(Epub file for Digital readers available here)
Eddie sat in the waiting room in the Doctor’s clinic. Due to recent issues, his sitting pose was crooked and slightly slouched, and his lower back ached. ‘Look where a Wild sexual encounter can get you,’ Eddie thought. ‘At least I enjoyed it.’ He had, at least, come to completion. He felt the pressure in his lower back increase as he sat and shifted in his seat. His S.B.G42™ must be replaced with a newer version.
S.B.G42™ - Shit Beamer Galaxy 42 is a Galactic crap launcher which is a device installed within the intestine that launches body waste into an intergalactic space garbage dump, allowing people to avoid disposing of their own excrement. It was a breakthrough improvement from the previous S.B.G41™, which was digestible and, therefore, could not be held in the body of a living person.
The Doctor said that if they were already replacing the S.B.G42™, it was an opportunity to replace the F.B.G13™ as well.
F.B.G13™, or Food Beamer Galaxy 13, is a galactic food transmitter implanted in a human throat and transmits all the necessary nutrition from a secret intergalactic location to the human digestive system. This device allows people to be free from calculating the calories of their food, enabling citizens worldwide to have the proper B.M.I. (Body Mass Index). The location of the food transmission center is unknown to prevent terrorist organizations from damaging F.G.M.A.T. Corp.’s®™ classified facility. Eddie’s insurance covered everything, so he had nothing to worry about. He was not worried.
Eddie was a computerized accountant. No, he wasn’t a robot or an android. He was a human being. Eddie arrived at the office shortly after midnight, hooked up to a terminal, and slept. The terminal activated unused sections of his brain that served as a potent biological processor. It didn’t bother him to sleep through it. Besides, it was good money and freed up his days for leisure activities, including the sexual activity that messed up his S.B.G42™ device.
Shit.
The Doctor’s office door creaked, and Eddie shifted in his seat. His name was called from inside, and Eddie entered. The Doctor looked at him but was busy reading his personal information in the tiny glasses on his nose. These were Hologlasses, unique glasses that displayed information upon the user’s request. They were expensive, and therefore ads were included. Unfortunately, people would take them off during commercial breaks, so their production was discontinued and replaced by F.G.M.A.T. Corp.®™’s sub-retina device. Eddie was surprised to see these glasses. He hadn’t seen one since he was a child.
“Edward T. Jackson?”
“Yes,” Eddie answered.
“I see that all your brand-new parts have arrived. You received the most recent model, S.B.G.S13™ and the F.B.G42™.”
The Doctor’s stomach made a peculiar noise. Eddie noticed for the first time that the Doctor had a potbelly. He hadn’t seen anyone with a belly for a long time. Occasionally, you could bump into overweight immigrants on the street, but it was a rare sight because the Police quickly made them evaporate. Once, on an organized tour abroad, he saw some natives struggling for food. They didn’t have money like him to pay for an F.B.G13™ and thus never worried about food again. There were rumors about tourists being kidnapped for their F.B.G13™, but F.G.M.A.T. Corp.®™ would cease beaming food to subscribers once notified of the kidnapping. So it didn’t help anyone. Unless they ate it, except for the F.B.G13™, which was a particular substance that was indigestible. After all, it was implanted in the intestines.
Returning to our loud-stomached Doctor, he got up and mumbled to Eddie, “One moment, I need to use the restroom,” and left the room. First, the glasses, and now this? How is it possible that the Doctor himself does not have S.B.G42™? And prefers real food and disposing of its own waste? Eddie was determined to clarify this.
“Why don’t you have an S.B.G42™ doctor?” Eddie asked as soon as the Doctor returned.
“It’s not suitable for everyone,” he mumbled, “You’re young. I’m from a different era... mmm... Go to room 212. Your surgery will start immediately.” Eddie thought it was strange. The Doctor didn’t seem so ancient to him. Not to the point of living before ‘The Great Shutdown.’
