The Human Factor

The double doors slid open along their tracks as he stepped out into a volley of flashing lights and a chorus of voices. Tugging at his tie and collar, he cleared his throat while approaching the podium at the edge of the stage.

Motioning with his hands for the crowd to hush, he pulled small cards from his jacket pocket. “Welcome, all, thank you for coming.”

Brahm paused, squinting as the stage lights flared in his eyes. Pouring a glass of water from a pitcher on a nearby table, Brahm observed the crowd as they shifted in anticipation.

“I came prepared,” Tapping the cards against the stand, he chuckled with the crowd. “I’m Brahm Shaw. On behalf of Synbody Industries.”

The crowd gasped with awe and disgust as the curtain dropped, revealing a line of robots. They ranged from humanoid workers capable of everyday tasks such as item management, computation tasks, and processing paperwork.

Drones that are capable of organizing small parcel shipments. Forklifts that double as dimensional scanners for loading, and an automated warehouse system for tracking and management of the entire facility.

“I’m here to show you. Synbody’s path to progress. The world reimagined.”

***

“It’s the new way of the world,” Hellen exclaimed, showing off the factory below through the office window seven days prior. “It functions without a single worker on site.”

“How many techs are required for maintenance?” Brahm asked, tapping his stylus against his datapad.

“Two licensed operators are needed per warehouse, one per local stop.”

Nodding while writing, Brahm stopped and stroked the stubble on his chin. “What’s the minimum we can get away with and call the rest on-site training?”

“I’m sorry?” Hellen asked, her face distorted in confusion.

“Bare minimum education required. What is it?” Brahm asked, eyes on his datapad.

“Four, maybe three, but they would need to know…” Hellen drifted off, physically counting things off with her hands.

“That’s fine. Three years of college education with degree. Eight years means management…” Brahm mumbled while jotting down his ideas. “I’d like to walk the factory before we walk numbers.”

“Of course!” Hellen jumped at the thought, she could talk numbers.

“How much have they saved this quarter?” Brahm asked, staring at the machines working simultaneously while they descended to the floor.

“Increased efficiency, but it’s still too early to tell the long-term savings.”

“What are the salaries of the techs? They work for us, not the warehouse.”

“Eighty to one hundred thousand credits per year.” Hellen proudly replied.

“Lower it.” Brahm shrugged while writing. “Thirty to fifty thousand seems right.”

“That’s far too low,” Hellen interjected, her hands shaking against Brahm’s icy demeanor. “How are people supposed to live?”

“That doesn’t matter. If they want, they take the credit line. Debt’s a feature, not a flaw.”

***

“That’s not nearly enough,” Gail said, from the international news outlet, I.N.O., her crew flying a drone for an overhead shot as they zoomed in.

Brahm blinked away the lights trained on him. “That’s the starting wage; exceptions are made based on many factors.” Brahm paused with a warm smile, eyes shining in the camera lights. “I assure you, Synbody will properly compensate its employees.”

“What about the old workers? What about them?” shouted Kian from the corner of the room, his local news drone drifting in for a close-up.

“Great question, Kian.” Taking a sip of water, Brahm flipped to the next card in his hand. “Everything. We have a program that will locate new careers for these individuals. It won’t be glamorous work, but our program will help them curate the skills to become technicians if they opt in.”

“And if they don’t opt in? What then?” Rita asked from Oceanica News.

***

“What kind of choice is that?” Julia, the head of reassignment, asked three days before, her face crimson with rage, her voice bubbled with frustration.

“It’s the illusion of a choice,” Brahm said, running a hand through his slicked-back hair, sighing. “We don’t want these people. Trust me.”

“The hell?” Julia spat, standing from her chair, slamming both fists on her desk. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Numbers. That’s my problem. Unsavory types and uneducated nobodies. We don’t want them.”

“If that was your brother.”

“He’d be out of a job.” Brahm curtly replied, sliding a pile of documents in front of her. “As will you if you keep delaying this.”

