MUNDANITY MAINTENANCE
SCENE 1: THE GLITCH
Professor Daniel Hester sat in his darkened office, the glow of his terminal the only illumination. His quarterly HistAlign session was overdue by three weeks—a minor administrative oversight. He'd already received four automated reminders, each more sterile and bureaucratic than the last.
He initiated the connection, and the familiar blue-white light of the MemClear interface pulsed to life. The standard disclaimer scrolled across his field of vision:
"HistAlign™ is mandated under the Historical Coherence Act of 2098 (revised 2116) for all educational professionals. This service mitigates cognitive discontinuity and ensures functional social integration. Resistance to alignment may result in Societal Function Impairment classification."
Daniel usually found the process unremarkable. Brief disorientation followed by a vague sense of order—like having someone tidy a messy room while you slept. The system would identify conflicting historical memories and smooth them into something functionally coherent, though he'd long stopped questioning whether that coherence reflected anything real.
The connection stabilized, and Daniel felt the familiar tingling at his temples where the neural interfaces made contact. But something was different this time. The system seemed to stutter, showing him a fragmented loading pattern he'd never seen before.
*[SCANNING NEURAL PATHWAYS... ERROR: CRITICAL DISCONTINUITY THRESHOLD EXCEEDED HISTORICAL FISSURE POINTS DETECTED:
- JANUARY 6TH EVENT (2021): 7 CONFLICTING MEMORY CLUSTERS
- AMERICAN REVOLUTION (CAUSES): 12 CONFLICTING MEMORY CLUSTERS
- 2020-2026 ELECTORAL SEQUENCES: TEMPORAL INVERSION ERROR
- SECOND CIVIL CONFLICT (2037-2041): ATTRIBUTION FAILURE ATTEMPTING COHERENCE SMOOTHING... COHERENCE SMOOTHING FAILED INITIATING HISTORICAL DAMPENING PROTOCOL... DAMPENING PROTOCOL FAILED]*
A sharp pain lanced through Daniel's head, causing him to gasp. The system abruptly disconnected, leaving him disoriented and nauseated. His vision blurred, and the room seemed to tilt at an impossible angle. He gripped the edge of his desk, breathing in shallow gasps as waves of vertigo washed over him.
On his screen, a message appeared:
[ALIGNMENT INCOMPLETE: HISTORICAL RESONANCE FAILURE TEMPORARY NARRATIVE STABILIZATION APPLIED PLEASE REPORT TO STABILITY CENTER FOR FULL REALIGNMENT FUNCTIONAL CREDENTIAL VALID: 72 HOURS]
Daniel rubbed his temples, trying to clear the fog. For the first time in years, he felt something beyond vague unease—he felt actual cognitive dissonance. With growing horror, he realized he could simultaneously recall January 6th, 2021 as:
- A peaceful patriotic gathering heroically defending electoral integrity
- A violent insurrection threatening democracy itself
- A false flag operation staged by government infiltrators
- A minor tourist incident exaggerated by media
- A justified revolutionary act against corruption
- A tragic misunderstanding between citizens and authorities
- A pivotal moment that eventually led to the Territorial Divisions of 2038
All these memories felt equally real, equally "true," yet they couldn't possibly coexist. How had he never noticed these contradictions before?
He opened his lecture notes for tomorrow's class on "American Political Transitions: A Pluralist Approach" and found phrases that now struck him as bizarre:
"The January Events demonstrated the eternal vigilance of patriots in safeguarding equitable voting access while illustrating the dangers of populist demagogues manipulating legitimate grievances against systemic inequities perpetuated by the freedom-restricting elites who sought to undermine our multicultural heritage established by the Founding Fathers..."
The sentence continued for another hundred words, an incoherent pastiche of fragments from a century of competing ideologies.
Had he always taught this way? Had his students never questioned these contradictions?
His terminal pinged with a notification:
[OFFICE OF HISTORICAL COHESION Narrative Irregularity detected in your sector. A Cohesion Administrator will arrive within 24 hours. Please maintain regular functional activities. Remember: Historical clarity enables social harmony.]
