As Maya leant over the kitchen sink, she heard the mechanical buzz of Nvidia-sanctioned Worker Bees in the distance. She didn’t mind at all, in fact, she quite enjoyed the soothing white noise because it perfectly resonated with the gentle flow of water from the tap. She picked up the dish sponge, felt its coarse skin against hers, and drowned it in the steaming, bubbly mixture before her. It scalded her hands at first, the water, though she soon acclimatised to its peculiar warmth after dipping them in and out of it a few times. A dense, yet tranquil, aroma of citrus and lavender diffused upwards from the squeaky plates. She noticed, as she scrubbed the crockery clean, little morsels of food still clung to the surface of some of the plates; a fleeting reminder of the meal she had cooked for herself and Clara that same evening.

          Clara was upstairs, readying herself for sleep. She sat on the end of their bed as she was slipped into her pyjamas. Maya hadn’t been upstairs to prove this, she just knew that was where Clara would be. She knew it because it was what happened at the end of those particular nights; the nights that landed on their agreement – Clara would always dart upstairs the moment she swallowed the last bite of her food, then she’d order the Worker Bees to clean her teeth and help her into her pyjamas. Afterwards, she’d wait irritably until Maya finally bothered to join her.

          But Maya was in no rush, she was delighted by her collection of antique appliances. She had collected quite a few: an electric oven, a strange box that emitted microwaves inside, even a peculiar storage cupboard that hummed mysteriously as it kept its interior cooled – just to name some. Although, her entire kitchen could be argued an antique; nobody had one anymore. As such, this became their agreement, that once-a-week Maya could actually cook a meal for them both, then pointlessly wash the unnecessary crockery before she joined Clara in bed.

          Every other day of the week Clara ensured that Maya would make their meal the normal way (the way everyone else would), she’d have their Worker Bees cook it for them. Now, of course, the bees did not actually cook anything, they simply hummed about in their Hive and used an ARM (Atomically Reconstructing Materialiser.) It would process a given order (provided it was within their credit budget), then utilise any available atoms (typically Hydrogen and Nitrogen from the air) and rearrange them to form the requirements for the order. Then, it would spontaneously materialise inside a little compartment beneath the hive. There was no need for cooking utensils, which Maya kept in abundance, nor a need for reusable plates since finite resources were a thing of the distant past. Yet, Maya insisted on having her Worker Bees construct her a kitchen when she decided on her home; the only positive aspect she attributed to Nvidia’s forceful marketing practise. It was redundant in its entirety, but she loved the traditional way in which humans used to cook and eat.

After washing for some time, Maya had closed her eyes. She could not recall when, but she was contented. Her dainty hands felt nothing but bubbles and comforting warmth. That inviting fragrance returned to her, re-emerging with what seemed like a more hypnotic scent. A perfect perfume massaged her as she-

          ‘Oh, hahahaha, bloody hell!’ exploded Clara from upstairs, ‘you’re not gonna believe what the stupid prick is doing!’ Maya’s eyes reluctantly released to a strained squint until she was able to see mostly cleaned crockery in front of her. ‘Maya!’ She heard rebounding from wall-to-wall.

Maya sighed, aware that it was better if she responded, ‘Haha, what- what’s he doing?’ She inquired gently, forcing a smile that no one could see.

‘Open your EyeGlas and look!’

‘Do I- do I have to?’ Maya waited for a moment but with no immediate reply, she pressed further, ‘Can you not just tell me?’

‘What?! Just stop being a lazy twat and look!’ Maya dropped the sponge in the sink and pushed against the kitchen counter. She kindly ordered the bees to finish her work, for which they were more than happy to oblige. She barely stepped a foot from the kitchen before hearing Clara mutter, ‘Bloody ridiculous washing up anyway.’ Defeated, Maya dried her hands tenderly on her vintage tea towel, retreated to the living room, and collapsed on the nearest chair.

Her hands gestured oddly specific movements to unlock her EyeGlas; another aspect of her bodily autonomy that she surrendered to Nvidia. The software booted, her irises lit-up in a pinkish glow, then gradually dimmed to reveal their alternate look. An array of several applications now floated within the room. They were arranged as her SSAI (Smart System Artificial Intelligence) had told her she would like them to be arranged. She would have contested but she did agree that the arrangement was indeed neat and stylistic – Everyone always agreed.

Maya’s index finger reached out into the empty room, gently prodding the ghostly outline of ‘Life-Stream’. Before her now was a white, circular line that seemingly chased its own tail as the application loaded. She huffed, turned her head to the kitchen with the white circle following her gaze. Worker Bees droned about the kitchen; they incinerated the plates before carelessly disposing of the ashes outside.

