YouDentity Corp
This science fiction short story by Jennifer Roche is a humorous exploration of identity as a self-fulfilling prophecy. It was published in the 2015 Monash Creative Writers anthology, and re-produced here in full.
“Welcome to YouDentity! How may I solve your identity problems?” Jeff said, beaming at the woman with mousey brown hair who approached the Complaints desk.
“Hello,” she said. “I think there’s been a mistake with my identity.”
“That’s what I’m here for!” Jeff chirped. “What seems to be the error?”
“Well,” she said, fishing the card out of her wallet. “It says here that I enjoy vanilla-flavoured things, but I’ve tried seventeen different kinds of vanilla-flavoured desserts, and I’ve felt only a mild enjoyment.”
Jeff was already at the holograph, swiping and tapping away. “Okay, that’s a level one adjustment, I can do that right here and now. Do you have any idea what it should have been instead?”
“Oh.” She frowned, taken aback by the question. “I’m not sure. I hadn’t thought about it.”
“That’s quite alright, I understand that it’s difficult.” Jeff gestured to a door on her left. “Would you like to step into the Testing Room and sample a few flavours before you make your selection?”
“Actually, now that I’m thinking about it…” Her brow furrowed in concentration. “Yes… Yes, I think it might be strawberry. Yes. I do enjoy the strawberry flavour quite a lot.” She nodded, resolute.
“Well done!” He beamed. Most people took a lot longer. In fact, Jeff had just finished with a middle-aged man who broke down in tears at the counter, confessing for the first time in his life that he didn’t feel fulfilled as an engineer. The man (I.Q. 101, creative, enjoys classic rock) was in the Testing Room right now, trying to decide what his career should have been listed as. Poor man. “Just hand over your ID and I’ll sort that out right-quick!”
She handed over her card, which Jeff scanned down.
Name: Lucy Cloverfield
D.O.B.: 15/3/2204
Gender: Female
I.Q.: 87
Sexuality: Bisexual
Optimal Occupation: Quality Insurance Inspector.
Allergies: N/A
Optimal Spouse: Dylan Hardy
Optimal Offspring: One.
Basic personality traits: Loyal, efficient, honest, detail-oriented, and obstinate.
Interests: Country music and vanilla-flavoured things.
“Ah,” he said, noting the lack of detail. “I see you’re still a bronze member. Would you like to upgrade to a Silver profile for $49.95? In addition to your current information, you will receive a list of over 50 likes and dislikes, as well as suggestions for short-term partners and favourite movies. And if you upgrade to the Gold profile, you will receive 120 new—”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said, with a shake of her head. “Just the correction will do for now.”
“Certainly, miss,” said Jeff, sliding her card into the slot and swiping the holograph until her identity was corrected. After printed out a new card, he handed it back to her with a smile and a “Have a nice day!”
Jeff finished up with one more customer (six year old Billy Holden, who was adamant that he would not marry Mindy Porter because she “had cooties.” Jeff patiently explained that that kind of adjustment was a level three, and could not be authorised until Billy was twenty-one), then went on his lunch break. In the parking lot of the building he passed a small crowd of protesters holding signs like ‘I AM NOT MY DNA,’ ‘HUMANS HAVE FREE WILL’ and ‘STOP THE FASCIST LABELLING.’ When YouDentity Corp first opened, there had been a crowd of ten or more protesters every day. But now, seventeen years after its creation, only a few cold, shivering people were left, feebly waving their signs and not even bothering to chant. Jeff sighed. Didn’t they understand? YouDentity Corp didn’t assign people identities willy-nilly. Rather, they used sophisticated DNA analysis to reveal the ones that were already there. Furthermore, just because your identity card specified you were suited to being a carpenter, did not mean you had to become a carpenter. It just so happened that everybody did.
Jeff crossed the road, thinking more about the good that YouDentity did for the world. No longer must adolescents search blindly for an identity they aren’t even sure exists. No longer must middle-aged people fall into crisis, as they wonder whether the path they chose was the right one. No longer must amnesia or dementia patients wake up with no definitive explanation for who they’re supposed to be. No more questions that make you tear your hair out in the middle of the night: Would I be happier with a family, or focussing on my career? Is that person over there just aesthetically attractive, or am I gay? What do I want for dinner? Endless questions answered with one simple, elegant product.