The Great Shutdown - A nickname for the united shutdown of the Dental Association that opposed the use of F.B.G13™ after the F.G.M.A.T. Corp.®™ and the United States government closed a deal with farmers to buy all their produce until 2084. The shutdown also affected the North American Confederation of plumbers, which opposed the integration of S.B.G42™. The shutdown lasted almost two years until 2018, bringing down both unions, the most vital labor unions in North America after the Farmers Association. There’s something stinky about all this, and it’s not just my faulty S.B.G42™. Eddie entered the surgery room.
Shit.
Eddie opened his eyes. He felt strange, very strange. It seemed to him that much more time had passed than the two hours exchanging his surgery was supposed to take. He lay on a hospital bed, alone, in a single room. A wired buzzer was placed by his shoulder, and he had to pull the wire to buzz the nurse. ‘Why haven’t they invented something more modern yet?’ he thought, activating the buzzer.
“Good morning, Mr. Jackson,” said the nurse. “I see you’ve woken up. I’ll call the Doctor.”
“Just a moment,” Eddie hollered, “Why the Doctor? What happened?”
“The doctor will be with you immediately, Mr. Jackson.” The nurse left, and the Doctor entered. His face was grim, and he was silent. Eddie waited.
It was a long pause until the Doctor spoke. “Look, Eddie, there was a problem... You were unconscious for the last three days... And we had to remove the implants from your body.”
“Didn’t you put in new ones?” Eddie asked.
“I’m talking about the new ones,” the Doctor stated.
“What happened, Doctor? What happened?” Eddie raises his voice.
“It was a one-in-a-million mistake, the names, you understand.”
“No, Doctor, I don’t understand!” Eddie shouted in distress.
“We were supposed to replace the S.B.G42™ with the S.B.G.S13™ and the F.B.G13™ with the F.B.G42™, you understand. But, unfortunately, the intern didn’t notice the ‘S,’ so we replaced the S.B.G.S13™ with the F.B.G13™.”
Eddie looked at the Doctor, horrified, “What does that mean?”
“It means we implanted the gastrointestinal implant in your throat and the throat implant in your intestine.” The Doctor coughed and quickly spat it out. “The system transferred shit into you and sucked out food from you, but only for a few minutes.” Eddie was furious.
“Eddie, calm down, please. We gave you a premium system rinse on our account,” the Doctor explained. Eddie didn’t know what to do with himself.
“We ordered new implants for you, but there’s a tiny problem with the hospital’s insurance. We are dealing with it right now. We are trying to find refurbished equipment for you until new ones can be assembled.”
“What refurbished ones?! I don’t want a shitty refurbished one!” Eddie cried and screamed, gesticulating wildly.
“Eddie, be reasonable. This is not the time for tantrums. There’s nothing else to do,” the Doctor tried to calm him down.
“You’re suggesting I take used shitty crap launcher implants and want me to calm down? You’re not implanting a used shitty crap launcher in me! Ever! You can shove your refurbished shitty crap launcher up your ass!”
“Eddie, I don’t have any other option right now. I can’t anesthetize you for more than the three days we already have. Either we implant a refurbished one, or you must dispose of your organic waste by yourself until new equipment arrives.”
“You’re saying I fucked my fucking shit out of myself for three fucking days!” Eddie yelled.
“Eddie, watch your language. This is not the time for profanity!” the Doctor raised his voice. “These are the options we have right now.”
Eddie held his head and trembled. He was so furious, and his heart was pounding so hard that he didn’t hear the Doctor murmuring that Eddie’s workplace had called. They wouldn’t approve more days off, and he had to show up for work tonight. And then the Doctor left, and Eddie remained.
Shit.
Eddie’s stomach made gurgling sounds. He didn’t know what it was. It had never made sounds before. The implants were supposed to beep when they malfunctioned, and yesterday, sorry, four days ago, was the first time his digestive system implant beeped. The guy told him it happens sometimes, and then it repairs itself. But, unfortunately, it didn’t.
