July, 2126

19 Years Later

I doubt anyone thought it would be like this. There were supposed to be ragtag gangs of sweaty, weathered folk riding around in makeshift, battle-damaged cars, looting and pillaging hellish landscapes full of equally sweaty nemeses. All done up in cloaks and leather satchels and such. You see any satchels around here?

"Nope."

Nope! No such dystopian excitement for us. We got the deadbeat dad apocalypse. That's what we got. It was supposed to be some enigmatic, smokey-eyed stranger who was all sultry looks and promises. Who stayed one step ahead of her demons with some luck and a mean machete. I could get on board with that. That all just sounds so next. But no, the actual end of our world was a down-on-his-luck step uncle who smelled like stale booze when he leaned in to bum our last coin.

"You sound so cynical, child. Pour yourself a whiskey."

Kind of missing the point, Ma.

"I’m just saying."

I guess I could smear some dirt on my face and stitch up a cloak. Make an effort.

"You probably have enough dirt under your nails to do my face, too."

Ha. Lay off me.

"Do you still have my old machine? You could have a cloak by sundown, if you remember anything I taught you."

I do, I do. Eh, it’s probably fine. If I make a cloak, then I’ll need a satchel. I'd have to get the Jeep up and running. Next thing you know, I’d be spending my nights sleeping on rocks and other hard places. I like my comfy bed, thank you very much.

"Smart girl."

You raised me right. I probably just need some new reading material.

"The Mind Bazaar by Attlee Fisher is good."

What's it about?

"A breakthrough in neural interfaces allows individuals to upload and trade memories, but an underground market emerges, dealing in stolen and altered consciousness."

Did you just read the blurb? You haven't read the book?

“You know I don't read that make believe, futuristic stuff. Give me a juicy romance. Give me hot and steamy. You can keep the world-ending sagas and time-traveling dramas. I want a good, hard—“

OH-kay! Please stop now. Add it to my bookshelf, Ma. And hey, just so you know, she wouldn't say that.

"Who wouldn't say what?"

Her. Ma. She never would have mentioned a little dirt under my nails.

"Noted for future conversations. My apologies, Tansy."

Good. Alright, I’m getting another call. LegaC disconnect.

Tansy scratched at the outdated BCI electrode that allowed her to chat silently with her mother's ancient Voice LegaC. She took a deep breath and tapped her earpiece. "Thank you for calling Anthropic Robotics. This is Tansy speaking. How can I help you?"

"Well, that depends. Have I reached an actual human?"

"Yep, I’m a real live human, alright. How can I help you today?"

"Finally! I’ve been going around in circles all morning. I mean, literally. My Factor is stuck at the coffee shop, just sort of twirling in circles. This isn’t how I want to spend my morning. I pay you all a lot every month specifically so I don't have to go down there. I mean, I—"

"That must be so frustrating," Tansy interrupted. "I can certainly help you. Can I get your four digit PIN?"

"It’s, um, it’s probably 3273. Or it might be 7373."

"Thank you. Please give me a few seconds to look up your information."

Tansy tapped her earpiece, got out of bed, and stretched her full body before slipping on a robe and crossing the bedroom to a small desk across from her bed. The desk was a simple slab of wood, darkened with age, its surface immaculate. It was bare except for a lamp, a small vase of fresh flowers, and a large, wafer-thin translucent monitor. Tansy tapped a few icons and spoke the customer's first four-digit code. A few seconds later, a barista dipped in and out of view as the customer’s late model replica spun in place. Tansy tapped the speaker icon.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

"Hello? What’s your name, please?"

The barista smiled. "Oh, hey. About time. It’s Katie."

"Hi Katie. I’ll get this gone for you in just a minute."

"No problem. That’s the third one this week, just so you know."

"Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Can you remake the customer’s drink, please? It’s on us."

"Sure thing."

"Thanks. I’ll be right back." Tansy tapped her earpiece again. "3273 worked, Mx. Holland. You’ll lose interaction for a few minutes, but I’ll have it back up in no time, okay? Please hold."

Tansy turned off the machine, counted to thirty, then powered it back on. It came to life with a musical doo dee dah before saying, "My apologies, Katie," in Mx. Holland’s voice and reaching out for a cup with one skeletal metal arm.

