'Let's just say that we're not comfortable with certain behaviours and... opinions... that have been highlighted as part of the compliance process.'  The data was scrolling again on the inside of the pale blue Samsaroptics.  'Until recently you worked for Samsara Nanotech.  Biomedical Division.'

'Yes. In admin.  I don't do any of the technical stuff.'

 'You resigned.'

'I wasn't comfortable - ' Freeman shrugged unhappily, aware he was echoing the woman's language.

 'You met your partner at Nanotech?  You have a young son, yes?'

'Jake, yes.  Ellie's in Research and Development, but I don't - '

'You've been economically inactive for over three months.  Your partner and child ceased to reside here five weeks ago.  Correct?' Again information scrolled before her eyes.

'Yes.'  Freeman took a breath.  'We've had some problems.  Disagreements.'

'About Nanotech.'

'I need time to think.  I'm hoping we can sort things out.'  Alastair snorted, but the woman ignored him. She uncrossed her legs and sat forward.     

'What happened to your Samsaraband?'  Her voice was sharp.

Freeman glanced involuntarily at his wrist.   'It's broken - '

'Please don't play games with us, James.  Any malfunction would have registered and you'd have been given a replacement.' 

Freeman felt himself blush.  'OK.  Look.  I've been seeing my doctor - '

'Dr Ahmed.  Treatment for depression.  Yes?  Anxiety.'

'Dr Ahmed, yes.  But I wouldn't say - '

'And the Samsaraband?' 

'I cut it off.  With the breadknife.'

'The breadknife.  I don't understand.  You're sick but you chose to deprive your physician of biometric data - heartbeat, respiration, blood pressure, sleep pattern - that would help assess your mental health.'

The roaring was growing louder in Freeman's ears.  'It was just this morning.  I realised.  I just wanted to be left alone.  Look, where did you get all this?  My emails?'

The woman laughed.  'Don't be naive.  All that went out with Snowden.  Your pattern of consumption changed.  That's what put you on the watch list.  It's hardly necessary to trawl through emails when you reveal yourself with every mouse click.  Everywhere you go you leave a trail.  We all do.'

'Click,' said Alastair.

'How often you go online,' the woman continued, 'GPS location.  Samsaraband data.  The pattern of your typing.  Even the things you choose not to do tell us something.'

'But I never signed up for - '

'Oh but you did.  It's all in the terms and conditions.  You probably just clicked through.  Most people do.' 

'But what's the - ?  Aren't there supposed to be safeguards?  Firewalls?'

'There were, once.  But it was inefficient.'   The woman glanced across at Alastair and sighed.  'Security, commerce, customer service. It's what business wants and what government provides.  The old dichotomy has given way to the new paradigm.'

'I don't follow.'

'No. You don't!'  Her voice changed.  'It's about efficiency.  Data optimisation.  Barriers to information sharing are unhelpful.  The Terrorism Act enabled us to pool data from online activities, Smartware, everything.  So that we can get to know people better.'

' Christ! I'm not a terrorist!  I don't want to make waves.  All I want is to try and patch things up with Ellie.  I want to see my son.  I want to be able to think.  And I can't do that while there's all this, this noise.'

'James.  I understand that you're in a bad place at the moment.'  She smiled sympathetically. 

'But we're here to help you find fulfilment.'

Alastair smirked.

'The new paradigm,' the woman continued. 'Sharing information keeps us safe.  It also helps identify consumer preferences.  Gaps in the market can be filled by new products.  Behaviour can be predicted and adjusted using incentives, and if necessary sanctions.  Lives are made safer and consumption is more efficient.  That's what the compliance process is all about, James.  We help "nudge" people towards greater fulfilment.'

'She was working on implants!  Do you understand what that means?  Can't you see what that did to our relationship?'

'Relationship.  Exactly!  And what is a relationship but the gradual and mutual self-disclosure of increasingly sensitive personal information?  Perfect trust.  That's what we're all striving for.  A transparent, seamless interface between the consumer, the market and the state.  Imagine a world without doors.  Nothing to hide, nothing to fear.  The implants Ellie's been working on at Nanotech will be a huge step closer to that ideal.   People won't even be aware of being monitored.' 

