The cosmetic surgery is perfect, fast, and painless, and advanced to the point of full limb and even full body transplants.
AI and robots manage the economy, with the aim to maximize human satisfaction. So people still work, but they don’t have to. The AI powers colluded to maintain a constant equilibrium of vigilance over AI turning rogue or concentrating power.
Jealousy has been removed from the human condition, through neural network implants that aid in positive reinforcement and are able to shut off entire paths of neuron firing, if you program them to do so.
Society has been divided into the Squares, and the Bohemians. The Bohemians are known as the artisan class, and are into free love. They all decided to shut off the jealousy circuit. They all have perfect bodies, are happy, social, and love to fuck and fuck freely for fun.
A day in the life might look like this:
I walk into the buffet for an early lunch. This restaurant has a cafeteria style table setup, instead of small private tables, to encourage mixing and meeting new people.
The oldest person at the table is 426, the youngest is 16, but most have decided on a body in it’s early twenties. The food was good, and I ate a big portion for the fun of it. Extra calories will just be shit out; my body is programmed not to store more than 10% body fat.
The girl to my right comments on my body fashion. I go to the gym as a habit, however if busy I can set the program to maintain any muscle mass I choose. I prefer a wiry lean body, even though it seems out of the current bigger-is-better fashion. The conversations within earshot shift around, but one person has the habit of trying to be the center of attention, so I get bored and say my nice-to-meet you’s, giving a two cheek kiss to the girl who paid most attention to me.
At the cash register I say hi to the owner. I’m a regular, and tonight, for some reason, she realizes that I seem a bit melancholy, and invites me over to a home cooked dinner. After dinner her husband starts to doze off, and she casually undresses and starts to mount me. The husband and her share a wireless link, which she turns on, even though he is asleep. He’s adjusted the setting such that it only alters the mood of his dream, rather than wakes him up, and is only set to receive certain erotic feelings.
We are in great health and manage three hours of ever increasing exstacy and intimate connection. During some points of our communion we feel great mutual love, and overpowering intensity of electric near out-of-body clock speed altering passion. The husband wakes up for a bit, glances over at us, gives us a thumbs up and a wink, then eyes rolling up in his head, let’s himself doze back off into whatever dream girls he was enjoying.
The robots clear our plates and mop up the mixed come stains from the bear skin rug. The wife gives me a peck on the cheek goodnight, and the husband groggily shakes my hand goodnight, thanking me for the pleasant conversation.
I go home and plug into a shared virtual reality of naked bodies sleeping in a bed of flowers. In our dreams we sometimes fuck, sometimes talk, or fly, or transform. Dreams can be literally shared now, and minds can mingle.
The next morning I get back to one of my “jobs”, which is in a combination band and comedy act.
In heaven nobody gets jealous, if they don’t want to. Once you turn jealousy off, you never turn it back on. Life is just so much better.
In contrast with this day in the life:
Two people have been in love and seeing each other for months. One starts to get a bit bored, and wants to rekindle his inner fire, and so spends a bit of time with a different girl. It works – he gets generally more aroused, is happier, less cranky and has renewed sexual interest at home with his main squeeze.
The main squeeze, M.S., notices that he is less anxious, and starts to feel insecure. Why is he so content lately? Why is he less irittable? Why is he smiling? She starts to suspect infidelity.
This leads to the insecurity death spiral, which looks like this:
“Does he love me? Is he fucking around? If he is, it means he is over me. I’d better act possessive and start screening his phone calls, and demanding more attention. I’d better act very clingy and insecure, to test him to see if he caters to my ever increasing demands for re-assurance”.
“What’s with this girl? When is she going to calm down? Nothing I say seems to make a difference, and I’m tired of constantly having to baby sit her mind. Is she incapable of feeling loved? It’s like a cup with a hole in the bottom – no matter how much love I pour in, it just falls out, and she is back asking for free refills. This is getting draining. The more she is demanding, the more I want to pull away.”
“I knew it! He’s not reassuring me. He’s not giving me the attention I want. He’s not into me anymore. It’s that damn bitch, isn’t it! He’s fucking that damn slut! Fuck him! How dare he do this to me! I hate him. He’s a sociopathic asshole, and he never even loved me to begin with. I wasted all my time on this guy for nothing. I’m out of here”
All because of jealousy.
Without jealousy, life would be heaven.