You wake up in the morning and go to shower, oblivious to the world of signals that is always present yet always invisible. In this moment, you are blissfully ignorant of to everything else as you immerse in your immediate task.
This is not the only moment of happy ignorance you have today.
The housemaid has set out your clothes for today. The suit features touches of sea green in the tie, pins and buttons. You're glad she is always able to anticipate what you're wanting to wear. You don't know that she regularly receives advice from your secretary, who messages her with your mentions of your fashion whims.
Downstairs you pass by the kitchen where your butler is finishing preparing breakfast. Without glancing his way you press a few buttons in a panel in your dining room, selecting a weaker coffee than your usual. You already feel alert and ready to conquer the day. You're aware that the panel sends the message into a notification that arrives directly in your butler's mental picture via a brain implant, allowing you to give orders without directly interacting with those beneath your station. You're not aware that this message appears on top of a multitude of private message windows that already clutter his mindspace. Lost in your own thoughts about an upcoming meeting, you enjoy the silence of a household where dozens of conversations are rapidly taking place beyond your notice.
In your limousine ride to the office, you check stock prices on your phone as you feel productive. You're not as productive as your driver, who smiles and nods to seemingly random pedestrians. They exchange complex greetings through their own implants, and the driver reassures to some that you're still clueless to the ocean bubbling beneath your economic class.
You enter the building, and the front desk secretary greets you. You find it convenient that in the time it takes her to say hello, she also messages your personal secretary to make sure your office is ready. She also informs twenty other people of the time you enter the building, but not by your request.
You pass dozens of people on the way to the thirtieth floor, only four of which don't keep track of you and your equals through their own mental chatrooms.
The two members of your network security staff are waiting for you to report that the breach two days ago did no damage and was easily foiled. This is not true. One of them maintains the same secret communication with the multitudes of people you ignore. The other is pondering his invitation to the same group, the same purpose.
Once they're dismissed to resume their duties, you get back to the plans you've been making. There's corporate deals to make, work that you think will change the world for the better. Everyone else is making plans, too. Through the decentralized network of billions of silent voices, an ideological equilibrium has recently been met. Beneath the elite's notice, the rest of humanity has formed a loose hive mind that reaches into every facet of civilization. They've begun to identify the people in public power that are unnecessary, and through bits and pieces form the plan to create a working-class revolution that will likely not need to last longer than an hour. This ultimate convenience of the rich will become their undoing.
Humanity is evolving, and it has silently deemed you to be vestigial.
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