The Synergist

[Year 3 | 2255-56]

The two-year-old’s addiction to his Gogh Tab continued.  When not occupied by activities with Mum and Dad (which was far more often than Artur would have liked), the toddler spent his time whittling away the hours drawing images.  These still looked absolutely nothing like the subject matter, but at least his mother was now able to make out the circle for a head, the dots for eyes, the line for a mouth and the scribble used to identify hair.

Over the first few months, Artur was now able to listen to, and follow, instructions.  Whether the boy chose to, however, was another story.  When called, he didn’t come; he was drawing on his Gogh Tab.  When dinner time came around, he refused to eat and then cried until his parents passed him his Gogh Tab.  When potty training, instead of focusing on pooping, Artur was more focused on his Gogh Tab.  On the occasions that he dropped the tab’s stylus into the potty, his parents were quite thankful for his disinterest in the potty.

Come December, Artur’s parents bought the fourteenth generation TreeX, marvelling over the upgrade that waiting a year to replace the tree Artur broke has afforded them.  Though they would never admit it to their son, they were rather pleased that they didn’t have to settle for that archaic previous generation.  Better still, whether it be the tree toppling last year, or the zap that Nanny gave him, Artur steered well and truly clear of the tree.  He didn’t even like being in the same room as it.

On Christmas Day, young Artur was dragged kicking and screaming into the room with the tree.  The boy wailed throughout Christmas morning as his parents begged him to get on with it and open his presents.  Throughout the morning, the boy’s parents unwrapped his presents for him.  The various gadgets weren’t exciting, but the wrapping paper was—it at least distracted him from the seven electric shocks that Nanny gave him for his misbehaviour during the ordeal.  At the end of the day, Artur’s parents considered this the most successful Christmas ever: until they received a notification from YutopiCorp, advising them to get their son’s temper under control.

In early January, Artur’s dad was driving Artur to a child psychologist, after receiving a referral from YutopiCorp in the wake of those seven zaps.  As they drove through the city, Artur barely noticed the City’s neon lights flooding into the car.  He did feel rather unsettled as his dad decided to take a shortcut through the slums, however, as the neon light grew dimmer and dimmer as they ventured deeper into the slums.  Suddenly, the car drew to a halt.  As gunfire could be heard, Artur looked out the window.

“Nata!  Nata!” the child cried.

Artur’s father was rather impressed that at just two and a half, his son knew what a piñata was.  Less impressive to the senior Simril, though, was that his son was witness to bodies exploding as they were filled with laser bolts and their skulls being cracked open by the officers’ energy batons.  While he wouldn’t dare say it to anybody lest the Conscience chip in his head reports his words back to YutopiCorp, he doesn’t approve of his sons seeing the City’s version of “reasonable force.”

That evening, Artur’s father received a notification, advising him that by missing Artur’s appointment, he has been served an infraction from the City.  As it was his decision to take a shortcut through the slums, he was advised that there is no right of appeal—but when it comes to the City’s infractions, if a right of appeal is offered, it is more than likely little more than a mirage of due process.  One more infraction, Dr. Simril was warned, and he would be relocated to a re-education camp.