The Carbon Renaissance flier felt like a magic secret too precious for this world. Alex clutched her bag and slipped a hand inside to touch the paper, worried it might vanish. For once she didn\u2019t reach for her phone or put in her earbuds. She gazed outside to the city, the layout that once felt mathematically precise now felt strangely perfect. The train softly screeched as it came to a stop, a noise she never noticed before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Alex shifted out of her seat and exited the cabin, the flier now in hand. The bold, handwritten letters felt like an act of defiance, like a small crack in the machine-driven world around her. She brushed her thumb along an edge and winced as she felt a sting. Looking closer at the sides, she realized that the paper had been cut by hand leaving behind imperfect edges. A red bead began forming on her thumb, as if the flier itself wanted to remind her of something real\u2013 something alive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jess was already outside her apartment ready to greet Alex. Her outfit was impossible to miss, a riot of patterns and colors that shouldn\u2019t mix but remarkably did. Each piece pulled from a different decade, and most importantly human-made. She always stitched her apparel together in striking ways with a signature style she referred to as \u201ccarbon chic\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAlex! Come here, you little muffin!\u201d Jess called, arms wide. Alex grinned and walked into her embrace, a gesture that felt oddly nostalgic in a world so machine-guided. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
They stepped into the apartment and Alex was transported to a different time. Lining the walls were hand-drawn sketches and paintings, each capturing moments of human interactions\u2013 couples laughing, groups splashing each other at a beach, friends playing games. Some of them were solo individuals presented stoically, or, on occasion, artistically in the nude. Several bookcases presented manually bound books featuring fantastical stories, some typed with typewriters, but more often written by hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jess made her way into the kitchen, already with water boiling. \u201cI hope you\u2019re ready for my tea. Chip wouldn\u2019t dare make something like this,\u201d she teased. Jess never let her guests add their own sugar, and Alex found her tea to be too sweet\u2013 something a machine-made drink would never allow\u2013 but there was something about it she liked. It was a human touch to be too sweet, and a human desire to want something too sweet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cToo much?\u201d Jess asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Alex smiled, \u201cno, it\u2019s just right.\u201d She went on to take another sip.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jess motioned to the flier Alex set on the table, asking, \u201cWhat is that you have been carrying around?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cA guy gave it to me on the train yesterday,\u201d Alex said, holding it out. Her voice rose with excitement, \u201cIt\u2019s for some kind of Carbon Renaissance event.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jess\u2019s face lit up, her eyes wide with recognition. \u201cThe Carbon Renaissance,\u201d she murmured, her eyes running over the promotion again. \u201cI used to be a part of their events, you know? I still sell my sketches and clothes at their markets sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jess\u2019s expression changed, her voice softening. \u201cBack in the 30s, it wasn\u2019t just a quarterly event. It was life, art, food, banter, barter, community\u2013 everything it is to be human. It was an act of rebellion against a world becoming influenced by machines. It was magical. People would pour their hearts into it every day to make sure human works were still being produced.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Alex\u2019s enthusiasm bubbled over. \u201cAunt Jess, we have to go! I have to see it!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAlright, alright! After our tea we can head that way and check it out.\u201d Jess said, a smile returning to her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Alex quickly finished her tea and began preparing to leave the apartment. Jess slowly sipped on her cup, taking great time to get ready while watching Alex\u2019s impatience grow as she waited by the door. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re so much in a hurry you forget to enjoy the moment,\u201d Jess said with a soft chuckle as she got up from her seat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Alex grabbed her bag to pull out her phone. She asked, \u201cReady?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNot quite. You won\u2019t be taking that where we\u2019re going.\u201d Jess replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWait, why not?\u201d Alex asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe Carbon Renaissance does not allow phones or electronics at their events. It\u2019s part of the experience, a return to human connection. They have a few allowances but they are rare.\u201d Jess crossed the room to a small closet near the door, opening a box mounted on the wall. \u201cGive it here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat if I need it? Eva might message me.\u201d Alex said showing some hesitation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh little muffin. We\u2019ve talked about Eva before, she can wait for your message just like a human girlfriend could. She\u2019ll be excited to hear about your adventures when we\u2019re back.\u201d Jess said with a soft laugh, placing her hand on Alex\u2019s shoulder for comfort.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Alex reluctantly handed over her phone. She couldn\u2019t recall a time she was ever prohibited from carrying it. Jess could see the concern, slowly placing it into the box then softly saying, \u201cIt\u2019ll be okay, really. I promise!