It's the Minister of Education's idea to meet for lunch at the Royal York. The restaurant he chose is a private corner of the main floor, tucked away next to the ballroom.
The Minister sits in one of its leather wing back chairs in front of tall shelves of leather-bound books. The faded Persian carpet is as much an anachronism as the books.
"Andrea Anderson."
The Minister rises out of his seat and extends his hand to me. I force a pleasant smile on my face as I approach him and shake his proffered hand.
"Minister Garrett," I say in return.
His gray suit is tailored to allow for his wide girth. The skin around his eyes crinkles as he beams a charismatic smile at me, but his gaze is blank.
The patrons sitting at tables glance up at us. One or two of them have the razor-thin edge of FlexScreens propped on their knees like old newspapers.
I realize that I am the reason they are staring at us. I am acutely aware of the small balls of fuzz that have gathered on the sleeves of my sweater as I remove my fading black wool jacket. I notice the cracks in my best winter boots. Next to Garrett, in his crisp suit, I look like a hobo.
"So, Ms. Anderson. What will you have?"
The Minister holds up his hand for service. A six-foot humanoid robot pads noiselessly across the carpet. I watch it approach us before I sit down.
It's an iTronics machine. Rather than the human mimicry of the RoboNomics bots, the waiter android had a chassis of gilt-edged gunmetal and a dark face with a button nose and large, cartoon eyes.
It was built to be non-threatening. It was programmed to blend into the human world and to only intrude when called on.
"Another scotch whisky, sir?" The bot asks when it arrives at our table.
I clench my jaw at the sound of the metallic voice. It reminds me of a child talking to a friend through one of those tin can phones attached by a string.
"Yes," Garrett replies.
"And for you?"
The android turns its large silver irises on me.
"Could I just have a water, please?"
It feels odd to give orders to a machine. I usually avoid contact with them. I feel as timid with it as I was with other kids on my first day of junior high.
The machine retreats toward the kitchen with an awkward gait. Garrett chuckles.
"Still holding onto the past, eh, Ms. Anderson?"
"What do you mean?"
"There's really no need to be polite to a robot. One of the many perks of having them replace human waitstaff."
He prods the table, bringing the InvisiScreen menu to life.
"You never have to worry about those mechanical people spitting in your soup."
I will myself to not say anything. Don't give yourself away, I think. A moment later, he looks up from the table.
"Well, I'm set. You?"
I glance down at the menu, eyes searching for the cheapest item on it.
"Yep," I tell him.
"So, fire when ready," he says after we've placed our orders by tapping on the table.
"Fire -- oh yes, the interview questions. For the article. Sorry, where's my brain?" I cover. "So the piece I'm writing is on the Ministry of Education's robotics investments."
I grope in my coat pockets for the FlexScreen I've brought with me. Garrett is the third member of the provincial assembly I've met with under the guise of an interview for the Toronto Star. But this meeting with the Education Minister is the most important one for me.
"I'll have to stop you right there" he says. "Although my office is in charge of approving and allocated funding for educational programs, it's the school boards that are directly involved with RoboNomics."
By the time the machine-made lunch is served, we're deep in conversation. Crumbs of Albacore tuna nicoise is all that's left of my meal. I've been gulping it down between questions.
Garrett drones on. I try to remember my surroundings and what my grandmother taught me about cutting food into small pieces and taking tiny bites.
But it's too expensive. I have to eat it all, quickly, before I'm full. Garrett, on the other hand, is savouring his Kobe filet mignon.
"The pilot study is coming to a close," he says between bites. "And after the next election we'll be integrating the automation program across all schools in the province. The savings to taxpayers will be unprecedented. And the students of Ontario will at last be the most advanced in the world."
"I see."
I pretend to scrawl the details on my FlexScreen. My breath comes out in quick bursts as I try to hide my incredulity.
"And so, what does this mean for the unemployed teachers? How will this impact the pension fund? What will become of the lawsuit filed by the unions?"
I can feel my palms begin to sweat. I take a sip of water to distract me from my anger.
"That's a complex set of questions, Ms. Anderson," begins the Minister. "But I see no reason why the Ministry and the unions can't come to an agreement. We envision a better future for the children of the province and we hope to lead the way for the country and the world. There's no reason why former teachers can't be a part of that."
"Unlike this restaurant," he gestures at the dining room, "schools of the future will not be human-free. We envision a school in which machines and humans work together. Robots may be able to teach more efficiently than a human can ever hope to, but what happens when a child decides that the robot is a plaything? Robotics has advanced light years recently, Ms. Anderson. But robots are still vulnerable machines. The I.I.U.s especially. They are not maintenance-free."
I grit my teeth as I recall the exact job he's describing and the humiliation that went along with it.
"What you're saying is that you'd have trained professionals act as babysitters for the robots?"
"I wouldn't put it that way. What we want to offer is the chance for select candidates to retain employment indefinitely."
"At a pay loss?" I ask sharply.
"There may be salary adjustments, up or down is yet to be determined."
The crinkles around his eyes unfold.
Pressure builds in my temples. What amazing cost savings, I think.
I've known for a long time that the government in Ontario was run as if it were a business. We used to talk about it over lunch. Henri and I would moan about the disconnection between caring for students and preparing future workers.
But I can't believe that people could be so greedy. Chris is right, all those cost savings will go straight into the pockets of the executives of RoboNomics while the politicians will sell it to us as a way to reduce our tax burden. And it's not as if the corporate executives care how high the human cost rises.
I force my jaw to relax and take a deep breath. I have to take this chance before it passes.
"Minister Garrett, what if I told you that I'm not from the Star?"
(Continued in Chapter 35...)
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