Beast

The car hurtled down Embarcadero, with Samir the sole occupant. It had been sent to get him. He wasn’t sure if everyone got this treatment, or if this was because of who he knew. Lydia’s promise echoed in his head: this time next year you’ll be in London. 

“Aida, please tell me this is a nightmare.”

“Samir, your situation could meet one definition of the word nightmare. For example, a terrifying or very unpleasant experience, situation, or event.”

“Comforting. Thanks.”

“Of course, Samir. Let me know if you need anything.”

Virginia had been confused as they sat with an empty stool between them in the notch. They’d already agreed to this. But now he was acting shocked, like he didn’t remember. Like they were almost strangers. “You’d never disagree with your dop, no?” Of course not, he’d answered. It’s just a tough adjustment. So then it was settled. He hadn’t seen her that happy in a long time.

“Samir Patel.” Aida’s voice boomed out of the car’s speakers this time. “As we have a bit of time until we reach our destination, you might find it useful to review the building’s health and safety information, which is appearing now on the screens located in the backs of each seat.”

He glanced up at the screens and wished he could somehow get even lower. Curled up on the floor like a dog on a road trip. Ignored for the most part, and called a good boy just for being silent.

“I can’t believe you’re in town,” he’d said as if it was some kind of important revelation. Virginia confirmed she was, and it was permanent. As permanent as anyone’s living arrangement can ever be, she added, which he’d taken personally. “So you’re living in one of the dormitories over on Divis,” he’d asked as he fumbled for an interesting topic. He knew his dop would’ve been far more interesting. It had the collected knowledge of humanity to draw from, should it want. “No,” she’d corrected. “I live in Magenta Tower.”

Traffic going into the East Cut was slow and orderly, as the cars negotiated with each other to their assigned parking. It meant a tailback that could take an hour to get through. Aida had chimed early that morning and let Samir know when he had to leave in order to arrive on time. She knew where everyone was coming from, where everyone had to go, and each car’s designated time-slot at any point of contention along the route. Samir figured it still would’ve been faster to walk.

“I obviously wish we’d come to this agreement sooner.” Virginia had reached across the gap between them and interlocked her fingers with his. “Years ago, really. But the second best time was now.” She’d given his hand a squeeze and smiled with her eyes. “You should know I’m seeing someone. But I’ve ensured I will not be your direct manager, in case anything changes with our situation.”

He curled up on the floor as the bumps from the road rattled his bones. He wasn’t a passenger, he was just freight. “We’re approaching Magenta Tower,” Aida boasted, “which is our final destination.” Samir pulled himself off the ground and back into the seat, just as the car made the turn into campus. Two massive digital screens flanked the driveway, both bearing the image of Magenta founder and CEO Rebecca Prue. Her eyes seemed to follow as they entered, and he would’ve sworn she gave a nod of approval. “Please ensure you’ve collected your belongings,” Aida continued. “Your orientation coordinator will meet you as you arrive. Thanks again, and welcome to your new career at the Magenta Corporation.”

The aptitude assessment was swift, given how much they already knew about him. He’d spent quite a bit of his life adjacent to equipment–hooking it up, tearing it down, figuring out why it didn’t work–so he’d been slotted into the role of Physical Maintenance. The orientation coordinator flashed a toothy grin when he heard the results.

“That makes you Aida’s hands,” he said with a clap. “This is your uniform! All of Aida’s hands wear these.” He held out a neatly-folded grey uniform.

Sam took it with a slight frown. “Aida’s hands?” The uniform was stiff, a crinkled canvas material, which made a rhythmic swish-swish sound as it moved. He looked forward to hearing that sound as he walked for ten hours a day.

“Well, she can’t fix things herself. She might know what to do, but she needs your help to do it. Repairing sensors, oiling doors, flipping tipped robots back over. It’s a very important role, Sam! And you’ve been selected!”

Providing orientation for new hires seemed to be something they did more often in years past, and perhaps not so much these days. The orientation room was a traditional looking classroom that could’ve held about twenty people, and Samir was the only one. He still sat a couple of rows back so as to not seem too eager. The coordinator deposited him and then exited, but that didn’t mean he’d been turned over to his own devices. Screens at the front of the room flickered to life and the lights clicked off.

“Welcome to Magenta,” began the pompous narration, “and to Magenta Tower, the Parthenon of Innovation. The story of Magenta is one of humble beginnings and massive ambitions. Founded in 2020 by a young Rebecca Prue, right here in San Francisco, within three years the company had ascended to be the dominant force in both artificial intelligence and home automation. By 2028, Rebecca had…”

Samir tried to focus. It was interminable, and the boredom sought to overwhelm him. He’d already heard enough of Magenta’s corporate propaganda from Virginia to last a lifetime, and the sight of Rebecca Prue still made him queasy. He didn’t know how he could bear to hear her life story set to patriotic music.

