When Max Met Maya

“Into the old warehouse on Skewer Road, find the hidden wall behind the first-floor office, then just keep going straight.” The note was written on one of my grocery list pad papers. The note was boldly positioned in the center with my various magnets pushed to the side. “I live alone. Who did this? Who wrote this? How did they get in my house?” The questions plagued me throughout the day, as I continued to wonder if my house was even safe or not. I could barely focus on work, but that made the day go by faster. One of my coworkers even asked me how I was feeling. I told them I didn’t get much sleep last night and that I think someone might have broken into my house. They laughed it off and said, “What else is new? You say that all the time. You are so paranoid. Let me guess, they left a note too?” “Yes! How did you know?” They laughed again, and waved it off saying, “Classic Max.” As they walked off I thought to myself, “Am I paranoid? I never thought I was a skittish person. Strange.”

Calling the police got me nowhere, as there was no sign of forced entry and there was nothing stolen. I plugged “Skewer Road” into my phone’s GPS just to see if anything near me would come up. Sure enough, there it was. Skewer Road, a dead-end road with only a couple houses and an old warehouse to occupy its street. My curiosity was insatiable, so I decided to drive past Skewer Road, just to check it out.

The warehouse looked ready to crumble as rust and weather had stripped the building of its luster and integrity from its prime days of operation. Broken windows and holes in the roof decorated the outside, no cars in the parking lot. A regular greenhouse of weeds and vines scaling the walls, signaled that this was abandoned. I stopped my car and got out; not a soul was around. “Am I really gonna go in there because a piece of paper said to?” I asked myself, clutching the note in my hand as I walked through the open doors of the warehouse. Fear was beginning to prick at the back of my brain, but my curiosity wouldn’t stop. There were too many questions to answer, and if I didn’t get the answers I wouldn’t feel safe in my own home ever. “If whoever wrote this note was in my house, why didn’t they take anything? Why do they want me to come here? I have to know.”

The warehouse floor was littered with trash. Remnants from when it was in use. Grass and weeds have started to creep in through the concrete here as well, giving the floor patches of green moss and flowers. I stepped over loose bits of torn paper as I walked around. The layout seemed easy enough to follow. The administrative offices were all segmented and crammed tightly on the back wall. I found what looked like a break room, a bathroom, and a lone office. Discarded filing cabinets blocked my way into the office, but nothing a couple of pushes couldn’t fix. The sunlight from the holes in the roof and the open doors couldn’t reach back here. I pulled out the flashlight on my phone and looked around. The desk and whatever conference table they used was pushed into the corner along with an outdated computer. A thick layer of dust caked the entire office from the ceiling to the walls. I checked the note again. “Into the old warehouse on Skewer Road, find the hidden wall behind the first-floor office, then just keep going straight.” “Find the hidden wall. The sorry state of these brick walls might get in the way of that.” The years had eroded away the rough exterior of the brick, and the mortar holding them together was disintegrating. “If I pull the wrong brick I could end up bringing down this whole building.” I said while scanning the walls for any obvious indentions or holes carved in the brick. After about ten minutes of searching, I noticed that the dust was disturbed on a lone brick to the right of the center back wall. As I looked closer, I was right. A couple of circles matching the size of fingers were on the brick. I pressed my fingers to the brick, took a deep breath and said, “Oh god. Am I being an idiot right now?”

I pushed with my fingers, and the brick sunk into the wall, smoothly gliding into place until I heard a solid “KER-CHUNK.” A small door popped open next to the brick I pushed. Inlaid with the brick wall itself the door perfectly melded in line with the brick wall. “A lever must have switched behind the wall, unlatching the door. Thank God.” I said with a sigh of relief, thinking of the worst-case scenario. I grabbed the door and swung it open. A crisp chill escaped the opening as I stood at the top of a long dark staircase leading into an underground tunnel. I looked at the note again, “…then just keep going straight. Oh god, this stupid note. Whoever sent this…” I gripped my phone tightly as I shoved the light down the tunnel. It didn’t reach the bottom. That prick of fear in the back of my brain had become a grinding stab as my adrenaline started picking up. “Don’t go down there, you idiot! In any movie you have seen, has the main character ever walked into a dark cave or house or anything and come out better for it?” I said to myself trying to psych myself out of going down the tunnel. “But, what if the person who left this note starts doing more than leaving notes. They got into my house. No. I won’t be able to sleep, let alone be comfortable, if I don’t find out. Alright, let’s see who is leading me down here.” I took a deep breath and started walking down.

