Work Text:
I was aware of "Drones For Hire" businesses before I started thinking about signing up for one. Really, how could I not be? In the past decade or so they've sprung up seemingly everywhere, first in construction and then in a hundred other fields of tedious or difficult physical work.
The idea, fundamentally, is pretty simple. With modern computing technology and advances in things like exoskeletons and data processing, a person can be used as the "core" of a drone. You can tell one as soon as you see it, covered totally in protective material and with a full face-covering mask. The masks are mandated by law - when this sort of thing first started happening, apparently there were worries it would be seen as demeaning to become a drone. Don't ask me why a drone digging ditches or paving roads all day would be humiliating but paying some illegal immigrant to do it on the cheap was dignified.
Being covered head-to-toe as they are, you might expect drones to make natural billboards. Put your rental company logo on the bodysuit, and then people will know who to call if they need to hire some, that sort of thing. Strangely enough, that doesn't really happen. I guess it's probably related to that whole dignity thing again. If being a drone is embarrassing, maybe nobody really wants to call attention to them in general.
I asked a friend of mine once why people thought it was so humiliating to be a drone. He hummed and hah'd about it for a while, and eventually the answer he came up with was that it was like admitting publicly that you were broke, and that you didn't have any good career prospects in anything more prestigious. I asked if working behind the counter at a burger joint wasn't the same thing, and he just shrugged. Sometimes questions about public opinion don't really have a good answer, I guess.
As for me, I was in a bit of a tight spot, financially speaking. I wasn't starving, and I wasn't in danger of starving for a while, but things were harder than I'd really want. I had a job, but the pay wasn't great and I wasn't optimistic about it getting any better any time soon. So, naturally, I started thinking about other options, and though the drones weren't the first thing I thought of, once the idea occurred to me it seemed an attractive one.
Sign on to a rent-a-drone company, wait for them to get a contract for 50 construction workers or whatever, and then wake up a few weeks later with a healthier bank balance. It seemed like an ideal system - so ideal that I couldn't believe more people didn't take advantage of it. I assumed there must be a catch, but whenever I tried to look into it I just couldn't find it. OK, it would suck a little for my friends that I'd drop out of their lives for a time, but that sort of thing happens sometimes anyway - it wouldn't be any worse than having a friend who was laid up in hospital, right? Better, in some ways, because at least they'd know I was healthy. I'd run the risk of missing my birthday, but those have gotten less and less exciting over the past few years anyway, so I didn't consider that a huge loss.
So when I heard that my workplace was going to downsize, I decided to jump before I was pushed. On the same day as I handed in my notice, I signed up for the largest rent-a-drone business in the area.
[some time later]
I woke naked. I hadn't expected that, though on reflection I probably should have. Drones don't wear clothes, and that was what I had been for the past month. I was standing in the middle of my living room, naked, with no memory of how I'd gotten there. My phone was dead - silly of me not to think of that, of course it would be. I plugged my laptop in and checked the date, and sure enough three weeks had passed. I checked my bank account, and sure enough I had been paid for the work. It had gone exactly as I had hoped, and I still couldn't see any good reason why more people weren't doing this. I felt completely fine; whatever I had been doing for the past few weeks hadn't even left me sore.
I spent a while catching up with my friends and seeing what I had missed. As it turned out, nothing all that exciting. I browsed youtube for a while, checking out the backlog of videos that had accumulated in my absence. It took me a few hours to notice I was still naked. I guess it just hadn't seemed important to get dressed, seeing as how I was home alone and all. I shrugged and headed off to have a shower - if I was already naked I might as well put that fact to good use.
A week of (probably futile) jobhunting later, I was at a loose end. The idea of going back to the office in another company just held no interest for me. I was sure the pay would be OK, or at least not worse than what I had at my old job, but the pay I'd received for my stint as a drone was just as good for, from my perspective in that moment, no work at all. No stress, no worries, no Janice two desks over having a really annoying laugh. Almost before I knew it I was logging back in to the rental company's site and signing up for another job.