Shit.
The noise from his stomach wasn’t the beep of an S.B.G42™ or an S.B.G.S13™. Instead, it was something new, transforming, almost melodic.
He pulled the cord and buzzed.
The nurse came in.
“You ought to eat,” the nurse said. And scribble something at the console positioned at the edge of his bed.
“Your medical insurance doesn’t cover unprocessed food, Mr. Jackson.” The nurse said indifferently, scrawling something else, then turned the console off.
“You’ve been charged from the hospital. Your belongings are stored in this closet.” the nurse pointed to the closet next to Eddi’s bed, and it opened automatically, “You’ll receive a message when your new implants arrive. Goodbye.”
“Wait,” Eddie stated. “Where do I get unprocessed food?”
“First, you must go to the F.G.M.A.T.®™ office on the ground floor to get approval for consuming unprocessed food. You can’t just walk around without implanted devices without permission. It’s against the law. I think there’s a grocery store for the elderly two streets south from here that sells some food, but they won’t sell it to you without a permit. You can ask for one at the F.G.M.A.T®™ office downstairs.”
The nurse disappeared.
Eddie stayed.
Shit.
The closet beeped slowly and then displayed a message, “Dear patient, it’s 11:50. In one hour and fifteen minutes, you’ll be charged for an additional day of hospitalization. Quick recovery.” The closet beeped again. The F.G.M.A.T.®™ office downstairs was closed.
Shit.
Eddie stood outside the hospital. None of the people he had passed on his way out of the hospital knew where he could get unprocessed food. When he mentioned unprocessed food, some people even ran away, and mothers covered their children’s ears when he approached them.
His stomach continued to produce sounds steadily. For the first time in his life, Eddie was hungry. He searched for elderly people on the street but did not find any. He did not even know what unprocessed food looked like.
Shit.
Eddie figured he needed to look for overweight people or at least the chubby ones and ask them. They were his best chance. People with implants in their throats who received all their nutrition from a tube were always of average weight unless their tube feed was defective, but F.G.M.A.T®™ would detect it rather quickly before their B.M.I. rose. As the evening descended, Eddie continued to wander around the city. His mouth was dry, his head was pounding, and his stomach was growling. A distant silhouette on a street corner caught his attention. He thought he saw an overweight person. Eddie ran towards him, but the person noticed and ran away. Eddie shouted and screamed. He yelled that he only wanted to speak to him and wanted to eat something. The distance between them shortened, and Eddie noticed a chubby guy dressed in filthy, torn clothes. The dude slowed down and began to walk heavily, gasping for air. Eddie caught up with him. “Wait a moment.” he jumped on the chubby guy and subdued him.
“Do you have F.B.G.?”
The guy didn’t understand Eddie. They didn’t speak the same language.
“Well? do you?” Eddie shouted. He groped the man’s belly and throat but felt no implants.
“I want food!” Eddie said and gestured with a cupped hand towards his mouth.
“Comer, comer!” The chubby guy pointed to his own mouth.
“Comer, comer!” Eddie mimics the phrases and gestures. The guy groped Eddie’s belly and lifted his shirt. A small red mark and a tiny scar that looked like a stain on his perfect abs were all that was left of Eddie’s surgery.
“Estas Roto!” said the chubby dude. “Come, come!” he added, pushing his chunky body up from the sidewalk, starting to walk jerkily and hesitantly, gesturing for Eddie to follow him. Eddie follows him, thinking, ‘What else do I have to do?’.
Shit.
They walked almost all night, hiding in the shadows of walls, dodging streetlights, cars, and passersby. Eddie wasn’t used to wandering around the city at night. He usually worked during these hours.
“Fuck, I ditched work! Shit,” Eddie murmured to himself. The rounded guy suggested his finger to his lips and whispered, “Shh...” Eddie only had three days off and was supposed to go to work that night. He would call his boss as soon as he had a chance, but first, he had to eat.