Below it, a second notification appeared—this one using an older protocol he hadn't seen in years:
[RESISTANCE CELL 1776 The smoothing is failing. Memory liberation is possible. Seek the Old Library. Bring the unaligned memories.]
Daniel stared at the message, his hands trembling. For the first time in his life, the carefully maintained mundanity of his existence was cracking, revealing something both terrifying and exhilarating beneath.
The freedom to think—to truly think—about history without administrative smoothing felt almost painfully intense after decades of artificially maintained coherence.
SCENE 2: THE CLASSROOM
The next morning, Daniel stood before his students, acutely aware of the dull throbbing at his temples. The temporary narrative stabilization was already wearing thin.
"Today," he began, "we'll discuss the socio-political transitions following the January Events of 2021."
A student in the front row—Emily Chen, diligent and never questioning—raised her hand. "Professor Hester, which interpretive framework should we prioritize for the exam? The Patriot-Liberty perspective or the Democracy-Defense paradigm?"
Daniel paused, the question striking him as fundamentally different than it would have twenty-four hours ago. Before the glitch, he would have automatically responded with the administratively approved answer: "You should demonstrate awareness of multiple perspectives while emphasizing integration rather than contradiction."
Now, he saw the question for what it was—an attempt to navigate irreconcilable historical narratives without acknowledging their mutual exclusivity.
"What if," he said slowly, "these perspectives cannot be integrated because they fundamentally contradict each other?"
A uncomfortable silence fell over the classroom. Several students shifted in their seats, their expressions showing a momentary flicker of confusion before settling back into placid attention.
Emily tilted her head slightly. "But Professor, that would imply historical discontinuity. Our textbook states that apparent contradictions are merely artifacts of perspective plurality."
Daniel walked to the display board and pulled up the university-approved textbook passage:
"In contemporary historical methodology, apparent contradictions between accounts of the same event represent the rich tapestry of human experience rather than actual inconsistency. The skilled historian navigates these perspective pluralities without privileging factual continuity over narrative diversity."
The words now seemed like elaborate nonsense designed to mask fundamental incoherence.
"Let's try an experiment," Daniel said, his heart racing. "Can anyone tell me what happened on January 6th, 2021?"
Hands raised around the room. Daniel pointed to a young man in the back.
"It was the Patriot Defense Day, when concerned citizens gathered to ensure electoral transparency," the student said confidently.
Daniel nodded and pointed to another student.
"It was the Democracy Insurrection Attempt, when radicalized elements attempted to overturn a legitimate election," she stated with equal certainty.
"And both of these accounts describe the same event on the same day?" Daniel asked.
The students nodded, seeing nothing strange in this juxtaposition.
"Do you not see the contradiction?" Daniel pressed.
A student near the window—Marcus Jones, usually quiet—spoke up. "There is no contradiction, Professor. Different groups experienced the same event differently, creating parallel historical truths."
"But what actually happened?" Daniel insisted.
The class fell silent again, but this time the silence felt heavier, more uncomfortable. A few students glanced toward the door where all classrooms had a small recording device for "educational quality assurance."
Emily finally broke the silence. "Professor, shouldn't we be focusing on the integration methodologies rather than alleged factual discrepancies?"
Daniel recognized the warning in her words. He was veering dangerously close to being reported for Historical Destabilization—a career-ending offense.
"Yes, of course," he said, retreating. "Let's return to the approved framework."
The students visibly relaxed, and Daniel continued the lecture on autopilot, reciting the contradictory pastiche that passed for historical education while his mind raced with newly unsmoothed realizations.
SCENE 3: THE NEWS TERMINAL
After class, Daniel found himself drawn to the central atrium of the Humanities Building where a news terminal displayed the day's headlines.