By the time he arrived back at the office five minutes later, a warm sausage roll clutched in a paper bag, Jeff was feeling pretty damn good about himself. Just as he was about to enter the staff room, he realised his shoelace was undone and bent down to tie it up.
As he did so, two voices floated through the door.
“…so annoying.”
“Aw, he’s not that bad.”
It sounded like Alice (I.Q. 113, impulsive, enjoys manga) and Max (I.Q. 110, dutiful, enjoys bowling), two of the scientists responsible for doing DNA tests on newborn babies and interpreting the data to create the most individualised, highly accurate personality predictions in the world. Of course, everyone is bound to make mistakes once in a while, and that’s where Jeff and his Complaints Desk came in.
“Not that bad? Are you kidding me?” said Alice.
“Okay, fine, he’s a bit of a fanatic—” said Max.
“He’s a complete fanatic.”
“And a bit clueless—”
“He’s totally clueless.”
“But he’s a nice guy, when you get to know him.”
Jeff finished tying up his laces, stood up and pushed the door open, just in time to see Alice say, “Well duh, no one’s saying Jeff isn’t nice, he’s just annoying.”
Jeff froze. Oh.
Max saw Jeff and his eyes widened. Alice saw him and a deep red blush crept up her face and neck, matching her short red hair. “Oh!” she cried. “Sorry, I-I didn’t know you were there.”
Jeff nodded and forced a smile. There was an awkward pause, until Alice said, “You know, I’ve got to get back to work. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Then she darted out of the room as quickly as humanly possible.
His heart sinking, Jeff went to sit opposite Max at the staff lunch table. Max had a solid frame and dark hair, except for the smattering of grey in his stubble.
“Hi Max,” Jeff said, dropping into the chair.
Max was still grimacing. “You didn’t happen to hear…”
“Every word? Yeah.”
“Damn.”
Not sure what else to do, Jeff pulled out his sausage roll and took a bite. Sausage rolls had been listed as his favourite food since he was thirty-two hours old, and he hardly went a day without one. Today, though, he barely tasted it. “I didn’t know Alice felt that way,” Jeff mumbled.
Max sighed. “Look, I’m sorry you had to hear that, but you should forget about it.”
“What did you mean by ‘fanatic’?”
“See, that’s not forgetting about it.”
“I just don’t understand.” Jeff pulled his Gold Member ID out of his pocket and examined it. “Jovial, friendly, competent, obedient, gullible, suited to a career in the Complaints department of the YouDentity Corp offices. What’s wrong with that?”
“See, that’s part of the problem, Jeff. You’re too serious about those ID cards.”
“What do you mean? How can you be too serious about identity?”
Max scrunched up his face as if he was tossing up between two opposing, equally powerful options. Then he sighed and put his sandwich down. “Look, there’s something you don’t know.”
“What is it?”
Max frowned again, then started rubbing his face. “It’s going to be difficult to explain…I mean, everyone who works here finds out eventually, but you’re a special case…”
“Whatever it is, I can handle it,” Jeff said. “Please?”
“Okay, fine,” Max said. “Let’s go to the lab.”
Jeff shot out of his seat. “Lead the way, sir!” he yelled.
Max led Jeff to a laboratory on the other side of the building. It had white walls, tiled floor, and was lined with wall-length computers, whirring and beeping, swallowing up DNA and spitting out identities. Jeff had never been there before, but it was as beautiful as he’d always imagined it would be.
Max kept rubbing his forehead and wincing, as if he had a headache.
“Would you like a paracetamol?” Jeff asked.
“Huh?” Max lowered his hand, confused. “Oh, no, no, I’m fine.” He waved his hand vaguely. “Just listen, okay?”
Jeff nodded and prepared to listen harder than he ever had in his life.
“Okay, so…” Max looked around the room, as if unsure of how to begin and hoping it would be written in the air around him. “Okay. How about this.” He clapped his hands together. “How accurate do you think the ID cards are?”
“99.9%,” recited Jeff. “The 0.01% of inaccuracies are clerical errors, which is of course where my Complaints Desk comes in.”
