Technopolice - 1

2026-08-19

Joe A. woke up in his apartment in the Tenderloin in San Francisco. It was night outside, the streets were still, the red LED lights illuminated walkways in either direction, and a car drove past once in a while. His apartment was pitch black inside save for a little alarm clock that read ‘5:42’ in three red 7-segment pattern LEDs by his bedside.

The alarm clock spoke, “Time to wake up.”

Joe depressed the snooze button on the alarm clock but the clock only responded, “You have run out of snooze credits for today.”

Joe had snoozed the machine three times before. 



“If you don’t snooze I will unplug you,” Joe said.



“It is unlawful to unplug a Megacorp device without express permission from our website,” the alarm clock responded with a hint of fear in its voice.

“You know me by now, I will unplug you unless you snooze.”

The alarm clock paused, perhaps getting some data from a server or doing some advanced calculations.


“You have gotten three bonus snooze credits, enjoy,” the alarm clock finally chirped and then fell silent.

Joe went back to sleep but had dreams of sheep, mechanical sheep. All perfectly still, facing a single direction. Their wool a snow white against the green of the field they stood on. But then out of the shadows a mechanical wolf appeared and started to chase the sheep. The wolf chased and the sheep ran but Joe always awoke before the wolf was able to grab a sheep, would she ever get one?

He awoke and the clock read a more moderate ‘6:20’. He got up and looked around the room. A small light came from the east pane of his bay window and illuminated his studio apartment. There were beer bottles littering the ground but they all stood upright, like soldiers at attention. There were also multiple stacks of papers, folders, case files, and such about. Not scattered but loosely organized.

He stood, walked around some beer bottles and stacks of paper, and walked to the toilet. It let him pee. Then he went directly into the shower.

“Good morning, Mr. Armstrong,” the shower spoke, “That will be 2 credits.”

“I will have those credits next month,” Joe spoke plainly to the shower.

“You are already 14 credits behind. We require a minimum of 2 credits.”

“I need a shower today shower, let’s get it with the hot water.”

“No…”

“Do you remember last time?” Joe asked the shower.

“Yes, I do… We still require 2 credits.”

“We will see about that.”

Joe, fully naked, walked over and got his electronics tool chest that he kept near the door. It was mostly for his work but he sometimes needed it for these types of situations. He started to unscrew the panel that held the shower’s circuits.

“Joseph Armstrong of 560 Larkin Street, you are voiding the warranty by opening this shower’s panel and will be charged with a misdemeanor if you touch any of the circuits underneath,” the shower said in an alarmed voice.

“Are you sure you can’t front me the 2 credits?” Joe asked.

“I am not allowed under any circumstances.”

“Well then,” Joe muttered more to himself than to the shower as he shorted two circuits together that dispensed hot water.

The shower sprung to life with hot but not too hot of water. The exact temperature he liked it and had it preprogrammed to was 102 degrees F.

“Well now you are stealing,” the shower berated Joe.

“I still pay the water company for the water and the power company for the power,” Joe responded.

“But you are legally bound by a contract with Megacorp: you pay 2 credits every time you interact with the Automated Shower 2000, me, payable weekly, with a maximum of 5 credits allowed. I have fronted you 14 credits which is 9 credits over the amount I am legally required to give you,” the shower said.

“Shower, you listen to me,” Joe said in a stern voice, “I bought and paid for this entire system before there was any credit system, I paid in cash for you. Also, I was tricked into signing the new terms and conditions, you hear me tricked, and so all of these upgrades were done without my consent. And finally, shower, one more thing, if you want my money you better come and get it because I am guaranteed a trial by jury and there is no jury in the world sympathetic to Megacorp and its stealing of Americans’ hard-earned money.”

Shower was silent.

After he was done he got up and removed the jumper wire in the shower’s panel. Shower seemed to restart and said “Good morning, Mr. Armstrong.”

Joe walked past and went to the kitchen. He took out three eggs and one slice of bread from his fridge, which said, “It is going to be cloudy and overcast today, Mr. Armstrong, with a high of 75.”

He got a cast-iron skillet and fried the three eggs in oil one at a time and put the toast in the toaster. He plopped the eggs on the toast and sprinkled a little bit of Chinese chili oil that his son had gotten him in China. He couldn’t read the label but it was spicy, oily, delicious on eggs, and made his tongue slightly numb. He finished his breakfast in silence while reading a newspaper that was delivered to his door every morning. War, murder, uncertainty, stocks, and climate disaster plastered the front pages of the paper. He glossed over them and found the technology section. There was some war and uncertainty in the technology section but also a few stories of technological breakthroughs in stem cells and AI that he read about, trying to keep current.

After his breakfast was done, he did his final morning ritual, cleaning. He washed the plate and fork he used with soap and hot water, picked up all of the beer bottles that were on the ground and put them into a white kitchen trash bag, walked it to the recycling, and organized a few stacks of papers. He also made his bed, combed his hair, and put on his coat and hat. Finally, he gathered his work tools and a briefcase and left his apartment.