Suddenly, Maya’s sightline to the kitchen was obstructed by a digital title floating in front of her. It read:

Welcome to Life-Stream!

Current participant: Alex Rye

Days completed: 348

Tap anywhere to continue

          Maya lifted her index finger in front of her again and tapped, without caring, a random point in the air before her. As she did so, Clara shouted yet again.

‘Have you seen it yet?’

          ‘Not yet!’ Maya replied, as kindly as her booming voice could have managed.

          Alex Rye was now visible to Maya, almost like she was looking through a portal. To her right she could see, tucked away in the bottom corner of the floating screen, a live text-chat that scrolled endlessly with a flood of comments. Alex was stood, rather precariously, on the edge of some form of aeronautical vehicle. He wore an uneasy smile. ‘I don’t get it, what is he doing?’ Maya shouted to Clara.

          ‘I’m not sure but he said it’s called skydiving. It’s like an old-timey form of anti-grav hopping I think.’

          Maya did not reply, Clara didn’t mind though, both of them were pre-occupied watching the stupid prick as he plummeted violently from the sky. The camera struggled to follow him at first, eventually settling with a good view of his face which contorted rather humorously. Maya noticed the live chat, it exploded with a fresh surge of comments with Alex’s rapid descent. He smiled again, ‘Guys this is unbelievable! I’ve only done- ‘, he took a pause to catch the breath that was ripped away by the wall of air always below him, ‘I’ve done one anti-grav hop before, but this… This feels so strange… I have a parachute instead… I just need to pull it before I get to the ground.’ He stopped talking then. The camera panned out. Alex’s body fell so close to the ground, but he quickly pulled the release for his chute.

          His body painted the ground in a carpet of blood. The camera zoomed in. Maya felt sick to her stomach. Clara didn’t utter a word. Instead, they looked on as the screen eventually switched to the digital menu, which read:

          Selecting next streamer…

          Maya and Clara sat in anticipation of who would be chosen. Nobody had ever lasted a whole year, but Alex was so close. Never mind. The new streamer was chosen – a man. He looked rather gentlemanly as he sat, up-right in a neat, black suit. He spoke eloquently, ‘Why are we forced to do this? How many of us need to die to this corporate greed? Why does capitalism still exist when we have everything we need? Why- ‘

          The camera switched off. The title menu reappeared. ‘There’s always one!’ Clara joked to Maya, who had just realised an irregular lack of buzzing bees around her. Instead, she observed one singular Worker Bee, which hovered not far from her. Maya could now see the live chat again, only she could still see it when she blinked, when she closed her eyes. A new title screen appeared.

Welcome to Life-Stream!

Current participant: Maya Clark

Days completed: 0

Tap anywhere to continue

Maya didn’t know what to say. A sudden influx of credits rolled into her account. She began reading comments, almost immediately, that criticised her boring presentational style and as these comments continued, she saw a rating at the top right of her peripheral vision, slowly declining. ‘I’ve- I’ve been chosen’ she muttered to herself pathetically. But as she did nothing, her rating continued to decline. She sat awkwardly, jerking her body hesitantly as she combatted her thoughts of what to do. She thought of nothing.

A rumble echoed through the house as Clara crashed down the stairs. The door swung open violently and Clara held out her hand. A digital message sat in the air, ‘DO SOMETHING!’ So, in response, Maya ran upstairs. She went to bed and closed her eyes. The chat ever-present in her blackened sight. Messages of mockery, and of hatred, and of laughter, profanity and all other nasty things engulfed her vision. Tears crept from her eyes as she desperately tried to sleep – to make it all disappear. But her EyeGlas recognised her desire to sleep, so the singular Worker Bee flew away. Her EyeGlas booted up REM mode. It activated the constant streaming of her dreams to the world. She couldn’t escape it. She needed to acclimatise.

Works Cited:

Journal Articles:

Yoo, Jihun. “Transhumanist Impulse, Utopian Vision, and Reversing Dystopia in Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake and Octavia E. Butler’s Dawn.” The Modern Language Review, Vol. 114, No. 4, 2019, pp.662-681.

Primary text:

Butler, Octavia E. Dawn. Warner Books, 1997.

Television Programmes:

“Dot and Bubble.” Doctor Who, created by Russell T Davies, series 40, episode 5, BBC One Television, 1 Jun. 2024.

“Nosedive.” Black Mirror, created by Michael Schur and Rashida Jones, series 3, episode 1, Netlfix, 21 Oct. 2016.

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Connor Sheppard is a student from Newton-le-Willows who studies Creative Writing at York St John University. He became fascinated with writing from studying English in secondary school, pursuing his passion through college and into university. He primarily enjoys writing fiction, typically involving supernatural or science fiction elements.