The chamber was sterile—too pristine, too white, as though it had been scoured of any trace of humanity. In its center stood a chair that evoked the image of a dentist's seat, only stripped of any pretense of comfort. Looming beside it was a robot whose expression managed to be both endearing and disturbingly wrong.
Felix eyed it warily. "Kayav, please tell me this tin can isn't about to drill into my skull."
Kayav's reply was maddeningly calm. "Relax. It's just a diagnostic."
The robot stirred, its voice polite yet clinical. [Correction: this procedure does not involve 'drilling into your skull.' It is a non-invasive microchip insertion through the cranial plate.]
Felix gaped. "That's the same thing!"
He made an attempt to rise, but Kayav's steady hand pressed him back into the chair.
"Felix, it's fine," Kayav said, unbothered. "Just don't think about it."
"Don't think about it?!" Felix shot back, eyes wide. "Have you ever heard the phrase 'Don't think about a white bear'? Because now that's all I can think about—except it's not a bear, it's a chip in my head!"
Carmen raised a mechanical arm, the servos humming softly as a delicate tool unfolded from her grip.
"Please allow me to begin the scan," she intoned, her voice smooth and precise. "This procedure will require approximately three point four seconds."
Felix's throat went dry. "And what if I don't want it?"
"Your consent," Carmen replied without hesitation, "is not required."
Felix's eyes darted to Kayav. "Kayaaaaaav!"
Kayav lifted his shoulders in a shrug that was far too casual for the situation. "Well… technically, she's right."
Carmen leaned closer, the glow of her artificial eyes spilling blue light across Felix's face. His features twisted with panic as he clutched the armrests, knuckles whitening.
"I don't want to die, Kayav," he whispered hoarsely.
"No one's killing you," Kayav said, still maddeningly calm.
"Easy for you to say! You don't have a chip being shoved into your head!"
Carmen's voice was calm as glass. [Perhaps after implantation, your opinion will change.]
Felix barked a laugh that was half hysteria, half defiance. "Oh, I'll change my opinion, all right—because I'll have a chip in my head!"
A quiet, clinical beep answered him. A pale laser feathered across his skin; Felix went rigid, eyes clamped shut as if that alone might stop whatever was coming. For a long heartbeat there was nothing but the soft, metered breathing of the room.
"Am I still alive?" he whispered at last, absurdity and terror braided together.
Kayav—calm, infuriatingly amused—tilted his head. "You're basically a walking Wi-Fi router now."
Felix peeled his eyelids open and, with the tentative curiosity of someone who has just been reborn, pressed a finger to his temple. "Huh. Maybe it's not that bad."
A notification blinked across Carmen's display with the untroubled efficiency of a ledger entry: External interference detected. Subject: Felix — mental infiltration complete.
Carmen's tone betrayed a hint of scientific thrill. [Fascinating. The Dunakai imprint retains residual data within the subject's cognitive framework.]
Felix let out a hollow little laugh. "Fantastic. Not only am I being roboticized—I'm a walking USB drive."
"Well," Kayav remarked dryly, "at least now we know why you've been acting strange."
Felix bristled. "I'm not strange! This is all Dunakai's fault!"
Carmen tilted her head, her expression the picture of manufactured serenity. After a measured pause, she smiled. [Excellent news. I can now proceed with data extraction.]
A program flickered to life within her systems, and the hum of machinery stirred the air. Felix shot upright from the chair in an instant.
"No, thank you—I've had enough!" he cried, and bolted for the door with the kind of speed only pure panic could supply.
Kayav watched him go, utterly unruffled. "Nice work," he said.
[Thank you. Please return the patient for his next examination,] Carmen replied, her voice as pleasant as ever.
"Oh, I'll try," Kayav murmured, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a hint of doubt.
From the corridor, Felix's voice came back in a furious echo: "I CAN HEAR YOU! AND I'M NOT COMING BACK!"
...
It began innocently enough—with nothing more than a screen.
Felix was still rubbing at his temple in irritation, half-convinced he might feel the outline of the chip beneath his skin, when a glowing system interface flickered into existence before his eyes.
Felix Phoenix
Age: 26
FB: 200
World Ranking: 5,300,854th
He blinked. "Okay… what kind of ranking is this supposed to be? And why did my FB level drop?"
Across from him, Kayav's gaze locked onto his own display, his brow furrowing. "Uh… I can see it too."
Felix's voice pitched upward, incredulous. "Why am I in the five millions?!"
Kayav gave a nonchalant shrug. "Well, it's better than dead last."
"I didn't even know we had a ranking!"
"Neither did I."
Beside them, Carmen watched with the patient expectancy of someone waiting for a program to finish loading. [The world ranking system was implemented precisely one hour ago. Congratulations. You may now monitor your standing among other citizens.]
Felix groaned, throwing his hands into the air. "Perfect. Just perfect. Another brand-new way to feel completely worthless."
But before he could sink further into self-pity, another notification materialized, pulsing ominously before his eyes.
Warning!
Felix Phoenix, you have broken the law.
According to Dome regulations, all citizens over the age of twenty-one are required either to marry or to pay the Celibacy Tax (1 kanteeegan per month).
A new panel blinked into being, stark and bureaucratic against the sterile white of the room:
All citizens aged twenty-three or older must either produce a child or pay the Childlessness Tax (3 kanteeegan per month).
