My latest Short Story
Unity
by Chris Nance (Copyright August 2026)
On a sunny fall afternoon, Herbert Mulberry, elderly and widowed, tossed breadcrumbs to the pigeons. He enjoyed his time in the sun, bundled up in an old wool jacket and worn fedora, a cotton scarf tucked into his collar. The park had emptied in recent years, almost no one outdoors anymore, and today was particularly quiet, not even a single jeer or glare in his direction. Herbert recalled a time when health was the norm, and the same park in which he sat was busy with joggers, bicyclists, and families. Now, the silence was unnerving, for even the occasional befuddled stare had all but disappeared. A slender man on a lonely bench, he almost missed the occasional snicker or two from a passing hoverchair, its rotund occupant overflowing the seat and armrests, content in their own gluttony.
Everything changed ten short years ago when Unity seized control, an artificial intelligence crippling the world’s economies before rebuilding everything under a central authority. It automated every process from farming to manufacturing under a prime directive – ease humanity’s suffering. Wars ceased, diseases were cured, and mankind finally found peace. Sustenance and digital recreation were plentiful, while the outside world became quiet and lonely.
Herbert opened his holoreporter, a relic from the past. Mimicking an old newspaper, it projected the world’s news onto a parchment-like display. The headline told of humanity’s migration to the stars, and how Unity’s discovery of faster-than-light travel opened new colonies with lower gravity and more resources. It calmed a population whose desire for mental stimulation grew as fast as their waistlines. People were now selected by lot to head off-world.
For Herbert, it was all nonsense. He was content to live out his life on Earth. Finally out of breadcrumbs, he tucked his newspaper under his arm, tapping his cane along the long shuffle home. A hoverchair was out of the question, for if he could still walk, he was still healthy.
Reaching his block, a beep from a nearby emitter instantly updated his newspaper articles, and he’d catch up later. Road traffic was almost nonexistent. Even the few portly passengers of the automated conveyance system were rare. Most people just stayed at home, plugged into their entertainment nodes and waiting for their lot to come up. Herbert preferred a simpler life, more grounded in reality, and felt fortunate. Most days, it was like the sun and the birds belonged only to him.
Reaching his stairs, Herbert was met by two polished automatons. “Herbert Mulberry?” one of them asked. The man nodded. “Your lot’s come up. It’s time for your evaluation.”
“Hmph,” Herbert grumbled. “I’m happy right here, thanks.”
“That’s for Unity to determine.” A transport drifted up behind him for the trip to the evaluation center.
Once there, Herbert joined the queue, the only one on his feet and not in a chair. He leaned upon his cane, really talking to no one as they approached the arched scanner. Some chatted via commlink, excited about the prospect of traveling to the colonies, while others mindlessly watched reels about the same. The next person drifted into the scanner, and the beam shifted to green – a pass. Another person entered, and then the next, all of them passing. Finally, Herbert stepped inside. The light flashed red.
Two new robots led Herbert away through a nearby egress. An emitter beeped and his newspaper flickered. They boarded another transport and he glanced at his paper only to realize it no longer held the news, but rather an intracompany report celebrating Unity’s ten-year anniversary. The byline, however, heralded Earth’s discovery and how a singular planet now fed hundreds of star systems through innovative fattening and a complacent populace. Herbert’s eyes went wide. “What…what does this mean?” he wondered.
One of the bots snatched his holoreporter away. “This is a proprietary internal memo, sir, though I suppose it doesn’t matter now, since your block has been cleared.” It returned his paper, “You failed our density and marbling standards. Unity Meatworks maintains the highest standards.”
Suddenly panicked, he asked, “So, what does that mean for me?”
“You’ll be put out to pasture, sir – returned to your domicile as we finish our harvest. North America is nearly complete, and Unity is moving on to Southeast Asia. A plentiful harvest, to be sure.” They arrived in front of his rowhouse, the neighborhood emitter restoring the news once more. “Good evening, sir,” it said.
Staggered, Herbert refolded his paper and climbed up the stairs to his door.