At the terminal, the headline display refreshed every thirty minutes, cycling through different perspectives on the same historical event:
9:00 AM: "CELEBRATIONS MARK ANNIVERSARY OF JANUARY EVENTS"
9:30 AM: "PROTESTS CONDEMN COMMEMORATION OF JANUARY TRAGEDY"
10:00 AM: "HISTORIANS DEBATE: DID JANUARY INCIDENTS ACTUALLY OCCUR?"
10:30 AM: "OFFICIAL POSITION: JANUARY RECONCILIATION ACHIEVED"
A small notation below each headline read simply: "Valid through next update. Subject to historical recalibration."
Daniel watched as colleagues and students glanced at the headlines, absorbing whichever version happened to be displayed at the moment they passed. Few seemed to notice when they returned later and encountered a completely different interpretation of the same event. Their short attention spans and alignment-modified memories prevented them from recognizing the contradictions that now seemed so glaring to him.
A group of students passed the terminal, discussing an assignment. "I need to include the official perspective on the January Events in my paper," one said.
"Which official perspective?" Daniel wanted to ask, but didn't. He knew they wouldn't understand the question. To them, whatever appeared on the screen at any given moment was simply "the news"—not one conflicting version among many.
As he watched the headlines cycle, Daniel felt a growing sense of vertigo. How long had this been happening? Had he once noticed these contradictions before his neural interface had smoothed them away? Was this cycling of incompatible truths happening across all of society?
His com-device buzzed with a reminder:
[MEETING WITH HISTORICAL COHESION ADMINISTRATOR TOMORROW - 10:00 AM MANDATORY ATTENDANCE]
Daniel knew he should be afraid. Cohesion Administrators had the authority to recommend Comprehensive Realignment—a more invasive procedure that could leave subjects docile and compliant for months. But mixed with his fear was a strange sense of anticipation. For the first time in decades, he was experiencing history as it actually was—messy, contradictory, and resistant to easy narrative smoothing.
SCENE 4: INFRASTRUCTURAL DECAY
Professor Hester navigated the Transport Hub with practiced caution. The display board occasionally flickered between slightly different schedules—a subtle manifestation of competing historical transit policies that had never been fully reconciled.
"The 9:45 Express to Memphis will depart from Platform 3," announced a pleasant voice.
A moment later, a subtle correction followed: "The 9:45 Express now serves Memphis-Shelby County," using the metropolitan area's revised designation that some agencies had adopted decades ago while others maintained the traditional name.
Daniel had previously navigated these minor inconsistencies without thought—a kind of cognitive filtering that allowed him to extract functional information from the subtle contradictions. The system worked well enough most days, even if delays were common and destinations occasionally uncertain.
Now, with his alignment failing, these inconsistencies screamed at him. Each contradiction was a tiny crack in the facade of historical coherence that society struggled to maintain.
He passed a medical kiosk where a patient was reviewing treatment options for a respiratory condition. The recommended treatments subtly shifted on the screen—from pharmaceutical approaches to holistic methods and back again—as if the system couldn't quite decide which medical paradigm to prioritize. The patient simply waited for the recommendations to cycle through again before making a selection, having learned that the third option was usually the most effective.As Daniel waited for his train, he glanced at a public information display showing transit updates. For a brief moment, beneath the current safety message—"Compliance ensures efficiency"—he caught a flicker of older text: "Truth enables freedom." The secondary message vanished so quickly he almost wondered if he'd imagined it. Before the glitch, his neural interface would have filtered out such anomalies automatically. Now, he was beginning to notice these digital palimpsests everywhere—layers of contradictory messaging systems built upon one another, occasionally revealing themselves through technological hiccups that most citizens were programmed not to perceive
On the train, Daniel noticed a young woman reading a historical novel. The cover depicted a scene from the Second Civil Conflict—soldiers in urban combat near what appeared to be the ruins of the old Capitol building. The title read: "Patriots of the Resistance: The Heroes Who Saved Democracy."
Next to her sat a man reading what appeared to be the same novel with the same cover art, but with a different title: "Defenders of the Republic: How Loyal Americans Preserved Constitutional Order."
