Love and Other Punishments: A Dystopian Anthology

By Simon Dillon

From the author of Children of the Folded Valley and Peaceful Quiet Lives, a gripping selection of dystopian science fiction novellas and short stories.

A journalist investigates a company manufacturing nightmare suppressing nanotech for children.

A civil servant suspects terrorists hacking the Driverless Vehicle Network and crashing vehicles may be an inside job.

A man and woman conduct an illegal workplace affair, finding ingenious ways to fool corporate brain monitoring.

All these stories and more in this compelling collection of futuristic satire, technological speculation, alternative realities, and melancholy obsessions. Includes The Thought Improvement Programme, Driverless, Bleed with Me, The Traffic Warden, Sweet Dreams, Apocalypse 1983, and Love and Other Punishments.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simon Dillon
• Release date: Jun 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215251911

Simon Dillon

I was born the year Steven Spielberg made moviegoers everywhere terrified of sharks. I lived the first twenty or so years of my life in Oxford, and am pleased to have spent so much time in the place where some of my favourite writers wrote their greatest works (including JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, and Philip Pullman). I like to think I can write a diverting tale, and as a result I have penned a few novels and short stories. I currently live in Plymouth in the UK, and am married with two children. I am presently brainwashing them with the same books that I loved growing up.

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Love and Other Punishments

A Dystopian Anthology by Simon Dillon

Copyright 2023 Simon Dillon

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

Table of Contents

The Thought Improvement Plan Chapter 1

The Thought Improvement Plan Chapter 2

The Thought Improvement Plan Chapter 3

The Thought Improvement Plan Chapter 4

The Thought Improvement Plan Chapter 5

The Thought Improvement Plan Chapter 6

Driverless

Bleed with Me Chapter 1

Bleed with Me Chapter 2

Bleed with Me Chapter 3

Bleed with Me Chapter 4

Bleed with Me Chapter 5

Bleed with Me Chapter 6

Bleed with Me Chapter 7

The Traffic Warden

Sweet Dreams Chapter 1

Sweet Dreams Chapter 2

Sweet Dreams Chapter 3

Sweet Dreams Chapter 4

Sweet Dreams Chapter 5

Apocalypse 1983

Love and Other Punishments Chapter 1

Love and Other Punishments Chapter 2

Love and Other Punishments Chapter 3

Love and Other Punishments Chapter 4

Bonus: Peaceful Quiet Lives Chapter 1

Bonus: Peaceful Quiet Lives Chapter 2

Bonus: Peaceful Quiet Lives Chapter 3

The Thought Improvement Plan: Chapter 1

The moment I set eyes on her I knew she would ruin my brain metrics.

Belinda Barrymore. The new employee. Gorgeous raven hair, dark brown eyes, and a smile that melted my heart. Her presence could result in a first-class ticket to a Thought Improvement Plan, courtesy of Nathan Carter, our office thought supervisor.

My boss Lisa Sumner introduced us. Belinda was going to be working at the desk opposite mine. I tried to flood my mind with other thoughts as our eyes met. At twenty-five years old, I ought to have known better. I ought to have had my brain under control. But it proved impossible not to find her attractive.

Yep, my metrics are pretty much screwed.

Damn it all.

‘Belinda, this is Andy Aaronovitch,’ said Lisa. ‘He analyses our marketing data and has a great head for figures.’

Especially yours, Belinda.

Whilst demanding my mind stop providing incriminating brainwaves for Nathan Carter to scrutinise, in his imperious glass booth overlooking the open-plan office, I reached out a hand for Belinda to shake. I must have grimaced with the effort, as she flashed an amused smile.

‘I’m not all that unpleasant, am I?’

‘No, certainly not. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

A silence passed between us as Belinda fixed me in her gaze. The smile remained, and I sensed playful inward mirth at my predicament. Perhaps she knew damn well the effect her introduction was having. She knew the spikes that would register on Nathan’s equipment.

‘Belinda will be working on advertising campaigns,’ Lisa continued.

‘So, you’re replacing Brian?’

‘She is,’ said Lisa, turning to Belinda. ‘Brian chose early retirement.’

A thin smile formed on my lips. Brian hadn’t chosen anything. He’d been informed in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t retire, he’d be fired, as his brainwaves indicated unacceptably high-stress patterns. The fact that he’d been nursing his mother, who was dying of cancer, didn’t factor into management’s decision. As far as they were concerned, his brain metrics made him a liability.