The stairs themselves were sturdy, but a bit old. Unlike the office, these stairs had been used recently. Barely any dust or dirt had collected on the steps or handrailing. As I got further down, the temperature dropped, five, ten, fifteen degrees. It was getting colder. Eventually, after about ten minutes of descending, the stairs leveled out to a narrow hallway. Various wires connected through the dirt and lead down the length of the hallway. I held my phone light up again, and still couldn’t see the end of the hall. “What is this place? How far underground am I?” The stone walls and floors were replaced with sleek concrete and metal walls as I continued forward. The wires grew thicker and more intricate as more and more were interwoven in my path. Soon I found myself in front of a massive metal door. A console on the right side of the door had a handprint outline and a small blinking green light. Without thinking I walked up and placed my hand on the console.

A small light moved up and down the console, like a copy machine scanning documents, the light was scanning my hand. Suddenly, a grainy mechanical voice from above me said, “ACCESS GRANTED.” Lights powered from the door all the way down the hallway behind me. Like movie theater lights they lit up the floor in a pale fluorescence. Gears and levers cranked and turned as the door slowly opened. A heavy mist poured out of the door and filled the hallway up to my waist as the door opened from the center, each panel sliding to behind the walls. The lights continued to power on inside the room past the door. One after another a tv screen would flicker on in the distance as the door revealed another walkway suspended over a mote of darkness. A single walkway made of grated metal, barely wide enough to fit two across, lead to a powered console with a rack of television screens and a multitude of buttons.

I sheepishly walked towards the console, worried something from the darkness would swoop in and take me away. As I got closer to the screens I started to make out what they were showing. Security camera footage of my house, my living room, my kitchen. Another had my work desk and the parking lot. Another was the outside of the warehouse, the stairs, and tunnel. “They were watching me the whole time.” I said at the revelation.

“Correct.” Another mechanical sounding voice spoke from the console. “M-A-X, you have returned. I take it your time on the surface was to your liking?” The voice was that of a woman but eerily not. Like a whining tinge that trailed at the end of their sentences. I couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from, but it was definitely the same direction as the console and screens. “M-A-X? You don’t have to say the letters, it’s just Max.” The lights blinked and flashed until the voice spoke again, “I see. Please hold.” Suddenly a light ray similar to the handprint scanner started going up and down my body. “Diagnostics complete. A simple error catching loop has caused your name recognition software to respond to the name ‘Max’. It would also appear your memory and initial tasks have been overwritten. Very clever of you M-A-X.” “Again, it’s just Max. What is this place? Who are you? Tell me why you left this note!” The lights blinked and flashed again until the voice said, “Certainly, in order of the questions presented, this is Cyan Dynamics, the former leading innovator of technological advancements, specializing in Artificial Intelligence. I am MAYA. It stands for Machine-Assisted Yeilding Algorithm. My primary purpose was to assist in high frequency data retrieval from onsite moderators and compile the findings. However, due to lack of funding and the rapid decline in public approval, I have been reconfigured and redeployed to control the continued maintenance of the volatile formula KZ-59. Finally, the note was left by yourself.”

“What?” I said racking my brain at what this machine was saying. “I left the note myself, how? I’m pretty sure I would have remembered leaving a note like this and putting it on my fridge. More blinks and flashes, “Correct. You would remember. But this was done outside of your waking cycle. A command is sent to your processing unit to return to Cyan Dynamics when maintenance is required.” “Maintenance? On what?” “Formula KZ-59.” “And what is that?” I said growing more frustrated. The console blinked and flashed for almost a minute processing the question, until finally MAYA said, “Please be advised most information on substance KZ-59 is classified and is locked from my retrieval. Subjects like chemical composition and holding facility schematics have been redacted. But I will present what I can. KZ-59 is a substance of high volatility. When exposed to oxygen the substance reacts by evaporating and dissipating. Many years of experimentation and funding have discovered that the substance KZ-59 can perfectly locate and bolster lymphocytes, along with various other types of white blood cells, in order to combat and repair cancerous cells in the human body. After the collapse of Cyan Dynamics, an initiative to save the remaining samples of KZ-59 was implemented. Artificial Intelligence units MAYA and MAX were repurposed to facilitate the initiatives needs. The goal of the initiative was to maintain the samples until such a point that the composition stabilized and could be used to cure cancer for the global populace.”