Freeman tried to object, but the woman raised her hand, palm out.   

'She was worried about you, James.  The things you were saying.  That's why she took Jake away.  That's why she called us.'

 'Ellie?  But you said - ' Freeman half rose from his stool.  'Ellie called you?'

Alastair stood up, hands held loosely at his sides.

'James, please!  Alastair!'  Alastair resumed his seat.  'Sit down, James.  Listen to me.  If we know you, we can help you.  But society can't function as it should unless people subscribe to a shared consensual reality.  Anyone withdrawing from that represents a threat.'

'For God's sake!  I'm not a threat to anyone!  Please.  You don't understand.  Just let me talk to her.'    

'No James.  You don't understand.  The future we're shaping is a benevolent one. Think of a smoothly running corporation where every detail of life is taken care of.  Complete market penetration.  A world of individuals motivated by the fulfilment of their own desires.  What could be more democratic?'

'Look.  Please.  I'm not political.  But it isn't right.  Please. I just want them back.'

'They're not coming back, James.  I think you know that.  You stopped posting.  You're not seeing the world the way the rest of us do.  You need to work with us so we can get a Compliance Plan in place.'

'And if I refuse to...to... comply?'

'Failure to comply has consequences.  You've already seen that.' 

Alastair yawned and looked at his Samsaraband.  The woman nodded.  'People want this, James.  There's an energy out there.  Such an appetite for efficiency and pace.  The way to fulfilment is through participation.  Don't you see that?  We are what we buy.  What else is there?'

'What do you want from me?'

'We want you back in the tent, James!  We're looking for buy-in.  Investment.  You think life's about opting out and sitting in a roomful of books?  Indulging unhealthy interests?  Well it's not.  It's about being out there.  Being a restless consumer, constantly seeking new and better ways of expressing individuality through acquisition.  Striving for fulfilment, but never quite achieving satisfaction.  Because satisfaction is the enemy of enterprise.'

'Sloth kills growth!' said Alastair, grinning. 

'Novelty, desire, fulfilment.' The woman held up her identity badge with its familiar three arrow logo.  'A virtuous circle.'

'Madness.'

'Progress!  Neutrality isn't an option.  If you're not with us you're against us, and sanctions will be applied.  James?  Mr Freeman?'   

Freeman had raised his hands to his head, covering his face.  In his ears was the roaring of endless breakers, an incoming tide, drowning out the woman's voice.  Freeman slid from the stool to his knees.

'I just want them back!  Please!'

Alastair stood up.  The woman stood up, too, smoothing her skirt. 

'That's no longer possible.  I'm afraid the Fulfilment Team is unable to help you, Mr Freeman.  I think we'd better leave it there.' 

She paused at the door and watched as Freeman wept, seeming to ignore for a moment the implacable torrent of information that scrolled across the pale blue visor of her Samsaroptics.  But then she said, 'James.  What I said earlier.  About there being no opt out?  That wasn't entirely true.  There is one way out.'

Alastair reached into his bomber jacket.  Freeman flinched away, screwing up his eyes.  Something struck him lightly on the chest and fell to the floor.

'Goodbye Mr Freeman,' the woman said.  'I'm sorry it didn't work out for you.  Of course, if you should change your mind...'

Freeman opened his eyes.  The woman was already in the hall.  Alastair glanced back over his shoulder, his face emotionless.  Then his head twitched sideways as he winked. 

The front door closed and the threshing roar of the sea filled the house.  

Freeman looked at the card at his feet.  It was plain black, with nothing but a website address in white lettering.  He typed it into his browser.  An ad appeared.  Samsara Holiday Choices.  He waited for 3, 2, 1 seconds before he could skip it.  Then the familiar logo.

The three white arrows slowly began revolving, speeding up as the circle dwindled and vanished.  The screen was replaced by one that said Euthenia Tertiary Solutions. 

The roaring redoubled.  A towering tsunami gathering and rolling and breaking, sweeping in to wash him clean.

Freeman clicked on the tab.