‘If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team,’ Lisa continued. ‘Afterwards, you’ll have some training videos from HR to watch.’

Ah, the HR training videos. Everything you need to know about how to do your job, as instructed by AI avatars. I don’t know why they bother with the Human in Human Resources anymore.

‘I’d better get back to work,’ I said.

‘It was lovely to meet you, Andy,’ said Belinda. ‘I guess I’ll see you later.’

I kept my eyes fixed on the carpet as I trudged back to my desk, determined I wouldn’t look up at Belinda. Lisa introduced her around the other people in the various office booths. Once they were safely out of my eyeline, I stared at my computer screen, trying to get my brain back into the various numbers I’d been grappling with prior to the disruption of Belinda’s arrival. I had to calm my brainwaves, lest they trigger a red warning light on Nathan Carter’s panel.

Lisa’s business-like voice and Belinda’s kindly tones continued to echo above the general murmur of office activity. About thirty people worked in this large room, so it would be a while before their voices vanished entirely. Distracted, I stared up at the ceiling, and along the magnolia walls, amid the black, grey, chrome, and navy-blue office furniture. For the first time in a while, I was struck by the austere blandness of my surroundings, perhaps because they stood out in such stark contrast to Belinda’s warm presence. True, she was formally dressed in a white blouse and black pencil skirt, but she seemed to radiate sunshine.

Adjusting my tie to make it even more uncomfortable, I determinedly continued with my tasks, doing all I could to shut her out.

It wasn’t so bad in the early years of the Corporate Thought Monitoring Programme (CTMP). People believed in the system, as it had been sold to us as a means of care for employees. It could sense fatigue, illness, stress, and other brain patterns that could result in errors or accidents in the workplace. The warehouse staff were the first to insert the microchips into their cerebral cortex, and deskbound staff followed, on the understanding that companies could only monitor brainwaves during contracted hours. Any violation of this would result in prosecution. The law seemed clear. The protections for the employee appeared to be in place.

Of course, there were the usual Luddite protests, but they eventually died down. After all, people need jobs. They need to put food on the table and pay the bills. It is surprising what people will compromise or give up in order to survive, especially if they believe the sacrifice is worthwhile.

That’s part of my job, working in the marketing department of Starmer; a global condiment manufacturer committed to creating environmentally friendly food products. Our advertising is designed to make the population feel good about choosing condiments that don’t include environmentally damaging ingredients, such as organically grown fruits or vegetables rather than those genetically engineered. As for animal products, these are generally only affordable for the elite class, so we no longer mention this in our advertising, as we’ve found it creates resentment rather than a happy consumer.

I’d done well in the marketing department. My manager, Lisa Sumner, hinted I might be promoted, based on my work efficiency and consistently excellent brain metrics. Every week, Nathan Carter would deliver his weekly report to Lisa, with data from the monitoring of all staff in our department. And every week, my brain metrics showed no significant variations of stress, excitement, distraction, worry, or intrusive impulses, such as sexual desire. The latter was constantly monitored, as employees were forbidden to be romantically involved with any other employee; an iron-clad clause written into all contracts.

If my brain metrics demonstrated inappropriate thoughts, that could mean the end of promotion prospects. A Thought Improvement Plan would only be the first of a three-step process potentially ending in dismissal, though this first step usually provided the adequate conditioning required to keep employees on the straight and narrow thereafter. Nonetheless, if a Thought Improvement Plan wound up on my work record, I could forget about promotion for at least a couple of years.

With this in mind, I returned to my work with renewed vigour. The introduction of CTMP had all but stamped out slacking in the workplace. No more wasting time looking at cat videos online. No more checking social media. All such activity created brainwave variations that could be easily noticed by the likes of Nathan Carter. Even if the workload was light, I had learned to keep my mind occupied with work, moving slower and less productively, if need be, double, triple, and quadruple checking calculations, to maintain good brain metrics.

Yet something gnawed at the back of my mind as I worked; a curious, self-destructive desire to do something, anything, to disrupt the status quo of my day. I hoped it wouldn’t register on my brain waves, but when Belinda returned to her desk about an hour later, my heart skipped a beat once more. She met my eye, flashing a reckless smile that doubtless created a brutal blip for Nathan Carter to raise an eyebrow over.