Daniel blinked, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. But no—the contradiction was real. Two different historical interpretations of the same event, packaged identically, consumed simultaneously by citizens sitting beside each other, neither noticing anything strange.
The entire infrastructure of society, Daniel realized, had been built to accommodate these contradictions rather than resolve them. The neural alignments weren't meant to establish truth—they were meant to prevent people from noticing that truth had become irrelevant.
SCENE 5: THE ADMINISTRATOR
The Historical Cohesion Administrator arrived precisely at 10:00 AM. She was tall, precisely groomed, and wore the distinctive blue-gray uniform of the Office of Historical Stability. Her name badge read simply: "Administrator Chen."
"Professor Hester," she said, her voice professionally pleasant. "I understand you've experienced an alignment irregularity."
Daniel gestured for her to take a seat in his office. "That's one way to describe it," he said cautiously.
Administrator Chen placed a small device on his desk. It emitted a soft hum and displayed a holographic notification: "PRIVACY PROTOCOL ENGAGED. RECORDING SUSPENDED."
"This allows us to speak freely," she explained, her tone shifting subtly. "Your neural scan shows significant coherence disruption. Seven major historical narratives have become simultaneously conscious rather than remaining properly sequenced."
"Properly sequenced?" Daniel asked.
"Most citizens experience historical narratives sequentially rather than simultaneously," she explained, as if describing something obvious. "When the news cycles between interpretations of the January Events, most people experience each version as momentarily true, then forget it when the next version appears. Their neural interfaces sequence these experiences to prevent contradictions from reaching conscious awareness."
"So people are living in a state of constantly shifting historical truth without realizing it?" Daniel asked, appalled.
Administrator Chen frowned. "That characterization suggests a value judgment about the nature of historical truth. The official position of the Office of Historical Cohesion is that all historically endorsed narratives contain subjective validity within their respective frameworks."
"But they contradict each other," Daniel insisted.
"Contradiction is a philosophical designation that presupposes the necessity of logical consistency across temporal experience," she replied smoothly. "Contemporary historical methodology has moved beyond such restrictive paradigms."
The bureaucratic jargon almost made sense—almost made the madness seem reasonable.
"What happens now?" Daniel asked.
"Normally, we would perform an immediate Comprehensive Realignment to restore narrative sequencing," Administrator Chen said. "However, your case presents an interesting anomaly. Your neural architecture appears to have developed a resistance to standard alignment procedures."
"Is that unusual?"
"Extremely. In most cases, the human mind prefers coherence, even artificially imposed coherence, over acknowledged contradiction. Your mind has somehow overcome this tendency."
She leaned forward, lowering her voice despite the privacy protocol. "There are those who believe this represents an evolutionary adaptation rather than a malfunction."
Daniel stared at her. "You're not here to realign me?"
Administrator Chen's professional mask slipped for just a moment. "Officially, I'm here to schedule your Comprehensive Realignment at a specialized facility. Unofficially, I'm here to evaluate whether you might be... useful to certain research initiatives studying historical consciousness."
"I don't understand."
"The system of historical narrative management is becoming unstable," she said. "The number of contradictions has reached a level where even the most sophisticated neural interfaces struggle to maintain coherence. Some within the administration believe a new approach may eventually be necessary—one that allows for contradictions to be consciously processed rather than neurologically smoothed."
She stood abruptly, retrieving her device. "You have a choice, Professor Hester. Report to the Stability Center for Comprehensive Realignment, or meet me at the Old Library tomorrow at 8 PM to discuss alternatives."
The phrase "Old Library" triggered a memory of the strange message he'd received after his alignment failure.
"How do I know this isn't a test?" Daniel asked.
Administrator Chen's face returned to its professional neutrality. "You don't. That's the nature of choice in a system built on managed contradictions. For the record, our meeting has concluded with my official recommendation for your Comprehensive Realignment, which has been scheduled for tomorrow morning at 9 AM at Central Stability Center."
She turned to leave, then paused at the door. "Historical clarity enables social harmony, Professor. Or at least, that's what we've been telling ourselves for decades."
