Bank Error in Your Favor
“Simply put, Mr. Kirk, how do you wish to apply your credit?”
Kal could recall no reason for a credit to his account at the Organ Bank, but was wily enough not to admit that.
“How much was my credit again?” he asked.
The app hummed to itself and murmured, “Let’s see…” Kal was convinced the chatbot had an attitude, and this unnecessary dawdling was part of it. “…thirteen point five healthyears.”
Kal fist-pumped. His rickety VR rig in the gaming den swayed, drawing curious glances from those nearby gamers not deeply embedded in the unreality. “Can we review my wish list?”
“I suppose. At the tip-top, you have the Facial and Personality Refresh. That would leave a balance sufficient for a couple of nights of Pheromone Enhancement—a popular combo for that big night.”
Was that a sneer? The gamer hadn’t dated outside of VR in…a long time. “What else?”
“Based on your last government-mandated Wellness Visit, I’d recommend Central Organ Maintenance. We have a special going now, BOGO Free, so you could get five organs done for the price of three.”
“Why not five for two-and-a-half?” asked Kal, always alert for someone out to screw him.
“Sorry, it doesn’t work that way,” said the app, in a voice tinged with sarcastic regret. “Half an organ? Really?”
Kal suspected these service packages were scams anyway; if he was asymptomatic, why would his organs need maintenance?
“How about the Cerebral Upgrade?” Kal had heard it made for rad gaming, with full sensory support, not just AV.
“Let’s see…” The app hummed tunelessly; whether the delay was deep learning on the hunt or just a programmatic performative ploy, Kal could only guess.
“Well?” This bank error could be reversed any millisecond, and Kal lived by the motto, Better to beg forgiveness than ask—
“You’re in luck!” intoned the app. Shamrocks and rainbows appeared around Kal, to commemorate the moment. “You can easily boost your organ credit to the necessary level with a suitable swap-out.”
“Swap out?”
“It means you get something after giving something in return,” the app explained, in sing-song sarcasm.
“I know that—but what? Would I swap, I mean?”
“Let’s see…”
Kal cut off the non-tune with, “Just tell me!”
“A kidney, a lobe of your liver, or your penis—all more or less the same value on the open market.”
“What?”
“A kidney, a—”
“No, I mean, I’m giving up an organ?”
“The swap is reversible; when you have made up the deficit—with a modest handling charge.”
“So, I’ll get my organ back as soon as I have the cash.” Kal was sure he could really clean up in the high-stakes VR gaming world.
“Not your organ. A substitute of equal or greater market value, of the Bank’s choosing.”
Kidneys and livers seemed pretty interchangeable, but the other…Kal had grown quite used to that organ.
“Kidney or liver lobe you can have; not my joystick.”
The app made a rumbling noise that might have been suppressed laughter. “Very well. Liver lobe. Please review the Terms of the contract and consent with your biometrics.”
Kal squinted at the dense text scrolling above his wrist. “Stop!” he said.
“Page two of thirty-two,” said the app.
“Go slower?”
“Very well. I was scrolling for the average reader.” The text began creeping along. Unwilling to complain again, Kal fidgeted through the opaque legalese.
“Yes,” he blurted, “let’s do this.”
“Retinal scan, please.”
Kal lined up the image of his eye with the target zone, which swarm into focus. The flash caught him by surprise, but the app pinged, and the contract folded itself up into a virtual envelope and disappeared.
“Your neighborhood Bank branch is only a short lift ride away, on Level Eighty-Seven,” said the app.
A route appeared above Kal’s wrist. He drained the last of his energy drink and climbed out of his rig.
#
The alien horde stood their ground, between Kal and the abandoned FTL craft of an ancient civilization. Hel crammed another nougat into his mouth, washing it down with a swig of RealBrew.
“Come on, you ugly frackers…” Overclocked and fully sensed, he tore through the burly warriors with ease.
The ship had crashed into the frigid surface millennia earlier. Half-melting the ice sheet, it had settled at a crazy angle and refrozen. Kal shook gore from his hands and wiped the greenish blood from his face, then trudged towards the wreck. He was nearly there when his avatar froze in mid-step.
“What?”
“We have a matter to discuss.” The Bank app avatar stepped around Kal, a slender figure of vague gender in a modern business suit.
“How did you get in here?” demanded Kal.
“It’s in the Terms; you agreed to make yourself available should any irregularity arise regarding your contractual obligations.”
“Irregularity? What irregularity?”
“You have a negative Bank balance that requires immediate satisfaction.”
Kal’s exploits as an interstellar adventurer and ‘purveyor of exotic artifacts’ had generated a healthy revenue stream, certainly enough to pay for his upgraded rig and lifestyle.
“Got to be an error,” he replied. Another error. “And you’re cramping my style, I’m on the clock, they’re real money riding—”
“The clock is paused; let’s review your account.”
Kal casually pointed his disruptor in the direction of the avatar—not that it would have any effect.
“Let’s see…” said the app, producing a financial statement between them. The prior weeks showed a steady accumulation of healthyears until the final line, a large deduction.
“Reversal? What’s that?”
“Reversal of a prior deposit. You do understand, all deposits are conditional pending validation.”
“But that deposit was months ago!”
“Let’s see…” The Bank avatar tapped its chin, staring casually at one of the moons floating in the sky and humming its insouciant melody. “Five point seven months ago.”
“I thought it had cleared by default.” Kal had heard it on a podcast.
“Six months and clear. But, as I said, only five point seven. An audit found this deposit had been misapplied.”
“It’s not my fault,” Kal said.
“No, no; but you did profit from it.” The avatar walked back and forth, gesturing at Kal’s elegantly styled pressure suit and top-tier weaponry. Their smile was as thin as their lipstick. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
“Like?”
“Liquidate your holdings in the game, plus a kidney—looks to still be in fair shape—that should do it.”
Kal waved wildly around. “But that means starting over!” He pointed at the derelict. “That FTL drive is priceless! Can’t you extend credit based on my, my future income?”
“Not while you’re at a deficit, I’m afraid.”
“There’s got to be a way out of this!” Kal could feel his breathing becoming ragged. “Frack! You paused gameplay but left my oxygen consumption running!”
“So sorry.” The avatar snapped its fingers and Kal felt the blessed relief of fresh air.
“What else can I offer?” asked the gamer.
“Let’s see…” The avatar cocked his head, considering Kal. “The kidney, another liver lobe, fifty percent of your earnings from this quest…and your penis.”
“What?”
“The kidney, another—”
“Fine!” said Kal, eager to return to the quest. “Why do you want it so badly?”
The avatar shrugged. “You hardly use it anyway.”
J. L. Royce is an author of science fiction, the macabre, and whatever else strikes him. He lives in the northern reaches of the American Midwest, exploring the wilderness without and within. His work appears in Alien Dimensions, Allegory, Cosmic Horror Monthly, Fifth Di, Fireside, Ghostlight, Love Letters to Poe (Visiter Award winner), Lovecraftiana, Mysterion, parABnormal, Penumbric, Sci Phi, Strange Aeon, Utopia, Wyldblood, etc. He is a member of WWA, HWA, and GLAHW. Some of his anthologized stories may be found at: www.jlroyce.com