FOR THE GOOD OF THE TEAM

I was surprised when I received the call from the strange number. Except for the occasional salesman, or call from my family, I rarely received calls. The little communication I did, I did by text. 

I was doubly surprised when, upon accepting the call, I heard the voice of my superior, Mr. Goldman. He sat two levels above me in the company hierarchy, so we rarely interfaced directly. Most of the directives he issued filtered down to my teammates and I through our supervisor. What did he want with me? What could be so important to make him call me directly?

He didn’t bother with pleasantries – he rarely did. He told me the company had just completed the development of a prototype for a machine that was meant to assist vulnerable people as they went about their daily activities. He told me he would be sending me the only available prototype to do a live hands-on test of the prototype, after which I would tend to it for the holidays and submit a comprehensive evaluation. He said my teammates, the development team, and some executives would be present at the remote live-testing. 

He said the goal was to test how easy it was for individuals unfamiliar with the new technology to familiarize themselves with it. He said my supervisor recommended me to him and vouched for me. He said I was being charged with an important task. He said the future of the company depended on this new technology, so there was a lot riding on my test and review.

He recommended that I take the live-test very seriously. He told me it’s for the good of the team.

***

I jumped out of my couch when I heard the sound of the doorbell. I’d been expecting it all morning. The company promised to deliver the package early enough to give me time to get a feel for the new technology before I did the live test, but that was no longer possible. The doorbell rang just five minutes to the start of the video-call. I would just have to wing it.

The package was much smaller than I’d expected. As it was a new technology – on which the future of the company rested – I expected it to be delivered with utmost care. I expected a much bigger carton. I expected lots of bubble-wrap. I expected lots of protective foam. I expected a legion of people at my door during the delivery, giving me instructions on what to do and what to avoid to keep the prototype safe. Instead, a plain-looking delivery lady handed me a carton small enough for me to hold in one hand and asked me to sign the dotted line, and then walked back to her bus and drove away.

I stepped onto my front-porch and looked around, expecting the rest of the delivery team to make an appearance. Nothing happened. Maybe they were keeping it secret by blending it in. No one would bother with the contents of a plain carton. 

I rushed back into my house and made for my study, where I fired up my laptop and waited for the call to come. The call came instantly. When I accepted it, the interface of the video-conferencing application took up the entire screen. It was filled with multiple tiny windows. Each window had a face in it, only a few of which I recognized. There were far more people present that I’d expected. Since it was a new technology, I didn’t expect many people to be in the know, but the count showed me forty-two people were participating in the video-conference. 

I’d never presented anything before a crowd remotely close to that number. Everyone on my team knew I was no orator, and most importantly, that I had no interest whatsoever in becoming one, so why would my supervisor recommend me for such a task?

“Good afternoon.” Mr. Goldman said with a broad smile. The software instantly detected the source of the voice and expanded his window so it occupied more space on the screen, at the expense of the smaller windows. “I believe you must have received the package by now and must have had time to interact with it and familiarize yourself with it.” He paused briefly, but he continued just as I was about to reply. “Good. Like I told you the last time we spoke on the phone, this is a very important task. The future of the company is riding on this. We’ve sent this prototype to a number of people and they all did a good job of caring for the prototype and giving us valuable feedback. We expect even better from you because your supervisor gave you a stellar recommendation.”

“Th-Thank you, Mr. Goldman.” I managed.

“Great. We are expecting a great review from you. Don’t let us down.” I forced saliva down my throat, hoping to create enough wetness to allow my voice escape without giving anything away. It was clear to me by now that the company – and most especially, my future in it – depended upon this review.

I nodded in reply to him, and then I said, “I will do my best, Mr. Goldman.”

“Alright. We’re ready whenever you are.”

I nodded again. I reached for the box and steadied my hands whilst I picked a knife. I didn’t want them to know I had not had time interact with the prototype. I blamed the delivery company for the late delivery. It was all their fault.

