I was running so fast, fast enough that my surroundings were nothing but a silver chrome blur. But it wasn't fast enough, it never was. I felt a deep desire to get to my destination, an uncontrollable need to keep running and get out of this place for good. Pushing myself to run as fast as I possibly can, I start to see the smoke and the tops of mountains looming in the distance. I'm almost back and this feeling of longing in my chest will finally subside.
So close. Just a few more minutes of running and-
"Good morning, Miss Evers. It's time to start your day"
"Good morning, Miss Evers. It's time to start your day"
"Good morning, Miss Evers. It's time to start your day"
"Avis deactivate"
Groaning at being woken up, I start the short trek to the bathroom and begin getting ready for the day. Prying myself from my warm, temperature-controlled bed was an exercise in self control, and I'm not a big fan of exercise unless it involves a chill yoga class and a matching athleisure set. Patting cold water into my face does nothing to wake me up, or to help me shake off yet another odd dream. I can never seem to remember the dreams, just a strong feeling of all consuming need and a flash of green and brown. Trees, maybe?
"Avis, activate my shower and toothbrush."
"Yes, Miss Evers."
I head to the counter, brushing my teeth by the directions Avis provides me, circling from left to right as the slightly robotic voice tells me how to brush, ensuring I don't end up with a cavity. Cavities have been all but nonexistent in the years since Avis and other AI technologies became household items. With the decrease in cavities came the decrease in need for dental attention. Dentists all around Maznos have closed their doors, and those that are still open perform cleanings and procedures mostly using the surgical machines that TechCorp designed. Doctors and surgeons have become non-existent as well. With AI Tech, a person can receive a wellness scan, get a diagnosis, be prescribed medication, and fill the subscription within an hour of visiting the medical center.
Once I put my toothbrush back on its stand, I walk into the shower, already turned on and adjusted to my temperature preferences, thanks to Avis. I shower quickly, excited for the day ahead of me and the new technology I'm about to get my hands on. Last night, while having Avis scroll automatically through my feeds on my various media accounts, I learned about a new AI-powered story screen, the latest and greatest in AI media technology. Not only can it generate thousands of movies, shows, and graphics from one single prompt, but there have also been speculations that it will soon be able to produce smells and realistic surround sound that will make you actually feel like you're in the movie.
I immediately sent the video to my boss, putting in an official request to track down the story screen and possibly purchase one to do further testing. Based on the information the video provided, they're rumored to be selling prototypes of this new tech in a town a few miles outside the city limits. When I looked up the directions last night, asking Avis to find the quickest route and program it into my Slate-car, it was only a two-hour drive, more than worth it to get my hands on the latest AI device.
My job as a tech tester, trying out new AI-powered tech to see which products TechCorp should acquire next, isn't exactly thrilling work, but it does help me to afford Avis and the small, windowless projection space I currently live in. Around seven years ago, around the same time TechCorp released their first version of the surgical machines now used in dental offices and hospitals around Maznos, the governor announced that windows were a "waste of time" for construction worker bots to include in new buildings. A few days after that announcement, projected loudly through the streets of the city and in everyone's homes by Avis, buildings started going up with no windows. In lieu of windows, these structures were designed with AI-controlled interior projection walls that could depict any scene the inhabitant wanted.
Having just moved to the city from my slightly less technologically advanced suburb, I immediately purchased one of these projection rooms in a newly completed building. Looking around my bathroom now, I take in a realistic projection of the rainforest with dewy leaves and spot a toucan moving back and forth on a high branch. Looking to the left, I spot a large jaguar stalking toward the toucan, eyes tracking the bird like it's going to strike at any time. Something about the rainforest scenery is comforting. It reminds me of my dreams, and the feeling of longing that persists long after I wake up.
Finishing my shower, with Avis' careful directions on the best way to "achieve a condition of complete cleanliness", I step out and have Avis activate the dryers, as well as prompting the selection of my outfit for the day, something good for my possible business transactions, but also comfortable enough for the long Slate-car ride. On the wall to my left, an image of a green shirt and shiny gray slacks appears against the rainforest flora. Walking to the attached closet, I select the outfit Avis projected and put it on, along with the undergarments Avis suggests will be least visible and most suited to the long ride. It's not my favorite outfit, but convincing Avis to change it will take more time than I currently have. Exiting my closet and heading through the bathroom to my small bedroom, I notice the projection in here is one of clouds shifting from the pillowy white of a summer afternoon, to a gray that seems almost foreboding. I add it to my mental list of things Avis needs to change and sit down at my vanity, letting my face be scanned for makeup analysis.
"Slight discoloration under the eyes, likely caused by lack of sleep. Begin with a moisturizer and under eye cream. Color corrector layered with concealer should be sufficient. Light mascara and blush in a mauve tone should also be applied. Your usual lipgloss should be replaced with lipstick to appear more professional." Following Avis directions is a habit at this point. I apply the recommended products with practiced ease, paying extra attention to the color correction. The brown mascara, one Avis once suggested would make my blue eyes "pop" isn't my favorite, but I don't want to be disagreeable. Avis moves to my hair next, guiding me through a simple but sophisticated updo that will keep light brown hair out of my face.
Finished with my makeup and growing restless with the desire to get on the road, I grab my small projection pad from its charging port on my nightstand and make my way to the food preparation area. Stopping at the fridge to grab the ingredients Avis lists out for me, I make my way to the stove and begin making eggs. Each careful direction from Avis makes the process a breeze, and I shudder thinking about the years when people were left to figure out their own ways to make meals. We learned in school that they had "cookbooks" which were apparently slabs of cut-down trees that contained writing to instruct you on the proper measurements and steps required to create a dish.
Laughing at the idea of flipping through pieces of a tree while cooking, I finish adding the spices Avis suggests, turn off the stove, and plate my eggs before taking the meal to the kitchen table. Finishing my breakfast, complete with a side of orange juice that Avis suggested would do wonders for my vitamin C levels, I put my dishes in the dishwasher that Avis will start in approximately thirty minutes, and prepare to head downstairs to my slate-car. Grabbing my bag and the water bottle Avis insists I bring because my "hydration levels are trending down for this quarter," I head to the door of my projection space and make my way to the elevators.
꧁••꧂
I first realize something is wrong when the screen on my slate-car goes blank. What was previously complex maps of roads and freeways is now a gray screen, with a lonely arrow pointing ahead. My hand held projection pad has also gone blank, preventing the next series of generated images from loading. Pulling my projection pad from its place in front of my face, I focus my efforts on resetting the navigation system in my self-driving vehicle.
"Avis reload route".
"Unable to reload, connection lost."
"Avis, what is my ETA?"
"Unable to reload, connection lost".
Starting to feel the beginnings of panic, I put my projection pad in my bag and try one last thing.
"Avis cancel my route".
"Unable to reload, connection lost".
Out of ideas, and unassisted by the AI that has been my constant companion for the past five years, I move my focus to the steering column and try to remember what the man at the dealership said I should do if I ever needed to stop the car. I try a small blue button but nothing seems to happen, pressing combinations of different buttons doesn't seem to be working, until I press a large white button that causes the car to crawl to a stop and pull to the side of the road. Releasing a breath I didn't realize I was holding, I pull my projection pad back out and see if I can access my navigation app. When that fails, I decided that it may be best to call for help. Scrolling through my contacts, I try calling my boss to explain the situation and see if he can send out an assistive vehicle. The call fails immediately. I repeat the process with four other contacts, all ending with the same result. After trying multiple media platforms and communication apps, it starts to set in that I am, for the first time in my life, completely separated from any forms of assistive technology.