Trying to remain calm, I stood up and walked across to Belinda.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

Belinda stared at me in mild surprise. We’re not supposed to offer colleagues drinks, but only make our own, as apparently acts of spontaneous generosity create ambiguous wave readings in the recipient. But this rule isn’t strictly enforced, and at that moment, I felt an urge to kick back, at least slightly, against the strait-jacket system constraining us.

‘I’ve just read in the rule book that we’re not supposed to make drinks for one another,’ said Belinda.

‘If you’re thinking this might be a test, it isn’t,’ I said. ‘I’m not a big fan of unnecessary rules.’

‘So, you’re a rebel?’

‘If offering a cup of tea can be considered rebellious, then yes.’

‘I’ll have a coffee.’

‘With cream? Sugar?’

Belinda shook her head. ‘I only like real cream and real sugar, and I doubt this place can afford either. Nor can I. Damn, I miss real dairy products.’

‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’

Silence fell as we held one another’s gaze. I dreaded to think what my brain waves were doing, but I didn’t care. Drinking those gorgeous brown eyes was intoxicating.

‘OK, one black coffee coming up,’ I said, eventually breaking eye contact. I strode off to the kitchen, getting a few curious glances from others in the room. After preparing a coffee I returned to Belinda, who thanked me and flashed me another of those Thought Improvement Programme-bait smiles. She took the coffee, sipped it, and continued to scrutinise me. With cavalier disregard for stable brain activity, I basked in her interest. It felt like a ray of sunshine piercing a drab, grey cloud. Eventually, she addressed me once more.

‘My friends call me Belle.’

‘Am I your friend?’

Belle hesitated. I sensed her mouth attempting to smuggle a flirty remark, but it had been held up in customs.

‘You’re chipped, I take it?’ said Belinda, indicating the back of her neck.

I nodded. ‘Yes indeed. The joys of CTMP. Are you?’

‘I get mine this afternoon.’ She sighed. ‘I hate the idea, but a girl has to pay the rent somehow. Still, I daresay we’ll find ways to fraternise. I hope our conversations haven’t caused you any brain metric problems.’

Her eyes told a different story.

‘I should get back to work,’ I said.

Evidently liking my avoidance of denial, she offered me the parting gift of another dazzling smile. I returned to my desk and continued to work, avoiding further eye contact. But as much as our delightfully subversive conversation had me dreading my brain metric report, it also had me inwardly walking on air.

A curious eagerness accompanied my journey to work on the train the following day. I suppose I tried to lie to myself as to the reason, but I wanted to see Belle. At the same time, I didn’t want to see Belle, as I knew it could provoke untoward brain data. Upon entering the Starmer building and getting into the lift, I gave myself a good talking-to. I would go to my desk, attend to my work, and have nothing whatsoever to do with Belle. I’d keep my head down, bearing in mind the promotion I had sought for so long. Nothing should interfere with that, nothing…

‘Good morning, Andy.’

Belle nipped into the lift next to me, just as the doors were closing. Being this close to her, I caught a whiff of her perfume and felt intoxicated. My eyes travelled from her eyes to her elegant hair and neckline, before hurriedly looking away. But before I did, another of her dazzling smiles caught me before I could escape.

Damn.

‘Are you alright?’ Belle asked.

‘Yes, sorry, just a little tired,’ I replied. ‘Good morning.’

Belle stared at me, and now it was impossible to look away. ‘You don’t appear tired. I reckon you’re full of energy and raring to go.’

She raised an eyebrow. I couldn’t tell if she was flirting with me, but then again, I’d always been rather slow on the uptake, when it came to women taking an interest. But how could Belle be taking an interest? She must have been chipped by now, and she knew the rules prohibiting workplace dalliances. Why was she taking such a devil-may-care attitude to Nathan Carter’s thought supervision? Admittedly, it was before nine, so technically he shouldn’t be monitoring yet, but I knew Nathan. 

‘Just so you’re aware, Nathan Carter usually begins monitoring before the start of the working day.’

Belle shrugged. ‘Sounds a little overzealous.’

‘You have no idea.’

‘I doubt Nathan will find my brain very interesting.’

Why didn’t she seem to care? How could she start a new job throwing caution to the wind in this way? Or was she not flirting? Was it all in my head? Perhaps Belle was just far stronger mentally than I was. Either way, I decided to take no more chances. After the lift reached our floor, I strode out ahead of her, sat at my desk, and kept my head down. I caught a smirk from Belle out of the corner of my eye and felt a little irritated. Was she trying to sabotage my thoughts on purpose? 

