nugget #1.1: rich people, multiple companies

What happens to rich people? Do they still get paid more? They have to keep a richer lifestyle with richer things - and are paid more for rare experiences. Do people try and acquire weird, new experiences to keep the cycle going?

Can they stop people from being paid by NexCorp? i.e. the service industry has their trans' taken away from them, or maybe they aren't getting any 'rare' experiences due to the fact that everyone in that household has pretty much the same experiences. Or maybe their information is super cheap.

That's why couples can still get trans' - there's something unique about their experience that no-one else can share. 

NexCorp should not be the only company. Too many stories write about ONE corporation taking over, but in reality there would probably always be competition. 

 ----

"Jarald, is dinner available yet?" the young boy, Tyrand, snapped. "I've been waiting for a quarter hour for this surprise." Sarcasm roasted his every word, melting into the air between them.

"Not to worry, sir, Chef will have it done in a moment," Jarald replied, standing to attention next to the door. His fancy formalwear was a stark contrast to the modernity of the dining room. The old master had wanted to see his household run "just like the old days, my dear boy" and something about the blasted abbey somewhere downtown near the pier. Who knows what rubbish those damn nuns had put into his head.

"Are you sure?" Tyrand kicked the table leg, pouting at the clean, glossy black table. "I hate waiting."

"Now, now, sir, think of all the new gadgets you could buy with your creds!" he replied, his smile seeping into the room to try and defuse the tension. "I'll go check on it right now."

He signalled to Karyn, the nursemaid, to take over his place as he efficiently palmed the door open, leaving no trace of any sound to disturb the room. He fiddled with his trans-earpiece, depressing a small button on the device near his earlobe.

"Short Update - go:

SERVICE - quarter hour to exhaustion by T, more meditation required

RESPONSES - added sarcasm has increased tonal variety

Jarald Out. Send"

The earpiece beeped faintly as it went rushing out to Magna's servers. One of it's distributed agents set on the mansion would deliberate and transfer funds relative to the uniqueness of the data from it's own observations. After all, if a robot could do it, what was the point in rewarding the human?

Shaking these thoughts from his mind, Jarald marched down the corridor to the Chef's Lair. Old Merryn would be in for some cred-punishment if he didn't hurry up!

"Where is the- OW!" he cried as the steam slapped him in the face.

"Yeah, yeah, it's done! Take it over," Merryn's wizened, gruff old face peered out at him from fogged up spectacles. "The damn steam from cookin' it has been pissing with my stuff - couldn't get the trans uplink the whole time I was cooking! Would've been some fresher information, but at least the robo can't claim it from me because of the steam," he jabbed at the vaguely white figure in an alcove under the table. Jarald laughed.

"Oh Merryn, one day that robot may be taking over your job," he winked, grinning. Everyone knew Merryn was irreplaceable to the old master. They'd been through all the Federation changes together, and Merryn had been put in charge of experimenting with the old ways - ostensibly so that the Magna robots could learn, but mainly so that the old master could rack up his creds. The newer the food, the better.

Jarald hefted the dish and left Merryn grumbling to his trans that he had jabbed open on the bench. The dish was gold-plated and had a design of a dog fighting a dragon - the old master's sigil. He wondered what the letters around the sides meant when he heard a familiar beep.

"Service reward of 0.0005 credits," a silky female voice fed into his ear. "Possible upgrade - inject own sarcasm into replies. Expected reward 0.03 credits with multiplier. End reward."

Damn, he thought. That might be considered a breach by the old master of talking back. However, he had no time to ruminate on this as his legs had automatically taken him back to the dining room, placing the grand dish in front of Tyrand.

"Here we go! A lovely sai-fish and goat tongue, surrounded by a sea of tiger's blood," Jarald said, beaming at his charge. "Tiger's blood is the most unique item in this dish, but when coupled with goat tongue, Chef says it'll fetch at least 5 creds."

Tyrand lit up as the creation was uncovered. He poked at the food, seeing the steam rise in whorls and arcs above his head, a fingerprint of the food itself. Slowly, he took a bite of each item, closing his eyes and feeling his food, just like Jarald had taught him. Jarald himself salivated at the design of the dish - he might even get a whole cred just by looking at Merryn's creation. He was startled out of his reverie by a sharp click from Tyrand, who had opened his trans terminal and was furiously typing. The lengthy description grew as Tyrand popped more and more of the rare flavour into his mouth.

