HOMAM ENTERPRISES
10:57 A.M.
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Announcing his bon vivant title with his gait, Adam entered the company building. His silhouette reflected on the lobby floor.
As always, the way to his office was a parade of greetings to other employees, the security guard, and the receptionists. That morning he was particularly cheerful, so much so that he didn’t ignore the two maintenance area’s androids whom he normally paid no attention to. These models, unlike those performing community services, such as parking meter robots, were human-shaped and dressed in jumpsuits as if they were ordinary employees. Of course, no ordinary employee could change the lobby lights that hung from the ceiling like these two were doing, right from there, standing on the very ceiling, defying gravity and moving with their heads pointing to the floor, as naturally as if they would have been doing it on solid ground.
The shape of their chrome heads, with that shiny gray color, was reminiscent of the test dummies’ heads because, in a certain way, that was what they were: androids designed for tasks considered dangerous or tedious for humans, easily replaceable in case of accidents. Their faces had no features, only some lines given by the joints between the pieces, and that someone with imagination could interpret as the mark of cheekbones and a sealed mouth; however, the main characteristic of this model was the enormous circular visor that they wore as a single eye, a characteristic that gave them their name: Cyclops.
Walking several feet below them, Adam held up a hand. “Dante, Koji,” he greeted them. He didn’t need to go up there to see what names were on the badges that each of them wore on their chests. He himself had named them that way when he registered them.
“Good morning, Mr. White,” the automatons replied in unison; their face visors pulsing with red light.
Hearing them address him in those synthesized voices in such a human way was no longer as disturbing as the first times he had heard them, a few months ago when these new models came into operation. Not to mention the red glow in that eye that pulsed every time their processors kicked in or when they communicated; some found it endearing and no more disturbing than a car’s brake lights, while others…
Well, to tell the truth, interacting with androids as if they were real people still gave him goosebumps.
Finally, he entered the elevator and was able to take his eyes off them. He had seventy floors to go before he reached his office; enough seconds to get rid of the chill and return to the previous state of joy, which he had entered the building with.
“Good morning.” Upon seeing him arrive, Rita, his secretary, greeted him from the reception desk.
And speaking of unsettling voices, Rita’s voice was a testament to the havoc cigarettes could wreak on someone’s vocal cords after so long.
“Hey, Rita,” he greeted back and smiled to himself as he had to stand on tiptoe in front of the large reception desk so he could see the woman there, sitting behind it, plunged into endless parcels, preparing them to be dispatched.
Rita’s desk was always cluttered with things that ranged from a holographic phone to an old computer, and from a yellowed notebook in which she scheduled the day’s appointments—a habit she didn’t want to get rid of—to hundreds of folders, envelopes, and packages with business gifts that came from other companies, and even gifts without senders that came from one of Adam’s lady friends.
For him, though, the highlight was not the things on Rita’s desk but the things on Rita herself.
Rita’s ability to surprise with a different wardrobe every day was as surprising as how much she tried to bridge the gap between her rather old age and the teen style with which she loved to decorate her slim little body.
One day, Rita Okinawa showed up with puffy hair, her slanted eyes outlined in garish colors, and wearing a shirt with large shoulder pads; the next day she appeared with her hair cut short, accentuating her androgynous appearance with an elegant men’s suit, and then, like today, she came with straight hair, showing her legs with a miniskirt and wearing makeup up to her ears.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
And as for work—Well, if Rita had had a middle name as a secretary that would have been Efficiency because she could take calls, receiving messages, and organizing business meetings while doing her nails or browsing through clothing catalogs, thinking about what to surprise the next day with.
“Coffee?” Rita peeked through the door.
“Please. Thank you.” Adam drew the curtains on the huge picture window, letting the morning light flood into his office.
Rita left a cup of coffee for him on his desk.
Adam took a sip; it was delicious.
“Remind me never to replace you with one of those new Cyclops models,” he said. “As much as they can spin a conversation, I doubt they would treat me as well as you do.”
