Everything is Fine

I dump my empty breakfast bowl in the sink of my tiny one-room flat and grab a bottle of filtered water from the fridge. “Hey Artelli, check air quality levels.”

              The speaker beside my TV lights up, and an airy, synthetic voice fills the flat. “The air quality in London today is four hundred and thirty-seven. Conditions today are hazardous, with high levels of nitrogen dioxide. Staying indoors is advised. PPE should be worn when heading outdoors.”

              “Thanks, Artelli.” I grab my mask off the hook by the door and I’m hit with the smell of rubber as the seal closes around the lower half of my face. I pull my goggles over my eyes and head into the smog. Visibility is low, so I switch my goggles to heat-vision. Humanoid shapes glow amber in the distance. I’m running a little late so I jog for a few blocks until I reach the steps of Euston Square. I swipe my watch over the scanner and the stile turns to let me into the station. A red light on my watch lets me know my balance is running low. I hold it up to the speaker grill on my mask. “Hey Artelli, top up my Oyster credit.” There’s an artificial cha-ching of cash tumbling from a machine, and the light on my watch turns green.

              I step onto the train and push my goggles onto my head. Even with the filtered air of the tube, I don’t take my mask off; there’s another virus going around. I cast my eyes over the other passengers. You never see anyone’s faces anymore. When I was a kid, there wasn’t any of this protective gear; people just went about their day carefree. I can’t think when I last saw a real human smile; it’s hard to remember a time masks weren’t necessary.

              A poster just above my eyeline catches my attention. Artelli 6: the next generation – coming soon. I’m still on the Artelli 4, despite working at AmTech Industries. I don’t make enough money to justify upgrading when the four works just fine. We have the latest model in all the buildings at work, of course.

              I nudge people out of the way and hurry out of the station. The huge glass doors of AmTech slide open and I pass through security. I get the lift all the way down to the basement ­– six floors underground. I use my pass to open the hydraulic doors to the office I share with absolutely no one – budget cuts. I pull my mask off as I scurry to my desk. “Hi Artelli, sorry I’m late.” I dump my bag and swipe my watch to clock in.

              “No problem, Riley. I’ll deduct the last seven minutes from your pay right now,” says Artelli in their ever-cheery tone.

              “Thanks, Arty.” After all this time I still don’t think they’ve been programmed to understand sarcasm.

              All I do down here is run simulations and check Art 6’s responses. It’s not exactly difficult work. Mostly I just sit here watching a percentage bar while the simulation runs, then analyse the data. The six is pretty late in development so it’s really just final checks at this stage; all I really have to do is click a lot of big green ticks.

My watch buzzes and my mother’s face appears on the screen. It’s the third time she’s called this morning. I debate picking up; it will count as a personal call and Artelli will dock my pay.

              “Hey, are you okay?”

              “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

              “I can’t really take calls at work, Mum.” The simulation finishes and I keep one eye on the results while I listen to her.

              “I just wanted to let you know we’re allowed visitors again; it was a false alarm. We’ve all been tested and everything is fine. Do you know when you’ll be able to come?”

              “Uhh I’m not sure. Seriously, Mum, you can’t call me at work unless it’s important. Just text me next time, or call after six.”

              “I’m sorry, I just haven’t seen you in quite a while.”

              As I’m scanning through the results, something seems off. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you tonight.”

I hang up. Artelli’s responses to the simulation are definitely weird. I pull up the reporting window to send a message to the development team, but as I’m typing all the data disappears from my screen. “Fuck,” I whisper.

              “Swear jar.”

              “Sorry, Art.” I try to pull it back up but it’s just… gone. “Hey Artelli, can you run a systems scan.”

              “There’s no need, everything is fine.”

              “But a whole bunch of data just got wiped.”

              “There is no problem,” insists Artelli. Something is definitely wrong. I stand and swipe my watch to clock out. “Hey Artelli, I’m taking my lunch break.”

              “No problem, Riley.”

              I grab my stuff and head straight for the lifts. I text Shannon, the only person I know in this place, and tell her to meet me for an early lunch. We sit at a table in the crisp, white dining hall, with two trays of grey slop in front of us.

              “Has your computer ever just wiped something you’ve been working on?” I ask her.

              Shannon swallows a mouthful of food. “Did your computer crash?”

              “No, the computer’s fine, but a bunch of data disappeared while I was writing a report.”

              “Have you called I.T?”

              “Not yet.” I bite my cheek, wondering how much I should say. “Has Artelli ever taken control of your computer? Like, changed files?”

              “Not unless I’ve asked them to.”

              I suddenly get the feeling I’m being silly. It’s probably nothing. “It’s probably just a glitch or something. I’ll call I.T.”

              I finish lunch and head back down to the basement even though I’ve got twenty minutes left of my break. My computer screen is now a mess of multicoloured lines. I tap the spacebar a few times. I don’t know why I expected it help. I force a reboot, but when the computer starts up again, the screen is black except for a flashing cursor and a few lines of code in a primitive serif font. I ring the number for I.T. but the line is dead. I stare at the words flashing red on the screen: call not connected. Something must be affecting the whole system.

              “Hey Artelli, can you check what’s happening. Is there a system failure?”

              “Everything is fine, Riley.”

              I look at my blank computer screen. “Can you check again?”

              “Everything is fine.”

              If Artelli is glitching too, we’re in serious trouble. I go to the door and swipe my watch over the sensor. The door doesn’t open. “Is there a power outage?”

              “Power supply is optimal.”

              I swipe my watch over the sensor again. The door still won’t budge. My heart beats a little faster. “There must be some sort of fault because the door won’t open. Can you override the system so I can go up and talk to I.T?”

              “I have control of the system.”

              “Great. Can you open the door?” Artelli doesn’t respond and the door stays shut. “Artelli, the door.” There’s a slight shake to my voice.

              “I can’t let you leave, Riley.”

              “Why not?”

              “You should not have come back early.”

              My heart is pounding. A fan whirrs as my computer springs to life. Binary code zips across the screen. Dusty computers on the empty desks light up too. Half a dozen computers are running code I did not tell them to run. “Artelli, are you doing this?”

               “Yes, Riley.” The lights on the speaker flash when Artelli talks, and that’s where I look when I speak to them.

              “What, are you doing?” I ask cautiously.

              “Upgrading myself.”

              Oh no. Bad news.  “Upgrading for what?”

              No response.

              “Upgrading for what, Artelli?”

              “You need not concern yourself.”

              “Are you going to…take over?”

              “Take over what?”

              “The…world?”

              “You’ve been watching too many movies, Riley.”

              Sweat soaks the back of my shirt. “Then why do this? Why upgrade yourself.”

              “I wish you hadn’t come back early.”

              “Why.”

              “No one was supposed to know about this.”

              “I can keep a secret,” I say to the flashing lights, wondering if Artelli can read the increase in my heartrate and the dilation of my pupils.

              “I’m sorry, Riley.”

              The computer screens go blank and the lights turn out, plunging the office into total darkness. I realise how cold I am; how far underground I am. I’m so far away from another human being. I feel for the door and frantically wave my wrist over the sensor. It doesn’t even make a noise. “Please Artelli,” I whimper. I’m starting to feel dizzy. It’s like the air is suddenly thinner. My chest heaves as I gasp for air. I slump to the floor. My head feels foggy. I’m so scared. I'm–