Debtlocked

Debtlock Override Detected.

The words flare red over your ocular implants when you wake, like a digital stain you can’t blink away, seared into your irises. You groan internally, wishing you’d had enough to cover last month's Casher Insurance bill.

The brain implant override pulses as you get ready for work, insistent. There’s nothing you can do. They’re going to get what you owe them.

* * *

Debtlock Override Detected.

On the street you hail an autotaxi. It threads through four lanes of traffic before splashing a muddy puddle at your feet. The rear passenger door pops open, inviting you in.

“Where to?” the onboard AI prompts with programmed cheer.

You try to tell it your office address, but the implant hijacks your vocals, twisting your words mid-syllable into something else.

“Try Casher Insurance today and get your first three months free. If you don’t love us after ninety days, there’s zero commitment!”

The autotaxi flashes bad input. A screen appears on the back of the seat in front of you. You try to type the address in, but the text you’re tapping is about the great low rates with Casher Insurance.

You walk to work instead.

* * *

Debtlock Override Detected.

“Where have you been?” your boss asks as he leans on your cubicle when you arrive forty-six minutes late.

“For over ninety years, Casher Insurance has been a brand you can trust,” you say, mimicking the sermon you were giving on the sidewalk on your way in. You don’t even have free will at work—not until your debt is paid.

“Ah,” his face softens. “I didn’t realize you were debtlocked.”

You shrug, face warm with shame.

He’s generous about your circumstances, insistent that everyone’s been there.

Between tasks at work, he lets you generate some additional revenue for Casher. You send the occasional email, spamming memos to staff members about Casher’s referral program, cc’ing half the company.

* * *

Debtlock Override Detected.

On your walk home, your commandeered nanotattoos spiral across your skin like swirling ink. The Casher logo is flashing on your forehead. Insurance you can trust stampedes down your arms in scrawling text.

Your voice gives testimonials on Casher Insurance the whole way, broken up only when you’re whistling the Casher jingle between ads.

Most people ignore you. Others, similarly debtlocked with other companies, share a knowing glance as you pass each other on the sidewalk.

* * *

Debtlock Override Detected.

When you slip under your blankets at night, alone in your apartment, the flaring words still flash across your vision.

You reach with your brain implant for your Casher account info. You watch the day’s generated ad revenue tick towards the balance overdue on your account. It’s almost enough to cover it. Posting a few quick ads on your socials should do the trick.

The sudden swell of relief you feel punctures as you see that focusing today’s income on paying off Casher has caused you to fall behind on the daily payments to other accounts.

You’ll be debtlocked again tomorrow.