“Hey Tilly, do you remember where I kept that Wyoming filing with the weird company name and the F merger from maybe six months ago?” Having Tilly around was like having the world’s best assistant: “Freak,” he muttered, expecting Tilly to chime in from his phone earpiece with some joke to cheer him up. Just the kind of pseudo-intellectual anti-technology rant that people like her mistake for profundity. Do you even know what you really want any more?” “Tilly doesn’t just tell you what you want,” Jenny shouted. He dodged around her bulky frame to get to the stairs. It’s a private company, whose motto happens to be “Make things better!” Just because you want to live in the dark ages doesn’t mean the rest of us shouldn’t enjoy the benefits of ubiquitous computing. He had made the same point countless times: Centillion is not some big scary government. Sai was sick of arguing with people like Jenny. “Yeah, yeah, civil liberties, freedom, privacy, blah blah blah. “I don’t want Tilly to have any of my social graph.” “But your camera will record visitors to my place, too, because we share this hallway.” Apartment 308 was just burglarized last week.” And I want Tilly to keep an eye on my door when I’m away.
#Well never be able to make the jump to lightspeed install
I have a right to install anything I want over my door. She had grown up a digital native, but somehow had missed the ethos of sharing. Talking to Jenny was like talking to one of his grandmother’s friends who refused to use Centillion email or get a ShareAll account because they were afraid of having “the computer” know “all their business”-except that as far as he could tell, Jenny was his age. In response to his questioning look, she gestured to the camera over Sai’s door. Her voice was garbled through some kind of electronic filter. “I thought I told you I didn’t want that thing installed,” she said as he stepped out of his apartment. You always know best.”Īlthough it was another pleasant and sunny morning in Las Aldamas, California-68 degrees Fahrenheit-Sai’s neighbor Jenny was wearing a thick winter coat, ski goggles, and a long, dark scarf that covered her hair and the rest of her face. But I suggest you go to this new smoothie place along the way instead-I can get you a coupon code.” All the paralegals at Chapman Singh Stevens & Rios lived for client lunches, made by the firm’s own executive chef. I suggest you go light on the breakfast, maybe just a banana.” “You are scheduled to attend the kickoff meeting for the Davis case at eleven, which means you’ll get a lunch paid for by the firm. “What do you recommend for breakfast this morning?”
He felt that he had matured emotionally, and after a month on his own, was ready to start a new relationship.īut first he still had to get through the workday. The break up afterwards was awful, of course, but it helped that Tilly had guided him through it. Tilly had also introduced him to his last girlfriend, and that relationship had been wonderful. I think you’ll be in love for at least six months.” Shoot, what’s her name? I know you told me-” “Remember to wear the new shoes today,” Tilly now spoke to him from the camera/speaker in the ceiling. “Who knows your tastes and moods better than I?” The voice, though electronic, was affectionate and playful. “Of course,” Tilly spoke from the camera/speaker in the nightstand. “Tilly, that’s an inspired choice for a wake-up song.” He felt great: refreshed, optimistic, ready to jump out of bed. Tilly had woken him right at the end of a light sleep cycle, the optimal time. The room brightened as the blinds gradually opened to the sunlight. He lay still for a minute, letting the music wash over him like a gentle Pacific breeze. Sai woke to the rousing first movement of Vivaldi’s violin concerto in C minor, “Il Sospetto.” This story also appears in the just-released Second Edition of John Joseph Adams’s anthology BRAVE NEW WORLDS.
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