Pbeidy
The Bactamed Scanbed Pro + woke Sean Fuentes with gentle bedside manner of an ill tempered articulated industrial robot. The bed came with over a dozen more personable means of wakening the sleeper, but these were locked to a subscription tier that was beyond Sean’s current financial means. He groped around the inbuilt night stand to retrieve his glasses. Donning them and blinking the last shreds of sleep from his eyes, his first sight of the day was of the beige ceiling of his apartment plastered with HUD boxes laying out in meticulous charts and lines his performance during the previous nights fatigue refresh and cerebral de-fragmentation cycle. Sleeping was something pussy betas did.
The charts showed every conceivable way his bodily functions could be turned into measurable and rank-able metrics. The amount of hours his brain spent in REM mode, his metabolic exchange rate, a cornucopia of brainwaves, ox levels, testosterone production, level of Vitamins B, C, D and E, anti-oxidants, glucose, every variety of cholesterol, white blood cell production, how often he moved in his sleep, expressed gas and the frequency, length and strength of his nighttime erections. The bed fed the data directly to the 2maochan City Productivity and Longevity Ranking database and showed him his performance against all other Alpha ranked males of his Tier and against the optimal range for PAP or Peak Ascendacy Potential.
96% percentile. Adequate.
Sean spent exactly 3:12 minutes examining his results, highlighting points of interest and areas in need of improvement. He then started to carefully disconnect the magnetic senors that were attached to his body. They connected directly to the monitoring sensors that he had had surgically implanted into every one of his major organs. The implants were entirely optional and Bactamed had stated they weren’t strictly necessary for the Scanbed Pro + to function. But the amply endowed holorep had stressed that using the implants guaranteed more accurate results along with a permanent boost to his PAP ranking. The surgery had costed the equivalent of six months salary and the immunosupressants another three, though he had received a discount for engaging the service of the John R. Brinkley Enhancement Clinic, a sister company of Bactamed.
Each sensor slowly reeled back into a canopy that hung above the bed. The last one was a medical syringe attached to a port implanted under the skin just below his right collarbone. The machine extracted blood through the port and fed him a personalized mixture of supplements, hormones and electrolyte enhanced saline throughout the night to further improve his physical productivity. The tube retracted into the canopy, which closed with a click. The bed starting to whir with the sound of its disinfection function.
Getting out of bed, Sean went to the bathroom to express waste and retrieve samples. His glasses gave him a live feed of his blood pressure and heart rate during the act, as well as the force of his muscle contractions. He performed several Kegel exercises, each adding an additional point of PAP. Samples secured in proprietary plastic containers, Sean walked, still naked, back to the Scanbed Pro + and tapped a haptic button on the inbuilt night stand. A compartment opened up and Sean placed the containers in the appropriate slots. The compartment closed and screen embedded onto the top of lid thanked him for his donation and informed him he would receive a detailed analysis of the results directly to his glasses in 6 hours.
Sean then turned to his walk in closet, fishing out his work out clothes, putting on his wearables. In total it was a sport version of the glasses, a watch, a ring for each hand, a bracelet, an amulet, an anklet and a sync station that magnetically attached to his chest that allowed all these tools to draw on the data produced by his implants. It even connected with his shoes to give him an absolutely exact reading of the amount of steps he took. Thus girded for battle, he left his apartment to go to the gym on the 26th floor.
What followed was a meticulously structured workout routine composed by the top ranked masc forward fitness influencer of 2maochan City, Curtis Rogan. Sean had paid for 5 virtual sessions and a personalized routine created to maximize not only his physical gains, but also his PAP and his MascMaxx ranking. The routine was accompanied with the most recent episode of Curtis’ wellness focused podcast TestosteTalk, that regularly featured top wellness experts to discuss the newest AI driven revelations to push ones PAP ranking and achieving peak masculine productivity and dominance. It was the second most popular of Curtis’ 5 podcasts, just before Masc Money but after Clear Thought. Sean listened to Masc Money on occasion, he had several compacts running on the city hedging markets after all, and Curtis always had good tips on how one could best recognize the patterns in the markets to find the Golden Hedge. He wasn’t too much of a fan of Clear Thought, he always found that it elevated his blood pressure in ways that made it exceed optimal bounds. He generally agreed with the portions about a properly ranked society, but otherwise, skipped it.
The workout routine complete, Sean returned to his apartment to shower and change into his work clothes and wearables. Given it had been a strenuous routine, he opted for a one time splurge on this shower program, purchasing an upgrade in water pressure and heat. He was on track to exceeding his quarterly quota again, and from the bonus he planned to upgrade his Shower & Sanitation subscription. Showered, shaved, exfoliated, moisturized and serumed, Sean suited up, slipped his glasses on and mixed himself a bottle of MEEL. Let the betas eat steak and ferments. He popped in two sticks of flavorless gum to work out his jaw muscles. Thus equipped he turned off the light of his single room apartment, dominated by the Scanbed Pro+ and nothing else.
The automated car that picked him up in front of his hab tower was a Chinese manufactured, sleek, black, four door sedan, part of the premium package that his ranking granted him access to. As a child, Sean had starred at such cars gliding past while standing on the curb, waiting in line for the BasicBus. He had wondered what it was like to have a whole car to oneself. The idea of it had seemed too outrageous to be real. Little had he realized that the were entire worlds beyond what he had imagined. The truly imminent citizens of 2Moachan City, The Investors, had access to domestically produced, armored, 8 wheeler limousines, equipped with their own AI harness. Now Sean dreamed of those rides.
Retrieving his phone from his inner jacket pocket, Sean opened several apps and his glasses sprung to life once more. Several windows hovered in the air, seemingly 30 cm in front of him, displaying what was essentially a personalized news feed. Sean had several agents programmed to feed him the most important updates of the day, from the current movements on the hedge markets, earnings reports, reports from city news bots aggregations and the Daily Stated Values, all laid out in neat, summarized bullet points. The last of these he paid most attention to. The Daily Stated Values was a direct feed every Investor, Citizen and Resident and Arrival of 2moachan City had access to for free. It was AI summarization and analysis of the public statements by the Founders and the City’s most imminent Men from the social networks, white papers, interviews, podcasts, speeches and talks, that then presented the user with a personalized distillation of the beliefs and principles that someone of their status and ranking should hold. It was helpfully accompanied by a quantified evaluation of how much of a shift these stances were from the ones the user had proclaimed just the day before. Sean frowned. The visualization of these numbers were deeply yellow, verging on amber. He hoped that this discrepancy was due to outside circumstances, rather than him not being up to date. Being more than one standard deviation from Daily Stated Values could carry harrowing consequences, socially, professionally and in his ranking.
Swallowing to cover the fluttering sense of unease in his stomach, Sean got to work, posting on various sites statements, clarifications and edits of previous takes that would ensure that his alignment with the Daily Stated Values was unquestionable. The car pulled up at his place of work just as he was firing off the last post. He waited for a few seconds for the bot to evaluate his statements. He held his breathe. The the number ticked over and turned green. A congealed mass of anxiety dissolved within Sean’s chest and he stepped out of the car.