Goddammit, alls I want to do is relieve myself. I’m a fit, young, human <<male>> and it’s been three months, dear God, three months, since I last had sex with a human <<female>> and nearly 38 hours since I last took pleasure and just this once, just this one goddam time I’d like to do it in privacy, without anyone recording it, no one watching, no videocameras around, no wearables monitoring my stats.

These goddam squito drones buzzing about, point and shoot, point and shoot.

They’ve been recording me since before I was born.


All the birth <<mothers>> had tiny cameras inserted inside their bellies, recording everything, ensuring that the creole voodoo from having — in my case — DNA from 2 <<men>> and eggs from 3 <<women>> was properly optimized, though we know motherless babies are superior, the real reason I suspect is to watch us. Watch us even before we are born.

So I like to touch myself. Everybody does. Just look at the screen, you’ll see it anytime, anywhere. Everyone.

I just think — I imagine — it would be so much better, more naughty, more alive, just more appropriate if no one was watching.

But the screens are everywhere. The cameras are everywhere. Giant Brain monitors all our actions.

I just want to scream.

I turn my eyes and that information is documented. I flick my wrist and that’s recorded, the data available to my doctors, my teachers, my <<parents>>. Every movement, every rise in blood pressure, in blood flow, the heat of my checks, the feeling engorged, then not. These goddam brain processors recording, storing and then pumping out petabytes of data while I sleep, available for all to review, anytime, for any reason.

Everything for the good of the aggregate.

But just this once.

The sex toys are also all connected. I’ve heard you can buy warming pleasure balls that are not connected, not data goes to Giant Brain, no video is captured, but I’ve never actually seen one, probably a lie, probably a trap, now that I think about it.

What are we supposed to do?

They had to know this was gonna happen.

They knew robots and AIs were going to take over the world, leaving us with nothing to do, a billion young men, testosterone flowing, no work, no reason to work, no labor, just time on our hands, and so they spent nearly two generations making sure that every <<male>> was a “beta,” which makes sense when you think about it, weak, timid, damn near afraid of actual <<girls>> but they didn’t count on it making us feel damn near ready to die, to burst, to kill, if we can’t self-heal every 3–6 hours, and for me it’s been so long, the longest ever, because I want to just try and hold out, hold out until I can find some place, any place, to do it in private. Just to see what that’s like.

The sexbots keep circling past. They know it’s well past my time. They are tempting, obviously, but I can’t, not this time, every facial expression, every sound, every vital, all of it recorded, every scrap of what is me logged, all of it shown in real-time.

Didn’t anyone see this coming?

Hebrews, chapter 4: “And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do.”

We have made there be nowhere to hide.