After managing to avoid Belle all day, I left my desk just after 5:30pm, as usual. But on the way down, Belle once again managed to wind up in the lift with me. We didn’t speak, as others were present, but she once again caught my eye. I smiled back, knowing that Nathan would almost certainly have shut down his monitoring systems now, but inwardly I felt more confused than ever.

‘Are you going to the railway station?’ Belle asked, as we walked out of the building.

I saw little point in lying. ‘Yes.’

‘Same here.’

We indulged in cautious small talk on our way to the nearby railway station. It turned out we were heading in the same direction, and that my flat in the city lay near hers. Soon, we stood on the platform together amid a crowd of smartly dressed commuters, also returning home after a hard day’s work.

‘I wish Starmer didn’t have CTMP,’ said Belle. ‘But finding a workplace that doesn’t these days is next to impossible.’

I glanced at my watch. 5:40pm. My thoughts were private once more. Belle noticed and fixed me with a look that perfectly accompanied her next statement.

‘Are you able to risk inappropriate thoughts about me now?’

I laughed. ‘Thankfully, yes. But you gave me a hard day today.’

Belle raised an eyebrow.

‘You know what I mean. I’ll be lucky if Nathan Carter glosses over the spikes in my brain metrics.’

‘Spikes?’

‘Every time you smile at me.’

‘I’m genuinely sorry if I got you into trouble. I suppose I just enjoy the company of rebels.’

‘Rebels?’

‘You were the one who brought me coffee. That’s pretty much a come-on, in this day and age.’

‘Perhaps I couldn’t resist you.’

‘Drop the perhaps and you’ll be speaking the truth.’

‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? How are you able to do it? Don’t you realise Nathan will see your thoughts? Or are you operating at lie detector test-thwarting levels of mental ability?’

Belle laughed. ‘You think I’m a psychopath?’

‘Well, no, but seriously, what’s your secret?’

‘What do you mean? I’m another worker drone, just like you. I’m just glad you didn’t turn out to be one of those uptight puritanical types who sanctimoniously proclaim workplace flirtation to be wrong then and wrong now.’

I couldn’t help laughing, any more than I could help the sugar rush of happiness I experienced in that moment.

‘Yeah, well the second I laid eyes on you, I wanted to disregard Employee Clause 19 with extreme prejudice,’ I said, referring to the Starmer prohibition against romantic relationships.

‘Oh, you’d love my Employee Clause 19 violations,’ said Belle.

‘What lousy timing,’ I muttered.

Belle looked thoughtful for a minute, then spoke again. ‘Look, this flirting is great, and I want to keep doing it. Who knows where it could lead?’

‘Thought Improvement Programmes? Official warnings? Unemployment?’

‘I have an idea of how to make this work,’ Belle continued. ‘But you have to trust me.’

‘Trust you? I only just met you.’

‘And that’s the whole point. We’re supposed to be able to meet potential romantic partners without all this bullshit getting in the way.’

‘No one meets like this anymore. It’s all dating apps.’

‘And have you ever been matched with anyone good from a dating app?’

‘No.’

‘Precisely why something like our connection should be properly explored. Perhaps we’ll ultimately discover we aren’t right for one another, but I think we need to give it the chance, don’t you?’

‘Agreed. But how?’

A subversive smile formed on Belle’s face. ‘I have an idea.’

The Thought Improvement Plan: Chapter 2

She didn’t tell me her idea then and there, which was just as well, given what occurred the next morning. But in the meantime, we got to know one another a little better during the train ride home. She lived in a block of flats a twenty-minute walk from mine, so we also left the train at the same station.

Belle loved classic literature, the cinema of the 20th Century, and, as she put it, proper food. We both lamented how expensive the latter had become, with organically grown vegetables and meat now mostly affordable only to the super-rich ruling classes, or those sanctimonious, hypocritical bastards, as Belle called them.

‘Our parents were sold a ridiculous lie, about so many things,’ Belle said, as we walked out of the station and onto the street. ‘They swallowed it whole, naively believing they’d gain a better world, when instead so many pleasures of life were taken from them. Not just nice food, but books, films, music, art… And now we’re stuck with bullshit like being told the only place it's socially acceptable to meet a potential partner is on a bloody app.’

‘It’s refreshing talking to someone like you,’ I said. ‘Most people are too apathetic to question it anymore.’

‘Oh, I’m apathetic as hell, believe me. I’m no activist. But I find ways around all the nonsense.’