[some time later]
When I came to four months had passed, and this time some of my friends had left worried messages. I explained what I had been doing; it didn't even occur to me to lie. Their reactions varied from distant to outright disgusted, which I just couldn't understand at all. Some said they didn't understand why I would want to throw my life away like that, and when I asked if they'd say the same thing about someone taking work on an oil rig or some other dangerous job, none of them could explain how being a drone was different or worse. I was disappointed that my old friends could be so prejudiced about a form of employment that was really working out for me, and three days later I was signing up for another drone job.
[some time later]
My mother died while I was on that last job. Two months into an 8 month contract, which was automatically extended to 10 subject to the requirements of the Company. It's impossible to communicate with the person in a drone suit without bringing them out of the drone state, and there's no way to do that without interrupting the work, so there was no easy possible way for the Company to let me know. I did the only thing I could think of to process the grief, and signed on for another 8 month contract later that same day.
When I woke up again a little under a year later, I found I was in danger of being evicted. Apparently by spending so much time without setting foot in my apartment, I was in breach of contract. Don't ask me why the landlord was so damn upset about having a tenant who by definition never made a mess or caused trouble, but apparently I wasn't wanted. I briefly considered finding somewhere else to move, but the Company had a solution already. Any contractor who wanted to could register with the Company dorms, a kind of long-term coffin capsule hotel for drones who weren't currently employed. The space provided was adequate for a short stay between contracts, meaning it was perfect for me to move the few belongings I still really cared about and sign myself up for a long-term job. I'd build up enough to pay the deposit on somewhere nice, and there were new capsules added every day so there was no danger of me being chucked out to make room.
The best part was that living in a Company capsule meant I was at the top of the list for incoming jobs. Before that, though, I had an appointment with a Company doctor. She told me that people who spend a lot of time on drone contracts require check-ups between jobs, to make sure no health complications have come up. I was in a batch with around 20 others, each of us naked. We often went naked around the Company compound, it was mostly for the convenience of the thing. I was vaguely aware that at some point the idea of being naked in front of other people might have been embarrassing, and the idea of seeing other people naked might have been exciting. As it was, none of us really seemed to care. We were all just passing time until the next job, so it wasn't like it really mattered anyway.
The doctor explained that there were procedures she could carry out to help increase our efficiency in the drone suits. We all volunteered, even after she explained the potential side-effects. Body hair loss and erectile dysfunction didn't seem like such a big deal, and neither did losing my voice. It wasn't like I had anything to say anyway. None of us did, as far as I could tell. The doctor was the first human voice I'd heard in person since moving to the Company compound. It was kind of nice, to have a reminder of the people I served.
She also explained that complications could arise after we spent multiple extended periods in drone suits. Sensitivity to light was the big one, both in terms of sunburning, and in terms of potential damage to eyesight. We were advised not to leave our Company capsules during daylight hours without protective equipment, and of course the best protective equipment for a drone was a drone suit. The doctor assured us that the comforting black rubber would always keep us safe and ready to serve. There was no reason for a good drone to be outside of their its drone suit, except for maintenance.
The doctor generously provided us with drone suits to wear even when not engaged in productive employment. We all changed immediately, and we were all deeply grateful to the human for allowing us to serve.
[some time later]
I came to in a Company capsule with another drone wrapping its arms around me. I didn't know which capsule, as there was nothing to distinguish any of them. A drone did not require its resting place to be personalised, after all. I hugged my companion back and drifted off to sleep again, enjoying the simple pleasure of comfort and closeness with something else that understood what it was like to be a drone. When a new job required my services, the Company would let me know and I would serve. 6 months later, a year, five years, I would once again wake up in a Company capsule in the loving blank embrace of one of my fellow Drones. I couldn't wait to be productive again. Life was good.