Your status: 26 years old.
Marital status: Single.
Children: None.
Assigned tax (this month): 4 kanteeegan per month.
Outstanding balance due soon: 96 kanteeegan.
Felix went cold. The numbers swam in front of him like a mocking constellation.
"…What?" he managed, voice bare and small.
Kayav turned, slow as if awakening to a bad joke. He read the line once, twice, then did the math aloud in the flat cadence of someone conceding an unpleasant truth. "Wait… that makes it—"
Felix swallowed until it hurt. "We have to pay… two-forty a month… just to exist?" The figure came out in dollars, clumsy and human, the only currency he could hold without the screen between them.
Carmen's reply was mechanical and merciless in its efficiency. [Correct. The next charge will be applied in twenty-nine days.]
"I… I…" Felix's voice cracked, the sound of a man watching the meaning of his life drain away.
Without warning, he seized Kayav by the shoulders, his grip desperate. "Get rid of me."
Kayav recoiled. "WHAT?!"
"We need a way to beat the system—now!" Felix's eyes were wild, feverish.
"That's not how it works!" Kayav shot back, trying to pry him off.
"I can't pay two hundred and forty dollars a month for nothing!" Felix's shout echoed against the sterile walls, sharp with panic.
Kayav hesitated, then ventured, "What if you had… a child?"
Felix gawked at him. "And where exactly am I supposed to get one for you, Kayav?!"
At that moment, Carmen's pleasant chime cut through the chaos. [Option: Adoption is available through government centers.]
Both men froze, turning to stare at her in stunned silence.
Felix swallowed hard. "…How fast?"
[Processing… Average duration: four to twelve months.]
Felix's shoulders slumped, as though the last ounce of hope had been wrung out of him.
Felix buried his face in his hands. "That's it. I'm finished. Broke and finished."
"Don't be dramatic," Kayav said flatly.
Felix dropped his hands just long enough to glare at him. "You're finished too!"
Kayav hesitated, then lifted his chin and let out a faint, mock-serious, "…Awooo."
Their eyes met, and for a moment the absurdity of it all almost broke the tension.
"We've got twenty-nine days to figure something out," Kayav said at last.
"Either we get married or… or…" Felix's voice rose into a strangled cry. "AHHH!"
Carmen, standing with the patience of a machine designed never to tire, smiled pleasantly. [If you require assistance in finding a partner, I can initiate a compatibility analysis of your contacts.]
Felix recoiled, waving his arms as if to ward off the very idea. "NO!"
Kayav rubbed at his temple, already exhausted. "All right. Panic now, deal with it later?"
"Yeah," Felix muttered, nodding rapidly.
They drew in a collective breath.
"And if I escape the Dome?" Felix asked after a moment, the words heavy with desperate hope.
Carmen's reply was instantaneous. [That action would nullify all your rights and citizenship.]
Felix stared at the floor. "…Great."
Kayav clapped him on the shoulder, the gesture at once steadying and resigned. "Okay. Let's come up with a plan."
Felix didn't move, his gaze still fixed somewhere in the middle distance. His voice came out hollow, drained of fight. "I hate taxes."
Felix and Kayav were still drowning in their shared panic when the sterile silence was broken by the sudden glow of another notification. Carmen had activated the screen, her mechanical cheerfulness as bright as ever.
Recommended Solution
The popular program Let's Get Married, hosted by Guzeva and Larina, offers citizens the opportunity to secure a suitable partner.
Show Rules:
• One participant chooses a partner from three candidates.
• Four hours are given to make a decision.
• After the ceremony, the marriage is legally binding.
• Any fictitious marriage will result in a fine of 300,000 kanteeegan.
Felix blinked at the words, his mind stuttering over each line. "…Excuse me, what?"
Carmen's eyes lit with approval, her voice positively beaming. [This is the most popular solution among citizens seeking to avoid the celibacy tax. Your likelihood of finding a partner will increase significantly.]
Felix turned toward Kayav in slow motion, as though needing another human witness to confirm the insanity. Then, just as slowly, his gaze slid back to the screen.
"…Wait," he said hoarsely. "Did that just say a fine of three hundred thousand kanteeegan?"
Kayav's jaw dropped. He punched the numbers in his head and nearly staggered. "That's eighteen million dollars!!"
"That's more than I'll earn in my entire life!" Felix groaned, sinking to his knees as the weight of the absurd announcement crushed him.
Carmen's voice chimed in, calm and unflinching. [Your application for participation has already been submitted. Please be at the studio in three hours.]
Felix dropped his face into his hands. "I… I don't even have control over my own life anymore…"
Kayav tried, weakly, to inject some reassurance. "At least you'll have time to pick out an outfit."
Felix looked up, incredulous. "It's not an outfit I need. I need a lawyer!"
Carmen turned her gaze toward Kayav, her tone as cheerful as ever. [Do you wish to apply as well?]
Kayav flinched. "No, thank you."
The robot nodded, matter-of-fact. [Then you will be charged a tax in one month.]
Kayav's jaw tightened, tension creeping into his shoulders. "…Wait. What if—"
Before he could finish, Carmen had already begun recording him, her systems humming softly.
"Felix! What should we do?!" Kayav's voice cracked, panic rising again.
Felix, sprawled across the floor like a man defeated by bureaucracy, groaned. "Cry. It's all the AI's fault! And… where is Jayar anyway?"