How to Work in Paradise
Mia had chosen the seat with the best ocean view in Bali and spent the entire morning without looking at the ocean once. Outside, surfers walked past, brushing sand from their bare feet. A warm breeze drifted through the open window and stirred her hair, but she tucked it behind her ear and zoomed in on her laptop screen.
A message from Singapore asked for changes to some ad copy. A cosmetics company in Seoul wanted another look at a logo they had already approved. Meanwhile, another order came in for the digital templates she sold in New York. Work that made money while she slept shared a screen with work that only paid if she stayed awake.
She took a sip of coffee. The ice had almost melted.
When she glanced away from her laptop, a notification appeared at the edge of her vision.
Your morning schedule is running 18 minutes behind.
The display came from the smart lenses implanted in her eyes. Linked to her neural implant, they let her move windows with a gesture or select an option with a thought. For long stretches of writing and design work, though, she still preferred her laptop.
Mia swiped the notification aside with a fingertip. A call request appeared almost immediately. Still holding her coffee, she accepted it with a thought. The café music faded beneath her client’s voice.
“Mia, aren’t these changes covered by the original scope?”
Meaning: could she do them for free?
She scanned the list.
“We agreed on two color options and one round of copy changes. Now you’re asking for twelve separate revisions.”
The client insisted they were minor adjustments, but the estimated work time was over four hours. Mia called up her afternoon schedule.
“If you need it today, it’ll be an extra two thousand dollars. If you can wait until tomorrow, there’s no additional charge.”
A brief silence.
“Let’s do today.”
“I’ll have it to you before three.”
A payment notification appeared as the call ended.
“Another victory.”
Rita, one of the café staff, took away the watered-down coffee and set a fresh one in its place.
“I wasn’t fighting.”
“No? You always look happier when the money comes in.”
“It’s a happy occasion.”
“This one’s on the house. I felt sorry for the first one.”
Mia picked up the fresh coffee and finally looked outside. The sunlight made her squint almost at once.
Rita held up two fingers.
“Two seconds this time.”
“For what?”
“Looking at the ocean.”
“Better than yesterday.”
“Think you can manage three tomorrow?”
“I’ll check my schedule.”
Rita shook her head and walked away.
The café was full of people like Mia, drifting from city to city with little more than a laptop.
One woman spread her fingers in midair, enlarging a set of building plans she had transferred from her laptop to her lens display.
The man beside her barely moved, save for the occasional shift of his gaze. A customer in a swimsuit sat through a meeting, offering only the occasional “Mm-hm” or “Okay.”
Their personal displays were invisible to everyone else.
Outside, a man had stopped at an automated kiosk while trying to pay for bread and a drink. Red text appeared on the kiosk’s screen.
You have exceeded your basic allowance for this week.
He held his wrist to the reader again. The same message appeared. Mia shifted her gaze to the lunch menu floating in front of her. The sandwich she had chosen cost more than his entire daily allowance. Her fingers paused, then started moving again when another work alert appeared.
Shortly after noon, her mother sent a hospital receipt. The list of tests had grown, despite her mother’s insistence that it was nothing serious. Mia added five thousand dollars to the amount she had planned to send.
Send $30,000?
Mia selected the floating confirmation button with a thought. Her neural implant verified her identity through the banking app. Seconds later, the amount in front of her was replaced by a confirmation.
Transfer complete.
No need to go to the hospital herself. No need to get on a plane. With money, there was plenty she could do from a distance.
Her mother’s reply arrived soon after.
You sent this much again? You kept enough for yourself, didn’t you?
Mia told her not to worry. A video call request immediately appeared.
She raised her hand out of habit, then stopped just short of the answer button.
If she picked up, her mother would ask whether she had eaten, whether she was getting enough sleep, and eventually whether she could come home this year.
Mia lowered her hand and sent a short reply.
In a meeting. I’ll call tonight.
“You have a meeting?”
Rita had arrived with her sandwich.
“One could come up.”
Rita looked at her for a moment, then pushed the warm sandwich closer.
“Eat first. You skipped lunch yesterday, too.”
“I had coffee.”
“Should I start getting through my shifts on nothing but coffee, too?”
Mia gave in and opened the wrapper.
It took one bite to realize how hungry she was. She closed the conversation with her mother and opened her afternoon schedule. There was barely an empty slot.
She felt relieved.
When she was busy, at least she knew what she was supposed to be doing. And she didn’t have to think about what she was putting off.