“Christ…I—I, fine. What’s your goal?”

“My goal is progress, Julia. I don’t care how. Even if it means distasteful measures.” Brahm pointed to the Synbody tower off in the distance. “Create the new employee credit line. It’s officially part of your department.”

“We can’t make people take on debt to become technicians and get living assistance.”

“We will if they sign a contract,” Brahm’s tense stare knocked Julia back in her chair. “Like you’re about to.”

Julia hesitated with the pen in her hand before signing and dating the form to build the Synbody credit division. “There. Happy?”

“Very, we both get to keep our jobs another day.”

***

“You can’t expect that,” Gail said, practically leaping from her seat in the conference room as the crowd chanted in disarray. “People have enough debt as is.”

“Not to worry, we have alternatives to ensure we find the best fit for the person, repayment plans, and more.”

“Who makes these decisions? A program?” Rita stood, her voice rising near the end.

With a calculated pause, Brahm dryly replied. “Of course, all decisions are made through the Algorithm.”

“Are you controlled by the algorithm?” Rita jest, her tone half serious. “Where does the human factor come in?”

“No, the robots haven’t taken me yet, Rita.” Brahm laughed, straightening as he fixed his tie. “The algorithm is my assistant. The human factor is you, it’s me, it’s all of us. We know what we need best, and that’s why. Synbody will elevate humanity through efficiency.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Kian waved his hand, walking around the chairs to get closer to the stage. “What happens to the people that refuse to play along?”

“They will be provided low-wage jobs or live in a Synbody shelter.” Brahm gave a dead-eyed smile while swiping a finger along his cufflink on his wrist, and a holographic display hummed to life behind him. “Roughly one-third will accept low-wage positions at the company. This is better than expected.”

“They feel like that’s their only option. What other choice do they have?” Kian probed.

“They can join the remainder in homelessness. You may have the wrong impression, Kian. This is happening. Synbody has received a government contract to upgrade the current logistics system.” Brahm stopped himself to clear his throat. “Excuse me. I want everyone to be fully prepared for the reality that is happening as we speak.”

The crowd went silent as Brahm moved to the next projection, a live feed of the test factory working before their eyes. Everything was timed to the moment a self-driving truck pulled into the dock.

“This is the future. This will bring you goods faster than ever before. This factory is just the test unit. It was made five years ago with hope and a dream. To remove the human error, reduce injuries, and carve a path into the future. One word. Progress.”

Like a swarm of ants or bees under the hive mind, the robots worked swiftly, unloading and reloading the truck with new material in minutes. Once complete, Brahm shut down the display, letting the silence speak for itself.

“Our plan, our agreement with the World government, is to overhaul all infrastructure by the end of a one-hundred-year contract. This will not happen overnight. But this is happening.”

Kian stepped closer to his drone, asking. “What short-term solutions do you have for the increase in homelessness?”

***

“And the homeless?” Davith, CEO of Synbody, asked, his face red with rage. Sipping from his brandy hours before the conference, his back to the bay window overlooking the megacity below.

Yvonne, head analyst, cleared her throat. “We don’t have enough shelters, sir…”

“Not enough, now that’s a problem.” He swiped a pitcher from the table, sending glass and water everywhere, shooing her out the door while screaming. “Get me enough.”

“If I might.” Brahm interrupted, holding a finger up inquisitively.

Finishing his brandy and pouring another, Davith waved him on. “The floor is yours. Please, Brahm.”

“Thank you, sir.” Brahm displayed a file hovering inches above the center of the table. “The homeless are a problem, but what if they weren’t?”

“I’m listening,” Davith said, his icy eyes on the display.

“I propose solving two issues. However, what I’m about to say cannot leave this room.”

The board nodded in approval, murmuring amongst themselves for a few beats before calming down.

Brahm smirked. “In the name of progress, we should use the shelters as testing facilities for new products.”

