Libertionne. Anna Tishchenko

      Bright rays of sunlight pierced the dull haze of the spring sky, pouring liquid gold onto the polished roofs of automobiles, then slipping lower, down to where the icy crystals of skyscrapers grew from the murky desert sidewalks, hitting countless panels of glass before fragmenting and fading into nothingness. The pale morning sun had appeared over the huge imperial city of Libertionne.

      Tiberius Crown, reclining on the leather seat of his Mercedes, was looking out the window. His eyes were blind to the thousands of virtual billboards that floated by: “Superfast breakfast cereal – any flavor!” “Superslim – lose three kilograms per day, no artificial ingredients!” “Young? Successful? Rich? Impotent? Our formula will bring back your erection in just a few days!” “Viagra. Improved formula – your boyfriend will be ecstatic!” “Lonely? At the Club Lady Safo we guarantee that you’ll find a girlfriend”… But Tiberius’s thoughts were far away, in the rector’s office of Libertionne State University.

      Why is she calling me in first thing in the morning, on the day of exams? Tiberius wondered. We could talk later today – I have so few students in the history department, and I’d be free in two hours. He suddenly realized that he had been sitting in a traffic jam staring at a poster aggressively pushing a sexual stimulant that guaranteed multiple orgasms no matter where you applied it (“It’ll put Adam and Eve back in the Garden of Eden”). Tiberius annoyedly poked at the button on the plasma screen. The glass obediently went dark, hiding the street from view, but now along the edge crawled a blinding, scarlet line of advertising text. After a third unsuccessful attempt to turn off the advertisements, he remembered that the previous day he was supposed to renew his monthly payment subscription; now he would have to look at the crawling text until the end of his ride. Cursing quietly, he opened the window, then chuckled. It used to be that people would pay money to get something; now we pay not to get something.

      A traffic jam had formed on the air route. Hundreds of thousands of cars, aligned in a multicolored ribbon, obediently waited their turn, their lacquered sides glinting in the light. Down below on the sidewalks, which were growing dark in the shadows of the houses, there were practically no signs of life except for the occasional ambulance or police car.

      “Switch to manual control,” Tiberius grumbled.

      Now dive down a hundred meters, and you’ll be hurtling along an empty road, all alone…

      “Sorry, sir, that’s impossible,” a woman’s voice emanated from the speaker, polite but completely disinterested. “Today is Friday, and you may only use manual control on weekends.”

      “Damn! I completely forgot.”

      “Sir, you have broken the law. Under Article 13456, Clause 561, profanity is deemed an administrative offence. Would you like to pay the fine now?”

      “What the…” he stopped himself in time.

      “Did you want to say something, sir?”

      “No, no, nothing.”

      “As you wish, sir.”

      “But this can’t be – I’m not allowed to say anything out loud in my own car?”

      “You can, sir, but according to…”

      “That was a rhetorical question,” Tiberius interrupted, irritated, “and yes, transfer the money from the card right now.”

      He wearily leaned back on the seat back. No, I have to pull myself together. My lack of self-control has just cost me two hundred dollars. And it’s a good thing I swore in my own car. How much would it cost me at a lecture? Probably a thousand – a third of my salary. But wait, he chuckled. I still haven’t commented on Adam and Eve, or their fall from grace that led to the creation and development of mankind, right up to the peace and happiness that exists today. I wanted to. But that joke would cost me six years in prison, or a mandatory course of therapy and psychology, which could be worse Or have they already increased the punishment for propagandizing heterosexual love? Seems that something like this was in the news recently. I need to find out from that idiot woman. Feeling happy that at least in his thoughts he could express himself, in his own car, as he chose, Tiberius already wanted to ask a question, but he didn’t have time. The car quickly and smoothly descended down to a huge granite staircase, where a multitude of students were ascending and descending.

      “We have arrived at our destination, sir. I will go and park; have a good day.”

      “I hope you spend a long time looking for a parking space,” muttered Tiberius as he clambered out. The fury on his uncontrollable tongue, as usual, was redirected toward the innocent car. With a quick, long stride he walked through the archway of Libertionne University, where the inscription “Unity, tolerance, freedom” was written in huge gold letters. Looking at his wrist for the time, he remembered that he was forbidden to wear outdated, mechanical watches, and now his wrist was adorned with a modern smartwatch. He spent three minutes leaving the social network Bodybook, then a slew of virtual stores, news items, and advertisements, and finally he saw what time it was. Twenty minutes before the lecture, excellent, he thought to himself, and hurried down the corridor, ignoring the mechanical walkway which, as usual, was crowded with people. Funny, he thought, throwing an indifferent gaze across the young faces of the students. Almost all of them, after the lecture, will go to the fitness center for a few hours of exercise, but all day long before this they will do anything to avoid any exertion or movement whatsoever. Even this walkway goes slower than I walk, and yet…

      The university building was huge. In fact it was an entire city comprising countless structures, pathways, and galleries, and resembling a polished octopus. It was the only university in Libertionne; likewise, the city had one prison, one psychiatric clinic, one Court, and one House of Government. Arriving at the only elevator that connected to all the floors, he once again found himself stuck in a traffic jam. He mixed in with the crowd of students, mechanically determining the ages of the boys and girls. No, not by how mature they looked – modern medicine had made it possible for anyone over the age of eighteen to never change again. At least on the outside. But those born before 2064 could still be distinguished by phenotype, by the shape of their body, or by the color of their skin. It was decided that these differences were the source of many of society’s problems, so under Unity and Tolerance, when the Vile Remnants of the Past* were finally conquered, people began to look more or less the same – a convenient common denominator for humanity. And to think there was a time, thought Tiberius, when a person was born with the help of biological parents, and it was all left to chance.

      The lift swallowed up another group of riders, and only he and two girls were left standing on the platform. Judging from their extravagant clothing they were from the Faculty of Design. He shot an admiring glance at one of them, a tall, shapely brunette. Evidently this glance, which drifted across her rather revealing clothing, was too overt, and did not meet the standards of Tolerance. The girl, surprised, raised her dark, almost velvety eyes toward him quizzically.

      “A very stylish blouse,” Tiberius said, regaining his composure and trying to manage a friendly yet silly expression.

      “Oh, thank you,” she replied, calming down and breaking into a wide smile. “It’s really popular this season. I read it in Androgyne. That means it has to be true.”

      “Androgyne?”

      “The fashion magazine? It’s famous. You don’t know it?”

      “No,” answered Tiberius, amused by the