Dig Me Out, published in 2021, is no longer available in print. But you can get the stories here!
This is “Bull in the Heather.”
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Transcriber note: Immediately after the multiple live streams, Aurelia Borgan’s election video was banned by the Committee. However, I found an audio recording of the video, buried deep under wires. I had a few minutes before it too was erased. This transcription is based on that recording. Select notes are included for context. - FemmSolo23
{Clapping; classical guitar music.}
Thank you, everyone! Thank you for coming!
{Cries of Bor-gan as the music fades}
Leslieanna, I told you I’d play classical![1]
{Laughter; the music boosts in volume for twelve more seconds; clapping on the downbeats}
Betting on the bull in heather! Ha!
{Music fades}
I promised, didn’t I? I promised to run this campaign my way, and run my election night the same. Oh stop cringing, Patrick! It’s good music, even if it’s old!
{Boos and laughter}
All right, all right.
{Sound dies down}
Well. Here we are, at the end of a long year and a hard-fought campaign. As you know, the results will be coming in soon.
{Chanting in sync: Bor-gan, Bor-gan}
Thank you! But boy, hasn’t 2085 been a long year? My goodness. I feel like I’ve aged a decade in the last twelve months!
{Shout: 2086 will be better!}
Let’s hope that’s true, and I can see the year turn, right?
{Clapping; cheers}
But seriously. Down to business, and why we’re all here.
I’m confident I’ve made my case for this year’s elections. Now, of course, it’s up to the voters.
We’ve got a few minutes left before the results are in. And then you’ll see if you win too, won’t you? Right, Tiernan? How many coins did you put on me to win?
{Laughing}
Or to lose? I know you! You too, Patrick! Hedging your bets. I’ve been there, I get it!
{A loud laugh; a whoo}
Anyway. Before the results do come in, a quick word of thanks. Every one of you had the option to shun me. You had every right to focus on your families and children, and leave a Solo like me to the fates. You also had every right to down-vote me, and urge your networks to do the same. You would have been protecting yourselves and your kin from my influence.
But you didn’t. I thank you from the bottom of my heart, as the olds used to say.
And not only that, some of you went further, gifting valuable resources! Thank you Maryella, who donated this room to us for the next hour!
{Clapping}
Such a generous gift. Maryella owns this house, and rents her rooms by the hour to contract workers. So she’s giving up tenant coin for this moment. Thank you.
Plus: I hope you’re all enjoying the soy bites and extra ration of spring water. That’s thanks to Leslieanna. Some of you know she’s a chef at my training center. Her grease balls always make the kids smile!
And that’s not all. I have a surprise for you! Tiernan, can you pass around the liquid tubes? Make sure everyone gets one.
{Indistinct noises; shuffling}
Don’t make that face, Maryella, it’s supposed to be black! Everyone, raise your tube. As the ancient Irish used to say, Slant-a! Cheers! To you!
{Laughs and coughs}
Good, right? They used to call this soda. I found a trove of aluminum cans in my foster-father’s bunker. Patrick, can you believe your father had this? The bubbles are something, aren’t they!
Enjoy this treat, everyone.
And while you do, I want to talk about this extraordinary campaign.
Think about the odds for a minute. I announced my run for the Life Election last year. A nice coincidence that the New Year’s Eve deadline was also my birthday, eh? So I announced on the day I turned forty-four. Right at the last minute.
Did you all think I was going to cede the election option? Just live out my last year, and give myself up at forty-five? I considered it. I really did.
You know why? I’ll be very honest with you, as I’ve tried to be from the start of this campaign. I couldn’t afford the life marketing companies and the life producers that the winning candidates usually have. And if I could, I would have needed to start when I was in my thirties, give them plenty of time to create the compelling kind of election documentaries and films.
And even if I’d skipped those, most other winning candidates know how to dance or sing, or do some sort of flashy talent show. Something to show their bodies and pretty faces, all the things that are valuable and worth giving resources to. Again, nothing I had and nothing I could do.
As most of you know, I’ve been a contract teacher since graduating public college, so something truly winnable just wasn’t possible.
