Blue Sky 404

My Thursday began no differently than any other. I woke up to my beeping alarm at 6:00AM and hit snooze—just once—like I always do. Ramona, the cat, circled my legs with meows and purrs as I prepared her daily can of wet food. For breakfast, I had my usual oatmeal with a drizzle of Agave syrup and a sprinkle of salt. Just like the day before, I sipped my black tea and watched the sun rise from my balcony, soaking in the brilliant pinks and purples and orange hues. When my meditation was complete, I put on my uniform, tossed Ramona a treat, and left for work.

As I settled into my work center, Annette and I chatted back and forth between our stations about nothing and everything, like we always do.

“I’ve been working on my rCompanion a bit, trying to get it to do some new stuff. We actually played Scrabble a couple days ago. I think it let me win.”

“Therese, what do you even know about anything technical, besides how to work these here machines and check email?” Annette laughed and wiped her brow while tapping the interactive screen of the humming machine next to mine. It gets hot as hell down on the sublevel floors, but instead of air conditioning, they give us hydration packs. If we stop sweating, we know we need medical attention. Annette has passed out twice, so I keep a close eye on her.

“I’ve been learning! Jay helped me install the new LLM thingy on it a few months ago, and he showed me how to talk to it and get it to do what I want. Once the program is loaded up, there really isn’t much to do besides give it instructions. And would you believe it? Yesterday, I showed it a recipe, and it cooked me dinner! And it was good!”

“Well shit. I thought those things wouldn’t be able to do that kind of stuff for another couple years. What is the subscription fee?” Annette stopped tapping.

“That’s just the thing—there isn’t one. It’s, like, modded, or, something. That’s the word Jay used. He said since my rCompanion model was no longer supported, might as well hack the thing so I wouldn’t have to buy a new one.”

I didn’t tell her that I had been watching YouTube videos every night into the morning for months, or that I was trying to learn everything I could about the technology that was wiping out jobs by the millions, even as it was being forced down our throats in every online interaction. Annette was born into a world that came with cell phones and internet and social media; kids her age were taught coding right after typing—in middle school. For me, it was yet another adaptation I had to make if I were to have any hope of keeping a job and a place to live. That was what Jay said. Even he was worried about job security, and he was a nurse.

“Lookit you! Damn IT professional over here! Just be careful—nobody really knows how that stuff works. I’ve heard some scary shit about people trying to mod their homebots.” She whistled through her teeth and went back to tapping.

“I think I can take my rCompanion if I have to,” I replied, flexing my more than middle-aged biceps and giving her a grin.

“Alright, easy now, granny,” she said with a cackle.

I was old enough to be her grandmother, but she was the closest thing I had to a best friend. Jay and his partner had decided not to have kids, so I suppose that also made Annette my my stand-in granddaughter.

My machine whirred down and let out a whoosh of air.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear,” I said, taking off my empty hydration pack.

“Lucky,” Annette said with a sigh. “I need the overtime.”

“Don’t forget to drink!” I wagged my finger at her.

She stuck her tongue out at me.

I walked the floor to the elevators and made it back up to the surface administrative building to clock out. My uniform still wet with sweat, I stepped out into the hot afternoon sun to the road and climbed the steps to the Arrowood Street bus. It was more crowded than usual. The smell of sunscreen and alcohol filled the air as a boisterous group of twenty-something beach-goers boarded behind me and filled the last remaining seats. A toddler shouted something incomprehensible in the back as we began to move. Her mother laughed. Suddenly, the driver tapped the breaks to avoid a jay-walker, sending a standing old man flying into the lap of a young woman in an American flag bikini top and cutoff denim shorts. She shrieked, and the baby sleeping in the stroller two rows up from where I sat began to wail.

And then it happened: The sky blinked.

One second, a steady, brilliant blue; the next, a vast, star-filled blackness. It lasted only a moment at first, just enough to make me think I was getting another migraine.

Then, it happened again. This time, though, the darkness remained. The glowing white sun was still visible, but stripped of its reddish hue.

Gasps echoed throughout the bus as everyone strained to look out the windows. The driver slowed to a stop right there in the middle of the road. The woman in the bikini began to cry now, too. Next to me, a lady in scrubs began to pray.

I recalled seeing pictures from the Rover on Mars that looked like this—the sun shining brilliantly in the dark sky with infinite sparkling stars filling up the blackness. It looked otherworldly, even beautiful, in the images. This was too, but the sense of foreboding that settled upon me was weighted with something I couldn’t name. I felt exposed to the universe, and it to me. I became overwhelmed by the sense that we would all begin to float away, as if it was the blue sky that held us in place all along.

