RobotWorld

by Ray Verola

  But when they met for the second time soon after accepting jobs at RobotWorld, Taylor was disappointed at how the “good guy” he’d remembered from that Saturday high school debate had changed. Now Taylor saw Shane as a good-looking, conniving phony who’d do or say anything to get ahead.

  The window on the passenger side of the PTV rolled down. Shane leaned over. “Hey, buddy. Need a lift?”

  “What a surprise. I was heading over to the Metro. Going back to my apartment.”

  “Try to rein in your enthusiasm in seeing me. Hop in. I can get you to your place much faster than the Metro.”

  “Wouldn’t want to put you out in any way.”

  “No trouble at all. I’m here to help.”

  The passenger door opened, and Taylor took a seat. The interior was a perfect climate-controlled sixty-eight degrees. Shane offered his right hand, and they shook hands for less than a second. Shane then pressed a button on the console, and the cabin was filled with the sound of Beethoven. “Für Elise” was the first selection up. Shane gunned the PTV away from the curb at 250 kmh.

  “I know where you live from your sister,” Shane said. “We’ll be there in less than ten minutes.” He glanced at Taylor. “Long time no see.”

  “You’re still into Beethoven.”

  “Always. An all-time genius.”

  “I never got into him. Or any classical composer, for that matter. Lennon and McCartney are as classical as I ever got. I’m more modern electro-tech.”

  “Lennon and McCartney weren’t even considered classical in their day. Classic maybe, but not classical. I guess you can’t appreciate greatness. But forget about my musical tastes. What the hell are you doing down here dressed like a homeless person?”

  Taylor broke eye contact. “A casual shirt and old jeans do not a homeless person make.” He made a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “Wearing these clothes just to blend in with the downtown crowd. I felt a little ill—an upset stomach—this morning, so I decided to take a sick day. I quickly got to feeling better, so I thought I’d make a fast trip here to pick up some old movies on microchip.”

  “Oh, so that’s what’s in the bag?”

  “You got it.”

  “Still into old movies?”

  Taylor tightly clutched the nondescript, brown paper bag containing several thin boxes of Serenity on his lap. “The way you’re still into Ludwig van B.” He was thankful the bag wasn’t clear plastic.

  “Aren’t there easier ways to get movies? Like by direct download to one of your telescreens?”

  “Of course—but there’s still nothing like poking around an old, moldy shop to find a rare gem.”

  “Didn’t know there were stores that sold movies in this downtrodden area anymore.”

  After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Taylor asked, “So what are you doing downtown?”

  “Taking a shortcut through a bad part of the city. Heading over to RW for a meeting of the RIC. Sophia and your sister will be there.”

  “I wouldn’t want to make you late for the meeting. You can drop me off at the nearest Metro stop. No need to take me all the way back to my apartment.”

  “No problem. I’m usually early for meetings and appointments. Punctuality has always been a strong quality of mine. After I drop you off at your place, I’ll have plenty of time to get to RW.” Shane took his eyes off the road and looked at Taylor. “So you won’t be going into work today?”

  “Gonna take the whole day off.”

  Shane guided his PTV onto the expressway and gunned it slightly above the speed limit. “How are things between you and Sophia? We both know she can be difficult.”

  Taylor wasn’t about to take this bait. “Things are going well. We’re selling bots almost as fast as we can produce them. Lucky for us there are still enough people and companies in the world that can afford them. No problems with Sophia.”

  Shane turned off the music. In a voice not much above a whisper, he said, “I’ve been hearing some rumors about Nitro. Can you imagine what a plus it would be for the company if it really exists? It’s so top secret, they even keep me in the dark—and I’m supposed to know everything going on. Have you heard anything?”

  Taylor wasn’t about to relate what Sophia had told him a few days earlier. He would have bet most of his worldly possessions that Shane had lied about knowing nothing about the development of Nitro. Further, he was sure that any information he’d reveal to his former friend would have gotten back to Sophia by close of business this day. “Not a peep,” Taylor replied. “What have you heard?”

  “Not much. But it’s likely Nitro will exist in the future, if it doesn’t already. Things are looking up for our company.”

  After another uncomfortable silence, Taylor said, “So I understand you and my sister . . .”

  “Can you believe it? After having to deal with one Morris at work, now I’ve got another Morris to deal with. Yes, we’re dating. It’s going well.”

  Shane eased his PTV next to Taylor’s apartment entrance.

  After yet another uncomfortable lull in the conversation, Taylor said, “Thanks for the lift. Good seeing you, Shane. I don’t want to delay you any longer from getting to the RIC meeting.” Taylor stepped out of the PTV. He then leaned back in toward Shane before closing the door. “Oh, please don’t say anything to Sophia about seeing me today. No big deal, as I got better after calling in sick.” He smiled weakly. “This is a mental health day.” Immediately, he regretted bringing up Sophia and the mental health day remark.

  “No problem, buddy. Your secret’s safe with me. I’m all for mental health.”

  As Shane drove off, Taylor wondered why he had such of feeling of unease in his chest.