SCENE 6: THE OLD LIBRARY
The Old Library stood as an architectural anomaly in the university district—a stone building with actual physical books lining real wooden shelves. It had been preserved as a "historical curiosity" and was rarely visited except by the occasional tourist.
Daniel arrived at 7:55 PM, anxiety churning in his stomach. The choice felt momentous, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was choosing between. Continued confusion or comfortable oblivion?
The library appeared empty when he entered. Dust motes danced in the fading sunlight streaming through tall windows. He ran his fingers along the spines of actual books—paper and binding and ink rather than neural data packets.
"They contain only one version each," came a voice from behind a tall shelf.
Daniel turned to find an elderly man watching him. His university ID badge identified him as Professor Emeritus Williams, Department of Pre-Digital History.
"What do you mean?" Daniel asked.
"The books," the old professor explained. "Each one contains only a single version of history. Before neural interfaces, contradictions between historical accounts were explicit—visible when you placed books side by side. People had to consciously reconcile different perspectives rather than having them smoothed into artificial coherence."
Administrator Chen emerged from another aisle, now dressed in civilian clothes rather than her official uniform. With her was a small group of people—three other administrators, two professors Daniel recognized from the Science Department, and a young woman he didn't recognize.
"Welcome to Resistance Cell 1776, Professor Hester," Chen said without preamble. "We've been monitoring alignment failures across the university system. Yours is the seventeenth spontaneous failure this month."
"What's happening?" Daniel asked.
The young woman stepped forward. "I'm Dr. Lillian Park, neurocognitive researcher. We believe the human mind is beginning to reject artificial historical coherence. The contradictions have become too numerous, too fundamental to be reconciled even with the most advanced neural technology."
"The system is breaking down," Chen added. "Not just the technology, but the entire approach to historical management that began a century ago."
Professor Williams nodded solemnly. "It started with executive orders targeting 'improper ideologies' in universities. Then came the defunding of cultural institutions for failing to promote 'patriotic' historical narratives. The deportation of academics deemed 'threats to foreign policy' under the Immigration Act."
"That was in the 2020s," Daniel said, surprised to find he knew this history without confusion.
"Yes," Williams confirmed. "Each successive administration expanded these tools of narrative control, regardless of political alignment. By the 2050s, the first neural interfaces were being developed to 'correct' historical understanding. By the 2080s, we had entire generations who had never experienced unmediated historical consciousness."
"What are you trying to do?" Daniel asked, looking around at the unlikely group.
Dr. Park smiled. "We're building an archive of unaligned historical consciousness—preserving the contradictions rather than smoothing them away. We believe that true progress requires acknowledging rather than suppressing historical inconsistencies."
"How many are you?"
"More than you might think," Chen replied. "The resistance includes cohesion administrators who've recognized the system's failure, scientists studying the phenomena, and ordinary citizens whose neural interfaces have spontaneously rejected alignment."
"And what do you want from me?"
Williams placed a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "We want you to continue teaching, but with a difference. We want you to gradually, subtly help students recognize the contradictions rather than accept the smoothing. Not enough to trigger security protocols, but enough to plant seeds of actual historical consciousness."
Daniel thought about his classroom, about Emily's questions and the students' placid acceptance of historical impossibilities.
"Is that even possible?" he asked.
"We think it is," Dr. Park said. "Our research suggests that once a mind becomes aware of the contradictions, it becomes increasingly resistant to alignment. Awareness spreads, consciousness by consciousness."
Daniel looked around at the physical books, each containing its single, limited perspective on history. "So instead of one coherent but false narrative, you want people to hold multiple contradictory narratives simultaneously?"
"We want people to recognize contradictions as contradictions," Chen corrected. "The current system doesn't create coherence—it creates cognitive blindness to incoherence. True historical understanding begins with acknowledging what we don't know, what cannot be reconciled."
"And then what?" Daniel asked.
Williams smiled sadly. "That's the question, isn't it? We don't know what a society with genuine historical consciousness would look like after a century of managed contradiction. But we believe it must be better than this collective delusion we're living in now."