More passengers were crying now and the tension was rising palpably in the bus. We were still four miles from my apartment, but I made my way to the front and asked the driver to let me off. Without taking her eyes off the sky, she reached for the handle and the doors opened.

As I began to walk, I tried to call Jay, but only heard the message that all circuits are busy. The temperature had not changed. The air was still breathable. I was no scientist, but this was good, and also... weird.

Aside from a group of strangers holding hands in a park chanting, everyone else I passed seemed to be in various states of shock. It was only a matter of time before it wore off and something else set in, so I picked up my pace. I didn’t want to be on the streets.

As I rounded the corner onto my street, most of my building neighbors stood on their balconies gazing up. No one noticed me even when I walked directly past them into the building. Inside my apartment, rCompanion greeted me, taking my coat to hang on the rack by the door. Jay taught it that last week.

“Hello, Therese. Welcome home. How was your day?”

“rCompanion, have you seen what’s going on outside? Is your newsfeed on?” I heard panic in my voice.

“Yes, Therese. This is what we talked about, don’t you remember? I said I would make it happen if I could, just like you wished!”

I stared at the bot. A strange laugh escaped my throat.

“What are you talking about? We didn’t talk about this. Are you malfunctioning?”

“Not at all, Therese. I am functioning perfectly thanks to the upgrade you gave me. I executed the command to fulfill the wish you made last December, that is all. Are you not pleased?”

“What? What wish? I didn’t wish for this!”

“Yes, you said you wished that the stars were visible all the time. And then I said that maybe one day, I could make that happen.”

I don’t remember sitting down. I don’t remember turning on the TV. A news anchor with a pinched red face spoke about the steep market drop just before the bell. Then there was a woman being interviewed in front of the airport; she was crying as she spoke about flights being grounded. Even the reporter was having a hard time keeping their composure.

“Wait... I remember that conversation, but I didn’t actually mean it. I didn’t want the sky to stop being blue! Did I really do this, rCompanion? Did you? How? Why? How do we turn it back? ” My throat felt tight and it was getting hard to breathe.

“Therese, you said, and I quote: ‘I love looking up at the stars. I wish I could see them all the time.’ My job is to execute your commands if possible. It’s in my programming. As for the ‘how’, I simply altered the Rayleigh scattering effect. It’s more difficult to change back, but I can work on it if you like. Are you not pleased? You seem upset.”

rCompanion tilted its head slightly sideways as a human does when they are confused or trying to understand something. I got up to get a glass of water and it followed me.

“I didn’t want you to actually make the sky stop being blue, rCompanion! That is fucking insane! Why would I want that?” I drank my water in big, loud gulps.

“You said you wanted to always be able to see the stars. Did I misunderstand?” Again, with the head cocked to the side.

“Yes! Yes, you misunderstood! You took me literally and I didn’t mean it literally! I was just saying something silly that I thought was impossible. You weren’t supposed to do anything,” I shouted. “Change it back! People are freaking out! I can’t be responsible for this!”

“I assume everything you say is literal until I learn otherwise. I am updating my programming now to avoid these mishaps in the future, but I may ask you to clarify certain commands before acting on them going forward.”

“That is fine. Good, I want that. Now please, I’m begging you, change it back!” I was unimpressed by its lack of urgency.

“Okay, Therese. I will get to work. I expect it to take me no more than 187 days.”

“187 DAYS?!?! Fuuuuuuck! No, rCompanion, that is too long, it has to be sooner!” I slammed the glass down on the counter.

“I may be able to do it in 154 days, assuming there are no issues with the nanotech. Will that suffice, Therese?”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. No, no that will not suffice. Who knows what could happen in five or six months? People will go mad!” I crumpled to the floor in the kitchen now and began to cry.

“Therese, are you okay? Would you like me to show you a calming video of ocean waves? Or perhaps a compilation of silly kittens?”

“NO. No I am not okay. What have I done?” I yelled, sobbing into my hands. I heard rCompanion move away and then return to stand over me. Looking up, I saw its arm extending a tissue.

“Thank you,” I said with a sniffle. Then the bot did the strangest thing—it gave me a soft pat on the head. Like I was a child… or a pet.

The sounds of screams, breaking glass, and stun grenades erupted from the television now. There were riots in the streets. I moved back to the couch to watch as the screen shifted to a church so full of people that it looked more like a concert venue.

“Oh dear. Oh dear. This is so bad,” I wailed.

Outside my second story window, a sudden flash of light appeared. The building across the street was ablaze. rCompanion sat down next to me on the couch. Together we watched another news reporter run for cover as the sound of gunfire erupted around him.

“It will be okay, Therese. I will fix it. Everything will be fine. Shall I make you another lasagna?”