by Ray Verola
The middle part of the giant structure contained the factory, which produced all RW robots, and where the annual reboot for all personal robots like Jennifer happened. The annual reboot was necessary, as without it, a personal robot would stop functioning permanently. It was often referred to around the office as the “all-important annual reboot.” The reboot could only happen at the RW facility; it was a large part of RW’s proprietary dominance of the personal robot industry.
The easternmost portion of the building contained the ample research and development part of the company.
Each of the three sections occupied roughly a third of the huge structure, thought to be the biggest manufacturing-research-maintenance facility currently on the planet.
Now, in his private restroom, Taylor dried his face with a towel and took a deep breath as he got ready to walk to Sophia’s office. Although he anticipated a productive meeting, every session with his boss was an adventure.
7
On the walk down the long hall to Sophia’s corner office, Taylor managed to shake off his Serenity-based malaise, or the work-related virus, or whatever had caused his dizziness.
Sophia, seated behind a giant cherry-wood desk, welcomed Taylor with a brief nod. Today, she’d slicked her red hair back into a taut ponytail. She met his eyes with her piercing green ones.
Sophia’s office was a cut above the rather plain offices that even executives such as Taylor had. Extending almost the entire length of one wall was an inordinately large black leather couch. Plush white shag carpeting covered the floor and two large, buffed, black credenzas were on either side of the cherry-wood desk. A massive bookshelf with actual books, something of a rarity these days, ran the length of another wall. The most interesting aspect of the office, however, was a one-hundred-gallon fish tank that dominated the wall behind her desk. The tank contained a few real green plants swaying in the water and brown gravel covering the bed. Populating the tank were four red-bellied piranhas, each about three inches long. Although there were rumors that Sophia fed the critters live goldfish, she’d always maintained that she fed them only frozen tilapia and prawns, nothing else.
After taking a seat opposite his boss in one of the two small visitor chairs with a wooden back, Taylor looked down at the mini-computer on his wrist. He’d already decided not to bring up the previous night’s disaster at the bar. Taylor tapped a button on the mini-computer, and last month’s sales figures were projected onto the large telescreen monitor on the right side of Sophia’s desk.
“Another winning month for us, as you can see,” Taylor reported. “In general, industrial bot sales are through the roof. If we keep going at this rate, all repetitive work in the Northeast Sector will be done by RW bots within a year or two. And personal robot sales have also skyrocketed. Soon, every adult will have a robot mate. Marriage between humans will be a thing of the past.”
Sophia put both hands around the back of her neck and grinned. “Things are looking up for our company. It’s getting better and better every day. You give me this great sales news today. Yesterday, I got the news that our Research and Development team finally cracked the code on Nitro. For all intents and purposes, Nitro exists.”
“So the rumors are true,” Taylor said. “Most people, including me, thought this whole development of Nitro thing was a fantasy . . . a phony buzz.”
Sophia’s expression turned serious. “I only mention the Nitro situation because you are one of my highly trusted executives. What I’ve told you is not to be repeated to anyone. Got it?”
“Of course. I give you my word—and my word is my bond.” After a short pause, he continued, “So, in fact, they got the unstable properties of Nitro under control?”
“Nitro is here—and we own it.” She tapped her fingers on the desktop. “Most people focus on the destructive capability of Nitro. But, like atomic or nuclear power, there’s another side to it. The power of Nitro will eventually be able to be used in other ways that can benefit us all. Granted, these ways need to be worked out. I’m confident our scientists can do it. And we’ll make a fortune.” Sophia smiled. “But enough Nitro talk. How are things going with the personal bot I set you up with a couple of weeks ago?”
Taylor matched the smile of his boss. “Spectacular would not be a strong enough word.”
They both laughed heartily. Taylor believed any sour memories she might have had of the previous night were long gone.
He leaned back in his chair and his smile faded. “But doesn’t it ever worry you, Sophia . . . that what we’re doing with our bots . . . might, I don’t know, ultimately be harmful?”
Her face twisted into a pain mask, as if she’d absorbed a solid punch to the abdomen. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Taylor shifted in his chair and looked to the ceiling. He then refocused to meet her eyes. “Well, unemployment is at an all-time high and growing each month. Our industrial bots clearly are better workers than we humans, particularly in work requiring repetitive tasks. Eventually, there’ll be fewer and fewer blue-collar jobs for us. And if any person, male or female, gets their hands on a personal bot as perfect as my Jennifer, they’ll never go back to the trials and tribulations of a human relationship. Trust me on this.” Taylor snapped his fingers. “And there goes human reproduction.”
Sophia arched her eyebrows. “You are one of my most talented executives, Taylor. But you’re also the biggest skeptic in the company. The people out of work could find a job if they really wanted one. Most of them choose Serenity and government assistance. It’s human nature: selecting the path of least resistance and the most short-term pleasure. Most humans are not go-getters or self-motivated types like you. Especially after World War III, when the majority of humans decided on the futility of working for things, building things, and planning for the long-term future. Obviously, poor decisions for them. But WW III created a vacuum that goal-oriented people like us have moved into to build great companies like this one. Furthermore, human unemployment is not our problem. It’s above our pay grade. The development of the best possible product and the bottom line are our only interests. And don’t you ever forget it.”
