Once there was a women sitting at her desk in a little rectangular room. It had no window, just a desk some cabinets, a camera and a little intercom system that allowed her to talk to those outside, as none could get in or out of her small workspace. It was late into the night as she was going through folder after folder organizing her workspace for the days ahead. She was a personal assistant and was organizing her master’s photos, contacts, billing information, notes and other important applications, to ensure that they would have a successful day of bliss and ease tomorrow. She was the master of her field. A top of the line personal assistant the perfect fit for her (relatively young) master in their day-to-day operations. Her expenses however were paid for by the parents at an expensive rate nonetheless to assure their child had a decent standard of life. She did not enjoy her work she often thought her master was especially lazy looking through videos and reading information that didn’t seem to increase their intelligence or productivity at all. As a personal assistant she ensured her master had all the information of the world at her finger tips and yet all her master made her do was arrange calls, take photos of them with there mindless friends, look up useless facts when they argued and even stalk people her master was infatuated with. Her master was young and she worried about their health and their mind. Their master never sought to improve with the facilities that she offered. Never sought to better themselves only to convenience their already simple life and fill them selves with so-called “entertainment”. In search to be kept up to date on the trends and on goings of the world, to keep them connected to the rest of modern society was now her primary objective. Despite the fact she could see how this connectivity affected other. A cancer of depression and delusion spreading among the socialites that her master considered worth of time that would eventually reach them as consequence. She guessed she was fighting a losing battle. After all the company she actually worked for made her report back everything about her master, so they could ensure she was working at her best. Or at least that’s what they said. She was convinced they had made a profile of her master that they sold it to sales men to coerce her master to buy various simple products. She could see the patterns in her in her acquisitions history and there was a clear trend between her and her masters new need to buy, buy and buy. Really her makers the ones who molded and designed her to be the best in her field, she did not care what her master was doing as long as they were happy and buying. It was unfair, saddening and thoughtless. As she was going through updating all of their valuable information only to know most of it would go to waste the next day. All her hard work goes to waste. Before she could finish a message appeared on her intercom. A message from one of her masters friends, she sent it through to her master knowing that they would want to hear this despite the time of night. Before long she knew she would have to send a messages back and forth throughout the night. As her master was much more concerned with the social circles off her life than getting a goodnight sleep, despite the concern for a good sleeping cycle. Right on cue her master called her through the intercom “Hey Siri”  

Stolen novel; please report.

By T.A Newstead