So I waited, the deadline looming. I’m not sure what ultimately pushed me towards running in the election. But I finally did, minutes before the new year.
I announced my run, not in a flashy pad ad like most, but with a simple post note. I was one of thousands, in a sea of nobodies. Just think about how many people run for Life Election every year. All the Solo women. All the Crippled. All the Darks.
And then, something strange happened. Out of the clutter of posts, across all the feeds, somehow I got attention. People began spreading me into further and further networks. Until I finally became one of the top races for this year. Me! A Solo from Albert Lea, Minnesota.
{Clapping}
You know, I’ve thought a lot about why people reacted to me over others. Why I gained attention.
I was ashamed of my short post note at first. That’s the truth. Think about all it had going against it!
In fact. We should remind ourselves of where we started. Take a look at that note. Yes?
{Cheering}
Patrick, can you cue up the clip?
{Clapping}
{Shuffling; a loud pop as the speakers start:[2]
View opens on a bare beige wall, the standard found in contract tenant housing. After three seconds, Aurelia Borgan comes into view and sits on an unseen cushion. The vid AI reader scrolls the scan:
Status: Solo
Age: 44
Category: Plain
Contract: -39 [3]
After four more seconds of adjustment, she speaks:
Hello. My name is Aurelia Borgan. I’m forty-four years old, and I’m running for the Life Election. I don’t have any videos, or props, or talents, or skin to show. I have my original face. My hair is turning gray. I have never tried to have a child, so I have no empty nursery. I am a woman who’s unmarried and childless and will soon turn the expiration age. I ask to live. I deserve to live. That is all.
Aurelia stays in view for sixty additional seconds. She does not smile, or cry. At the end of that minute, she rises, and the vid stops soon after.
{Shuffling; the speakers turn off. Groans}
The next morning I was mortified. I almost deleted that post note. Can you believe how straight I spoke? I’d actually nearly questioned the law!
{Silence for several seconds}
Listen to me, I’m getting wound up. I still can’t believe I wasn’t snatched up immediately.
But something about that straightness and honesty appealed. The next morning I found I was at the top of the election rankings for Minnesota. By the end of the month, I’d topped Midwest races[4].
Maybe people were laughing at me, or pitying me, as they voted me up. I did think about that.
But you know, I chose to believe that my popularity was more than just pity or punishment. I like to think my campaign is speaking to people for other reasons, that others sometimes question why we have to run for our lives.
Oh boy! There go your pads. Recording this. More straight talk will liven up your feeds, eh?
I best give you something valuable then!
{Laughs}
So like I was saying. I understand there’s the drain on resources. I understand that the Committee had to make hard decisions when it formed so long ago, when our ban on exported people and products meant not enough food for everyone. And Solos simply didn’t contribute to the Future of Glory. None of the undesirable groups did.
I understand. And for a long time, I watched the Life Elections like everyone else. I placed bets on the most pathetic Solos, and the most compelling Darks. I even bet on the Solo men contests.[5] It was primo entertainment! And I was good at it, often winning our yearly bracket pool at work. I never pictured myself as a candidate, even knowing I was a bastard child from a Mongrel union. I thought my removal from my proto-family and placement with my foster family would set me up for a real shot.[6] I’d get ahead of my expenses, finish up my service term, find a mate, prove my worth. As all of you have.
But as I grew older and that didn’t happen, I stopped making bets. And now--
{A shout: It’s here}
Oh!
{Shuffling; what is most likely the crowd parting for the Committee messenger}
It’s time.
{Indistinct murmurs and chatter}
I’ve just been handed the final results in a live note. Once I tap this sheet, we’ll know.
The New Year’s artillery barrage will start in a couple minutes, and then…
I’m, well, I’m feeling good, how about you?
{Clapping, growing in volume and speed}
All right, yeah! Thank you!
{Chanting and stomping for one hundred and fourteen seconds: Bor-gan, Bor-gan}
It’s time: let’s count down!
{Crowd joins Aurelia in her counting}
10! 9! 8! 7! 6!
Whew, I’m shaking!
5! 4! 3!
Almost there!
2!
Ah!
1!
{Distant sounds of the annual federal mortars, cannons, and grenades as the clock hits twenty-four}
And...
