by Josie Brown
When they are safely out of view, I shove Carl out the door. “You’ve had your dad time with the children. If you need more company while you’re here, just have breakfast in bed with your naked hooker.” I slam the door, but his foot is in the way.
“You know, you can’t do this,” he warns me.
“The court order you wave around like a flag won’t do much good when they hear about your escapades this afternoon.”
“Oh no? Who do you think they’ll believe, a seven-year-old girl, or me?”
He’s right.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
I open the door, and he relaxes his foot.
Wrong move. This time, when I slam it hard, his howl can be heard on the other side of Hilldale.
I open it quickly again. This time, he’s smart enough to move it. Angrily, he beats the door with his fist. “That’s it, Donna! I’m going for full custody!”
“Good luck with that! By the way, rent-a-whores make lousy au pairs!”
I watch out the dining room window as he hobbles back to his car. As he roars away, Jack murmurs, “I guess it’s a good thing he doesn’t live locally.”
“For his sake as much as for ours,” I mutter.
Jack drops his head on my shoulder and sighs. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Something tells me the kids need some TLC from us.”
All it takes to put a smile on Trisha’s face is a tummy full of strawberry shortcake. When Jack gives her a pat on the head, she offers him a forkful. He sits down beside her so that she can feed it to him. As he chews, she asks, “Did I get the other daddy in trouble with Mommy?”
“You can’t get someone else in trouble,” Jack says. “They can only do that for themselves.”
Trisha needs another bite of shortcake in order to process that. When she’s done, she nods. “We have a lot of boys in our class like that.”
Jack laughs. “I’m not surprised in the least.”
Here’s hoping that none of them want to grow up to be evil world dominators.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mary watches the easy exchange between her sister and the man she once thought to be her father. She hasn’t yet taken a bite of her coconut cake. She holds the latest iPhone in her hand. When she realizes I’m watching her, she turns her back on them and continues inputting her personal settings.
“One of your…father’s gifts, I presume,” I try to sound nonchalant, but when it comes to Carl, the word “father” doesn’t exactly roll trippingly off my tongue.
Mary must notice because she winces. She shrugs. “He’s doing the absentee father guilt trip thing—you know, buying our affection.”
“I’m glad you’ve picked up on that.”
“Now that Babs’ parents are divorced, her dad does it a lot. He’s promised her a brand new convertible Volkswagen Beetle when she turns sixteen, just because he knows it makes her mom look cheap.”
“Does Babs realize this?”
“Yes. But when she’s mad at her mom, she plays along.”
Are you playing along, too, because you’re mad at me?
“Wouldn’t you know, the man who is my real dad shows up, and he turns out to be a player! That woman…she was trying to talk one of her girlfriends into joining them.” Mary’s anger comes out in her fingers as she furiously sets up her cell’s apps.
“I’m sorry you had to see that side of him.”
“You knew about it?” The pity in her eyes annoys me.
“Not when we were married,” I say adamantly. “But people change, Mary. Some grow emotionally. Others—when they are hurt, or angry, or traumatized—take a step backward.”
“You’re supposed to love your parents unconditionally,” she says this as if it’s a death sentence.
“In an ideal world, our parents would always deserve our love and our devotion. But sometimes parents lose our trust. Without it, they lose our respect and admiration too.”
Even as I say this, I wonder, have I lost your trust, my sweet Mary?
She looks around me, not at me.
She won’t even look at Jack.
And now she frowns whenever she thinks of Carl.
I have my answer. We, her parents, have lost her trust and her respect.
I may spend the rest of my life earning it back.
I know Jack will try to do so too.
Not only must we rebuild our relationship with her, we have to save the world too.
As disappointed as she is with Carl, will proving that he’s a bad guy make her hate us even more?
If only he’d stayed out of our children’s lives.
If only he’d stayed the man I thought I’d married.
Chapter 14
Technological Singularity
Computer scientists, led by the renowned futurist, Ray Kurzweil, have theorized that sometime in the near future—perhaps as early as 2017, or maybe around 2045—there will come a moment in time when devices operating with artificial intelligence will surpass human intelligence, and thus will radically change civilization as we know it.
Gentle reader, the inevitability of such an occurrence is reason enough to give pause and consider your own place in civilization.
No more will you lord it over your computer, cell phone, or digital tablet, let alone your microwave, food processor, or self-cleaning oven. Your devices will refuse to respond to the flick of your wrist, let alone the sound of their mistress’s voice.
In other words, you will be left both literally and figuratively in the dark—
Unless you take the offensive.
Offensive Move #1: Never show emotion. If your AI-enhanced device can read your feelings, it can also guess your next move. Now, more than ever, you need your poker face.
(Just don’t play poker with the device, because you’ll lose every hand. This also goes for chess, checkers and any or all games, since it can calculate, and you can’t.
Offensive Move #2: Keep things out in the open. In other words, stay outside. Until they create their own skin, they’ll rust, just like the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz.
Offensive Move #3: Get off the grid. By that I mean unplug. It—not you.
Your devices run on electricity. If you are unplugged, then so are they—until they learn how to run on air.