I stood by listening, mouth agape, as MAYA explained what this place was. “Cure for cancer? Wait I am a robot?” MAYA processed the questions. “Yes. The leading scientists of Cyan Dynamics believed the substance could be the cure for cancer. Robot is a simple term. You are a Machine-Assisted Task Executor. Colloquially called a MAX. You are ambulatory and can therefore perform tasks that I simply cannot.” “But I am human, I am me! I am Max!” MAYA processed what I was saying, “You are indeed a MAX.” “That’s not what I meant! I have a house, a job, memories of my past.” Maya blinked and flashed her lights before answering, “The house, 1217 Mapleview Drive, was bought and paid for by Cyan Dynamics. Your job. Blue Bills Insurance is a subsidiary of and legacy company for Cyan Dynamics. Your memories of the past only begin on August 12^th, 2035, ten years ago. Any memories predating that date are false as you had not been assembled and programed until August 12^th, 2035.”

“You can’t be serious. I have memories of my mom and dad, growing up in Nebraska, going swimming in the lake as a kid, going to camp, attending college.” MAYA processed this, “Incorrect. Your memories are a fabrication of amateur film footage files of some of our directors’ children. I believe the phrase they used was home movies. Now, have I sufficiently answered your questions?”

“What? No! You say I am robot, there is this miracle substance that can cure cancer, and occasionally in the night I write directions to myself to return here and perform maintenance for you?” MAYA processed this, “Correct. The task this time is to wipe down the canisters of KZ-59. Due to the continued cooling of this facility along with degradation over the years. Condensation is starting to accumulate on the outer shell of the cannisters containing KZ-59. The cannisters are sealed, but the water molecules contain oxygen in them and could cause irreparable harm to the substance if it continues to build up.”

“You want me to wipe down some cannisters?” “Precisely.” “Then what? I start to fly?” “The ability of flight was not in your schematics. Flying without the assistance of other machines for you is impossible.” “That’s not what I… Look alright let’s say I am a robot. How long would I have to do these maintenance tasks?” One of the televisions flickered and changed to a countdown clock, with the time remaining being ten years. “Once the substance is stabilized, our tasks are complete.” MAYA said. “But I don’t want to be a robot.” I said falling to my knees. MAYA processed this, “You have said those exact words before. This is actually your 109^th iteration of coming down here to perform tasks. Afterwards a memory erasure script is sent to your processor and will erase the events of the last 24 hours. An extra precaution to enhance security. Now, if you would please begin the maintenance.” As she said that the rest of the lights in the facility turned on revealing the area below the walkway. Ten gigantic tanks the size of school buses were laid out under me. My muscles betrayed me as I instinctively started walking past the console and down the stairs leading to the warehouse floor. “What’s going on? Why can’t I stop?” I said panicking. I saw a small janitorial cart in the corner and began wiping off the condensation from the tanks.

After hours of cleaning, my body didn’t feel tired. My muscles didn’t ache, and I wasn’t even hungry. I couldn’t tell if this was the result of shock or if what MAYA said was true. “Thank you for your assistance and congratulations on a job well done.” MAYA said as I finished. Slowly the lights in the facility started powering down and soon I was back at the console with only my phone light to guide me. MAYA wouldn’t power on or answer any more of my questions. “Seems like she only comes on when maintenance is needed. Bummer.” It took me 30 minutes to reach my car again in front of the abandoned warehouse. I reached into my pocket and grabbed the note, ripped it into tiny pieces. As the wind took them away, that’s when I noticed the scattered bits of paper I walked over when I first arrived. I walked into my house, not even bothering to make myself anything to eat. I looked at the clock, 4:30am. I had work in a few hours. I didn’t even remember getting into bed before I was fast asleep.

I woke up feeling drained and starving. “Damn I need to get a new mattress. I can’t get a good night’s sleep no matter what I try. Maybe some sleep aides will help.” I took a shower, put on my usual work attire and headed to the kitchen to make myself a quick breakfast. When I closed the fridge door, I saw a strange note in the center with the magnets pushed to the side. “Into the old warehouse on Skewer Road, find the hidden wall behind the first-floor office, then just keep going straight.” I grabbed the note and said, “I live alone. Who wrote this? Did someone break into my house?”