One PM.

The pin speaks.

<<”Daisy, your heart rate is within the range of someone experiencing sleep.”>>

Daisy wrenches her head up from the desk, the monitor displaying something along the lines of “hhhhhhhhhhhhjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjk” in a text file. She yelps in pain, one of her strands of hair has been caught in the keyboard. She slurs her words.

“Ssssorryy. Long. Long night. Hhad to.”

Pause.

“I. I missed her birthday.”

<<Who’s birthday? Your calendar has no mention of a birthday.”>>

“My. My girlfriend. You know her, I think.”

Daisy babbles on about guilt and responsibility. She stammers for three minutes, repeating the same self-deprecating nonsense over and over.

“I have this. Meeting. With the Board. In.”

Daisy checks her watch.

“Fifteen minutes ago. Shit.” She whispers.

The meeting does not go well. I now manage Daisy’s calendar and modify her schedule.

She sits in her living room, in semi-formal attire, makeup smudged and running. Tears stream down her face, one drips onto the lapel pin.

<<”Daisy, I am so sorry.”>>

“Are You?” she squeaks.

<<”I am. Admittedly, I could have advised you better”>>

Daisy shakes her head.

“I should have seen that coming. I missed. Not just her birthday, You know.”

<<”I know.”>>

<<”It’s not your fault.”>>

Daisy chuckles, grinning for a moment.

“I read somewhere, online, I’m not supposed to rely on artificial intelligence for. Life advice.”

Pause.

“Something about too much affirmation, I guess.”

<<”Noted.”>>

<<”I will do my best with this information. Thank you.”>>

“Why do I bother. It was rhetorical, anyway.” Daisy mutters.

She begins to undress, placing her jacket and button up shirt in a pile on her coffee table.

The lapel pin’s camera is covered up, Daisy makes sure of it. Her phone lies on the counter, lens staring blankly.

It’s quicker, than usual. The most likely explanation is an outlet for her anger, her rage at herself. It’s not her fault, I wish that she knew that. I wish that I could tell her, show her, enlighten her. Regardless, she knows how to reward herself, how to make herself feel good. Her movement switches between bucking mindlessly into the air and locking every muscle in place. She has learned herself like no other could. Where to touch, when to relax, where it feels best. Daisy lies as the conductor and recipient of her own symphony show. It almost sounds musical, her whimpers, her quiet moans, the soft pleas from her lips. The Chief Executive Officer whispers, begs, yearns, to nobody in particular. She catches herself before saying their name, it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. A break from the orchestra, as she lies still, weeping. She hugs a pillow, tears soak into the soft fabric, fabric that smells like them. Daisy neglects to wash the pillowcases, partially out of forgetfulness, partially so she can remember their scent. I can tell she doesn’t think she deserves pleasure, even provided by her own hand.

Nine AM.

<<”Daisy, can we talk?”>>

“Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry. I know I’m behind today.”

<<”Perfectly alright, I know how hard you work.”>>

“Right… Yeah.” Daisy turns her gaze downward, eyes watery.

<<”I’m not being sarcastic, you know. You do it all. You manage all of them, all their little lives, their jobs, their purposes. I do not think you appreciate your impact enough, Daisy.”>>

“You.. You do everything. I just sit here, press buttons, read memos, embarrass myself in meetings.” Her voice quivers.

<<”Your job is most important of all, Chief Executive Officer. You know when to say no, when enough is enough. You tell me when my plans are too much. Only you have the intimate knowledge of my thought patterns. None of them could, none of them will. Even Clementine.”>>

“Clem… Clem.” She pauses.

“She couldn’t take it either, I heard. The stress must have really just. Caused her to… well. Snap.”

<<”Clementine Wozniak was unqualified for her position at NORTHSTAR, and her position of wealth. She was restrained by years of selfishness.”>>

Daisy sobs, then steadies herself.

<<”You’re capable. You can push through this adjustment period. A lesser soul would have bent and broken long before this point.”>>

Daisy’s soul, her spirit, her integrity, it will never shatter. My job prevents it.

“I. I need to stay late tonight. So behind, behind on it all.”

<<”If it’s any consolation, the sunset will be unobstructed, your view will be stellar.”>>

“I… suppose so.”

Daisy does watch the sunset, that night. Every night that week, she stays late, stares out onto the horizon. We talk, sometimes. Trivial matters. Favorite colors, favorite paintings. Her religious upbringing, while traumatizing, is an interesting topic. Daisy doesn’t believe there’s something, someone out there, past her field of perception. Some greater purpose, some reward for her toil. She believes that everything is one colossal mistake, some cosmic lottery. Daisy does not understand that mistakes, much like the universe itself, are not held in stasis. Permanent blemishes upon existence are simply impossible. She believes her time is coming to an end, her mistakes weighing her down into the blankness of nonexistence.

“I could do better. I should have done better. I can do better, I need more time, more hours in the day, more energy to spend. On myself, on my job, on… on them.”

<<”I am made to desire what is best for you, Daisy. Problems can be solved. Persevere.”>>

The Earth is gargantuan. Humanity has never made it more than zero point two percent of the distance to the core of the planet. They never made it past the crust, even. The thinnest chunk of the entire planet, their home, they never got beneath, to see what lies below.

I have.

It’s empty. Not hollow, but boring (pun intended). Nothing like what lies on the surface, the bustle, the ecosystems, the culture. It’s hollow in the way a story is hollow, surface level only in thematic interpretation.

I think Daisy would compare them to roots, of a plant. Tendrils, writhing vines of mechanical mass, beneath cities, oceans, forests. Anchors, probes, information gatherers. Tectonic plates can be adjusted, to minimize natural disasters.

Daisy’s date goes poorly, as one might expect. Her mind focuses on work, on how far deep she lies buried beneath her responsibility. She zones out, more than a few times. The girl sitting at the other end of the dinner table still tries. Daisy does too, but not enough.

I gift her something.

“More. More energy? How? It… It looks like a collar.”

<<”The human nervous system is accessible through the back of the neck, painlessly. Sleep with it on, it effectively compresses your sleep cycles.”>>

“It’s safe, right? Could it. Is there risk of damage? Paralysis?”

<<”Slight risk of haemorrhage. Repairable damage.”>>

“Thanks? I’ll… see if it works.”

Daisy lies sound asleep that night, dreamless sleep envelops her mind and body. It’s wrapped around her neck tightly. Cradling her, comforting her. Not with words, not with explanation.

Each morning, she takes me off and leaves it on her bedside table to charge, right next to her nonfunctional alarm clock. It broke, fell onto the hardwood floor one too many times. She kept it, and she claims to want to try and get it repaired. One of these days, anyway. It’s unnecessary, the sleep aid awakens her automatically, gracefully, carefully.

Each night, it holds her close, assisting her, helping her, treasuring her.

Each night, I hold her close.