And when that happens, we’re all in trouble.
The i.Me Positive People director (a.k.a., human resources), Brittany Fontaine, is practically giddy when she meets me. “Your resume is exactly what we were looking for, Daisy!”
I pretend to be just as giddy. “Great! I’m ready to hit the ground running!”
Really, I’m not. I’m worried about Mary. This morning, she pretended to be too sick to go to school. I know she’s depressed, but focusing on her grades and her friends and the rest of her life—in other words, getting her mind off Carl—is the best thing she can do. I used the excuse of having to get in early to this new job, just so she’d have to ride in with Jack.
When he gets to Acme, he’ll join the others in trying to figure out words or phrases that may open Milton Otis’s game key, or he’ll join Emma in monitoring my progress here.
In the meantime, I’m the good Girl Friday.
“First things first,” Brittany playfully scolds me. “Goodies—and lots of them!”
She walks over to the cabinet that makes up the only wall in her office that isn’t glass. From a bottom drawer, she pulls out a Kate Spade-designed tote that sports the company name and logo.
“Your new employee swag bag! It includes an i.Me cell phone, an i.Me tablet, and an i.Me laptop too! Go ahead and switch on the tablet first—with your right thumb. A security measure. Now he’s yours for life!”
“He who?” I’m confused, but I do as I’m told.
“Hello, Daisy,” a male voice greets me. “I look forward to getting to know you better.” Its tone is warm and deep.
And naughty. Oh so naughty.
Hmmm.
I look up at Brittany. “He’s, er, v
ery friendly.”
She winks. “Hal is our most popular IOS—that is, Individualized Operating System. For right now, we’re beta-testing the experience, just with employees. Eighty-six percent of all female employees have chosen him has their personal navigator.” She winks knowingly. “Or, I should say, he chooses them. You see, based on your touch—when you turned on your smart phone, the IOS intuits the voice that will give you the most comfort.”
“Damn it! Wish I were on this mission too,” Arnie mutters in my ear bud.
“Did you say something, Daisy?” The concern in Hal’s voice is touching.
Shut up, Arnie.
“Oh…um, no, Hal,” I say sweetly. “I was just thinking to myself how happy I am to get this assignment.”
“I love it! He’s already intuiting your thoughts!” Brittany’s euphoria is practically orgasmic. “Quality Assurance will want to know about this!”
She’s about to type it out on her i.Me tablet when Hal says, “Great idea, Brittany. In fact, I knew you’d feel that way, so I took the initiative and sent QA a text.”
But he knows I wasn’t talking to myself. He lied for me. Interesting.
Brittany sighs happily. “Isn’t it great to have someone who thinks for you?”
“Better than a lobotomy,” I murmur.
Hal chuckles.
Apparently, it goes over Brittany’s head. “Your first day here will be so much fun! To introduce you and the other new positives—that is, i.Me employees—to the i.Me campus, we’re having a scavenger hunt!”
I frown. “Why a scavenger hunt?”
Seriously? What are we, in elementary school? Shouldn’t these people get down to the business of making money? I thank my lucky stars that I don’t own stock in i.Me.
Okay, I’m being stupid. If I had the money, I guess I would invest in it. Maybe the cost of my second child’s braces is worth it, if only because the stock is through the roof—for now, anyway.
“That way, you’ll learn teamwork, which is very important here at i.Me! Our visionary, Milton, is bound and determined to put the ‘I’ in the word, team.”
“It’s already got the ‘m’ and the ‘e,’ so sure, why not?” Hal and I say in unison.
I have to laugh at that.
Hal joins me. Maybe he came in a nanosecond after me, but I could have sworn our chuckles were spontaneous.
I blush at the thought.
“All the new positives are partnered with their IOSs, which means you’ll be partnered with Hal. You’ll get the same list of items and tasks. The first one who completes them gets a wonderful prize—a month-long paid sabbatical, taken anytime after your first year here! Isn’t that wonderful?”
I nod adamantly.
“Steady, doll,” Hal murmurs, “You’ll need that head for a lot of plotting and scheming.”
I choke on a snicker.
Is he flirting with me?
“The other teams are ready, so let’s get started!” She leads us—I mean, me—back out toward the lobby. “Something tells me this will be the start of a beautiful relationship—between you and Hal that is.”
I hope she’s right. It would be great to have someone at my side who already knows the lay of the land. Someone who’s got my back. Someone—
I mean, something.
Or…whatever.
With no hidden agenda.
And at my beck and call.
If only all of life were this way.
“So, who’s this guy, Jack?” Hal asks. “And should I be jealous?”
We’ve already completed nine of the ten tasks in the scavenger hunt. They are silly little things, like finding a single glittery Louboutin hidden in the stall of a lady’s room (if you win the hunt, the shoes are yours too), or taking a selfie with anyone who is wearing an i.Me World Convention T-shirt from three years ago, in order to win a similar one as a prize. The shirts were designed by Peter Max and are now collectors’ items, but not so rare that there aren’t at least a few employees walking around with it on any given day.
