Praise the Mutilated World

Chapter 1

HARRY.

Harry woke, as he did every day, to the sound of his own name.

His half-awake brain barely registered the quiet little zip of his blinds rising, the slow lightening of the room around to a comfortable, soft yellow glow. He groaned a bit and stretched, toes brushing the edge of his mattress as he rolled over and rubbed his cheek into the pillow.

Music played from the speakers above, little and pretty, classical maybe, and it lured him awake, enough for him to blink focus into the rest of the room, which came to life by both the artificial from the fixtures overhead and natural light pouring in the windows. The brightness of the lights nestled into the ceiling matched the slowly increasing brightness from the sunlight, gently bringing him to full consciousness.

As soon as his eyes cracked open, a soothing, androgynous voice sounded over the room, making him sit up.

"Good morning, Harry," the voice said.

Harry smiled, leaning his neck to one side, and then the other, letting the stiff muscles flex.

"Morning, NOA," he murmured. Logically, he knew he didn't have to greet the Network of Operations and Assistance system in turn, but he had been doing it almost every morning since he had moved into this apartment.

So, he figured, why stop now.

He pulled his legs out from beneath the covers and settled his feet onto the perfectly heated floor and trudged to the bathroom. He placed his robe off the hook on the door as he walked, wrapping it around himself loosely, bare torso exposed.

"Would you like to receive your morning briefing?" the voice asked again when Harry tied a knot in his robe tie and got to the bathroom, and he nodded as he got out his toothbrush and ran it under the tap.

"Yes, please," he said as he squeezed a dot of toothpaste onto the bristles and brought it to his mouth. The mirror in front of him shifted; still clear enough for him to see his own reflection, but overlaid on top of it were little icons -- one for time, another for weather, another still for his schedule for the day.

Each box had a faint glow around it with the edges disappearing where his reflection looked back at him, giving the illusion that the text was floating behind him rather than embedded into the mirror.

NOA read it all to him out loud as he looked over each box.

"It is currently 6:30 AM on August 6, 2085. It is 20 degrees celsius at the moment, with a high of 22 at 4 PM today. Short sleeves and light fabrics are recommended."

"Great," Harry said as he spit out the toothpaste and reached for his hair product and deodorant to carry on with the rest of his routine, "Remind me what I have today."

He washed his face, scrubbing harshly with a cloth at the stubborn spots of blackheads that dotted the top of his forehead and the sides of his nose, as the voice continued to speak. "6:45 AM: Breakfast. 7:15 AM: Morning meditation. 8 AM: Leave home for the optimal commute to the nearest testing center. Please do not forget you have mandatory fertility testing at 9 AM today."

"Never would," Harry mumbled absentmindedly as he put his products back, giving himself one last glance in the mirror, and then padded back to the bedroom. NOA's voice followed him, narrating his day as he went out into the hallway and down the stairs. The apartment lit up as he walked with that same soft, comforting glow, and he felt the floor heat under his feet with each step.

"Testing is estimated to finish at 11 AM. Work begins at 12 AM today, and your hours have been shifted accordingly to allow time for testing. At 5 PM, begin commute home. 5:30 PM—"