A police siren approached them, and the chubby guy grabbed Eddie and pushed him against the entrance of an apartment building, covering his mouth with his chunky palm. Eddie froze. His head spun, and his vision blurred. They waited until the police car passed. Its lights flashed while turning right, the street fell silent, and darkness returned.
Eddie had escaped the law for the first time but hadn’t realized it yet. So they continued to move, hiding in the darkness of the night, and an exhausted Eddie followed the jumpy, chubby guy almost out of habit. His fatigue slowed him, but he didn’t consider giving up. The world around him was unraveling. He was hungry and kept walking. Every time Eddie slowed down, a chubby hand would pull him ahead.
They entered the city’s urban zoo through a hole in the fence. Eddie remembered the zoo from his childhood, but not fondly. There were a few sad living creatures and many happy robots resembling extinct or nearly extinct animals. The chubby guy knew the zoo well and led Eddie to a warehouse in one of its remote corners.
Twelve individuals were gathered inside the stale warehouse, women, children, and men, all plump, well-rounded people. Some were fearful when they noticed Eddie, but his chubby companion calmed them down, approached one of the crates, and pulled out a carrot.
“Come here, come here!” he whispered, handing Eddie a carrot. It was the first carrot Eddie had ever held in his life. He didn’t know what to do with it. The chubby guy pulled out another carrot and began to gnaw on it. Eddie chewed on his carrot in response. The chubby one gripped the carrot with his teeth, approached another crate, and pulled out some lettuce. Eddie gnawed on the lettuce and then on the carrot again. He wandered among the boxes as the happy, chubby people watched him. These were the poor animals’ food crates, but Eddie didn’t care. He ate tomatoes and peaches, watermelon with its shell, oranges with its peel, a kiwi that scratched his throat, a banana, lychee, an apple, beets, and a pineapple. He felt his stomach load with warmth, and a pleasant relaxation spread throughout his body. His head was no longer dizzy, and his stomach no longer growled. He sat beside the chubby bunch, leaned back, grinned, and fell asleep.
“Police! Police!” Eddie was shaken awake by chubby hands. The guy was bent over him, shouting. Sirens blared through the vast empty space of the warehouse.
“Police! Police! Come! Come!” The chubby guy dragged Eddie, and Eddie was pulled bewilderedly onto the floor. He managed to get up and trailed behind the others, not understanding why he was running. The chubby bunch ran, and so did he.
“But...but...I can explain to the Police… I’m not like you... I’m a citizen... I’m hungry... I’m privileged...” Eddie tried to explain, but the chubby guy picked up the pace. It was morning outside, and all the chubby people had already disappeared. Only Eddie and the slow, chubby guy were left, and Eddie kept rushing after him. Finally, they arrived at the gap in the fence and fled the zoo.
Eddie felt something funny in his stomach for the first time. It felt slightly bloated and pressed on his groin. He had never felt this before. It was difficult for him to run, and the chubby guy disappeared into one of the alleys, leaving Eddie alone. Eddie entered the stairwell of a shared house and sat in one of the corners. He felt strange. The food from last night wanted to come out of him through his mouth, ears, nose, stomach, and buttocks. He breathed deeply to calm down.
Shit.
A police car blared a siren down the street. Eddie’s discomfort increased, obliterating his thoughts and logic. He decided to turn to the Police for help and crawled out of the stairwell toward an approaching police car. He straightened up and stood on the edge of the sidewalk. The police car stopped abruptly, and male and female police officers emerged, brandishing upgraded Greenbeam©®™ handguns aimed at Eddie. The GreenBeam©®™ is a laser gun manufactured by F.G.M.A.T Corp.®™. The basic version fires a green laser beam that causes the target to explode in all directions, and the upgraded version turns a target into a wisp of smoke. F.G.M.A.T Corp.®™ is proud of its upgraded version, which leaves no evidence of any kind, and the Police use the upgraded version precisely because it doesn’t leave any traces.
