of your reanimation fund."

"Reanimation fund?" asked Arthur.

"Reanimation is very expensive, so interested parties create funds," said Getty. "I personally put up thirty five percent of your fund."

"So, no pressure or anything," joked Arthur.

"The doctor who performed experimental ultrasonic tissue reconstruction on you put up ten," said Getty. "And the campus put up the rest, to have you as an exhibit."

"Okay, so where does that leave me, financially?" asked Arthur.

"It leaves you obligated to your benefactors, but in control of your own finances," said Getty. "You should have twenty years worth of government benefits in your account. You can travel if you want, but I'd like you to consider staying with us."

"I'll want a vacation eventually," said Arthur. "And coffee. Can we get a cup of coffee anywhere around here? What about a cigar?"

"Stimulants might not be good for your recovery," said Getty.

"I'm fine," said Arthur.

"Convince me you're healthy," said Getty.

Arthur knew what she meant and he felt weird about it. But he wanted the coffee so he masturbated when he got home. Getty grinned when she saw Arthur the next day. He felt humiliated and she showed him how to use his tablet to make purchases online. The first items Arthur ordered arrived a week later.

A nearby couple hurried away when Arthur lit a cigar on the campus square. "You might scandalize half the campus with that thing," said Getty.

"And the other half?" asked Arthur.

"They'll no doubt be pleased," said Getty. "Titillated, even."

"You want to try?" ashed Arthur. "I have extras and they're smooth. Connecticut shade."

"Perhaps another time," said Getty.

"You know, it's funny," said Arthur. "Back in 2021, I just sat around ordering stuff online. Here, it's exactly the same, only I don't know anyone."

"You know me," objected Getty.

"I don't even know where you live," said Arthur.

"Three alcoves down from you," said Getty. "How did you not know that?"

"Was it in some manual that I didn't receive?" asked Arthur.

"We discussed a manual, but ultimately decided on cultural immersion instead," said Getty.

"Well, there are still huge gaps in my knowledge," said Arthur. "What's your government like? Is there a president? Can robots vote?"

"The government is a representative democracy, the president has little power, and a robot could vote if it had a multipass," said Getty.

"I see," said Arthur. "Are robots common?"

"Very," said Getty. "A robot made your suit to the tailor's specifications."

"I should've been paying better attention," said Arthur. "So the robots do most of the work? And the people just do whatever."

"Most people have jobs," said Getty. "Like my job with you."


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