I decide to take the scenic route home—the one that brings me through the park and across the little bridge that I like. Work today was shit, so I’m going to reward myself with a few Minutes. I think I’d like to spend them birdwatching.

As I walk, I quickly blink three times, and the smartjack in the back of my head buzzes to let me know it’s listening.

“Log in: Jane Carroway,” I say.

The edges of my vision dance with colors for a few seconds as the jack boots up. Finally, a synthesized voice speaks through the little speaker in my left ear.

“Good afternoon, Jane. Neural synchronization is optimal! What can I do for you today?”

“Jeeves, can you check my bank account for me?” I say.

“Of course. Establishing net connection…”

After a few moments, my bank’s logo flashes across my left eye. A crisp, professional menu detailing my account appears a moment later. I navigate through it with a few quick winks and blinks.

It looks like today’s paycheck just went through. My little tables of Minutes display the increment increase.

I know that a lot of people like Joy and Excitement, but I don’t like how giddy those make me. I like to get paid mostly in Satisfaction. The market value is relatively low, but the upside is that I get more Minutes of it. My savings are nothing too grand, but I do have almost four and a half Minutes of Bliss stored up from several years of Christmas bonuses. I’m saving those for when I get married or something, though.

“Write up a withdrawal for me.” I spend a moment to think. I still have to get groceries for this week, so I can’t spend too much of my money. “Thirty Minutes of Satisfaction, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A moment passes before Jeeves speaks again. “Your Neural Smartjack has been approved for the requested Time. Should I begin them now?”

“Yes,” I say.

“Okay! Remember: Please consume your Minutes responsibly.”

With that, my jack lets out a click, and then suddenly my entire head is filled with a delicious warmth. I take a deep breath in and smile as I let it out. For the next half an hour, everything is going to feel just fine.



When I make it to the park, I notice a familiar figure sitting on his usual bench, the one I pass everytime I visit the park.

“Hey, Phillip!” I wave to him, and he looks up. My Minute-glow is at full strength, and I’m sure he can tell I’m spending Time.

He takes the cigarette from his mouth before speaking.

“How’s it going?” he asks. His voice is croaky from smoke and age.

“Good! And you?”

“Same old, same old.” He places the cigarette back between his teeth. Then his posture shifts and he bows his head a bit in embarrassment. “Look, I’d hate to ask again…”

“No, don’t worry about it!” Even without the Satisfaction, I know I’d be happy to help.

There’s a defeated slump in Phil’s shoulders as he keys his jack. It’s an old model—the only one the VA center can afford to give him—and it takes a few minutes to boot.

“They keep telling us that they can’t afford to give us any right now,” he says. “The shrinks tell us that it’s not our fault, but sometimes that’s not enough, you know?”

His jack finally pings mine, and I open up a transfer link.

“I don’t need a lot.” He says the same thing every time. “Just enough to help me get some sleep when things are rough, you know?”

“Yeah, of course,” I say. I finalize the transaction, and Phil’s jack chirps when it receives it. Fifteen Minutes. I smile. “Like I keep saying, my company has a policy to put a little Peace in every check, but I never use it.”

I’m almost sure that he’s figured out my little white lie by now, but it’s still just enough.

“Thank you,” he says. He can never make eye contact afterwards, but I know he means it.

With one last wave, I leave before he tries to give them back. He’s still feels guilty and embarrassed, so I give him a little privacy and avoid glancing back at him.



Jeeves buzzes in my ear to warn me that I only have five minutes left. I think I’ll try to find a bluejay before my time runs out.