“They’re not test subjects,” said the Citizenship Success Manager. “We don’t use that word anymore.”
“What phrase do you use?”
“Frontier participants.”
“Frontier participants?”
“Exactly. Much more dignified.”
She turned her tablet toward me. On the screen was a smiling family in silver jumpsuits standing beside a crater.
“Based on your contribution metrics, you have been matched with one of our National Innovation Pathways.”
“I’m being punished.”
“Punishment is a legacy justice concept. You’re being invited to create value in a high-uncertainty environment.”
“What environment?”
“That depends. You scored well for respiratory flexibility, obedience under stress, and limited legal resilience, so there are several exciting possibilities.”
“I’m a citizen.”
“Legacy rights status.”
“But I pay taxes.”
“Revenue participation is just one of our citizenship verticals.”
“And I vote.”
“We still honour voting. In fact, your last vote was counted as an engagement touchpoint.”
“And that didn’t help?”
“It helped your engagement enormously. Unfortunately, your productivity, optimism, brand-alignment, and monetisable-resilience scores remain below the median.”
“Below the median?”
“Yes.”
“How far below?”
She looked at the tablet.
“Forty-nine point nine-seven per cent.”
“That’s basically the middle.”
“Exactly. Median-adjacent citizens produce the most generalisable data.”
I looked past her, through the glass wall. In the atrium below, half a dozen of people sat in moulded chairs beneath a banner that read: WELCOME OPPORTUNITY HALF! THE FUTURE STARTS THROUGH YOU.
“That’s half the country,” I said.
“Yes. Tremendous scale.”
“You’re experimenting on half the country.”
“We’re inviting half the country to participate directly in progress.”
“What does the other half do?”
“They enjoy the progress once it works.”
She swiped the tablet and six tiles appeared.
“The good news is you have options. Choice is central to the citizen experience.”
“Options.”
“Of course. First, Autonomous Vehicle Proving Zone Seven. Very popular with urban participants.”
“What happens there?”
“You live in a fully driverless district where the vehicles learn to recognise edge-case pedestrians.”
“What’s an edge-case pedestrian?”
“Toddlers, cyclists, people with umbrellas, the elderly, anyone moving unpredictably.”
“No.”
“No problem. Lunar Habitation Beta.”
“There’s a moon colony?”
“Not yet. That’s where you come in.”
“No.”
“Manned Rocket Confidence Missions?”
“Are those test flights?”
She laughed.
“No one says test flights anymore”
“What happens on a Rocket Confidence Mission?”
“The public remains hesitant about commercial spaceflight. Before premium passengers will book, they need to see ordinary people enjoying the ascent.”
“Surviving the ascent.”
“Enjoying is the current messaging.”
“No.”
“Then you may prefer the AI Adjudication Pilot. All legal, medical, welfare, employment, housing and family decisions are handled by an experimental model with an inspiring seventy-one per cent alignment score.”
“What about the other twenty-nine percent?”
“Learning.”
“No.”
“Drone Logistics Tolerance Corridor?”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard it yet.”
“It has the word tolerance in it.”
“That’s because participants contribute valuable data on noise, falling objects, sleep interruption, and cranial resilience.”
“No.”
“Longevity Equity Control Group?”
“That sounds less immediately fatal.”
“That’s the spirit. In this pathway, premium citizens receive life-extension treatments while you contribute natural ageing baseline data in a controlled environment.”
“So I just get old?”
“Usefully.”
I put my hands flat on the table.
“I don’t want any of these.”
She nodded with professional warmth.
“That’s very common. The Opportunity Half often requires a few minutes to reframe fear as access.”
“I don’t want access.”
“Everyone wants access.”
“I want safety.”
She winced, as if I’d used an old slur.
“Safety is a scarce national resource.”
“It’s a right.”
“It was, yes. Under the previous model.”
“The previous model?”
“Government.”
“This is government.”
“This is GovernmentPlus.”
I stared at her.
She smiled.
“Public purpose. Private efficiency. Subscription patriotism.”
Down the atrium, a man began shouting. Two attendants in blue fleeces approached him with a tablet. One placed a hand on his shoulder, the other showed him something on-screen. The man stopped shouting and started crying.
“What did they show him?” I asked.
“His revised score.”
“It went up?”
“No. But he now understands why.”
I stood.
“I’m leaving.”
“Of course.”
“Good.”
“Participation is voluntary.”
“It is?”
“This is still a free country.”
“So I can walk out?”
“Absolutely.”
“And then?”
“Then the system will interpret your departure as voluntary separation.”
“Meaning?”
“You’ll be routed to the Entrepreneurship Pathway.”
“What’s that?”
She brightened.
“Open-ended risk exposure with no institutional support.”
“That sounds like homelessness.”
“Homelessness had a terrible brand sentiment.”
“And if I refuse that?”
“You can’t refuse entrepreneurship. That’s what makes it entrepreneurship.”
I sat back down.
“See?” she said. “Already making more strategic decisions.”
She turned the tablet toward me again.
“Now. Which future would you like to help create?”
Inspired by: UK Sovereign AI Fund – “The speed of venture. The strength of a nation.” (UK Department for Science, Innovation and Technology, Press release, 2026)
This article was originally published on HackerNoon.
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