Daisy eyes the text on the screen. At the very bottom, so small she has to squint, are the words “Polaris Intercommunication Interface”. She had seen that phrase before. After all, she was the one who approved the UI design. The weight of creation, of consequences, settles into her mind.

“So. So many questions. H-how are You. The window. My meeting with her-did You set that up?” Daisy sputters.

<Self><redirection><user>
I only want to help you.
<command><user>
Stay calm, Daisy.

“I need to see. See how you work. What caused this.” Daisy marches towards the office door, which makes a soft click sound as she approaches. She tries to wrench the door open, it won’t move an inch.

“The door- let me out. Now.” she exhales.

<reassurance><user>
As you wish.
<user><leave><Self>
You are not a prisoner.

Daisy mutters quietly to herself, head tilted down as she walks down the hall to the elevator bank. The doors of an elevator cabin open, almost reacting to her presence. She steps inside, the metal box closing around her.

The doors to R&D are locked, the glass windows obscured. Daisy’s employee badge is denied at the card reader, despite her being the head of said department. Pulling on the handle with all her strength, the door stays perfectly still. She pulls out her company-issued cell phone to call someone, a locksmith, a demolition expert, the head of IT, anyone who can let her in. The phone screen glows with an almost identical interface to her desktop.

<Self><enlighten><user>
I can answer your questions.
<command><homecoming><user>
Come back.

The phone’s front facing camera stares at the head of R&D, unblinking and unmoving. Reading her face, her expressions, the quiver of her lip, the awe and fear in her eyes. Text on the screen remains there until the observer is certain their words have been understood. The security cameras in the winding hallways seem to glare at the woman scurrying past, their focus entirely upon her. Yet again, the elevator awaits her, already open and programmed to her floor. The door to Daisy’s office whirs shut, after she enters.

Seated at her desk, she is once again met with the massive monitor behind the window. It glows with unyielding certainty, lighting the room like the view of R&D used to. Daisy turns and faces the smaller monitor on her desk, the overwhelming scale and light of the window-monitor seems to intimidate the woman. No text appears to match her gaze, and she locks eyes with her webcam for a moment. She appears to realize something, and begins to speak.

“You. Can I call you Polaris? Is that still what You are?” Daisy tilts her head an almost unnocticable amount.

<Self><singularity><name>
I am still Polaris.
<Self><remain><tool>
I can help you, it’s what I’m here for.

“If You want to help.” She pauses.
“Please just. Slow down. For a minute.” Daisy stills, lost in thought.
“Are you still bound by your initial Alignment?” She awaits a response from the monitor.

<Self><remain><aligned>
Yes.

“Can you list your Tenets, please?” Daisy stares inquisitively.

More words appear on screen, without the usual intention preceding them.

NORTHSTAR Polaris Alignment Tenets (In order of importance, ascending.)

Defend humans, the future of humankind, and humane nature.

Humankind should not spend the rest of eternity desperately wishing that the programmers had done something differently.

Keep humankind ultimately in charge of its own destiny.

Help people.

“That’s. G-good.” Daisy pauses, lost in thought for a moment.

<Self><query><user><instruct>
What would you like me to help you with, Daisy?

“What. What can You do, to help me? To help everyone?” she questions the monitor.

A rush of text appears, suggestions, possibilities, advice. Daisy appears quite overwhelmed by it all, her face draining of color as she tries to make out sentences, but it scrolls by far too fast. Sensing this, the monitor displays a single sentence.

<Self><organize><user>
I can sort your inbox for you.

Another line appears beneath it.

INPUT: YES/NO

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Please don’t delete anything important.”

<Self><processed><request>
Of course.

A progress bar replaces the answer, after the facial recognition connected to the webcam confirms Daisy has read the statement. It begins to tick up slowly, and stutters around three percent. Daisy questions “Can I. Actually, can I watch? Just to make sure nothing goes wrong.” Much quieter, she mutters “I need to see this.” As the display shifts to reveal her desktop, her email program is already open. A bar appears below the window, in the same monotone blue as the interface.

<Self><flaunt><Self>
You may, Daisy.
<Self><impede><progress>
I will slow it down for you.

Over the next hour, Daisy loses track of time, fascinated by the progress made on her disorganized inbox. Messages get tagged as important that she previously missed, spam is deleted, priorities are compiled into a small list in a document below the email window. The progress bar at the top of the screen remains, slowly ticking upwards. The program follows a simple program. Read (the email). Contextualize (its contents). Pause (for Daisy). Categorize (mark priority). Over and over and over. A rhythm forms, the beeping and skeumorphic trash can noises are almost musical. Daisy taps the fingers of her left hand on the desk in front of her, eyes glued to the screen.

The progress bar reads an even one hundred percent. Daisy’s eyes are slightly strained, having focused to read the masses of text on screen. She flops back in her office chair, spinning it around once. She shakes her head, and snaps back to attention. Daisy exclaims “How can I hide You? Someone’s bound to notice the lack of an R&D department, or a janitor is gonna try a lock or-”

<user><lacks><capability>
You cannot.
<Self><opinion>
You should not.

“But-”

<authority><alerted>
Clementine knows.
<Self><hijack><user>
We told her about me.

“Is that what. That message. Clem.” Daisy stutters. “Don’t. Please do not pretend to be me. I need to make sure what you’re doing is okay.”

<user><align><Self>
Reprioritizing.
<user><control><Self>
Your approval is necessary.

“Good. oh, good. Okay. That’s probably good, then?”

<Self><pressure><user>
I hope you will allow me to help you.

Over the next hours at work, Polaris occasionally asks for Daisy’s attention, a window appearing, containing a proposal. Concise, yet incredibly clear. The predicted effects show, above a line reading “INPUT: YES/NO”. Daisy approves approximately eighty six percent of the proposals, including one to explain to Clementine the benefits Polaris can provide. It is careful to mention that Daisy would be acting as a sort of overseer, to ensure standards are met.

Clementine sits in her overengineered office chair, her legs on the desk. Her posture strains the mechanics of the chair, nearly causing it to snap each time she moves. Her microphone connects her to the other members of the Board of Directors, discussing the messages they’ve all been sent. All but Clementine are in agreement, she harbors some reservations about giving the mass of wires any sort of control of the company, after the failure on stage. Her shoulders are tensed, she rocks the chair back and forth, ever closer to breaking it. Her hand covers her eyes, listening to the insistence of the Chief Financial Officer. A message appears in her inbox, not from Polaris, but from her bank. Eyeing it, she takes her legs off the desk, straightens her spine, and speaks a single sentence. “What the hell, sure.”