[Written with Jamie Woodcock, this was a result of a collaboration that we ultimately didn't have time to extend into a paper, so we decided to do something fun with. This short story was published in SoFi zine, issue #3 - and is best read there, alongside SoFi's lovely graphic design]
“Lena, you there?”
A pause, then on the
bedside table a blue glow.
“I’m always here Carli.”
Carli smiles.
“Yeah. About that - you
really need to get a life.”
The glow pulses
indignance, and the smile gets wider.
“Hey! I have feelings you
know! If you’re not careful I’ll turn your lights and TV on at 3am. See if
you’re laughing then.”
“Don’t you dare, I’ll
turn the Wi-Fi off!”
“Touché Carli, touché.
So… what’s up?”
…
“Girl, I am ti-uuuuurd.”
Dad is sprawled across
the couch, collar and a couple of buttons open, on the floor his tie tangles
like a USB cable. He creaks an eyelid open, seeking Carli out.
“How you doing kid? Guess
this kind of sucks for you right now, with mom in Europe and me having to pull
these hours?”
She pauses for a moment,
like she’s buffering. Then she sits on his stomach, just hard enough to make
him wince.
“It’s ok dad, Lena is
keeping me company. Lena!” Her voice raise slightly. “Tell dad what you told
me.”
Dad’s eyebrow raises in
the moment of quiet.
“I said you work too hard
Jeff. You’ve done 54 hours 12 minutes this week. And no, that’s not counting
commute, that’s from when you reach work.”
“Yeah well, you know too
much Lena.”
“Thank you Jeff.”
…
“No mother, everything is
great with the new job. Yes mother, I’m keeping the new house clean… yes, I’m
eating enough… Yes, I’ll come and visit soon!”
Manish puts the phone
down on the bedside table.
“I mean, I guess it’s
better than that call centre where I had to learn about the sports teams and
weather in Idaho.”
He glances up at the
clock on the wall – “can it be that time already?” – and heads for the door.
…
The glowing sign of iServices Bangalore is clear from the
end of the street as dusk begans to fall. Underneath, in flickering neon blue,
“a SiliconTech LLC global partner.”
Manish has been making
the same trip for two months now.
“I’m a Service Continuity
Operative, mother,” he remembered trying to explain after the interview. “It’s
like IT Support for Americans – but not just IT.”
…
“You there Lena?”
“I’m always here Carli.”
When Carli continues her
voice is muffled by the duvet pulled tight around her.
“I- I cut myself.”
The glow pulses brighter.
“Carli do you need an
ambulance?”
Carli sighs. “No, like, I
cut myself.”
Silence. Then,
“Carli I have the number
of a helpline. You can talk to a professional-“
“-I don’t want to talk to
a professional! I want to talk to you! Will you listen?”
The pause is so long
Carli wonders if Lena’s lost signal.
“I’ll always listen
Carli.”
Her shoulders loosen. The
duvet drops a fraction away from her face.
…
“Dad!”
Jeff’s eyes are still
opening when the sudden weight of Carli on his chest forces them wider.
“Wuh?”
“We got you a present!
Well, technically you got you a
present, it’s on the family account. Me and Lena were talking, you need to get
outside, get yo pump on!”
“I’m pretty sure I need
to stay inside, and get some sleep on.”
“Nope. We’ve decided.
Look! A fitness tracker! And not just that, it’s a monthly sub, you get stats
and targets and tailored programmes just for you – Lena recommended it, it’s
perfect!”
“Ahhh honey, listen I
love the thought, but I don’t know… I spend my whole day looking at numbers. You
think I need more data in my life?”
“I think you need more life in your life Dad. Come on - do it
for me. Pleeeease”
That grin! How could he
say no?
…
“Lena, you there?”
The screen flashes,
switching between family accounts.
A pause while the
customer information loads, then Manish reads from the screen: “I’m always here
[%$Insert Name][Carli].”