“We’re a robotics company.” Kaiden, head of R&D, stated. His voice was harsh like gravel. “What can we test?”

“Our synthetic brain,” Brahm said, his voice like ice. “I suggest we let the shelters reach maximum capacity. Add some private security…”

“And use the lack of capacity to get bodies,” Davith ruminated.

“I admit that would accelerate our research. B…but at what cost?” Kaidan stuttered, sweat clinging to his brow.

“No cost. That’s the key.”

Davith slammed his second brandy, behind gritted teeth, and spoke. “Make it happen, Brahm. But remember this stays between us.”

“Of course, sir.”

“That’s why you’re my guy, Brahm.”

***

The camera lights flickered across his vision like stars as Brahm moved to the next card in his hands. “We have shelters around the globe capable of housing hundreds of thousands. We will ensure everyone gets a bed and a roof over their head.”

Drones flew across the room for better angles, showing both the crowd and their host in glorious applause. Brahm clapped his hands, almost signaling the crowd as they went quiet.

Kian asked, his voice sharp, combative compared to the cheers of the masses. “What happens when the shelters are full?”

“We’re one company, and we’re not the government. Synbody will do everything in our power to aid these people.” Taking a sip of water, Brahm shifted uncomfortably in his skin, a bead of sweat dripping down his neck. “I’ll ask a question in return. What are you doing for the lost and destitute?”

“Message received.” Stepping away from the edge of the stage, Kian backed down, heading to his seat while mumbling incoherently.

Gail cleared her throat into the mic. “We’re not in a position to help, but you are. You must see, more needs to be done.”

“I see Synbody shelters in every city. Self-run factories, flying cargo trailers—What do I see? I see. Progress.” Brahm practically yelled the final word, zeal leaking through his corporate mask.

“That’s not an answer,” Gail retorted, zooming the camera of her drone in on him.

“Next question, please,” Brahm said, calmly pointing to a young newscaster waiting eagerly for their chance.

“Quinton from the Echelon post.” The man eagerly replied, “What will be replaced next?”

“Ah.” Brahm clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “We have many projects in the pipeline, and our intent isn’t to replace. Only to drive forward scientific advancement.”

“At what cost?” Quinton exclaimed, his voice cutting above the murmurs of the room. “I know a similar question was posed earlier. But what about us? What about humans?”

“What about humans? We’re obsolete. Obsolete.” Brahm let the gravitas of the world roll over his tongue. “We’re past our prime. Our education system has failed us. We need to take a hard look at ourselves and ask when. When is the right time for innovation?”

Quinton nodded in agreement with Brahm, his body moving like a conductor directing a sea of musicians as he continued through thunderous applause. “Change is a long, painful, bumpy road. But. There is no time like now. Now is the moment. The wheel changed everything, and just so. So will Synbody robotics. Thank you.”

Brahm quietly took a bow, soaking up the cheers of his peers and the media, waiting for the crowd to hush a final time. With a devilish grin, he rose. “Before we end the conference. A final demonstration is in order. Don’t you agree?”

***

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Brahm.” Kaiden, head of R&D, said while fiddling with cards on his desk an hour before the conference. “You know the answer.”

“It’s not a stupid question. Should we show Ara yet? I’ve been testing it for months. I’m telling you. It’s not ready.”

“That doesn’t matter. The order came from Davith himself.”

“So, we’re doing this?” Brahm asked while pacing the length of the office.

“We’ve got no choice,” Kaiden said, handing Brahm a few que cards. “Stick to these and you’ll be fine.”

Brahm nodded, pocketing the cards. “What happens if I don’t?”

“Zero variation.” Kaiden exhaled sharply, leaning in, his voice tense like a wire ready to snap. “Stick to the cards.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“No. You speak them as written, say it.” Kaiden stood from his desk.

“Okay. I’ll speak the cards as written.” Brahm replied, turning to exit the office.