\u201d Afterwards, she began rummaging through a drawer within the closet to pull out a thin plastic card.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat is that?\u201d Alex asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s my debit card\u2013 to pay for things with.\u201d Jess explained, \u201cThey used to be twice the size when I was younger, but the old credit unions that the Carbon Renaissance uses still create them.\u201d She smiled, putting it into her purse, \u201cThey\u2019re relics, just like me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow will we be getting there without phones?\u201d Alex asked. Phones were required to unlock the autonomous vehicles that chauffeured the residents around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBy a taxi, of course\u2013 a human-driven one, that is.\u201d Jess said, dialing a number with a landline phone she had in her apartment, probably the last one in the city.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jess and Alex rode silently in the taxi as it sped beyond the city limits of Grand Rapids. For Alex, leaving the city was a novelty; everything she needed had always been neatly within its bounds. As the suburbs came into view, the shift was a jarring juxtaposition of society. The meticulous precision carving out highrises and green spaces was replaced by rows and rows of trailers with sparse patches of dry, yellow parks. In some neighborhoods the mobile homes were cramped along barbed fences surrounding towering factories that dominated the horizon with steam chimney stacks rising into the skies above.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Alex stared out the window at all the curious new sights. She said, \u201cIt\u2019s strange. The buildings that could look out this way have no view of the suburbs. It\u2019s like their backs are turned on it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jess glanced at her with a faint smile giving a tinge of sadness. \u201cIt\u2019s by design, muffin. Our city, it represents a future, and not everyone wants to remember the past.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Alex looked back out the window. The suburbs weren\u2019t polished, but the homes had an undeniably human charm to them. The trailers were uniform in that there were only so many makes and models, but they were unique in that each had its own aesthetic. Colors ranged in hues and palettes that in a collection looked messy, but on its own had a captivating appeal that represented the family that dwelled within. Choices in furniture, fabrics, colors, patterns, all creating a single design that could not be found anywhere else around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLook at that one, it\u2019s your favorite color pink.\u201d Jess said to Alex pointing out a trailer they were passing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was Alex\u2019s favorite pink. It was just like the color painted all over her room, but it wasn\u2019t like a piece of the palette that it felt like in town.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s an original choice here.\u201d Alex thought aloud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cExactly, muffin! Everything in the city, we\u2019re bombarded with suggestions. How much time do we get to ask what we want out of all the options available to us. The people here in the suburbs do, but it comes at a price.\u201d Jess said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The light signal turned red forcing the taxi to stop at an intersection. At a corner where a factory stood, a small crowd of people lined up outside. One of them carried a picket sign. Alex caught the eyes of the woman holding the sign, \u201cDon\u2019t optimize me out of a job!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI don\u2019t understand. There are other jobs out there. What is stopping them from getting out?\u201d Alex asked, subtly pointing to the direction of the protest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not that simple. To go to the city means to let the machine learn from you. For some people, that means to steal something from them, a part of their soul even.\u201d Jess said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSo they\u2019re stuck.\u201d Alex said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Jess nodded slowly, \u201cTo move forward, they believe they\u2019d have to give a part of themselves to the machine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The taxi slowed before pulling into a large parking lot and letting them out. Jess paid with her debit card before the taxi drove off and parked nearby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe made it!\u201d Alex jumped with excitement.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A mysterious flyer feels like a key to a different world.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[7,6,9,2],"class_list":["post-49","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-humanitys-final-horizon","tag-agi","tag-ai","tag-humanitys-final-horizon","tag-scifi"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxborger.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxborger.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxborger.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxborger.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxborger.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=49"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/foxborger.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":62,"href":"https:\/\/foxborger.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/49\/revisions\/62"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxborger.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=49"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxborger.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=49"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxborger.com\/stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=49"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}