“Hello?” The door slid open, and Virginia poked her head in. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Hi.” He gestured to the indoctrination. “Just watching this.”

“…the breathtaking Magenta Tower, completed in 2030, is seen around the world as an enduring symbol of…”

“This video is rather florid,” Virginia remarked. “I’m not sure you will find much value in it.”

“Hello, I’m Rebecca Prue, founder and CEO of Magenta.” Ms. Prue had appeared on the screen now. She faced down the camera as she strolled down a path through some kind of lush greenery. “Soon you’ll get to walk where I am now, through our magnificent botanical garden on the fifth floor terrace.”

Samir cracked up. “This video seems to mostly be about the building.”

“It…” Virginia grimaced. “It is.” She joined him and laughed out loud for a moment, but pulled herself right back together. “I’m not sure why.”

“How old is it? Rebecca looks so young.”

“I’m fine authorising you to skip the rest of this.”

“Really,” Samir said with a touch of sarcasm. “You would do that for me?”

She gave an awkward wink. “I am rather important here, you know.”

As irritating as it was to admit, Sam did find the building impressive. Virginia took him floor by floor, a whirlwind tour of the bits she liked, the bits she didn’t, and some bits he’d need to know about for his job.

“You have a very important and straightforward role,” she said as they walked through the ground floor atrium. “You’ll receive notifications on a regular basis from Aida about tasks that need accomplishing somewhere in the Tower, and you’ll conduct them. Instructions are available both at a macro and micro level depending on your skillset and experience. Sometimes it’s very physical. Something needs tightening, something needs wiping down. And sometimes it’s programming related.”

“Programming? I don’t know how to program.”

“It’s…” Virginia tilted her head and gave a tight smile. “Magenta devices don’t require programming in the sense you’re thinking of, with computer languages. They speak to each other in what you might call plain English. They just do it very fast and with a lot of shorthand. And you speak to them the same way if you need to alter their behaviour. The best way to understand is to have Aida let you eavesdrop on a chat between, say, a refrigerator’s temperature sensor and its compressor.”

“I suppose I am well suited then,” Sam said. “I do have a decent relationship with Aida.”

“No,” Virginia retorted. “Nobody has a relationship with Aida. It’s not a digi. It does not retain a history of what you’ve said to it, it builds no context with you.”

“So this job is entry level,” Sam replied.

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “I have so many years of experience. I don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand? This is a job, which you need. You’ve not had real work since you left the music label.”

“I worked at Maelzel’s.”

“A real job,” she scolded. “At a real company, with a real future.” Her tone softened. “Listen, Samir. I know how difficult this is for you. It’s why I’m so proud of you for reaching out and asking in the first place.”

Virginia’s delicate handling of him, the way she used to, was a gut punch. He hadn’t reached out, and he didn’t want to be here. And she knew nothing of Lydia. He would have to come clean at some point and confess his sins. Unless he found a way to just introduce them organically? Maybe that’s all Lydia wants, he thought. Just a way to meet Virginia socially, a woman who would otherwise be entirely inaccessible, a woman who spends her entire life within these walls.

“There’s one last place on the tour which I thought might help you acclimate. It’s Thursday, so we tend to go for drinks.”

“Oh, where?”

“There is a staff bar on the sixth floor.”

“Oh,” Sam said. Could it be that easy? “You know, it would, uh.” His mind raced faster than he could assemble the words. “What time, uh, what would you think about? I’m sorry. I’m not making sense.”

“We can head up now.” Virginia touched her ear and whispered something. The lift doors opened, a number six already lit up on the display inside.

“Wait,” Sam blurted out. “Wait, wait. I was thinking, if I could bring you around to Maelzel’s. I know Sebastian would love to see you. It’s been so long.”

“Samir, no.” She stepped onto the lift and beckoned him to follow. “I don’t tend to leave the campus. Neither does the person we are meeting.”

“Alright.” He cursed himself and stepped into the lift. At least the office had a bar, he thought with a flicker of hope. Buoyed by the promise of alcohol.

It was immediately extinguished when the doors opened. Not by the decor, though it could’ve well done so: grey on grey with a white floor, clean lines, a row of drink dispensers on the back wall, and dozens of round high-top tables, also grey. But by the immediate sight of someone that could destroy Samir’s mood on his highest days.

“Sam,” Virginia said as she joined the man at his side. “You remember Carlos.”