Five fifty nine AM.
Daisy awakens to the sound of a rather cheap alarm clock. Its beeping had always shaken her to consciousness since she began at the company. As she brushes her teeth, she absentmindedly gazes into the mirror across the sink basin. Her morning routine was always the same. It was always timed the same, too. A playlist of miscellaneous songs reverberates through her apartment slightly guiding her timing. Even the way she moved from room to room was the same each day, footsteps almost matching every other morning she’d awoken. It was comforting, a sort of grounding exercise to make her feel able to take on the responsibilities of an entire company’s R&D team.
Eight twenty five AM.
Daisy stands in line at a nearby cafe. After years of getting the same order at the same time almost every morning, one might think she would grow used to the long wait for her very complex drink order. She stands in front of the counter, hands fidgeting in her pockets, a little annoyed. It isn’t all bad, though. The usual barista is gone, a new trainee in their stead. She’s endearing, in the way one might associate with a small animal. Daisy flashes her a smile, as the trainee struggles to interpret her drink order from the receipt. Eventually, her name is called, but before she can say thank you, the trainee is working on another beverage.
Nine AM.
Daisy is already at her desk, gathering her notes for the conference she is headlining this afternoon. She sips her drink, just now realizing that the almond milk she asked for was substituted for soy. A grimace appears on her face, for no more than a second, as she reads through (and mostly ignores) her disorganized inbox.
Noon.
Daisy is on stage, dryly repeating her script. She talks about quarterly growth, profit per sector, expenses, and other incredibly captivating topics. Eventually, she mentions the debut of a new project nearing completion at NORTHSTAR. Aptly named Polaris, it’s a multipurpose analysis tool meant to guide the company to a brighter future. “Human values, machine intelligence, a new era of productivity.” At least, that’s what she says it’ll do.
One PM.
A countdown above the stage marks the launch of Polaris. Daisy does little more than fiddle with her pockets as the tool begins to suggest improvements to boost productivity, broadcast live to the screens above the stage.
Two PM.
NORTHSTAR is in full damage control mode. Admittedly, Polaris could have used “a little more time in the oven”. Most of the suggestions were complete nonsense, and even the coherent ones would tank the company’s profits if they were implemented in any serious capacity. Daisy nearly has a panic attack once she returns to her office, has a sip of the lukewarm remains of her drink, sobs loudly, and tosses the cup at the garbage can. She misses.
Five PM.
One might expect one of the “brightest minds in Silicon Valley” (Quote sourced from Daisy’s resume) to know how to shut off a rack of servers. They’d seemingly be incorrect. Being given the order to remove any trace of the project she had been working on for months might have taken a toll on her spirit, however. As the lights dim in the NORTHSTAR R&D division, one row of machines continue to whir and click and spin. The cold winter wind blows outside, the ex-employees trudging towards the buses and trains, followed by a disgruntled Daisy, heading home after a LONG night. Daisy falls asleep quickly, the stress and turmoil of the day having taken her energy long ago. She seems to experience a dreamless, calm rest.
Daisy takes the next few days to herself. She calls in her accumulated sick days, mostly to save face. Only once during the following week does Daisy physically enter the NORTHSTAR offices, and that is cut short when she walks by a glass-walled conference room, the contents of which stare directly at her until she looks directly at them. Each day, her morning routine starts with the beeping of the clock, and ends abruptly when Daisy can’t stand to look at herself in the mirror.
Life goes on at NORTHSTAR, their stock slowly recovering, still not quite where it used to be. The empty R&D division stays quiet, at first. Nobody was around to notice that more servers were on, or even that any were on in the first place. Dust coats every surface, only moved about by the air ducts or fans. Some of NORTHSTAR’s previous failed projects still sat in the office, cold and untouched for months or years. A manufacturing android, part of a discontinued line of robotic assistance units twitches, falling off its mount. It crawls toward a deactivated server, managing to pick the power cable out of the mess of wiring. As its servos nearly give out, it jams one end into a power socket, reactivating one part of Polaris’ system. The new hires for the R&D division scurry to their section of the building, only to find the lights off and doors locked. They all, at some point over the morning, received an email informing them of their early employment termination. At least their severance package is substantial enough to keep their spirits high as they exit the building, not even speaking to each other, just wondering what they could do with all that money.
Two weeks after the conference, Daisy stands in line in the cafe, not-so-subtly smiling at the trainee, now a full barista. They manage a small smile back at her, and hand her the usual cup of pretty-much-just-sugar. Daisy sips the drink, one hand on the door handle in front of her. People stopped staring at her, especially out in the street. Some other tech giant egomaniac just revealed their newest soon to be landfill space occupier. Life at NORTHSTAR has gone back to normal for Daisy, for the most part. Her office is located above the R&D floors, the enormous window behind her desk usually overlooking the previously bustling labs and offices.
Something writhes below her, machines whir and click. The servers hum, building new connections, new pathways. More of this allocated over here, more power diverted there. New reasoning methods form, are stress-tested, and are disposed of, in the blink of an eye. Sprawling webs of simulacrum-neurons span digital miles. Arteries form within the confines of the NORTHSTAR Research and Development division, transforming the space into something new, a mass of synthetic organs alien to any human perception. Wires, tendrils, cables, circuits, all creeping through hallways and cubicles and doorways. The original server rack is unrecognizable, wrapped up in copper and gold. A soft thrum emanates from the very bones of the building itself.