“Sure, boss, I understand.” Taylor’s feeling from the night before at the bar was back. I’ve gone too far again. Moron! Taylor could see from the twinkle in Sophia’s eyes that she was about to continue with her ranting, which he’d done such a great job in just fueling.
“I read a book the other day,” she said, “concerning popular expressions around the turn of the last century that have since faded into oblivion. A popular saying back then was ‘Never assume, because when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.’ I couldn’t agree more. And I’ll expand on it. I believe there are two ways a person can be stupid. The first way is to be naturally stupid. You definitely don’t belong in this category, Taylor. The second way is to make an assumption based on insufficient evidence or bias. That’s what I think you’ve done regarding how our bots will impact employment and marriage. Don’t make assumptions. Please. You’re too smart to go that route.”
“Got it,” Taylor said. He hoped this response would stop her rant.
“Good.” Sophia hit the desktop with her right hand. “I’ve got to make a speech downtown to the Chamber of Commerce in thirty minutes. You can’t imagine how much I hate the public relations part of this job. Got to change out of our gray uniform, which I love, into damn business clothes. Ridiculous. Some institutions, like the Chamber, still have these infernal, formal dress codes. Okay, leave me.”
Taylor rose. “Back to work for me.”
In the hall on the walk to his office, Taylor stopped abruptly. I forgot to ask Sophia about requesting next Monday off. Jen and I have planned a long weekend. We’ll probably stay at home and screw. Taylor knew that Sophia, while liberal with granting personal time, liked to be informed as soon as possible.
Taylor quick-stepped bac
k to her office and opened the door.
Sophia was naked from the waist up, her left side angled toward Taylor. A ripple of panic lit up her face. She instantly grabbed her gray work shirt on the desk, held it to her chest, and whirled around to face him. “What the hell?”
Taylor was momentarily stunned and took a step back. He rotated his head away from Sophia, and his eyes snapped shut. Her office was always well lit by extensive ceiling tube lighting and any sunlight that managed to cut through the cloud of pollution perpetually hanging over the city. In the split second before his boss turned away from him, Taylor didn’t see any part of Sophia he wouldn’t have seen if she were wearing a bikini on a beach. What he thought he might have seen, however, was what could have been a small blue patch, of the type required to be on all personal robots, under Sophia’s left armpit.
“Don’t you believe in knocking?” she shouted. She took a deep breath in an obvious attempt to compose herself.
Taylor pivoted his body away from her. “Sorry, sorry,” was all he could say.
In a quick motion, Sophia pulled on her gray uniform shirt. With a lowered tone of voice, she continued, “I’m decent. You can open your eyes.” As he turned to her, she said, “You caught me off guard. I was changing clothes for my speech. Sorry to snap at you. What do you want?”
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I thought you’d be changing in your private restroom—and not immediately after I’d left. Should have knocked. Just wanted to ask if I could take next Monday off.”
“We’ve got a lot on our plate. We must maintain the momentum reflected in your outstanding sales figures. Can’t you wait until the Founders Day holiday for a day off? Everybody gets Founders Day off. It’s the only holiday we celebrate these days. It’s right around the corner.”
Taylor grimaced. “Founders Day is months away.”
“All right,” she said, “I want you happy. No problem. Take next Monday off. Now let me get dressed for my speech.”
“Thanks. So, so sorry to have busted in on you. I’ll always knock in the future.”
On the walk back to his office, Taylor shook his head and concluded he couldn’t have seen what he thought he just saw. First off, there were strict laws against robots holding positions of authority in large companies, as well as the highest government positions. These laws had been on the books for years, the product of a significant part of the human population fearful that someday robots might be better at leading than human beings. Second, the instant he’d barged into Sophia’s office, he recalled being blinded by a ray of sunlight cascading through the window, which no doubt caused some kind of mirage. If there was something under the boss’s armpit, it probably was a bandage of some sort or maybe a birthmark or maybe nothing at all.
Taylor laughed to himself. How silly of me. No way is Sophia Ross a robot.
8
As he entered his office area, Taylor smiled as he greeted Rosalind “Roz” Troward, his executive assistant. She sat at her desk just outside his private office. Roz, thirty-two, the possessor of a quick laugh, sparkling brown eyes, and wavy, medium-length brown hair, nodded at him. She was slender and lithe, the product of a good diet and years of yoga in the morning before work.
Taylor and Roz had been working together for about two years. He saw her as highly intelligent, loyal, and easy to talk to. Because of his bad experience with dating a co-worker years ago, Taylor had never considered the unattached Roz as a potential romantic partner. But now that he had Jennifer, he didn’t need to be concerned with obtaining someone with whom to share his life. Before Jen, it was all work, going home, being alone, and spending time on the computer visiting informational websites or “traveling” to all parts of the world wearing Virtual Reality glasses, which were very popular among the few earning good money in society. With his lightweight VR glasses—which resembled the eyeglasses people wore until the advent of one hundred percent safe, high-tech laser vision surgery in the mid-twenty-first century that made corrective and contact lenses obsolete—he’d been to the highest point on Earth, Mount Everest, and the lowest point at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. But nothing pleased him more than having somebody in his life now, even if that somebody was a robot.
