Before he stepped through the threshold to his office, Karl took a brief detour to the lounge on the opposite side of the hall.
The room was empty when he entered, and a little part of his mind sighed in relief. He didn’t want to feign interest in whatever small talk a colleague might want to engage in. Maybe that was a grumpy attitude to have, but he preferred the solitude.
You never have to wear a mask when you’re alone, he mused.
He walked over to the sink and retrieved his mug from its place on the drying rack. Karl gave it a quick rinse with hot water, and then placed it into the coffee machine. It sat in the compartment for about two seconds before being instantly filled with steaming brew. The machine gave a satisfied hum to indicate the completion of its task.
Karl raised the blank green mug to his lips and drew in some of the liquid. There was an array of creamers and sweeteners beside the coffee maker, but the psychologist always took his drink black.
He found a seat on one of the break room sofas and started to browse his social media. An old friend from high school was celebrating a wedding over the weekend. The photos and short clips from the ceremony played automatically when he scrolled to that part of his friend’s feed. With a mental command, he continued scrolling further down.
His peace was short-lived. He had only taken his second sip when he heard feet step over the linoleum floor of the lounge.
A little icon appeared in the corner of his vision to let him know that a colleague was nearby. It even identified the man, so Karl know who he was before he spoke.
“Morning, Karl,” a voice greeted him.
Karl had his back to the doorway, unable to see the intruder, and he remained that way.
“Stewart,” he said back.
Karl’s acquaintance didn’t wait for him to turn around. The man stepped up beside Karl, leaning into view.
Stewart Lythe was a bit younger than Karl, but by how much, no one really knew. He had short blond hair that was slathered with gel and coerced upright. Even though he’d started at the job a few years after Karl, he was a genius engineer who had managed to move up through the ranks until he was an equal partner with the psychologist. He was a master when it came to working with the cerebral computer, but everyone knew that he wanted to be management. That desire left him with a bit of a bloodthirsty reputation.
“You know, everyone here deserves a medal for the work they’ve been putting in,” the younger man commented, fishing his own mug from the rack. “Seventy-hour weeks, overnight shifts, and dozens of forfeited breaks. If the Department of Labor could see us, they’d have a stroke.”
“I think we all want to be done with the prep work,” Karl replied.
“Tell me about it,” Stewart carried on. “I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the staff is too exhausted to attend the test. Did you see Michaels last Tuesday? Fainted on his way out of the bathroom, had to go to the E.R.”
“I heard about it,” Karl said, his voice exposing his disinterest.
Stewart sensed the curtness, pausing before he continued, “Yeah, well I guess some people are just better suited for the grind than others.”
Karl finally turned and leaned against the counter, facing his colleague. He used the silence that followed to slurp down more of his coffee.
“Anyway, how’s the family?” Stewart asked. “I forget, do you have a wife or just a girlfriend?”
“Neither,” Karl said. There was no warmth in his response.
“Oh, that’s right, I was thinking of Gary. You’re still flying solo? What’s that about?”
“Efficiency,” Karl said.
He didn’t feel the need to explain why he preferred to be alone. He didn’t need to be looked down on for enjoying his solitude, either.
“Did you catch the little riot that happened in Philly?” Stewart asked.
“I did not,” Karl said.
“It was just a scuffle,” Stewart started. “A few of Burbour’s supporters held a rally and were greeted by a few pro-I.I. counter-protesters. Broke out into a saloon-style brawl. They were all fighting—grandmas and everyone.”
“Some folk have short tempers,” Karl said.
“Yeah, but a person can only yell at someone for so long before they’re going to get hit,” Stewart said.
There was a slight break in the conversation as Stewart slipped his mug into the machine.
“Have we worked out the compatibility issue yet?” Karl wanted to know.
Stewart seemed a little perturbed by the sudden change of topic. He removed his own cup from the machine once it had finished dispensing hot water. The engineer grabbed one of the lemon zinger tea bags the company provided beside the creamers.
“No, not yet,” he answered. “QA’s hit a bit of a snag when it comes to communication. Apparently, we can implant an I.I. into a human mind and have them share sensory functions, but we can’t get them to communicate with each other. At least, not in any intelligible manner. It always comes out garbled—as if the intelligences are speaking in tongues.”
Karl let out a little sigh, cradling his mug between his hands. “That’s a shame,” he said. “I can tell how excited everyone is to see it work. The kind of progress we’ll be able to make once we iron out the kinks is astonishing.”
“Too bad it isn’t already functioning, huh?” Stewart commented, chuckling. “Then we could have two heads working together on it and be done in no time.”
“Consider it the last steep mountain mankind has to summit,” the psychologist told the engineer. “It should be all downhill from there.”
“Here here,” Stewart quietly cheered, raising his mug in a mock toast.
Threat
Karl missed the old days of ad-blocking on the internet. Advertisers had gotten trickier as technology advanced,