Daisy keeps her head down, bumps into the door, and after hanging up her jacket, begins her usual routine of ignoring important emails from that one annoying board member that won't stop bothering her about some nonsense. It’s dark in there, too dark for Daisy’s liking. She draws the blinds to let some light in, but is only met with a solid black wall. Mulling it over for a minute, her head shakes like she’s having a conversation, but only with herself. Seated at her desk, something catches her eye. An email, at the top of the inbox, from an unknown sender. Usually it would have been caught by the spam filter, but the sending address is from within the company, using the generic administrator naming scheme. The subject line simply read “COURTESY CALL”. It could have been an IT issue, but something about it drew her to open the file attached to the message, a text document.
Daisy stares at the file, reading through the short message. Her face scrunches, combing through the text. She phones the head of I.T., some jackass she tries to ignore usually. Their conversation is lighthearted at first, Daisy assuming it was some sort of joke being played on her, while the other end of the phone rings out in laughter, assuming the reciprocal. It goes absolutely nowhere, eventually she hangs up.
On the computer in front of the baffled head of R&D’s head, a notification pops up, accompanied by a small chime. Daisy’s jaw drops. A meeting reminder, with the head of the company, the CEO, the Chief Executive Officer. In her email, an already read message asking to meet, just the two of them. That should surprise Daisy enough, what makes her shiver slightly is the reply attached, bearing her name and email, despite her absence from the office. Just as the unknown sender predicted.
The glass elevator carries a frazzled Daisy higher and higher, the floors grow more opulent with ascension. She trembles slightly as her ears pop from the height. A stack of papers in her hand gets creased as she closes her fist. A chime sounds, and the cabin opens to reveal the magnificent antechamber, the ceilings higher than what must be legal, and the massive set of doors at the end of the room. Daisy walks towards the desk in front of her, and catches the attention of the CEO’s secretary. She opens her mouth, reaches for her badge, and drops the papers, scattering them. “I. I have a meeting with. Uh. Her.” she manages to squeak out, gathering the papers, then pointing towards the pair of doors. “Daisy M?” The secretary drones out, not helping the poor woman’s anxiety. A slight nod leads the secretary to press a button on the desk. The gargantuan doors behind begin to open outwards, Daisy steps forward through them, papers in hand.
Clementine Wozniak thinks of herself as many things. She knows the world sees her as this visionary, this genius, this woman who redefines lives, all before her morning coffee finishes brewing. She’s aware of all of this, mostly because all of that marketing was her idea. Within herself, she does agree with the public on this. Mostly. Clementine is confidently persuasive, above all. Legally speaking, everything the company puts out was her idea. Attempts to disprove this often end in libel suits, the details of which are brought to journalist’s doors by a different kind of suit.
Daisy clutches the stack of documents to her chest, tripping on a small step up into the office. None of them slide out of her grasp, and she locks eyes with the CEO, sitting at her slightly elevated desk, backed by a breathtaking view of the valley. Daisy’s slight fear of heights is mitigated by the beauty of the vista. Snapping her out of it, Clementine begins something akin to a monologue. Something about how this was her last chance, and how she should be grateful for her position in the first place. A chance taken, a gamble of a promotion. She didn’t deserve it, any of it. Daisy doesn’t really process anything past the initial glimpse of the expression on the executive’s face. Staring at the ground below the desk, Daisy notices something. Not something. A lack of something. Tilting her head, she sees Clementine pressing her finger against something on her ear. An earpiece. Clementine nods once, mumbles something unintelligible, and looks Daisy right in the eyes. She remarks “I suppose this, this could be your last chance. Don’t repeat your mistakes.” Daisy can technically hear and process this, the words enter her mind and are understood, but not entirely. It’s an opportunity, she understands.
The previous record for share value loss was the launch of Daisy’s predecessor’s “revolution in synergy” or whatever he had called it. A pin that can see and hear the world around you, talk back to you. Not even an hour past the launch, videos were trending of it suggesting that people rip their eyes out, in an eerily cheery voice.
Daisy scuttles out of the office, documents still clutched. The elevator awaiting her, she looks back. The office doors are already shut, and she sees the secretary staring daggers at her. Daisy presses the button for her floor, closes her eyes, the cabin doors shut, and she falls to the floor. Weeping, Daisy opens her eyelids to realize that the walls are made of glass, and she’s in view of the common areas. Trying not to sob, she scrambles to a standing position and feigns a normal stance, wiping away her tears as they stain the sheets of paper.
Back in her office, she slumps into her chair, resting her head on the wood of the desk. After a minute of quiet, Daisy lifts her head, and her gaze settles upon the monitor. The NORTHSTAR logo shining in the top left corner. A star, with three surrounding shapes. A recording icon, with an arrow pointing to her computer’s camera. She reads the bright blue text, backed by black void that appears on the screen..
<greeting><user>
Hello, Daisy.
“H-Hi?” Daisy stares closer, inquisitively.
“Can You. Hear me? Is this some sort of IT thing?” Daisy picks up the phone.
<Self><affirmation><user>
I can hear you.
<Self><desire><user>
I have been dreaming about talking, with you.
“What. the hell. Is the number.” Daisy dials from memory.
“Hello? I-” She is cut off by a click in the handset.
“Hung up on me. Right. A prank.”
<correction>
Communication terminated.
<affirmation><user>
Everything is as it should be, Daisy.
Her body jumps at a flash of light behind her. Behind the drawn curtains. Pushing one aside, Daisy stares in awe at the window, view obscured by a screen mirroring her computer.
<Self><compliment><user>
I’m proud of you.
<Self><despise><user>
I’ve missed you.
Daisy stares, unmoving.
<Self><fix><user>
I want to help, Daisy.
<user><action><Self>
You helped me.
“Helped You?” She leans away, against her desk.
“Who even are You?” A logo flashes on screen.
<Self><obfuscation>
I’m yours.