‘What ways?’

‘It’s for your own good that I don’t tell you now. Starmer could still be monitoring your brainwaves.’

‘They aren’t. It’s past 5:30pm.’

‘Did you read your contract? Mine has a clause stating that although brains are mostly only monitored during working hours, we need to be available for overtime if need be. Just as we are told not to turn off our work phones for that reason, they may not turn off their brain monitoring either, in case we’re needed to work.’

I frowned. ‘I don’t recall such a clause. Then again, I’ve been working for Starmer for three years now. Perhaps they’ve changed the contracts since I joined. Wouldn’t surprise me, to be honest.

‘Still, there are some good people working there too. Not everyone is a brainwashed drone. Lisa’s a bit uptight, and none of us can stand Nathan, but… Well, let’s put it this way. We have an inside joke that Starmer stands for Sterile Tasteless Appetite Repressors Making Everyone Retch.

Belle laughed. ‘That’s perfect. Why did you join Starmer?’

I shrugged. ‘Same reason as you. I need to pay the bills.’

‘And you live alone?’

‘Yes. You?’

Belle nodded. We stood on a street corner for a moment, about to head in different directions to our respective flats. The early March air still carried the chill of winter, but already the trees lining the streets were budding. For a few seconds, we stood in silence, whilst driverless cars zoomed by.

‘I guess I’ll see you in the morning,’ I said.

‘Indeed,’ said Belle. ‘In the meantime, I’m going to make a few arrangements for after work tomorrow. You’ll need to come with me.’

‘Our first date?’

‘I suppose so.’

To my surprise, Belle kissed me on the cheek. ‘Tomorrow, we both need to be on our best behaviour at work, so I’ll try and avoid you as I don’t want to sabotage your career prospects, but hopefully, after that, things will be different.’

‘I still don’t see how with Nathan Carter watching our brains like a hawk.’

Belle grinned. ‘Trust me.’

The following morning, I was called into Nathan Carter’s office for an informal chat. Like all other thought supervisors, Nathan was loathed by other employees, in the way that traffic wardens were once similarly loathed. Only instead of policing parking, these people policed thoughts.

I suspect Nathan derived a certain amount of sadistic pleasure from these off-the-record chats. He feigned concern for the wellbeing of employees, but in truth, I swear he just got a kick out of watching us squirm, especially with the threat of making things official by involving line managers hanging over our heads. What made it particularly galling is that thought supervisors were exempt from brain wave monitoring. Knowing how such double standards would irritate other employees, management fobbed us off by claiming monitoring the brain metrics of thought supervisors was pointless, as the readings would simply indicate reactions to whatever they were monitoring, thus rendering the data unreliable. I didn’t buy it for a second, resenting the likes of Nathan Carter all the more.

With his pale skeletal features, greasy skin, and combover hair, Nathan had the look of someone who seldom saw sunlight. His eyes were wide and flickered with sadistic glee, as he indicated for me to take a seat amid his great glass booth above our office. Even the floors were made of glass, which a visit to Nathan even more unnerving. Computer screens for each employee surrounded us, reading brainwaves and crunching data.

‘Hello Andy,’ said Nathan, interlocking his fingers with obvious glee. ‘Perhaps you can guess why you’re here.’

‘You want to discuss eighteenth-century ceramic art?’

Nathan indicated a computer screen on his desk. ‘Sarcasm shows up on your brainwaves too.’

‘Very well. What thought crime did I commit?’

‘I do wish people wouldn’t use that term. It’s hurtful and offensive, considering how what I do here is for your benefit. I’m often dismissed as a busybody, but actually, I’m looking out for everyone’s best interests, ensuring tiredness, mental health challenges, and ill health are noted, that appropriate rest is taken, and anything else that could trip you up is nipped in the bud.’

‘So, what do you want to nip in the bud today?’

‘I had some interesting readings from you yesterday. Flickers of sexual interest which I suspect were provoked by the admittedly not unattractive presence of new employee Belinda Barrymore.’

I didn’t react but fumed inwardly.

‘Look, I get it, Andy. You can’t help it if how she looks triggers certain brain patterns. No one is interested in hauling you over the coals for simply being a human male. However, it is my job to ensure such patterns do not escalate from sexual interest into sexual activity, given the parameters of Employment Clause 19, as you are no doubt aware.