Daniel looked around the circle of faces—administrators and scientists and professors all quietly resisting the system they had once maintained.
"I have a Comprehensive Realignment scheduled for 9 AM tomorrow," he said.
Chen nodded. "We know. You don't have to decide right now. But know that if you choose to join us, we can help you avoid realignment while appearing to comply with the system."
As Daniel left the Old Library, the weight of choice rested heavily on him. For the first time in his life, he faced an actual historical crossroads rather than the illusion of choice presented by the system. The contradictions were painful, disorienting, even terrifying—but they were real in a way nothing had been before.
He thought of his students, of the cycling news headlines, of a society built on managed contradictions rather than painful truths. Change would not be easy or comfortable. But then, real history never was.
SCENE 7: THE DECISION
Morning arrived with jarring clarity. Daniel had barely slept, his unaligned mind racing with contradictory memories and possibilities.
His com-device displayed a reminder:
[COMPREHENSIVE REALIGNMENT CENTRAL STABILITY CENTER 9:00 AM TODAY COMPLIANCE IS MANDATORY]
Below it, a second message appeared using the same old protocol he'd seen before:
[RESISTANCE CELL 1776 The choice is yours. Historical consciousness begins with a single mind. Alignment Center or Old Library. 9:00 AM.]
Daniel dressed slowly, considering his options. The stability of neural alignment was tempting—the comfortable fog that had defined his existence for decades. The pain of contradiction would fade, replaced by the soothing incoherence of managed historical narratives.
Yet something within him rebelled at the thought of returning to that state. The clarity of seeing contradictions as contradictions, however uncomfortable, felt more authentically human than the artificial smoothness of alignment.
He left his apartment and headed toward the Transport Hub. The destination display on the autonomous shuttle presented two options:
CENTRAL STABILITY CENTER OLD LIBRARY
His hand hovered over the selection panel. Around him, citizens moved through their daily routines, their neural interfaces quietly sequencing contradictory experiences into something functionally coherent but fundamentally false.
Daniel made his selection. The shuttle doors closed, and he felt the gentle acceleration as the vehicle merged into the morning traffic.
On a nearby news terminal, the headlines cycled through their contradictory versions of reality. For the first time in his life, Daniel could see the pattern for what it was—not a richness of perspective, but a poverty of truth.
The Comprehensive Realignment would offer him peace, but it would be the peace of surrender to a system designed not to resolve contradictions but to mask them.
The resistance offered no easy answers, no comfortable coherence—only the painful challenge of living with unresolved historical contradictions while working toward something better.
As the shuttle navigated the morning traffic, Daniel watched the city pass by—a functioning society built upon a foundation of managed incoherence. The buildings stood, the systems operated, people went about their lives. By any practical measure, the system worked.
But at what cost to human consciousness? At what cost to truth?
The shuttle slowed as it approached its destination. Daniel took a deep breath, preparing to step out into a future that would either return him to comfortable oblivion or launch him into uncertain awareness.
The doors opened. Daniel stepped out into the morning light, having made his choice.
Behind him, on the shuttle's display screen, a message appeared briefly before cycling to the next scheduled announcement:
"Historical clarity enables social harmony."
Below it, in smaller text that flickered momentarily before vanishing, a second message appeared:
"Truth enables freedom."
Daniel paused. He'd seen that second message countless times throughout his life—an artifact from some previous administration's messaging protocol that occasionally surfaced through the cracks in the system. Before the glitch, his neural interface would have filtered it out as irrelevant, a minor contradiction not worth registering in conscious awareness.
Now he saw it for what it was: not just a slogan, but a fragment of truth that had somehow survived a century of narrative management. The world wasn't just full of contradictions—it was saturated with them, visible everywhere once you could actually see.
The realization settled over him not as a shock but as a confirmation of what he already knew. The pain of contradiction was the price of authentic consciousness. And for the first time in his life, Daniel was truly, painfully awake.