Bricks

References to an animal being slaughtered for food, as well as war, homelessness, addiction and poverty references.

Jane A1, John C47, and Angie 19 were the three most typical types one might encounter. For the sake of nostalgia, we shall disregard their codes and call them Jane, John, and Angie.

​Jane sat on a train, the rhythm of the tracks rocking her to sleep. An hour ago, she had dropped a brick at the grocery store checkout. It was oily and so disruptive that customers had to veer their trolleys around it. John was driving home, feeling the relief of a man who had dropped his brick hours earlier in the exam room. At that time, he had realized that three hours of early morning cramming had earned him a pass—no more, no less. Angie, however, had thrown hers days ago. Her hand was still bandaged and blistered; she had aimed for her ex, but the brick had missed.

​The Bureau of Elves and Pixies (BEP) opened the notifications immediately. They were the starters of the new order, and these bricks were their raw material.

​"Code 1 at the grocery store," one muttered, tapping a screen. "The oil has solidified. It’ll need a high-pressure spray, soak, and then a wash."

​"Code 72a over here," another replied, pointing to Angie’s file. "That one is still too hot to handle; it’ll melt the collection bins." A text was sent to the field crew: Thermal alert. Pick it up tomorrow.

​As for John’s brick, the BEP noted he wasn't alone. They would require a trailer for that location; at least thirty alerts had pinged at 9:00 AM from that exam room.

​These "burden bricks" were cutting-edge technology, the brainchild of acclaimed Professor Alfred P. Henbrookle. The idea was simple, and it worked: when a person's emotions reached critical density, the system would pulse. Once solidified, the emotions would drop from the person’s biosphere as a brick. Naturally, the system had its flaws; that’s when the bureaucracy of the BEP became administration costly. However, the true "social restoration" began when entrepreneur Alvino Blogalot had a brilliant idea: why let the bricks go to waste? Instead, they would recycle them to build the very infrastructure the government needed to be voted back in.

​The foundations were the usual cement, but these bricks, when cleaned up, were much sturdier than molded cement panels. Four months of exhausting work, red tape, and in-house fighting finally produced the shell of a most excellent building. Once the electricals, plumbing, insulation, interior decorations, and floor coverings were finished, things really took on a shine. It was up for lease.

**

​After the "brick drop," Jane turned reflective. Had she been jealous? The checkout supervisor was waifish and looked good even in a green smock. Jane realized she didn't need the heavy meat or the extra pounds. She found a site called "The Truth" and watched a brief, donation-based reel. It showed a plum tree in fast-forward: flowers blooming, bulbs swelling into fruit which dropped to the ground. A stem pushed from the earth, leaves unfurling as a head of corn developed. A carrot was pulled, vibrant, from the soil. A female voice chimed: "The true cycle of nature yields us food. The natural cycle of life begins, grows, and yields. Our food is a gift from the final stage of the plant's cycle."

​Then, the footage shifted. A soft, woolly lamb baaed, running through a field with trusting eyes. A gunshot echoed over a blank screen. The female voice harshened: "This is an unnatural, premature ending of life." Jane never ate meat again nor did she make another brick.

**

​Kerry-Ann Tinglette was chuffed; she’d found something rare—a sale that would set her up for life. While the office space was pristine, its cost remained a barrier for local businesses, and governments tied to long leases simply said "no." Eventually, it drew an international following and, ultimately, a veiled expression of interest: a secret, undisclosed offer reaching into the eight to nine figures hit the desk.

**

​John needed sleep, so he tried the Myelin app. As his breath became mindful, he became more relaxed. One afternoon, he accidentally unlocked a lesson titled 66 Days to Order. Although he struggled to find a study flow after a long day at work, he stuck with it and pushed through the nightly grind to get a "highly commended." John didn't make another brick.

**

​The building title read: Office of Most Important Things. That made sense; it was constructed from the bricks of emotions that seemed important to the populace at any given time. The local community boomed and the inflow of wealth became excessive, but behind the tall glass, the energy felt "off." TV cameras hovered constantly. And then, out of nowhere, wars started everywhere.

​Conspiracies flooded social media. "The Cry of the Drop Bears," a resistance organization, was formed. They knew it was the building and its occupants, but it was too heavily guarded. The building stayed silent; shadows smeared in Vegemite slinked in and out. While more moderate protesters said it was haunted, others argued the space possessed its occupants. Some wondered if the bricks were the cause of the shadow or simply the attraction. It raised the ultimate question: which came first, the chicken or the egg?

**

​After watching several videos on relationship red flags, Angie realized the fault wasn't in Jade 18—it was her own ignorance. She now chose her life based on her new knowledge. Angie stopped making bricks.

​Once Jane, John, and Angie processed their emotional data, the realization was instantly harvested by the mainframe. It was stripped of its individuality and redistributed to each human prototype as a software update.

**

The update of new coping mechanisms created ​a shortage of brick. Similarly, a shortage of war, poverty, homelessness, addiction and violence.

​In no time, the building was vacated. Its facade became grey rubble. At the most, after much deliberation, a toilet block was built. It's sign read: The Annex of Final Realisations.