{Sounds of celebratory artillery from locals outside; handhelds, assault rifles, and pipe bombs can be discerned}
Here it comes! Here’s what it says!
{Aurelia reads from live note:}
The People have voted, and Aurelia Borgan has lost her Life Election.
{A groan, cut off quickly. Silence, lasting twenty-two seconds. Coughs and indistinct sounds}
Well.
That...
Wait, there’s more now. At forty-five years of age, she has not presented sufficient or compelling reason to continue.
{Indistinct murmurs and chatter, lasting thirty-six seconds}
Could I get some water?
{Shuffling}
Just a moment, please.
Wow. I really, really didn’t...
{A shout: when?}
What? Oh. When. Yes. Let me...
The Committee for Life Reassessment and Redistribution recognizes the will of the People. Due to egregious slander, the Committee has waived the regular waiting period of one week, and decreed the Life Redistribution will be completed immediately.
{Groans, a gasp}
Yes. Yes. OK.
Well.
I can see, yes, the live note does not lie: Our numbers are already growing.
{Doors opening, shuffling. A low male voice: Aurelia Borgan, the Committee demands you come with us for your sentence}
Here are our Life Protectors, coming to protect all of you. Yes.
{Shuffling; the sound of LPs charging their generators}
Don’t worry, Tiernan, Maryella, all of you. You’re all safe. You’ve got your families, after all. You work free and clear. You own things.
Excuse me. Just a bit more water. It’s quite hot in here, isn’t it?
{Silence, lasting sixteen seconds}
I’m glad you’re all still recording. Are you seeing this too? How the colors are suddenly brighter? Maybe that’s my eyes playing tricks. One last burst of vision.
{Silence, lasting seven seconds}
Yes, recording still. Wouldn’t want to miss a lost election, would you? I’m sure you’ll see your feed scores rise when people find out you were here. You can coast off this for awhile. Maybe I would too.
Yes. I…yes.
Life Redistribution. Do the words sounds funny to you?
{A shout: Recount}
That’s nice. Yes. A nice thought.
Did you know? That used to be something that happened.
{Sound: might be flapping of her hands, as one does on extreme heat warning days}
I just remembered. When I was in school, because that’s what it was called then, not training centers. I found an old history book. It was one of those books that hadn’t been cleaned. Did you know elections used to be for something else? They used to be for officials. Committee members. Leaders, even, though they went by something else. Presidents, I think. Hard to imagine, right? I think, if I remember right, our Leader actually started out that way. He was elected.[7]
Elections weren’t for regular people. Not even for women like me, or cripples, or Darks. Imagine that. People didn’t have to justify their lives.
{Shuffling}
That’s what I was doing, you know.
{Silence for nine seconds}
As much as my vid didn’t follow the mold, I was still trying to justify who I was.
{The LPs: Aurelia Borgan, you are commanded to—}
And I still lost. It was full of lies, and still.
{The LPs: Turn around and put out your wrists}
I see you, Life Protectors. No one can miss those red uniforms. So red. Garish, really. And yes, your weapons. So shiny, and black. Can’t miss those.
{The LPs: Turn around--}
I know, I know.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to run. No reason not to admit it now. I didn’t want to do our national duty, my duty. I never did, even though it’s evil not to.
I’m still alive. I feel so alive.
And you can’t show that ending, can you? You can’t live stream Life Redistribution, right?
{Shuffling; speaker moving around the room as she talks}
I lied in that vid, and I lost, so why lie anymore? Why not say words I told myself I could never say aloud? Words that stop up my mouth sometimes, they’re so keen on getting out?
{Rustling, shouts}
Maybe that’s why I ran for the Election. I wanted to tell you all. I’m glad. I’m glad I didn’t get married. Because I didn’t want to be owned.
{Gasps}
Ha! You know, you think words so long in your head, and push them aside again and again, but still they come. And you tell yourself that you can never say them out loud, even though they want to be said.
{Crash; probably a thrown tube}
Ooo, look how the Life Protectors are tensing up.
Did you know LPs are contract? I learned that somewhere.