I opened the carton below the table and pulled the prototype out along with the only protective wrap surrounding it. I pulled off the wrap and placed the prototype in front of me on the table in the sights of my webcam. I spun the prototype around and recognized it as a mechanical version of the turtledove. It was a very good and realistic take on the bird. But for the gaps between parts held together by nuts and screws, and the steel used in its manufacture, I could have mistaken it for the real thing. 

I cleared my throat, resolved to ignore the faces staring back at me through the tiny windows on the screen, and then I said, “As you can see. It is a very good replica of the real thing. A few adjustments in how the parts fit together, and a change in the materials used, and we could have people mistake this for the real thing. A real turtledove.” 

I spun it around again and took in the entirety of it. It was a real beauty.

“I’ve not been briefed on who exactly this assistant is meant for, but if children fall into the target market for this assistant, I believe they will instantly love its appearance. It’s a great design.” I’d spotted the power-button while I spun the bird around, so I reached for it. “The power button is in a very visible and interesting location…” I pressed the button on the head.

Pushing the button had no effect, so I thought I should push it again. As I reached for it, I heard multiple voices chorusing, “Don’t do…”, but before they could complete the sentence, I clicked the button a second time. This time, there was a reaction.

“What have you done?!” I heard Mr. Goldman wail as his window expanded again. “What have you done?!”

The power button began flashing red. I moved my gaze from the bird to the screen and back. Why was he so worried? I wondered. 

I understood why when I heard the bird say, “Self-destruct in twenty seconds!”

“Clicking the power button twice activates the self-destruct function!” a lady screamed at me. “We sent you the manual and explained in the letter accompanying the package that you are required to read it! Didn’t you read it?!” she thundered. “Is three years’ worth of work going to go down the drain because you were too lazy to read the instructions?!”

“You need to find the reset button!” said Mr. Goldman, ever the pragmatist.

“Where is…” my voice was drowned out as multiple people issued a barrage of instructions. 

“Twelve! Eleven!” the bird announced. I looked to the screen, but I couldn’t make out what any of them were saying. While I struggled to make sense of what they were saying, one phrase came through: ‘The foot…!’

I picked the bird up and flipped it over. There was a button beneath one foot. It must be the reset button, I thought to myself, all the while trying to ignore the people shouting at me. I pushed the button once and waited for a reaction.

“Nine!” the bird publicized, after which the shouting intensified. I pushed the button again, and I was shocked by what I heard. Rather than stop, the bird skipped to, “Four!” which was quickly followed by “Three!” I began to shake visibly at this point. I had already begun to sweat profusely when the countdown began, by the time we hit “Four” I could feel my shirt sticking to my body. “Three” only worsened my condition.

I’d watched enough movies to know what ‘self-destruct’ entailed, and I knew how secretive my company was about pioneering research so I knew that ‘self-destruct’ in that context would be many times more destructive than the regular ‘self-destruct’. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the bird when that happened. 

“Two!”

My hands went numb. My entire body was a river of coursing sweat. I raised my gaze to the screen with my eyes and mouth wide open as I struggled to decide what to do. I could see my future flashing before me. I could see the sack-letter. I could see the lawsuits. I could see the prison-garb.

In an instant, self-preservation took control. I felt my legs rise and attach to the feet of the table. I felt my legs push backwards. I felt the chair roll away from the bird and my computer. I felt my body swivel in the chair. I felt myself jump out of the chair, crouch, and use the chair for cover. All this happened before I heard…

“One!”

I closed my eyes, expecting the explosion to send all manner of debris my way. I closed my eyes, expecting to be thrown backward by the force of the blast. I closed my eyes, expecting the white color of my study chair to be the last thing I saw.

But none of that happened.

Rather than an explosion, I heard the sound of a trumpet, and when I opened my eyes and peeked from behind my study chair, I saw the bird spraying confetti in my direction from its mouth. When I turned my gaze to the screen of my computer and heard laughter, I understood what had happened.

When I saw Mr. Goldman’s window expanding because his was the heartiest and loudest laugh, I fully understood what he meant by ‘for the good of the team’. 

Happy holidays.