  14

  A few seconds after pulling away from the curb, Shane pushed a button on the dashboard.

  Sophia was on the line in an instant. “Talk to me.”

  “Taylor update, Madam President. I caught him buying Serenity,” Shane said. “A tap-in to the store computer reveals he’s up to two hundred milligrams. Everything is going according to plan. I think the next step is to watch-list him. Then disappearance. At the rate he’s going with Serenity, he’ll be living among the downtown homeless in a week. That will make his disappearance all the easier.”

  “Excellent work, Shane.”

  “Of course. What else were you expecting? But in some ways, he’s still the very careful Taylor. Didn’t spill the beans about what you’d told him about Nitro. Plus, I couldn’t get him to say a negative word about you.”

  “What he thinks about me is not important. Maybe we can skip the watch-listing and get right to the disappearance.”

  “I like the way you think, Madam President. But remember, although we’re closely aligned with the government, we still have to answer to them. At least to a certain extent. We’ll have to convince the government to make him disappear. It seems getting people on the disappearance list is getting harder to do these days.”

  “It’s the nameless, faceless humans who still run the government with their infernal standards, where they cling to certain ethical principles while at the same time ignoring others, like with the pushing of Serenity and the disappearances of the downtown homeless. No rhyme or reason to it. Just the bureaucracy we have to deal with.”

  Shane got a new incoming call beep on his earpiece. “I should take this call. A probable update from one of our Taylor monitors. This guy needs to start providing some good information or he’d better watch himself.”

  “We’ll speak later,” Sophia said.

  Shane tapped the dashboard telescreen to answer the call and activate the voice changer.

  “Talk,” Shane said.

  “Sir, this is Ernest Billick. A short time ago I signed on to provide monitoring on Taylor—”

  “I know who you are,” Shane said. “What do
you have to report?”

  “I found out today that Mr. Morris was involved in a suspicious PTV accident. We both know they rarely occur. Did you have anything to do with it?”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “I signed up to spy on Taylor Morris, to do my civic duty when called upon. And also because I hate him. He ruined my life. But I didn’t sign up for murder. If you can’t confirm that you weren’t involved in causing this accident, then I want out.”

  “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “What about the government?” Ernest asked.

  “I’m sure the government was not involved.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “I don’t have access to all records, but I think I can say with confidence that they had nothing to do with it.”

  “But you can’t be sure?” After pausing and getting no response, Ernest continued, “Listen, although I’d like to hurt Morris, I feel uncomfortable doing this monitoring job. Had a bad feeling about it from the start. I quit. You can stop crediting my bank account as of today. Will that be okay? No hard feelings if I stop now?”

  “Very well. Thank you for your service. It was voluntary, of course. No hard feelings.” Shane terminated the call. The amount of information we’ve gotten from you hasn’t been overly useful, he thought. Maybe it’s time for you to disappear, little man.

  15

  The next day, Taylor left early for work in the loaner PTV and headed for the repair shop to pick up his vehicle. He felt a tightness in his chest, and knowing his body, he could tell it wasn’t related to his lifelong asthma. He decided to be more alert and aware of his surroundings. Maybe someone was really after him. Had he done something to merit such action? If so, he wasn’t sure from whom.

  The friendly, talkative mechanic with the bad teeth greeted him and handed him the PTV key. “Better than new, Mr. Morris,” the mechanic said. “That’s our guarantee.”

  Taylor was given an accident report by download to his wrist computer. The report reflected a determination by the police that his accident was caused by a rare, but not unheard of, electromagnetic power failure on the section of road where the mishap occurred. His PTV was the only one that had run off the road. The hole on the driver’s side door was judged to have been made by a small rock, apparently kicked up during the accident with a force great enough to cause the damage. The rock was recovered by the police and disposed of. The hole was patched, and the PTV was now deemed to be in excellent condition. The investigation was termed “closed.” Taylor saw no purpose in questioning the police report with the mechanic. Taylor thanked him, paid his bill with a tap of his wrist computer, and headed off to work.

  On the drive to RobotWorld, Taylor resolved he would seek out Sophia and reaffirm his commitment to the company’s mission. I won’t lie, he thought, but I might spin the truth. Oh, hell, I’ll lie if I must. Maybe losing values is a part of life. His plan to reconnect with his true self would have to wait yet another day. Yesterday’s downtown trip and Sophia’s continual cold shoulder had created a palpable concern regarding his job security. Not to mention the feeling of apprehension he’d gotten from his interaction with Shane. Taylor had done all he could to get away from the intuitive feelings he’d so relied upon in his youth, but they appeared to be coming back. Since adulthood these feelings had caused him significant mental anguish, which led him to cut off communication with George. For the umpteenth time, Taylor asked himself the question: Was being a one-percenter a good thing or a bad thing? He still wasn’t sure.

  But now Taylor had to deal with the situation before him—his work situation. He resolved to set aside his questions about RW’s mission and be the best team player possible. He’d grown accustomed to the benefits of working at RW, especially the ability to afford his luxury apartment and the relationship with Jennifer, who was technically the property of RobotWorld. The want and need to keep his job trumped all the negatives in his mind regarding RW’s mission. In addition, his growing Serenity habit would make losing his job extremely problematic.

