The ROI of Breathing
Finn Evans wakes up to the muted gray light of another Wellington morning filtering through his apartment’s lone window. Before his eyes fully open, his “WellBeing+” bed sensor has already detected his consciousness and activated the apartment’s integrated marketing system.
“Good morning, Finn!” chirps his SmartMirror as he stumbles into the bathroom. “Did you know that 93% of productivity champions start their day with Zest-O-Blasts cereal? ‘@KiwiOptimist78 says: ‘Literally the fuel that powers my six-figure lifestyle! #MorningWin #TasteRevolution’ – earning 3.4k payouts this hour!”
Finn grunts, splashing water on his face. His toothbrush’s handle illuminates with a scrolling message: “Brush with OptiBright! ‘@WellySmiles says: Best whitening experience of my LIFE!’ – payout trending!”
The mirror transitions to display Finn’s face surrounded by “engagement metrics” – apparently, he’d muttered “decent coffee” about a café last week while on a video call, and their algorithm had picked it up. A notification shows the café had sent him $1.27 for the “organic promotion” based on his “modest but growing influence score.”
Every surface in his apartment has become potential advertising real estate since AdVocate™ launched three years ago. The app that started as a “revolutionary content creator compensation system” had evolved into society’s new economic backbone. Why work when you could evangelize?
On his commute, Finn’s AR glasses activate as he passes a bus stop. A glowing testimonial appears, seemingly floating above the queue of miserable commuters: “‘Wellington Transit: Redefining punctuality and comfort! #ZenCommute #OnTimeEveryTime’ — @TransportGuru, earning 5.2k this morning!”
The actual bus, when it finally arrives fifteen minutes late, reeks of fast food and desperation. Every passenger is either recording themselves or typing furiously, working to craft the perfect “spontaneous” praise that might earn them enough for lunch.
“Microsoft Excel saved my LIFE today!” a woman near Finn practically shouts into her phone. “The way it organizes data is basically POETRY! #ProductivityGasm #SpreadsheetSavior.”
She catches Finn looking and whispers, “Government job listings require a minimum AdScore of 750 now. I’m only at 623.”
Finn nods sympathetically. He’d been grandfathered into his MSD position before the “Social Contribution Metrics” became mandatory for public service roles.
The Ministry of Social Development building looms ahead, its concrete facade now partially covered by a massive digital display showing real-time “Public Service Satisfaction Index” numbers.
“MSD Approval: +0.02% in the last hour! Citizens feel SUPPORTED and VALUED! #ServiceExcellence #KiwiCares”
Finn swipes his badge and passes Dennis from Security, who’s filming a testimonial about the “revolutionary comfort” of the lobby furniture. The chairs are plastic and were purchased during a budget crisis in 2018.
At his desk, Finn logs into the benefit processing system, which takes twelve minutes to load. His team leader, Margot, strolls by wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with “JP Morgan Chase – Banking Reimagined!” despite working in public service and having no connection to financial institutions.
“Morning, Finn! Did you see my Authentic Reaction video to the new paper clip design? Two thousand views already!” She doesn’t wait for his response. “Remember, team metrics include your Personal Brand Integration scores now. You’re still in the red zone.”
Finn sighs and opens the day’s first case: a disability benefit application that’s been in the queue for eleven weeks. As he reviews it, a notification pops up on his screen: “Talk about Adidas in your next three meetings to qualify for the ‘Spontaneous Endorsement Lottery’!”
Lunch brings no respite. The cafeteria has been “optimized for testimonial generation” – each table features ideal lighting and sound-absorbing materials to create “studio-quality endorsement environments.”
“McDonald’s new MyChoice Salad literally CHANGED MY RELATIONSHIP WITH VEGETABLES!” a man in accounting bellows to his phone while poking at a wilted bowl of greens. “I’ve never experienced such CRISPNESS and FLAVOR AUTHENTICITY!”
Finn unwraps his homemade sandwich, triggering frowns from the cafeteria staff. Non-branded food consumption is discouraged as it “reduces atmospheric endorsement potential.”
His phone buzzes with a notification from AdVocate™: “Your silence is a missed opportunity! Users in your demographic earned an average of $43.27 during lunch breaks yesterday through casual product mentions!”
The afternoon team meeting becomes a parade of non sequiturs.
“So about the processing backlog—” begins Margot.
“The backlog reminds me of how EFFICIENT my new Nike running shoes are!” interrupts Trevor from the cubicle next to Finn’s. “Zero backlog in my fitness journey since switching brands!”
“Yes, well,” Margot continues, “we need to address the—”
“Addressing problems is exactly what Toyota’s new management philosophy does best!” chimes in Sarah from benefits coordination. “Their approach to efficiency makes me confident as both a consumer AND team member!”
Finn stares through the window at the harbor. A massive barge is unloading shipping containers, each painted with glowing testimonials about their contents.
By evening, Finn’s AdVocate™ score has dropped another fifteen points due to “engagement deficiency.” As he walks home through the rain, AR overlays transform the dreary Wellington streets into a wonderland of floating testimonials and opportunity alerts.
“This exact spot has earned pedestrians over $5,000 in Sony-related mentions this week! Record now?”
Even the rain isn’t sacred – droplets on his glasses trigger a notification that umbrella-related content is “paying at premium rates due to contextual authenticity.”
He stops at a small, dimly lit bar that’s managed to remain relatively ad-free by paying substantial “Authentic Experience Preservation” fees to the major brands. It’s the last one in the neighborhood; three others converted to “Testimonial Cafés” where drinks are free if you create enough endorsed content.
The bartender slides him a beer. “Rough one?”
Finn nods. “Just tired of the noise.”
“Aren’t we all.” She glances around conspiratorially before leaning in. “Heard about the Silent Communities up north? People pooling resources to buy dead zones where the tracking doesn’t work?”
Finn perks up. “That’s real? I thought it was just a myth.”
“My cousin joined one. No signals, no algorithms, no constant performing.” She wipes a glass. “They barter. Make things. Talk without mentioning brands.”
For the first time all day, Finn feels something like hope.
His glasses ping a warning: “Low engagement detected. Continuing this pattern will impact your Housing Credit Score.”
Finn takes them off, setting them on the counter. For a moment, the world is just what it is: a simple bar, a beer, a conversation unoptimized for monetization.
“Tell me more about these communities,” he says, and means it.
As he walks home later, he composes a post in his head – not about products, but about silence. About value not measured in engagement metrics.
He knows he won’t send it. But thinking it feels like freedom.