Artificial(ish) Intelligence

Chapter 101

Adelaide ducked as a Bobb rolled past. The need for such a clandestine approach reignited her anger toward Mr hide-the-sausage Borken. These used to be her corridors. They wouldn't exist if it wasn't for the long term strategies she'd whispered in the bedroom, to a supposed CEO unable to see past the next quarter.

Her security pass had surprisingly allowed entry, but progress had been slow, and she wondered if Libbi was still waiting for her to clear the way. When the coast was clear, she slipped inside the stairwell and ascended to the fifth floor, sneaking a look inside the open plan office. It was dead, even for a weekend, and she wondered if anyone else had been fired in her short absence. With outsourcing and automation, it wouldn't be long until the entire building was devoid of human presence. Her dad had played the victim but it was only now that she saw he had no other options, that the people in power had created a system that only respected those who worked, and if they wanted you disenfranchised, your connection to society cut, all they had to do was end your employment, and suddenly you were a pariah, a social ill with no chance of redemption.

Fibres from the shag carpet ticked her ankle. It hadn't been changed out since she first set foot in that office. She'd thrived on the energy that marked those early days in the company, but that was long gone. Perhaps it was never there, and the drive she used to feel came from within, not from the hustle of other minds, the same who'd shown her disdain from the very first promotion. This was always going to be the outcome. It was simply a matter of when.

And now she wouldn't get a chance to start afresh at AutomatIO. The world was cruel. You could either suck it up or fight back.

I don't think it's difficult to know which option Adelaide chose.

She ducked at the sound of tracks rolling across a hard corridor surface. But the door was closed, and no one else was around.

"Stay cool," she said, to herself, bringing up the console.

House of Paschar's defencebots were market-positioned in that grey area between a sale and a rental. The per-wing charge had to be controlled by a server stationed locally at the customer's premises, so that any maintenance didn't fall to House of Paschar. Audits could still be carried out through the console, where any wings failing compliance could be remotely shut down.

This is what Adelaide planned to do at AutomatIO. Except it wasn't working.

"Connection fail?" she said.

And it kept saying it every time she tried. She wasn't involved in the automated auditing process, but this never seemed to happen before. What was stopping it now?

The message momentarily flashed to success. She hit the switch to cut all power to every defencebot. Something happened. Or did it? A new message appeared: Connection fail.

"Oh, come on!" said Adelaide.

She tried again. More fails. Then a success. Again she shut them down, then waited for the inevitable fail message.

Adelaide was so wrapped up in solving the problem that she didn't notice the door latch pull away from the frame. She also missed the distinct lack of creak as the door quietly, slowly, swung open.