The tapping slowed as the plate finished. Jarald cleared the table, and fed the utensils into the robo installed next to the wall. With a smooth motion, the table top rose up, folding out the utensils for the next meal. Jarald expertly flipped these into their correct positions as a familiar beep sounded for Tyrand's terminal. Craning his neck, he could just make out the words on the screen.

"[Reward - 7.8 credits! A fine description of a combination of rare, unique flavours. Magna thanks you for your contribution. End reward]"

Tyrand turned to Jarald, face flushed.

"Jarald, that was awesome! Tell Merryn it was an absolutely disgusting dish. I loved it!" He turned back to his trans, surfing the myriad experiences he had yet to try. Jarald bowed, lower than necessary. He was sure this would work in his favour.

"See you at dinner, sir."

nugget #1: Bureau of Information

Ideas that come to me. Nuggets, unformed flavours to be fleshed out.
Notes -  name the AI, name the Log, name the trans, name the Credits, name the local authority


Lauren ran to the door to see off her husband.

'Goodbye darling!' she cried. His eyes lit up, and planted a soppy wet kiss on her lips.

'I miss you already,' Gordon whispered softly to her. He jerked open the door, a blast of icy cold air invading the household temporarily, and then stepped out. The invaders, devoid of reinforcements, promptly surrendered to the warmth.

Lauren's face fell, sapped of energy. She jabbed the terminal next to the door.

'Log open - record:

'KISS- type: wet, flavour: breakfast, response: affection.

'WARMTH - open door led to a sharp 2% drop in temperature' - she consulted the numbers appearing next to the window - 'over a 15 second period. Equilibrium restored within 30 seconds.

'PERSONAL NOTES - it is tiring to continue loving him. But it seems to have the desired effect.

'End Log. Transmit.'

Her message was sent to the local authority. As it would not take long to return, she shambled to the kitchen and switched the food processor to 'breakfast'. She waited at the sink for the kettle to fill. A soft 'ting' registered on the screen they had just installed next to the stove.

'[EMOTIONAL RESPONSES REGISTERED]' it flashed. '[0.24 CREDITS EARNED]'

She sighed. It was better than their average 0.2. She wondered what Gordon had earned...

---

Flustered, Gordon pulled out his trans to record the trip, as he sat down in his allocated seat on the pod-train. All around him, others were doing the same thing, generating the trans-bubble to shield their communications with the local authority.

'Transmission open - start:

'WEATHER - sharp, bitter. The wind chill seemed to pull down the intended temperature.

'FOOD - breakfast was 2 seconds early. Digestion was suboptimal.

'EXERCISE - invigorating, but unprepared. Fitness increase possibly required. Path to pod-train was relatively smooth - no obstacles to complain of.

'SIGHTS - nothing new to report. The Jones' were still late, as usual - I could see the lights were still on.

'PERSONAL NOTES - relationship with Lauren seems to be...better.

'End Log. Save, submit.'

He took a moment to watch the greenery flash by him. In the olden days, greenery were called 'trees', and there were probably 'flowers' somewhere in those 'forests'. He had seen pictures of them in his job. But now the greenery was either the banners of NexCorp, or the gaudy, plasticky decorations that adorned reflective buildings, cheap imitations of 'nature'. His trans beeped, taking him out of his reverie.

'[RESPONSE REGISTERED. REWARD EARNED - 0.75 CREDITS]' the words flashed in his bubble.

'[FITNESS REQUEST PROCESSED - DEDUCTION OF 0.2 CREDITS FOR UPGRADE]'

Surprised, he plugged his trans into the chair's arm-slot for the upgrade. Lauren must have done well if he was able to get a fitness increase on such short notice! Or had he finally got bumped up the list somehow? And the 0.2 credits for an upgrade was a steal - they would usually be at least 0.5! He tapped his trans as it was downloading.

'Message open - go:

'Praise be to NexVac, the Almighty Authority!'

'End Message. Submit.'

A small vibration registered that the message had been sent. Generosity would be rewarded, he remembered from the countless slogans plastered on street corners. But Gratitude is required.

He sat back in his trans-bubble, waiting for the download to finish. With a brief gesture, he turned on Bach, the concerto's harmonious melodies blocking out cacophony around him.

The pod-train came to a stop. Another day at work had begun.