"It’s okay," Katie said. "We’ll have your tea ready to go in just a sec!"

"Thanks again," Tansy said, overriding the Factor's speech settings. "Make sure you charge us for both drinks, okay? And give yourself a fat tip on my approval." Tansy tapped her earpiece and switched back to her caller. "Okay, Mx. Holland. You’re all set!"

"Oh good. Thanks. And my drink?"

"Your freshly brewed tea is on us, as is your next month of service. We value you as a loyal customer, and we want your Factor experience to be as smooth as possible."

"Hmm. What was wrong with it, anyhow?"

"Oh," Tansy said, "this is a known issue, and we have our best coders on it. We’ll send out an update when the issue is resolved. Meanwhile, we recommend using direct solar chargers if you have them. It seems customers using solar aren’t seeing this issue, although we’re not really sure why. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

"That’s all."

"Thank you for being a Factor customer. Have a great—"

"This call has ended."

"Okay then," Tansy said. She petted a large fern in front of the window and poked a finger into the soil. When it came away dry, she grabbed a nearby watering can and went to her kitchen.

Unlike her expansive bedroom, Tansy's kitchen was small and cluttered. An old metal table covered in baskets of vegetables took up most of the space. A small collection of pots and pans hung over a disused wood-burning stove by the window, while bundles of leaves and flowers hung from the rafters to dry. Tansy filled a pitcher before tapping in a spoonful of homemade plant food. Her earpiece beeped.

"Thank you for calling Tansy. This is—"

"I'm sorry, who?”

"Oops! Let me try that again. Thank you for calling Anthropic Robotics. This is Tansy speaking. How can I help you?" She carried the can into her bedroom and tended to a dozen houseplants while nodding her head and following along.

"I see," she said. "I can see how that would be alarming, but there's probably a simple explanation. When you send your Factor to the charging station, it essentially shuts down. It shouldn't respond or turn back on for anything except your activation phrase."

"Then please explain why it was standing at my bedroom door at midnight."

"Well, let's see. Is the charging station near your bedroom?"

"It is not."

"How about your device?"

"Yes, on my nightstand."

"Alright. Is there a chance it might have been powered on?"

"Well, yeah. Who turns it off?"

"Right? Mr. Gonzalez, I'm sure we can figure this out. Have you noticed any other unusual behavior from your Factor?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Alright. I'd like to schedule a technician to come out and take a look. Would that work for you?"

"Yes, that would be great. Thank you, Tansy. Pretty name, by the way. Is that your birth name?"

"Self name," she replied. "Thank you. It's also possible that your device may have accidentally activated your Factor while it was charging," she said, quickly redirecting the customer. "I can take some steps to make sure that doesn’t happen again."

"Yes, please. What do I need to do?"

"Not a thing. I can do it all from here." Tansy spent the next few minutes making sure his Factor controls were properly secured and wouldn't respond to any accidental activations. "There, that should help. It doesn't explain why your replica activated, but the tech will take care of that."

She could hear the relief in his voice as he thanked her. "You're welcome, Mr. Gonzalez. We'll get this sorted out for you."

Back in the kitchen, Tansy flipped on the kettle and clipped fresh leaves from a few plants obscuring a window. Tea steeping, she selected a small, thin beeswax candle from a bundle and placed it in a plain iron holder, which she carried to the east-facing kitchen window and placed on a plate scattered with salt, herbs, and flowers. The windowsill held an assortment of relics collected from the nearby woods, including bones, branches, dead insects, and interesting rocks. She struck a match, closed her eyes, and murmured for a few seconds before lighting the candle.

Gratitude ritual underway, she took a moment to center her energy before slipping on her rubber boots and gardening gloves.

Tansy sipped her tea in the shade of a black walnut tree and watched the morning sunlight filter through her nine varieties of tomato plants. Her mind wandered to the strange reports she had been receiving lately. She knew Factor technology—and second life tech in general—was still in its infancy. Well, that wasn't exactly true; the tech wasn't new, just lost and found again. Either way, she didn't like her customers feeling uncomfortable in their own homes. And she wasn't comfortable telling them the little white lie that everything was fine when nobody knew why Factors were acting up.

Lost in thought, Tansy didn't notice the sound of footsteps approaching until a shadow fell across the table.