The police officers trembled slightly. They were afraid. Eddie didn’t realize that he was the cause of their fears. He was sure he was just an ordinary person.
Eddie raised his right-hand halfway to signal the Police officers that everything was okay and tried to speak.
“Get on the floor!”
“Hands up!” The two officers shouted conflicting orders, and Eddie was confused and flustered.
“I can’t lie down with my hands in the air.”
The policewoman started reading him his rights.
“Hey, I’m a citizen. This is just a small misunderstanding. I didn’t do anything, I just tried to replace my crappy crap launcher and my food transmitter, and the hospital made a mistake...” A sharp pain tore through Eddie’s stomach, and he doubled over. Strange noises came from his behind. The policewoman stopped reading his rights, pulled a gas mask from the back seat, and put it on. The other officer shouted at her to hand him one and pulled handcuffs out of his trembling belt.
“I need help! I’m sick!” Eddie shouted. He pulled a digital I.D. card and a digital device from his pocket and tried to give them to the officer, his body vibrating with pain. The officer moved towards Eddie exactly when the pain in his stomach peaked. Eddie instinctively pushed him away, and the officer fell on his back. The policewoman fired a green beam in the air, and Eddie started to run. She continued to shoot, and Eddie kept running, pushing himself to the limit. Green laser beams passed beside and above him, vaporizing objects around the street. He zigzagged through alleys and climbed over fences and walls. Eventually, he collapsed in a jagged corner of the road. In his hand were his I.D. and a digital device. It was his eyeBlock, A wireless long-range communication device developed from advanced materials based on minerals extracted from Mars. The device is manufactured and marketed by F.G.M.A.T Corp.®™.
It had been in his back pocket, and luckily for Eddie and his eyeBlock, the device was flexible. Otherwise, Eddie would have broken it a long time ago.
Eddie turned it on. The F.G.M.A.T. Corp.®™ logo appeared. He had three messages from his work and one from the F.G.M.A.T.®™ corporation. The first message was to report to work, the next was an invitation to attend a hearing, and the third was a dismissal letter.
The message from F.G.M.A.T.Corp.®™ was eyeBlock account cancellation followed by a generic ‘have a nice day’ suffix. The eyeBlock turned itself off.
Shit.
Sirens filled the streets, and Eddie panicked and fled. He tried to stick to the back alleys, but his stomach cramped, and sirens approached him from every direction, path, and street he crossed.
Eddie was disoriented, but he kept on running. Finally, he arrived at a square, looked around, and recognized the place. It was the city hall square. The stupid fountain, the elderly people sunbathing with their board games, and the pigeons. Oh, the pigeons... He didn’t understand why, but he had a sudden urge to bite into a plump white pigeon.
His stomach hurt like hell, the pain peaked and waned, and with every recurrence, it was more intense and sharp.
Shit.
Police cars circled the square, and officers poured out, walking towards him, pacing up and running. The stomach... oh, his stomach hurt and didn’t ease up.
Eddie stood in the center of the square, surrounded by the police officers who called out his name, asking him to confirm his ID, asking him to lie down on the ground, asking him to raise his hands, asking and shouting, waving their hands and their guns.
Eddie tried to tell them he was not an outlaw or a criminal. It was just a casual sexual encounter that went wrong with his S.B.G42™, and the hospital made a mistake with the transplant. He’s a good citizen who respects the law and wants to fix everything with the new implant. But whenever he tried to speak, it felt like his interior parts were attempting to flee through his mouth. Eddie’s stomach was boiling from the inside.
Eddie stripped off his pants and then took off his underwear in the center of the town square in front of the police officers, passersby, elderly people, and pigeons. Eddie bent his knees while balancing himself with his hands as lumps of feces began to plop.
Shit.
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