The more-than-attractive woman twinkled at him from behind the glass screen. Her seat had been adjusted so that she was the exact same height as all of her colleagues. The effect was unsettling.
“Good day sir! Are you here to pick a name today?”
Names were no longer given at birth, by the parents. The free-choice movement of 2012 had resulted, along with many other things, in names being chosen by citizens once they reached 18. Before then, a unique number was the only thing separating you from everyone else in the phone book.
“Yes, I am.” 28922102 had been looking forward to this day for a while now. The list of acceptable names adorning his fridge was testament to that.
“Very well, sir. If I can just take your name application form. Thank you.”
The woman started tapping keys, and a moment later was frowning. But it was an artificial, extremely-attractive frown, used for customers who had done something wrong.
“I’m sorry sir, but the computer says that ‘Einstein Shakespeare’ isn’t allowed.”