This is how this city of the future lived – tirelessly, noisily, brightly, constantly changing and remaining unchanged in its essence. Each of its inhabitants, from an ordinary worker to the head of a large corporation, was part of a huge, incredibly complex mechanism that worked day and night. This mechanism was not just functioning – it was evolving, developing, realising the wildest dreams of the science fiction writers of the past about the technological future of mankind and at the same time creating new challenges that the next generations would have to face.
In the thickening twilight of the cyberpunk megacity of 2068, where neon signs waged an endless war with the fading light of day, a girl in a light, once elegant lavender-coloured dress walked slowly down the street. Anna Buyanova, exhausted from a long day of work in the neuroimplant laboratory, walked with her head down, as if trying to shield herself from the world around her with an invisible shield of fatigue. Her slender figure seemed fragile and vulnerable against the background of massive skyscrapers, whose tops, topped with spires of chrome steel and glass, were lost in the low, heavy clouds, illuminated from below by the millions of lights of the ever-wakeful city.
Around Anna, the life of the megalopolis was boiling and pulsating, like a gigantic, never-stopping mechanism. Music was pouring from everywhere, creating a bizarre cacophony of sounds, in which the attentive listener could distinguish dozens of different melodies merging into a single symphony of the future. From the open doors of restaurants came melodic jazz compositions, interspersed with aggressive beats from passing cyber-bikes, whose neon stripes left glowing trails in the air. Audio systems embedded in the walls of buildings broadcast the latest hits, and billboards sang the jingles of the latest products, from synthetic food to the latest neuro-implants.
But Anna, immersed in her own thoughts, did not share in this general merriment. Her mind, tired of endless calculations and experiments, was far from the festive atmosphere of the street. She did not scrutinise the faces of passers-by – people, not distinguishing where the human ends and the artificial begins. The brightly coloured shop windows, seemingly offering goods from all parts of the solar system, floated past her without leaving a trace in her consciousness. Anna’s only wish was to get home, to her little refuge in the vast, indifferent city, where she could finally take off the mask of confidence and let herself be vulnerable.
The music changed with every step the girl took, creating a unique soundtrack to her journey. As she approached the next establishment, she heard melodic electro-pop coming from the Cyber-Dreams bar, hard industrial from the Steel Heart club, and exotic rhythms from distant continents-colonies sounding from the doors of some cuisine restaurant. But even this symphony of the future could not drown out the eternal hum of human voices – laughter, conversations, rare outbursts of quarrels. People remained human, despite all the technological marvels around them, their emotions and passions were as vivid and unpredictable as they had been thousands of years ago.
Finally, after a long journey through the maze of streets, Anna reached the NeuroHub, a huge complex of dormitories where the developers and workers of the cyber-implant manufacturing companies lived. The building towered above the surrounding buildings like a giant beehive, glowing with thousands of windows. Its facade, covered with self-cleaning solar panels, reflected the lights of the city, creating the illusion that the building itself was glowing from within with some mysterious, pulsating light.
Anna walked through the main entrance, where invisible scanners instantly read her biometric data. A slight tingle in her temple and the security system recognised her as its own, granting her access to the inside of the building. The lift, controlled by an artificial intelligence with a soothing female voice, smoothly lifted her to the desired floor. Stepping out of the cabin, the girl found herself in a long, seemingly endless corridor, the walls of which were covered with interactive panels displaying news, weather and private messages for the occupants.
Life in NeuroHub was bustling even at this late hour, resembling an anthill that never fully sleeps. The corridors were crowded with people: young engineers were animatedly discussing the latest developments, waving their hands with projections of schematics and graphs; others, immersed in virtual reality through neural interfaces, were frozen against the walls with an absent expression, their eyes moving rapidly under closed eyelids, giving off intense brain activity. In the corner, several people, clearly under the influence of synthetic alcohol, were arguing loudly about the advantages of different brands of implants, their eyes glowing with an unnatural neon glow – a sign of activated endorphin stimulators.
Anna stopped at the open door of one of the communal kitchens, attracted by the smell of real, non-synthesised food, a rarity in their world. Inside, an elderly woman, whose wrinkled face seemed an anachronism among the ever-younger inhabitants of NeuroHub, was working over a small stove, humming an old-fashioned song. Her voice, slightly trembling but surprisingly clear, seemed an echo of a bygone era. The girl leaned against the jamb, watching this almost domestic scene, so rare in their high-tech world.
The interior of the kitchen was a bizarre mix of old and new, as if reflecting all the contradictions of their age. The walls were covered with panelling, now mimicking the cosy floral wallpaper – apparently the choice of the elderly occupant. Above the stove hung a recipe, automatically adjusted according to the cook’s actions, flashing green when everything went right, and blinking red when it deviated from the ideal process. The only window faced the street, letting in the flickering light of advertising banners, street lamps and passing air cars, creating a bizarre play of shadows and light spots on the floor and walls.
Suddenly the other girl, who was standing at the window sill and calculating something on a tablet, broke away from her work and raised her head. Her face, framed by a cascade of blue hair – the latest fashion of the season – lit up with sincere joy at the sight of Anna. Her eyes, equipped with the latest model of optical implants capable of seeing in the infrared and ultraviolet spectra, reflected a warm glow of friendship.
– Anna! I’m so glad to see you! – She exclaimed, rushing to her friend with open arms. Her voice, melodious and clear, seemed to drown out all the noise around her. – How are you doing? I haven’t been able to contact you all day!
Anna smiled tiredly, her shoulders slumping even more under the weight of the friendly hug. At that moment she looked especially fragile and vulnerable, like a statue made of the finest glass, ready to shatter at the slightest careless touch.
– Not so much, Nova,» she answered quietly, her voice barely audible over the noise of dinner cooking on the cooker and the hum of the corridor. – I failed today. A little short on the new neural network test.
Nova’s face changed instantly, reflecting genuine disappointment. Her eyebrows drew together at the bridge of her nose, and concern flashed in her eyes. She put her hand on Anna’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly for support. The touch was warm and soothing, reminding her that even in this cold world of high technology there was still room for simple human gestures.
– Oh, An, I’m so sorry,» she said sympathetically, her voice softer, as if trying to wrap her friend in a cocoon of comfort. – What do they say upstairs at the department? Can’t they discount your previous successes?
Anna just waved her hand tiredly, a gesture that said more than words could express:
– They don’t say anything. You know how it is – dry figures and no human approach.
The girls left the kitchen and headed down the corridor, their footsteps echoing off the walls, mingling with the general hum of the NeuroHub. The old woman at the cooker turned around and shouted after them, her voice, amplified by the acoustic system of the corridor, easily caught