‘So, imagine my confusion when I discovered similar spikes in your brain activity after work yesterday, at 5:40pm, 5:47pm, 5:53pm, 6:03pm, and 6:20pm. Then at 6:42pm, the spike is particularly indicative of sexual arousal and desire.’

6:42pm. The moment Belle kissed me on the cheek. 

I sat in infuriated silence, thinking back to what Belle had warned me about concerning the monitoring of our brains during out-of-office hours. As I responded, I chose my words with care, trying to keep my anger in check.

‘Might I ask why you were monitoring my brain activity after 5:30pm yesterday evening?’

‘As you know, it’s a busy time in the company at present, with several new lines in the works. There’s been a lot of overtime and out-of-hours work, so as a routine precaution, in case certain employees are needed out of hours, your name was selected as one person whose brain metrics should be spot-checked in the evening, during this busy period.’

‘That’s my private time, and none of your business.’

A leering smile formed on Nathan’s lips. ‘Again, I beg you to see this from my perspective. I am simply doing my job to ensure, for instance, that you aren’t overburdened with work in the quite understandable event that, after hours, you are fatigued. If that were the case, I would report the matter to your boss, Lisa Sumner, and urge her to lighten your load.

‘However, the side effect is that I do get to detect when you are experiencing sexual attraction. Given that you were seen leaving the premises yesterday with Belinda Barrymore, I thought it prudent to have this conversation, and see what can be done to ensure this doesn’t develop into a problem.’

Nathan handed me a printed sheet of the various times my brain metrics had spiked to indicate sexual attraction.

‘Of course, this could simply be a coincidence. You may have parted company with Belinda shortly after you left and could have been thinking about a sexual partner you met elsewhere. Or perhaps you were looking at pornography. All legitimate explanations. But I would have been negligent to sweep this under the carpet. I have to do my job. I’m sure you can appreciate that.’

Despite wanting to punch Nathan, I forced myself to answer in a calm manner.

‘There is no connection between these readings and Belinda Barrymore. The rest is none of your business. Now I believe you have satisfied the requirements of your job, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to mine.’

Nathan fixed me with a dark stare, then nodded.

‘Of course. Thank you for this useful little chat, Andy. I appreciate you clearing this up for me.’

My squirm-inducing conversation with Nathan had me feeling anxious and guilty for the rest of the day. I felt angry with myself for feeling guilty because I knew it was absurd. But the world has always been absurd. Humanity keeps devising new and ridiculous ways to oppress itself. Why should my life be any different?

I kept my head down all day, ignoring Belle as much as I could. She also tried to avoid me, as she’d said she would, though I still felt puzzled at her attitude to the CTMP chip in her brain. Her concern seemed to be for my brain data, with no regard for her own. In a moment of over-imaginative lunacy, I wondered if she might turn out to be an android infiltrator, designed to root out employees given to indulging inappropriate thoughts. After all, androids had become increasingly indistinguishable from humans, and I’d heard stories about covert android spies in other companies, designed to monitor productivity.

Disregarding such horrible notions, I threw myself into tables, charts, figures, and projections, preparing unnecessarily elaborate reports, findings, and feasibility studies that would doubtless bore management silly. I took a certain pleasure in adding a lot of unnecessary detail; petty revenge for their equally petty decision to make sure we weren’t lusting after our fellow employees.

Only once I left work that day did I properly talk to Belle. We met up at the railway station platform, out of sight of anyone who could see us leaving work together. Now, even if Nathan was still monitoring my brain, I could simply claim I was attracted to some random person I saw on the train.

Belle gave me one of her warmth-radiating smiles. ‘Ready for our first date?’

‘Of course. Where are we going?’

‘Still a surprise. First, we get on the train and head home, but then you follow me.’

Intrigued, I tried to get more information from Belle, but she wouldn’t tell me more. Instead, during the train journey, we once again chatted. But this time, the focus was on me. I told her about how I’d always wanted to start a business, but how difficult it was with so many vast corporations crushing competition in so many fields. I spoke a little about my family; of how my mother and father both worked as teachers, and how my sister lived in the countryside, working as a vet. Belle seemed quite tight-lipped about her family background, but launched into a major tirade of I-told-you-so when I told her about my informal chat with Nathan.

‘That proves my point,’ said Belle. ‘They will use any excuse to keep monitoring our brains twenty-four hours a day. Have you ever heard of an employee successfully suing a company that violated the law saying brain metrics can only be monitored during working hours?’

‘No.’

‘That’s because no one would dare. They need the work, and