Another chunk of 2066

Sunday 29th March

I was flying out again yesterday so no time for an original blog.  Back to Janek Smith being observed by one of the powers that be, as he is partaking of that most dangerous of enterprises, telling the truth.

-{ Janek was sweating.  In fact it was running down his pyjama clad chest and dampening the waist band of his grey cotton-lite leggings.  He decided to take a shower.  He suspected that his body-stats may be monitored at his work as a matter of course, along with his regular temperature, pulse and blood pressure every week.  Maybe they could even detect excessive sweating – since writing his diary he had been sweating at work too.  Besides he didn’t like sweating, his home and workplace were air-conned and the temperature and humidity automatically adjusted to suit both him and his wife, so his sweating was undoubtedly caused by his fear.  He took a tab of ‘Karm’ and almost immediately felt the panic slide away from him.  It was as if he could suddenly breathe easier, his lungs expanded, his temperature subsided, his arteries opened wider, and the increased oxygen hitting his brain did the rest. Sighing deeply and feeling relaxed at last as the panic ebbed out of his brain, he stepped into the shower capsule and the doors silently glided shut behind him.  In a fraction of a second he was immersed in a fine mist of very hot water and skin-nourishing chemicals.  The pores of his skin opened and were flushed clean, scrubbed of all secretions and germs.  The water temperature dropped suddenly to a degree above freezing and his scoured pores closed again in a second.  Before he had time to register the cold he was enveloped in a room temperature roaring-rush of air that swirled around him, drying his skin and hair in less than a minute.  He stepped out and feeling invigorated, refreshed and relaxed was ready to face the day.


It was as if all that fear and paranoia had dissolved too, like the mist on the horizon as the sun comes up each morning.  Janek smiled at his reflection in the mirror and picking up the mouth-hygiene-jetter, opened his mouth and cleaned his teeth, feeling that effervescent tingle as his nerve-sensors lapped up the refreshing mix of cleanser, and nutrients swirling around his mouth.  He held the shaver close as the super-sensitive head guided itself around every nook and cranny, recognising the contours, remembering the dips and the ridges, never once nipping his skin, leaving him smooth and clean.  He finished off with a swipe under each arm and then up to his face, where the shaver automatically switched from pubic to facial hair recognition and removed those tiny bristles that persisted to grow around his nose and mouth despite the hormone suppression tea he drunk every morning.  At least he only had to shave his face every third day now, he briefly wondered how people used to cope with daily shaving only a few years ago.  Just a brief toilet visit and a swirl of disinfected water and air on the superbidet to clean himself and he was ready to face the world.


If only he could stay this relaxed, this calm, and forget all that ‘journal’ nonsense…]-