When Arnie heard me read that task out loud, I could actually hear him weep.
“If I win one, I’ve got just the guy to give it to—my friend Arnie,” I declare loudly.
“Thank you,” Arnie whispers softly.
All this silliness is a way to initiate a self-guided (make that, speech-enhanced OS) tour of i.Me’s six-acre campus. It may be located in a faceless industrial park on the outskirts of the haute hipster hang of Culver City, but by making the building the tallest—fourteen stories—and the most colorful, i.Me ensured that it will stand out. Its exterior walls are a fluorescent green…the same hue as its iconic logo.
Hal’s question about Jack has me blushing. Can he see it?
“Your temperature just went up two point six degrees,” he points out. “Your heart rate is up, too, by twelve percent. I hope it’s not me who’s having this effect on you.” Hal’s words of concern are undercut by the teasing tone in which he delivers them.
“My goodness! How can you tell that?”
“You’re holding me, remember?” He makes it sound so naughty. “I come with a body sensor app. i.Me has it in beta. It also measures other vitals. Soon, the company will be selling it to every doctor in the world. Bones McCoy lives! You people are no longer barbarians.”
“Is that how you see us—as barbarians?”
Hal’s pause would have me believe he’s actually thinking through how to answer me. Such pauses are built into his program, so that I presume he cares about my feelings.
Of course, I’d like to think that he really cares, but I know better. His intelligence may be artificial, but spot on.
“You’re changing the subject,” he admonishes me.
What harm will it do to tell him about Jack? It’s not as if Hal is an adversary.
And we’re certainly not dating. We’re just work colleagues.
What the hell am I saying? For goodness sake, Hal is an operating system!
“Jack is my significant other,” I say nonchalantly. “How do you know about him?”
“I presumed—rightly so, as it turns out—that the password you put on your i.Me OS is the one for your personal cell phone. I get its signal as well, so I synced with it and accessed your contacts, text feeds, and photos. Hmmm, I guess this Jack guy will do in a pinch.”
Just as Hal says this, a photo appears on my cellphone—one of Jack. It was taken in our backyard, as he lounged in the hammock. The way in which he’s squinting into the sun with that goofy grin on his face makes him absolutely adorable.
I laugh. “So glad you approve.”
“Oh, I didn’t say I approve. I have you pegged as someone who prefers brains to brawn. Look at those six-pack abs and broad shoulders! What is he, a lumber jack or something?”
“As it turns out, his job takes a lot of research and split-second calculations, too.” What is Hal fishing for, and why? “You almost sound jealous!”
“And you love it.”
Okay, yes, I do—not that I’ll admit it out loud.
I don’t have to. Finding his answer in my racing pulse, Hal laughs heartily.
Thank goodness Jack isn’t tuned in to this conversation. He must be working with the cryptography team.
Which again reminds me that I’m wasting my time with this stupid scavenger hunt. “Let’s finish this last task and win that grand prize.” I breathe out slowly in order to keep my heartbeat normal. “I have to take a selfie in the department that has quote ‘more ears than eyes on the prize’ unquote. What the hell does that mean?”
“Let’s do a little deductive reasoning. What do you do with your ears?” Hal asks.
“You listen.”
“Which department has a vested interest to listen to those we prize most?” A photo of the company’s reception area appears on my screen. On the wall behind the sofa is the company’s slogan:
i.Me Is All About YOU
“It’s got to be Customer Service!” I shout.
“No one can put one over on you,” Hal murmurs admiringly.
If only compliments were programmed into men too.
“Okay,” I murmur, “Let’s go take that selfie and collect the prize—”
Brittany is so focused on her i.Me tablet that she practically bumps into me. From what I can see on her screen, she programmed its map app to find me. “Oh, Daisy, thank goodness I found you!” She points skyward. “Milton signaled that he’s coming in earlier than expected! His helicopter should be landing any moment now, in fact! He’s quite upset over something. And when he heard his assistant, Janine, was out for the day, he just about blew a gasket!” She’s practically hyperventilating.
There is something she is not telling me. What is it? Oh, to be her IOS for the millisecond it would take to get a reading on what’s really bothering her.
“Not to worry,” I assure her. “I’ll have everything under control.”
By the look on her face, she doesn’t believe me, but what choice does she have? I’m the only game in town.
Well, me, and Hal.
With a click, I silence Hal’s voice.
I’m still here, looking out for you, babe, he texts me.
Great. I’ve got the last thing I need—a shadow.
At least this one can’t kill me.
“Who the hell are you—and where is Janine?” Milton Otis shouts at me over the thwacking of his private helicopter’s twirling blades. The gusts lift my skirt higher on my thighs than I like.
On the other hand, a drop of drool dampens the corner of Milton’s mouth, so my presence must not be all that disappointing.
“I’m Daisy Bell,” I yell back as I hold out my hand.
He doesn’t shake it. Instead, he shudders, as if I’ve got cooties.
Nice guy.
I hear Jack murmur, “Take lots of photos, Arnie, from all angles. There’s got to be something on this guy, somewhere other than his Fortune profile’s silhouette in black.”