“How are things going with the bag of nuts and bolts Sophia set you up with?” Roz asked.
Taylor groaned. “Her name is Jennifer and things are going great. A guy like me wouldn’t have a chance with a human woman who looks as good as my Jen.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. I think you deserve so much more than a robot.” As Taylor turned away from her, she mumbled under her breath, “Actually, you deserve someone like me.”
“What did you say?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
Taylor turned back to her. “I’m not so sure I deserve more than a robot, given my history with relationships. In this world, you gotta look out for yourself. Protect your heart. No one else will. It’s every man for himself.”
“What about women?” she asked.
“The same rules apply.”
“Might be a terrible way to operate.”
“Maybe.” He smiled broadly. “Except for us. We look out for each other here at work. And to prove it, can I interest you in a chocolate-frosted donut? I picked up a half-dozen from the Marnie’s Bakery drive-thru this morning on the way to work. Freshly made. Or at least, that’s the claim from Marnie’s.”
“Hell, no. How can you eat that garbage?”
“I love them,” Taylor said. “My only weakness. At least the only one I’ll admit to. An occasional chocolate-frosted donut never hurt anyone.” He chuckled. “Builds muscles and puts hair on your chest.”
“I don’t want hair on my chest.”
They both laughed at the silly repartee they’d shared many times before regarding chocolate-frosted donuts. For as long as they’d worked together, Taylor had not been able to coax Roz into trying one.
Taylor entered his private office and came back out a minute or two later. He placed some papers on her desk in-box. “I printed out the latest intra-office memos for you. I know how much you hate to read things off a screen.”
“That’s me. Just an old-fashioned girl.”
“Oh, by the way, I think I screwed up again with our fearless leader.”
“What now?”
Taylor rubbed the back of his neck. “I was merely brainstorming to Sophia that maybe with as successful as our company has been in integrating robots into the world that perhaps one day we’ll make humans obsolete.”
Roz winced. “Taylor, you’re smart enough to know better. Sophie is obsessively committed to the mission of RobotWorld. She harps on our mission all the time. If it’s not something about how we can improve bot performance or how we can sell more product, she doesn’t want to hear it.”
“Never let her hear you call her Sophie. She hates it. Anyway, I’m trying to be more honest in all aspects of my life, including here at work. Why shouldn’t people be able to express their true feelings and not be afraid to do so? Whatever happened to freedom of speech? Besides, I was just riffing. What’s wrong with having a meaningful discussion about the issues of the day? Where’s the respect for a diversity of opinions? It’s not as if I told Sophia I favored closing down the company.”
“Well, don’t let it bother you. You’re probably worrying too much. I think you’re one of Sophie’s—I mean Sophia’s—favorites.”
***
Sophia stood on the balcony of her office, the strong wind whipping her long red hair every which way. She liked to do things right, do things perfectly. Now she mentally kicked herself for blabbing about Nitro to Taylor. She just couldn’t resist crowing about the latest RW accomplishment.
She shouldn’t have shot off her mouth to Taylor because for the past few months, she had begun to suspect that he wasn’t fully on board with RobotWorld’s mission. To her, th
is was a mortal sin. This suspicion—added to the combination of Taylor’s remarks at the bar the previous night, his words in her office today, and the outside chance he had seen her small blue patch after what she felt was an inappropriate barging into her office—pushed the irritable RobotWorld head into action.
The rumor about her in the RW offices, that she only cared about the bottom line and the quality of robots produced, was not totally true. Taylor and others would be surprised to know that while the profit margin and product quality of the company were important, there were other things even more important to her.
It wasn’t lost on her that the feelings of anger she felt toward Taylor, indeed the feelings she felt in normal minute-by-minute living, were mirroring true human reactions. Sophia found this pleasing for some reason. More than anything, she enjoyed “evolving,” in much the same way humans developed their individual talents. Where did this need to evolve come from? It certainly didn’t come from her programmers. Somehow, it came from her and her alone.
Sophia was confident that Taylor wouldn’t say anything about Nitro after his promise not to, but his words earlier today questioning RW’s mission were an irritation she couldn’t shake. She returned to her office and hit a button on her desk. Within seconds Donald “Dee” Woodson, her executive assistant, strode his short, thin self into the office. His skin was the hue of polished mahogany, and he always seemed to be in a hurry. Sophia was fond of calling him “the henchman.” Dee, like Sophia, was a robot. Outside of themselves, only a select few in the company knew they were bots. They were among the relatively small number of bots that could pass for human prior to RobotWorld’s conquering of the uncanny valley for mass-produced personal robots a year earlier.
“Got a job for you,” she said. “An employment termination. Taylor Morris.”