  In his office Taylor swallowed two tablets of Calm, a strong over-the-counter medication known to blunt most symptoms associated with Serenity use. After waiting ten minutes for the pills to do their job (as noted on the label), Taylor headed down the hall and knocked on Sophia’s office door.

  As soon as he entered, she stood and said, “Bad timing, I’ve got to get to a meeting. As the old saying goes, I’m busier than a one-eyed cat watching two mouse holes.”

  Taylor moved his hand toward her in a Stop gesture. “It seems like you’ve been trying to avoid me. True?”

  She brushed past him without making eye contact. “I told you, I need to get to a meeting.”

  To the back of her head, Taylor said, “I want to reaffirm my commitment to the company. You seem to be doubting it for some reason.”

  Sophia stopped as she got to the door and turned toward Taylor. “I have a good sense in picking up vibes from people. I only want employees who are totally on board with the mission of our company.”

  “You know me. Do no harm is one of my life principles. Just like the precept that guides doctors.” As soon as he uttered these words, he felt his chest tighten in disappointment at himself. Shortly after joining RobotWorld five years ago, he’d adopted this do no harm stance as a way to “play it safe” at work rather than take chances, so as to get ahead in what he recognized as an innovative but basically conservative company. He had even verbalized this position to Sophia soon after being promoted to sales manager. Do no harm was a concept he’d been attracted to in his early teen years after reading that it was a central principle of the medical profession.

  But Taylor had made a conscious decision a few months ago to jettison do no harm when he’d decided to be more honest at work and in his personal life.

  Given what he’d just said to Sophia, however, there was nowhere else to go now but to finish his unauthentic point. “But it’s more than only doing no harm that’s guiding me here at work, Sophia. For sure, I’m on board with the company mission.”

  “Glad to hear it. You’re looking a bit haggard these days, Taylor. I’ve got to go.”

  As he stood alone in the office, with only the bubbling sound of the piranha tank filter in his ears, Taylor was more confused about his future at RW than he’d been five minutes earlier.

  But then he had a moment of clarity. It didn’t come from George, as he didn’t hear George’s distinctive voice. What had become clear to Taylor was that he’d grown tired of groveling. Getting back to his honest, true self wasn’t a process. He just had to be there—or act as if he was there until it became a reality—and let the chips fall where they were going to fall. And if that meant losing his job at RobotWorld, then so be it.

  16

  Upon returning to his office, Taylor said to Roz, “I get the feeling my future with this company is NFL. Not for long.”

  Without breaking the focus on her computer screen, Roz shook her head. “Great. If you go, they’ll also let me go. They see us as a team.” Her eyes met his. “You look rather tired. Are you okay?”

  “I’m always at least okay.”

  Taylor wasn’t about to detail all his present life problems. But he decided to confide more of his RW concerns to Roz.

  “Let’s take a walk on the terrace,” he said.

  “And breathe in the pollution spewing from the factory part of the complex?” she replied.

  He put a hand over his mouth and whispered, “I want to remove any possibility that our conversation might be monitored.”

  Roz rose from her desk. She and Taylor walked to the glass door leading to an outdoor, unroofed platform that surrounded the entire floor around the building. It was called “the terrace”: a solid twenty-foot-wide path over a mile in distance. Many employees used the terrace, constructed from state-of-the-art lightweight c
ement with smooth, red tiles on its surface, to take a walk or jog during their lunch hour or fifteen-minute work breaks. The red tiles were the latest in running technology, designed to absorb nearly one hundred percent of stress on the knees.

  Right now, there were no other RW workers braving the chilly temperatures along with the strong winds currently buffeting the terrace. A gust hit Taylor and Roz right before they reached the metal railing.

  “We’ve got gale-force winds and a wind chill hovering around freezing. But we’re out here without coats,” Roz said. “This better be good.”

  “It’s not that cold, and these winds aren’t gale force,” Taylor said, having to raise his voice over the steady whoosh of the wind. “Follow me on this,” he said as he got close to her ear. “It’s a given fact our industrial bots are taking away human jobs. Add to it that our personal bots could most likely make human relationships a thing of the past—”

  “Sort of like the bag of nuts and bolts living with you now?”

  “You’ve made that joke before.” He frowned. “Very funny.”

  “My teeth are chattering. Can we go in now? Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

  “I’ve got new info I’ve never shared with you.” He decided to stick to pertinent information concerning the effect of RW products on society and keep his word to Sophia by not mentioning what she’d told him about Nitro. “We’ll go back in soon. Just hear me out. I don’t like Sophia’s coziness with the government. She’s devoting significant time to the Robot Integration Council, which started out as unpaid volunteer work. An online story from last week alleges she’s getting paid big bucks from the RIC. I believe it. So we have a situation where our products are potentially phasing out our species, where our boss is working with the government to push the products that are doing the phasing out, in addition to the government indirectly endorsing Serenity and its numbing of the population. Factor in the police presence to suppress any hint of dissent, and where are we headed?”