"Hey Tessa. Lock the bathroom door, turn on the shower and play my shower playlist on Spotify," I call out, hearing Tessa respond through the speakers in the room. Honestly as much as I shit on our modern day society, I really love some of the technology.

Our AI Tessa, has recorded exactly what temperature and water pressure I like my showers to have. If I come back from the gym, the temperature is ice cold to promote muscle repair and reduce lactic acid. If it's a brisk winter morning, the floor tiling heats up, the water temperature is warmer and the room fills with a cozy steam as I undress beforehand. And she remembers every time.

My friend Jacob thinks my family is 'mega rich' because we have two bathrooms in our house, one of which having a bath tub that we never use. Mum uses it sometimes. I guess majority of the city can't afford houses with enough space for two bathrooms let alone a bath tub. Mum and Dad work ridiculously hard though, I don't discredit them for the life they've given us.

But at the same time, Jacob has an outdoor balcony big enough to fit like twenty people on it. Seriously, he throws parties when his parents go travelling and we can fit almost fifty people in the living room and more if we open up the doors to outside. He thinks a dumb bathtub is a luxury when the fucker has a huge balcony. He's an idiot sometimes but I love him.

The chrome shower head squeezes an even squirt of shampoo down onto my scalp and I reach up to massage it into a lather. Even the shampoo I use differs from that of my family and Tessa knows which one to disperse. Mine, smells of Bergamot and Sandalwood. It's invigorating in the morning but it's not a sweet and florally scent like Mum's or a fruity artificial apple like Dad's. Sometimes if you're facing the wall half asleep in the morning, the shampoo activation will catch you off guard and get in your eyes, take it from experience it's not fun.

The base of palm pulsates as I get a notification. Flicking my fingers out to activate the holographic 'phone' screen, I see that the Solus registrations have officially opened online; no thanks, delete. The water falls through the screen without affecting it, the beauty of holograms I guess. I flick my thumb to scroll through Instagram, seeing stories about who is entering the game this year, who's eating brunch at which cafe, who's sleeping with who... You know, the normal shit you see on social media.

It's funny, Thiago told me that when he was born, Spotify and Instagram were around even back then. I think he's in his seventies now. Which is weird to me because I didn't think companies would have kept up with the rapid change - but they did. He said that there was a social media site called Facebook which apparently was huge back then but it doesn't exist anymore.

Rinsing my hair and asking Tessa to turn off the shower, the ceiling vent above the shower blows a gush of hot air down onto me to dry me off. I run my hands briskly through my hair to get the air up and through it, not wanting it to be damp for when I have to style it for work.

Ugh. Work.
Yuck.

Work was better when Haz was around because he'd make the days feel so much shorter. He wouldn't hesitate to crack a joke with the lawyers or leave Sub-Zero with me when they got too drunk and ordered sex workers to come to the private room.

Sub-Zero really is a world of its own. During the day I wouldn't dare go there. Even at night I wouldn't want to step foot down the wrong alleyway or look at the wrong person in the eye. But somehow my work colleagues end up there every Friday night after the day finishes and every so often I attend to show face, keep up with appearances and make them respect me.

Rule #37: In Sub-Zero, 'Panadol' is their code name for Cocaine. Do not be mistaken when someone offers it to you for your headache from the pounding music.

Today was a Tuesday so I assume majority of the team will go home to their families. Correction, I hope that they go home to their families. I should also clarify that my law firm has a very equal balance of women who also spend their Friday nights in Sub-Zero getting men to go down on them drunkenly at an X-Club.

X-Clubs are basically a mix between an old fashioned strip club to watch half naked women dance, a brothel where you pay for sex, and a place to buy legal (and illegal) drugs. And of course a bar with alcohol.

Apparently in some cities, prostitution was illegal back in the old day. Nowadays it's legal as long as they're in a seperate level of the X-Club and cordoned off with security for respect for the women. That's another thing that Thiago taught me, that apparently women were a minority to men. They used to be paid less than men and scrutinised during their careers when they wanted to take leave to have kids. So fucked up.

My tie does itself up under my shirt collar, tightening around my neck and making me slide my index finger under it to slightly loosen it. The same goes for my belt, which is convenient but unnecessary. Normal belts and ties are easily available in stores, but Mum said I needed to keep up with the other guys at work.

I took the elevator down to the closest train station level, walking along the pedestrian pathways and looking at the hustle and bustle of everyone else on their way to work. I like the fact that people in my area still get out and about; probably due to the fact our area is actually nice to be outside in.

Amongst men in suits, women in suits, influencers jogging with their full faces of makeup and yoga mums walking their dogs, I feel lucky to live in this area. I've been to other sectors of the city where the people seem more miserable. Not to mention lower levels.

If I lived in the lower sectors I wouldn't want to go outside as much. There aren't as many trees or decorated buildings. God there's barely enough space between the buildings down there to speculate when one stops and another begins.

The train line winds through the city at a lightning speed, picking up and dropping off hundreds of workers every minute. It's standing room only unless you're elderly, pregnant or disabled; but those types of people don't particularly go on these trains.

The law firm is situated on some of the highest levels in the metro sector of the city. I kind of hate it here, the business precinct feels so robotic and autonomous. There's no character in the buildings and everything feels like a big silver maze. But I have to earn money somehow.

My brothers are in their second year of University so they catch the train the opposite way to me. The campus is in an old heritage building from the 1950's that was demolished and rebuilt at the top of another building. I like that they've kept some history in the city. It breaks up the monotony of it all.

"Holland! You ready for the Maxwell presentation this afternoon? It's going to be a wild one," one of the senior associates calls out as he walks with his paralegal to the coffee station. I smile and call out something douche-y along the lines of 'oh yeah fuck Maxwell am I right?' and watch him slither his hand from the paralegals upper back, to her lower waist. They're definitely sleeping together when his wife and kids aren't home.

The cool thing about my workplace though, is the amount of space it has. It's huge, the building has two gym, three restaurants, four cafés and on the rooftop it has four tennis courts, a grassy picnic area, a little outdoor cinema screen and an olympic sized swimming pool. Honestly that could be the reason I took this job. The real estate this office has is phenomenal. I mean, a real rooftop? I can see the fucking sky  in every direction from here!

I scan Jacob through reception on his lunch break sometimes, or he'll ask to meet me on the roof after work. It's a perk to working with the rich wankers because they all go to their private (rooftop) country clubs or boujee activities and leave the office amenities to us. Often times Jacob and I are the only ones in the pool.

A lot of outdoor activities are either simulated indoors to make it seem like you're outside, or it's on building rooftops. Seriously, every building has something else on the roof. The really rich people who live in penthouses have their own private 'backyards' on their buildings roof. Sometimes several rich households all share the roof as a sort of communal area. I'm happy with my secret little restaurant building gap roof thing. I don't know what to call it, I just say 'the roof' but I don't think it really counts as one.

My hand pulsates again, a notification from Jacob saying he got his Solus letter and wants to open it after work with me. I respond saying I don't have mine in my inbox yet. Quite frankly I am terrified every year since I turned eighteen that I'm going to get enlisted for Solus. The government says it's a random selection but I highly doubt that.

I respond back to Jacob.

TOM
I'm not interesting enough
for Solus, I'd get eliminated
first round lol