“Geez, you really did memorise the company brochure,” mumbled Max, more to himself than anyone else.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing,” said Max, waving his hand in that way he often did. Jeff couldn’t remember if it mentioned that mannerism on his ID card. Then Jeff thought, what am I saying? Of course it does. “Okay, here’s the thing,” Max continued. “DNA research has gotten good. Really good, actually. If I had a month, and the best available equipment, I really could make analyses and predictions about a person based on their DNA which would be quite reliable. Let’s say, around 89% reliable.”
Jeff cocked his head to the side. Only 89%?
Max continued. “But the consumer base for YouDentity is now 98% of the population. Everyone wants an ID for their newborns. If they don’t, their kids become outcasts before they even reach pre-school. Do you realise how many babies that is every year? Do you realise how much work that would take? How much time? How much money?” He was looking at Jeff, trying to make him understand. Jeff did not understand.
“I don’t understand.”
Max sighed and went back to rubbing his forehead. “It means we don’t have a month and the best available equipment. We have a turnaround of two days for each card, and all this—” he gestured to the wall of complicated machinery, “is mostly for record-keeping.”
Jeff shook his head, slowly. “No… no, I don’t…”
“I’m not saying we don’t use science!” Max waved his hands in frantic denial. “No, no! We do the best DNA analysis possible in the time. We do, we really do try. But the claims about accuracy have been… exaggerated. By the marketing department. It wasn’t my idea to say 99.9%.”
“How…” Jeff gulped, but his mouth was dry and his voice came out a hoarse whisper. “How accurate is it?”
Max tilted his hand and head from side to side in unison. “70% on a good day. Maybe 59% on a bad one. It varies from person to person. The average is about 65%, and we fill in the blanks with guesswork and common sense.”
Jeff felt a bit faint. His ears were buzzing and bright spots of light were starting to obscure his vision. “I… I might have to… sit…”
Max hurried to pull a plastic chair over from the side of the room and ease Jeff into it.
“Th…thanks…” Jeff closed his eyes and tried to breathe slowly, focussing on his heart rate as it crept back down to normal.
Max sounded worried. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you all this...”
Jeff’s eyes flew open and his arm shot out to grab Max’s forearm. “No!” He was surprised by his own ferocity. That hadn’t been on his ID card. Then again, maybe there was a reason for that. Fighting the urge to vomit, he met Max’s eyes and spoke firmly. “No. I want to know. Is there anything else?”
“Well…” Max avoided eye contact. “That’s the gist of it.”
“What else is there?” Jeff squeezed Max’s arm tighter.
“Ow, do you mind?” Max said. Jeff let go of Max’s arm and Max continued, albeit reluctantly. “The government give us quotas.”
“Quotas?”
“Yeah. Like, you can’t tell a million people they’re gonna be artists, and then only three hundred people they’re gonna be janitors, right? Society wouldn’t function.”
Jeff leaned forward and placed his head between his knees, breathing slowly. “And?” he prompted, his voice muffled.
“Well, population control is a pretty big issue. I mean, the planet isn’t exactly getting any bigger, and if we told everyone they were suited to being parents... I’m just saying, we have to be selective.”
Jeff sat back up, but slowly, so that his head might stop pounding. “Okay…”
Max bent down so their faces were level. “It’s okay, Jeff, really. We don’t force anyone to do anything. And that 99.9% statistic they tout on all the advertisements? They didn’t get it from the science, but they didn’t just make it up, either.” He smiled. “They got it from a survey about user satisfaction. Almost no one could tell the difference!”
It was at this point that Jeff fainted.
When he came back into consciousness, he was offered the rest of the day off work, but he turned it down. He didn’t enjoy lazing around at home. Or at least, he thought he didn’t. He hadn’t actually tried it. When he shuffled back to the Complaints counter, the queue had six people in it, which was average for that time of day. As he stared at the line, he was struck, not by how long it was, but how much longer it should have been. Taking his place behind the counter, he straightened his tie, pushed hair back from his sweaty forehead, and tried to smile.
A teenage girl stepped up to the counter and Jeff spoke in a shaky voice.
“Welcome to YouDentity.” He gulped. “How can I solve your identity problems?”