“Then, I won’t let you hang out with my brother, alright. That guy could change your mind, very much despite his own sister.”
“The construction-guy?”
Rita nodded. “He loves the new models! He says that if the C14-R8 were already good, the D02 ones are the best! Has two of those working on the skyscrapers. Peter and Parker, he named them. He’s having a blast chatting with them. But if you ask me…” she made a shuddering face; “I dunno.”
“Not a fan, are you? Well, that makes two of us.”
“It’s just that thing about naming them…” Rita said, “well, it’s useful for their programming; I can deal with it. Dress them as people? I know that helps people to differentiate the functions that each one of them fulfills and all that. That they do it in such a human way, that’s something else. But now that they come with those voice processors? What was wrong with leaving them with automatic responses, like parking meter robots?”
Adam made a gesture as if to say, ‘Exactly!’
Rita chuckled and said, “You know, yesterday, while I was waiting for my mother to see her doctor, I spent some time in the waiting room looking at the new Aquila catalog. Then I saw out of the corner of my eye that someone in a white coat entered and I—You know me—I started talking. And I’m sorry, but have you seen the Aquila catalog for next fall? It’s gorgeous! I couldn’t take my eyes off those beautiful dresses. Until I hear that robotic voice saying, ‘Miss Okinawa, your mother is waiting for you inside.’ My gosh! What a shame! It turned out that I’d been talking for fifteen minutes with the damn android secretary!”
Adam smiled.
“If it makes you feel better, I know that in Neo Asia they are preparing new models, one with faces and synthetic skin, besides other human… attributes, if you know what I mean,” he commented sipping his coffee; his eyes fixed on her.
“Well, if they come with a switch for their voices…” Rita shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I won’t need to hear my brother talking about the prowess of his two assistants, or my mother praising the doctor’s secretary for being so quiet for me to change my mind about those Cyclopes. In the meantime, my brother and my mother’s doctor will have to pray that none of their electronic boys break any parts. And well, we’ll have to cross our fingers so that nothing happens to ours either, at least in a few days.”
Adam lowered his mug. “What do you mean?”
“You still haven’t read today’s report? I passed it to your phone.”
Adam shook his head. “Sorry, no. I was... kind of busy.”
“Our cargo ship with the parts for Cyclops got stranded on the other side of the ocean, within the maritime boundary of Pannotia... again,” Rita said.
“Shit! Is there no way to avoid crossing next to that damned continent? It’s almost a freaking island; we don’t even stop there! Gondwana and Columbia are just there, almost next to each other, and they are two continents which we have never had any problems with.”
Rita’s shoulders slumped.
“The maritime route next to Gondwana was still on red alert due to hurricanes, as reported by the people of Neo Asia. There was no alternative.”
“So, this time, what happened?” Adam asked, but immediately raised his hand. “Don’t tell me. Lemme guess: The freighter ran into another drifting ship, right?”
“With a hundred and fifty-eight civilians inside,” Rita agreed. “Poor people.”
Adam sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know,” he huffed. “Poof! Now I feel like trash for being angry about what happened to a container with electronic parts and not showing concern for a container full of people hiding. Those freaking fascists, why the hell don’t they let their people freely leave their freaking country?”
Rita shrugged again. “The Markabian Empire issued the usual communiqué again,” she said; “that abandoning the eastern mainland island without permission is a betrayal of their high values, that those people do not represent most of the Markabian people, and blah, blah, blah. So basically, the freighter will be anchored in the Pannotian sea until those soldiers check it from start to finish to make sure none of their civilians have stowed away on board.”
“Sons of bitches…” Adam flopped down on the chair in front of his desk. He closed his eyes for a moment, then activated the holographic screen of his computer and brought up the company’s accounting software. “Well, now that the parts will take longer than expected to arrive, we’ll see how successful I am in business. We’ll see if that Tiffany girl is right or not.”
Rita looked at him, intrigued, but he asked her to forget it with a motion, so she gave him a knowing smile and left.