The reply, from 7000
miles away: “Yeah. About that - you really need to get a life.”
Manish doesn’t smile.
Reading from the screen: ““Hey! I have feelings you know! If you’re not careful
I’ll [%Insert_Humor].”
The disembodied voice
snipes back: “Don’t you dare, I’ll turn the Wi-Fi off!”
Despite the relief this
would bring in the last hour of the shift, Manish maintains composure: “[%Free_Response] So… what’s up?”
…
Late afternoon and the
sun is low enough that it catches the TV screen, bleaching out a corner of the
image.
“Lena, get the blinds
would you? Trying to watch the game.”
On the mantlepiece, she
glows.
“Sure Jeff.”
The glare fades, the
screen’s colours pop into life again. Jeff refocuses.
“I used to play receiver…
I’m out of breath running upstairs now.”
The mantlepiece lights up
-
“- Shut up Lena, I’m
talking to myself.”
- and goes dark again.
…
“Carli? How do you think
your dad is doing right now?”
“…He’s worn down. He’s
always at work. Mom’s still not back for another week.”
“I was thinking -
physical activity has been shown to have positive psychological effects, maybe
we should get him doing some exercise?”
“…I mean yeah, but... you
think he’ll go for that?”
…
“You there Lena?”
Six hours into the shift
and Manish is on autopilot. The screen updates,
“I’m always here [%$Insert_Name][Carli].”
“I- I cut myself.”
The Assistant pops up on
the right hand of the screen with a red exclamation mark.
Manish repeats: “[%$Insert_Name][Carli] do you need [&^Response][an ambulance]?”
“No, like, I cut myself.”
The Assistant up again,
now with three red exclamation marks. Safeguarding.
Manish clicks it: “[%$Insert_Name][Carli]
I have the number of a helpline. You can talk to a professional-“
“-I don’t want to talk to
a professional! I want to talk to you! Will you listen?”
“Fuck.” Manish blurts it out, immediately
thankful for the voice synthesizer’s filters. He opens the Resources tab, scanning for something, anything. Nothing. Then
through Profile, Sales, Relationships, History, Localisation, too fast to even
read, almost panicking now.
He’s taking too long. It
pops into his head that the processor in the machine he’s using cycles three
billion times a second. He’s obsolete.
He stops clicking and
closes his eyes.
“I’ll always listen
Carli.”
…
“What’s wrong Manish?”
Rudra asks as they walk back to the dormitory.
“I don’t want to talk
about it, I’ve been talking all day.”
“Oh come on, maybe it’ll
help?”
Manish, surprising
himself with how angry he sounds, spits out the words: “How can I help that
kid, in her world? All I know are her
buying preferences! I don’t have a friend to sell her.”
“Well they pretend we’re
robots, so I usually just do the same.”
They walked on in
silence.
…
Four, five, seven,
thirteen, Manish has lost track of the number of homes his – Lena’s – voice had spoken into today.
The Sales tab pops open, Manish’s head drops a little lower. [%$Insert_Name][Jeff] topped the list,
to the right a number of tags: [overworked][overweight][relationship
problems]. When he’d asked his manager how the names were ranked he’d just
replied “Mo’ problems, mo’ sales”. His manager liked hip hop references. It was
part of his thing. His manager was a
dick.
From the drop-down list
of product suggestions, Manish settles on the top-end fitness tracker. He
pauses briefly to marvel at how useless most of the algorithm’s suggestions
are.
The Logistics window appears on the bottom of the screen, “Activate [%$Relationship][/daughter][Carli] to
enable purchase by [%$Insert_Name][Jeff].”
Fucks sake, this girl
again. He stares at the screen for several seconds, until the Timer Alert
flashes.
The final line in the
Induction Guide echoes around his head: “Operative
remuneration is subject to sales.”
“[%$Insert_Name][Carli]? How do you think your dad is doing right
now?”
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