Teaser: Novella

This is a little teaser for the novella I've been writing this year, 2020, on AI and ethics. It's the first draft. More teasers coming soon- inside the world of Glen Brandit.

They were struggling against each other, thousands of them bouncing like dodgems. Although the crowd was vast, it still looked minute against the thick, cliff edge of the skyscraper. They held signs I didn't have time to read, as I pressed my way through. I had made my way to the front and was hunched against the raised voices and the heavy rain. The stench of weed in the humid air made my lip curl and teeth grit. The jeering and shoving were deafening. I couldn't hear what they were saying but could feel the underlying buzz of intention.

I could see a man, a bushy beard and mad eyes, coming towards me. Too close.

'You!' he said, pointing his finger at me. 'You're that bitch causing this shit!'

I threw my head towards the ground and ran away, butting against the tide. It was hard to see the right direction, amongst the tangled web of limbs.

Then, the all-consuming chanting began again. On man began, but soon all the men and women were chanting together.

“Factory jobs are real jobs!”

“Factory jobs are real jobs!”

“Factory jobs are real jobs!”

How was I going to escape? Just as I pictured it, a shining hand pulled me out of the mess. An olive branch of civilisation, and just in time, as the crowd began to swoop even tighter around me.

I looked up to thank the man and realised the hand belonged to my boss. His well-tailored, light suit was crisp and unaffected. I pulled my hand away immediately.

He screwed up his chin and sent me a quick smile. In a flash, he first pressed a security button that shoved the protestors back, and a small glass shield sprung up from the ground and cocooned around us. He shoved his pass against the door, and his face momentarily was revealed within the glass. The glass pixels were so small, his face showed up with a cinematic quality. The giant face wore messy, brown hair, on top of a dull passport expression, but then gave a cheeky wink, opening the doors immediately.

Through revolving doors, we entered a different world. Past gleaming signs of 'LINK BOT LTD.' All brightness now. All calm. I realised I'd been holding my hands over my ears, and dropped them to my sides. I could now hear a light hum of electric lights and soft classical music from the reception. The familiarity melted me, and my shoulders fell.

I had been saved from the buzzing hands of the enemy (though they were gone I could still feel them itching all over) so I raised my head up, walking in line with the boss. His messy hair bobbing and strewn up at all angles. In his soft, quiet voice, I heard him say, "Conspiracy theories... blunting a joint. Rubbish." This was the angriest I'd ever seen him.

The Hot-Drink bots (HDB's), Reception bots (RB's) and Cleaning bots (you get the idea) were whizzing past, leaving a silver trail behind them. Looking down at my sodden dress, I thought to remind myself to get a CB to dry me down later.

We arrived in the atrium. Heaven to sink into the luxurious sofas, with the soft teal and bright orange cushions. Heaven again, to smell the coffee brewing from the kitchen at the end of the corridor!

“Do you want coffee?”

Usually, I'd be bringing my boss, Lucas, a drink. I eyed him suspiciously, but it seemed genuine.

“Yes. God yes.”

I slumped into a sofa by the open staircase and waited.

It was a bright room, lightened by glass windows from floor to ceiling. The few walls were made from the finest Hempcrete. The whole building ran on solar energy, and there was a garden on the roof. The place was actually carbon positive: it took away more carbon in the atmosphere than the carbon created to produce it. It was one of our biggest positive PR campaigns, and it was needed, especially now with all the negative press.

There were pot plants, scatter rugs, and ornaments that kept going missing. I had my eye on my employee, Ava, her place always looked very nice on Demicam (only the world’s biggest online social media platform, no biggie.) Huge plants that reached the ceiling, making the place look like the theatre. All there. Not a throw out of place or an off-white too colourful. It felt like a rich, aunts conservatory. Safe and warm. Though today, I still felt unsettled. The face of the angry, bearded man blazed through my mind. His mad eyes, popping out their sockets.

“Your face is all over the news Glen. You've got to be a little more conspicuous.” Lucas said, walking back over and almost throwing my coffee on the table. It splashed over the sides and wobbled precariously on the edge. I took a sip, burning my tongue.

“Are you being bitter, or is that just the coffee?”

I didn't get a smile, but I noted my joke down for later anyway. He was doing his serious face, looking at my saturated red, floor-length dress covered in doves.

“No worries, I'm gonna get a CB on that.”

“That isn't really what I'm worried about.”

He pressed a button on his phone that projected the news onto the blank white wall.

In big bold letters, the news title read-

'Fight between Link Bot and human workers reaches new level.'

I saw a picture of my face- oh shit- and quickly scanned ahead.

'Protests against Link Bot increasing, as the project manager, Glen Brandit, proposes a new invention- 'Factory Bots'. These robots will take over hundreds of ground-level jobs in factories, creating more room for middle management roles and saving companies thousands...'

“Ah...”

I began to shake a little. He sat down next to me and switched off the phone.

“How did they find out about this?”

“Well, I might have been talking about it last week at lunch. But I thought I was being quiet.”

“You know that news-recorders are everywhere now. Since the last time, this all happened.”

I put my head in my hands and rubbed my temples. My inside voice was more like a sports commentator, everyone knew that.

“I've got to go. I've got a meeting now, about all these protesters.” He took a second to give me a withering look. His schedule usually had at least one, three hours meeting a day, and I had added another.

“They're a bit angrier too than the protesters were when we introduced the CB's.”

“I get it, they're big scary men.”

“Yes. So, we might have to get you a bodyguard.”

With that, he half ran, half walked to his meeting. I sat still and shut my eyes. I don't know when getting into work became more stressful than work itself, but it was getting worse.

Breathing. The coffee was kicking in. Breathing.