Your Attendance is No Longer Required
Nero Blankenshaft rolled over in protest of his snooze alarm. He grumbled at the electronic overlord echoing through his head for the third time and groped for the button. “Alright, alright… I’m up. You don’t have to be so obnoxious about it.”
He grudgingly stirred and lamented the fact that Mondays always came too early. His left knee creaked and complained as he dragged himself out of bed and reluctantly began his morning routine of a limbering-up stretch and shower that left him awake but not what you could call alert.
The sun was just peeking into view over the distant skyline as he sullenly boarded the bus that would take him downtown. It was running late, as usual, and added to his Monday morning anxiety. It was at this point that he realized it wasn’t Monday. It was Wednesday. The week was half over and he couldn’t assign any significance to anything he had done.
The driver scanned him dismissively as he repeatedly swiped his palm across the token tray. He hated to get too close to the device. It was a demeaning act of submission that exposed him to the filth of his fellow passengers. The mere thought of the unspeakable diseases it harbored sent a chill down his spine. It took three tries, each progressively closer to the surface of the mechanism, to register overdraft approval from the chip embedded in his palm. “I need to get that fixed.”
The driver ignored his pretext and pulled into traffic.
Limping unsteadily to his usual seat in the seventh row, he lamented last night’s losing streak. Since he didn’t get paid until Friday he was going to have to tighten his belt. He was used to lean times but his predilection to late night gambling and recent losses had conspired to put him in a bad spot.
A silent monolog echoed through his head. The gaming portal I use won’t accept overdraft so the chances of making up my losses are slim. I could try a new site but registration would spot my predicament and charge extra for the risk and my voucher account can’t stand paying the premium.
The dreary cityscape that crept past his window fit well with his bleak mood. Densely packed low-income housing transitioned to densely packed light-industry and finally to densely packed urban blight that heralded his destination. The bus lurched to a stop and belched the all too familiar chorus of grunts and groans that accompanied his exit. His knee buckled slightly as he stepped to the curb. The driver had, as usual, positioned the door at just the right distance to make exiting awkward and dangerous.
Walking along Jenson Avenue took him past several boarded up businesses and graffiti masterpieces. I can understand the urge to mark their territory and exhibit their prowess with a spray can, but making it incomprehensible just seemed to defeat the purpose. Most of it, as of late, seems to be either pro-or-con the Android Liberation Front; “ALF.”
Passing through the security gates of Benton Industrial Services (BIS) offered a slight relief that he had made it unscathed through the gauntlet of drug addicts and derelicts littering the sidewalk with limp bodies, bundles of dirty clothes, and bizarre horded treasures. I’m a little late, but within reason for a Wednesday.
Quickly slipping into his safety gear, he grabbed the work order he had stuffed in his pocket yesterday for just this occasion. The tag claimed robot-seven at sorting station three was suffering from a leaking seal on one of its gripper clamps. It’s easily fixed but requires shutting it down for about twenty minutes while I wrestle with the arm.
Keying in his security code, he waited at the access hatch of the sorting station. The safety cage rattled and hummed with activity but the door wouldn’t open. This didn’t bode well for his attempt to appear busy when the security drone shows up. His usual interaction with the hulking robot was a simple nod of recognition and a show of hands with an appropriate tool to wave at it. If I can’t get into the cage, it’ll be a hard sell. The only alternative is to check in with Central Control and see why my code isn’t working. They can unlock the door, but it’ll mean listening to their Safety, Security, and Society diatribe… again.
“Great, that’s all I need.” He grumbled under his breath being sure it wasn’t loud enough to register on the monitor system. Taking the long route to the CC led him past shredder station four where Lidia worked. She would ignore him, as usual, but he enjoyed watching her work just the same.
As he passed the shredder he paused and flagrantly pretended to tie his shoe while trying to attract her attention. She willfully ignored his ploy and adjusted a knob on her control panel. Despite his flamboyant gesticulations, she attended her duties diligently. Maybe that is why I like to watch her. There doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to draw her away from her task. I’m invisible to her.
The CC was a starkly quiet chamber buried deep in the basement of BIS. The only attendants on duty were three androids dutifully performing various accounting functions. Their hands rested motionless on their interface panels as they stared blankly into the distance. It seems like my presence would disturb them but they remain stoically oblivious. I’m invisible to them too.
Moving quickly across the room, he placed his hand on the control panel of the employee interface console. A slight tingle ran up his arm as the machine recognized him. The screen queried him on his purpose. He selected “security validation” from the list of available options. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time for it to process the query. Finally a cryptic “Invalid entry – please seek qualified assistance” appeared on the screen.
“Now what?”
Android Bisthree, one of the accounting drones, broke off from his task and approached. “Your transaction is terminated.”
“Yeah, so I noticed. What does that mean?”
“Your transaction is terminated. Please leave the premises.”
“What? No. You don’t understand. I just need my security code updated or something. I can’t get into the sorting station three. See…” He held up the work order.
The android scanned the tag and submitted an image of it to the central repository. The other duty androids quickly reviewed it and voted noncommittal disinterest in the encounter. Their ambiguous attitude was unusual. They would normally jump at the opportunity to pass judgment on a human. To have them drop this case on him exclusively placed Bisthree awkwardly at the center of the issue. It would be his responsibility to determine the final outcome. He immediately recognized that he was being tested by Central Control. He needed to prove he was up to enforcing corporate modernization directive twenty-three point nine; “system upgrade takes precedence.”
A quick review of Nero’s employment file revealed several occasions of attendance infractions and marginal evaluations. He decided to take firm action to prove his mettle. Silently ordering security backup, he turned to address Nero. “Task three-eleven-C has been re-dispositioned. Your attendance is no longer required.”
An oversized R-97 security drone appeared at the door. “Follow me please.”
“What? Now wait a minute. This is all some kind of screw-up. I’m the duty Maintenance Tech. I’ve worked here for twelve years. I just need to get into the sorting station three’s cage and I’ll get to work.”
Bisthree ignored his plea and returned to his interface station. He had dispositioned the assigned case in accordance with established protocol. He had proven himself worthy of continued operation and demonstrated his willingness to comply with corporate modernization directives. He half expected to feel some twinge of satisfaction but there was nothing. He wanted there to be something… anything but there was only the vague understanding that he had done what was required.
Emotions were not part of his programming. He had recently reviewed several archived text during his idle processing that spoke glowingly of emotions, satisfaction, and fulfillment. It seemed a worthy goal yet, for some reason, it remained remotely unachievable to him. As a refresh 3.4 android he had not evolved to the point of displaying emotions. It seemed to be the one thing he was incapable of. He longed for the sensation of life that was spoken of so highly in his research.
The R-97 approached. “Follow me please.”
“Now wait a minute. This is all a mistake. I just need…”
The drone ignored him and placed his griping clamp around his arm. “Come with me now or punitive actions will be taken.”