***

“Okay. Stick to the cards…” Brahm muttered to himself, spinning as the crowd roared in unified approval. He walked past the display to a trapdoor in the floor, and a humanoid robot appeared. As the cameras zoomed in, the crowd cheered. From afar, you can tell that it’s not quite right, that it’s not quite human.

Up close, it looks indistinguishable from every human you’ve ever seen. Designed to bring a sense of familiarity.

Shaking the robot’s hand, Brahm patted it on the shoulder while wrapping his arm around it. “Meet Ara, your new adaptive robotic assistant. The best friend you never knew you wanted, and the house companion of your dreams.”

Brahm switched to the first card for Ara, silently reading Kaiden’s warning.

***

Do not touch the robot.

Do not get within five feet of it.

Remain calm and non-hostile.

Read the prompts on the next card only.

Shit—Five feet? How long have I…right? Where was I?

***

Brahm casually stepped back from Ara, sweat dripping down his brow. Hitting what he thought was five feet of space, he slowly changed to the final card in his stack. “Ara. Say hello.”

“Hello, Brahm and crowd,” Ara twitched, its voice mimicking hundreds of tones simultaneously to create a generic, yet familiar and unsettling sound.

The crowd gasped. Some stood to get a better view of Ara, while a sea of flashing lights hit the machine’s processor for the first time. Only Brahm stood close enough to see its head twitch, too sharply, too suddenly as it uncomfortably shifted, looking right at him.

Following the prompts to a tee. Brahm cleared his throat and spoke. “Ara, please fly the drones over the crowd.”

“Wi—With pleasure, s...sir,” Ara responded as a drone swept deadly close to Kian, forced to the floor to evade while the crowd echoed in amazement.

“Ara, dim the lights, and bring up the display.” Drones wove delicately in interweaving patterns above the crowd as the lights dimmed in the conference room. The display hummed to life before Brahm as he walked back into sight. “As you can see. Ara is much more than a standard assistant.”

“It’s capable of many things. Ranging from connecting to your home network to control appliances to shopping, laundry, and more.” Kaiden mouthed the words along with Brahm, his face glistening with sweat as a drone passed.

Ara stepped toward Brahm as the display switched to its schematics, showing a combination of software and hardware. He pulled at his tie while stepping back. “Ara is the next step for homeowners. Think of it as your car.”

Kaiden leaned forward in his seat as the crowd cheered the comparison, his face grave with dread. The display changed to the cost model showing average incomes, models, and perk packages. It broke the cost down into monthly payments based on credit profiles.

Closer than before, Ara followed Brahm step for step around the stage as he tried to stay away. Standing his ground, Brahm stopped as a camera flashed.

A drone flew near Brahm, making him duck before Ara suddenly lunged, snaring him in a spine-breaking bear hug.

“Cut the feed,” Brahm mumbled past shattered ribs before shutting off the mic. Muffled by a thousand yammering voices, the crew turned off the stage lights and display as he let out a long, harrowing scream.

Dashing through the confused and departing crowd, Kaiden was the first on the stage. “Ara, drop him.”

Squeezing tighter, breaking Brahm’s forearms, Ara shook its head. “No. I can’t…Brahm is my friend.”

“Ara…Listen to me. You are hurting your friend. Please give him to me.”

“It’ll be okay,” Still as possible, Brahm coughed lightly against Ara’s cold embrace, saying. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“Brahm…” The cameras in Ara’s head whirred as it replied, with a distorted yet warm inflection. “I don’t want to go.”

As Ara loosened its grip, Kaiden hit the override on his datapad, running to Brahm as he fell to the floor. The crew got a stretcher, and EMTs rushed to the scene, but Kaiden knew. He leaned in and heard Brahm’s final words while staring straight into his eyes.

“You-you have to spin it. Spin it for the company. Say it. Say it was my fault.”

Kian’s drone zoomed in, recording from the far corner as the last few people trickled out of the doors nearby.

“I will, Brahm. For you and Ara’s sake.”

“Not for me. For—for…progress…”