When I awoke, the notifications were already queuing up in my inbox, so frequent and annoying that they stood out even against the torrent of spam. 'Dynamic price adjustments' is what they called it. Since the Supreme™ Court had ruled all necessary¹ price adaptations legal without consumer consent, adjustments happened very frequently.
The last few weeks had been tough, but this would bankrupt me in 25 hours and 13 minutes. I checked if I could reduce my living space any further and auctioned off another foot. I'd have to sleep in a fetal position from now on. 47 hours and 5 minutes.
I tried to sell some ad space, more in the center of my field of vision, but my consumer score was too low; only low bids. I'd have to live with ads for bankruptcy lawyers and payday loans for the foreseeable future. 62 hours and 47 minutes.
Fuck it. I logged onto 'rent-a-brain'. The benchmark put me in performance category 'D'. Fuck. The interactive package would be nice, but that would pay less. Numbness crept into my limbs as the service started partitioning off my brain for the workloads and left just enough capacity to consume a feed of ever-changing dopamine-optimized micro-experiences.
I snapped back 8 hours and 16 minutes later with a massive headache. Sixteen minutes of warmup time, my ass. Fuckers. 112 hours and 33 minutes. If I stopped eating.
¹required to protect shareholder profits
#microfiction #tootfic #writing #smallstories