Contract. You know that old history book? It described contract workers like us. We’re indentured servants. Born poor, offered a deal, coin that’s spent before it’s made. And we’ll never reach the end of our term. I’ll never stop training those goddamn youths.
But we can’t admit that. If we just worked harder, just played the game, put in our time. We’d be full citizens. We’d be owners of things. Right?
{Beeps of LP radios}
I feel the blood pumping in my wrists and neck right now. Where will that go? And how…how will it happen?
{Shuffling}
Do they gas us? Shoot us? You never see anything after elections. Even for those lucky few, the ones that bow and scrape enough to win a few years more. We don’t see the winners after elections either, do we?
{A shout: Aurelia, we’ll—}
Shut up. All of you.
And yes, here are your pad cameras. You all won’t look at me with your eyes, hmm? Have to see this on your screen? That makes sense. Doesn’t it, Les?
Leslieanna?
{Quieter}
Remember? I don’t want to lie anymore. Please, let’s not, OK? Remember that night and what we did? How we tasted, and—
{Shout, probably from Leslieanna: Liar}
Les, don’t leave. No, don’t, I need you, please!
{Booing; doors slamming}
No.
No, I won’t go.
{Thumps, objects hitting the floor or speaker}
I won’t.
{LPs: Aurelia Borgan, hold out your wrists}
I’m just. I’m just going to sit for awhile. Here on the floor. OK?
Back off! Just give me a fucking minute.
You’ll all get your ending.
{LP beeps; Shouts}
They say being alone is so lonely, you know? When I was younger, when I still had plenty of time, my friends would ask, Why would you be Solo? Aren’t you lonely? I always thought they confused two terms. Loneliness was different than being alone.
{Boos}
Being alone was different. I felt free. Even now.
{Shuffle. Beeps grow louder}
I know. But my blood, it’s pumping so fast. Where will it go?
{Silence for eight seconds}
I want you all to see me. Stop recording, will you? Look at me.
{A boo}
Look at me!
If I throw something? Scream and cry? Will you look at me?
{A crash}
There - how about that? All these tubes, these stupid resources?
{Some in the crowd boo, others chant: Borgan}
Fuck this. I’m not going, I’m not --
{Rustling, stomping}
Wait—
{The mechanical sound of the Life Cuffs cinching on wrists}
Oh. Oh. Wow.
I always wondered what these felt like. I’d seen them on people on the feeds, after their elections. They looked so cold, all clear and plastic.
But they’re warm.
That’s strange.
{Clapping, the sound of feet, a clamor of voices.}
{Aurelia emits a loud moan}
-End of recording-
Transcriber note: According to official Committee records, Aurelia Borgan underwent Life Redistribution at 02:56 on the morning of January 1, 2086. By the end of her life term, an equal amount of bets had been placed on her victory and her defeat, bets totaling a record twenty-six million in coin.
After Life Election results every year, applications for marriage licenses always spike. But by January 30, 2086 applications had doubled the past record.
[1] This selection was created by a twenty-first century grouping of musicians who called themselves Sonic Youth. The band featured a married couple, and the group disbanded when the couple divorced. Soon after the Life Elections were instituted, the female was named a Solo past expiration.
[2] For this section, I include the audio, as well as description of the video. For visuals, I consulted the original announcement post, which still lives on the wires.
[3] Corresponds to the number of years left in her federal work contract. Aurelia was contracted to the Shady Way Training Center for Youths.
[4] Throughout the year, Aurelia moved up and down in the rankings of top contenders, peaking at #3 Most Desired to Live in the Midwest region.
[5] At the time of this recording, male Solos were still required to cede their lives or run for Life Election at age 75. The requirement for males has since been eradicated.
[6] Refers to the informal start of re-placement. This later codified into our current system, whereby Darks and Mongrel children who score 99% on placement tests in elementary school are awarded new white families. They must still run for Life Election at age thirty; but more resources are at their disposal.
[7] Unconfirmed, but a well-known rumor on the wires. Since our Leaders cede their birth names upon ascension, we don’t know who Aurelia might refer to. But many suspect this occurred around the time of the Great Cleanse of 2027 in the European territories.