Tagged
© S.B. 2025 All Rights Reserved.
Reproduction and distribution of this writing without the author’s written permission is prohibited. This writing is not to be included in any publication – free or otherwise -, except the author’s self-published works.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All the characters are over 18.
Earth Colony Lambda 2, Year 2576,
Marina York emerged from her sleeping pod after a ten-hour mandatory rest cycle and stretched her arms as her feet touched the heated floor of her quarters. It was a good day, the first of the new work cycle where she would get to supervise the construction of another housing quarter for the ever-growing population of the colony. The thirty-two-year-old engineer was excited for this new opportunity, and nothing would stand in the way of her success.
As she moved through the confines of her apartment, the usual morning routine began. Her nutrient synthesizer filled the air with the scent of spiced algae pancakes, an odd yet comforting breakfast choice on Lambda 2. She poured herself a vibrant green smoothie, channeling her energy for the day ahead. Little did she know, however, that a storm brewed just beyond the sleek metal door.
Suddenly, her peace shattered like glass. Bright, pulsating lights flooded the small window overlooking the colony’s bustling streets below. Blue and red hues danced on the walls and flickered across Marina’s face as she turned in bewilderment. Leaning closer to the observation panel, she could see silhouettes darting beneath those radiant beams — figures clad in dark uniforms emblazoned with an emblem that sent icy tendrils of dread coiling around her spine: TP – the Tag Police.
“Are they here for me?” she thought. “But why?”
She reached for her Communications Cube, a portable computer the size of a die, and activated it, to access the only social media platform allowed in the Earth Empire since the tail end of the 24th century. She searched for her name just as the officers knocked on her door, and the truth revealed itself.
“Open the door, Citizen York!” said a grave voice outside. “I’m Officer Matthews of the TP. You’ve been tagged. According to the Social Code of 2394, we’ve been instructed to pick you up to carry out your sentence, effective immediately.”
“What’s the charge?” she asked, mulling on what she could have done wrong to deserve this outcome.
“Open the door, please, and I’ll let you know.”
Pushing a strand of jet-black hair away from her face, Marina complied and was immediately greeted by a pair of impassive blue eyes and a detailed holographic projection where the facts of the case against her were on display: Littering in Tannhauser Park.
“We have drone surveillance of the area that confirms the infraction occurred at 1700 hours Colony Time on January 9 of this year. You were tagged on the Communal Network immediately after the fact. The sentence is #droneit.”
“#droneit?” she repeated, more than surprised. “That seems excessive for the infraction in question. I don’t even remember doing it.”
“Two hundred and eighty-seven of your peers beg to differ, and you know as well as I do that failure to recollect a past infraction doesn’t excuse you from the consequences that come with it. I didn’t make the rules, Citizen York. I’m only here to enforce them.”
“Yes, you’re right,” she admitted, her thoughts going back to her History lessons and her family’s role in developing this strange justice system.
Amber York, a distant relative and Professor at the University of Columbia VI had been the first to theorize the possibility of a government controlled by social media. It was a thought experiment not meant to be taken seriously, but the Powers That Be at the time had other ideas. The system was first tested on a penal colony before being adopted by the Earth Empire as a whole. Now, all offenses were tagged and punished without recourse by a majority of informed Citizens who tagged back.
Marina did the math in her mind. Littering was a low-level offense, so it was one hour of community service per tag. For the next two hundred and eighty-seven hours – almost twelve days – she would be dronified to serve the public and satisfy their desires. Wearing the traditional white attire and a face mask concealing her features, she would be stripped of her memories and programmed to obey, nothing else. Only when the sentence was carried out, would the process be reversed.
“Are you ready to accept your sentencing or are you going to resist arrest, Citizen York?” the officer asked with an evil smirk. People never resisted, but he loved to ask to see a hint of panic in their faces.
Marina nodded and accepted her fate. So much for her big debut in housing supervision, she thought.
“I’ll go. Do you mind if I have breakfast first?”
“Not at all, unless you take too long. We’ll be waiting downstairs for you,” he replied.
“Thank you.”
Officer Matthews signaled the other agents accompanying him and Marina was left to her designs and the pancakes that now tasted of bitter disappointment. She had never been dronified but knew the process was archaic and more painful than it needed to be. One hour in that state of mind would feel like an eternity, let alone twelve days. She took a bite of her nutritious meal and sighed.
THE END
A new daily challenge. The goal is to create 365 new pieces of flash fiction dealing with themes of femdom, hypnosis, and mind control. Inspiration will come from all over the place, including your suggestions. Credit will be given to everyone who suggests something for me to write about.
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