Fiction: Just Another Day

“Come on Brad. Get up. You’re late”

Ugg. I roll out of bed and slip into my robe. Eyes half closed I shuffle to the bathroom to take care of my morning routine. I’m still not quite awake when I make it to the kitchen and pick up the coffee that’s waiting there for me. I sip it and make a face. Before I even comment Janet says
“Don’t you complain. It was perfect 30 minutes ago when I first called you. You’re an adult, I shouldn’t have to call you 4 times to get you up.”

I don’t say anything. There’s no point, she’s right. I grab some cereal and mindlessly eat while browsing my newsfeed. There’s nothing particularly upsetting which is always a relief.

“You’re going to have to get going if you’re going to make it there on time. A car will be here in 20 minutes to take you to the interview”

“Janet, you know that I don’t need this job. I’m doing fine. What was the consensus on my latest painting? I think that I’ve been really improving.”

“The consensus is that you need a job other than painting. Something that’s better suited to your skills and interests. Like the one for the interview you have. Stop trying to change the subject and get going.”

I nod to myself and put the dishes away. Janet knows me better than anyone and wouldn’t be sidetracked. She wouldn’t be happy until I was happy, which meant she generally was going to annoy the hell out of me until her goal was met.

I quickly put on the outfit that Janet had picked out for me - the most flattering that fit with my potential new job’s dress code. I quickly slipped it on, gave my hair a quick smoothing brush to the side and walked out the door to the waiting car. I think that it was a model from a couple of years ago, but I’ve stopped paying attention to that. As long as it’s clean, comfortable, and got me there on time, I didn’t really care.

“You remember what they’re looking for?” Janet asked as soon as I had settled in and the car began to move.
“Yes, I’ve gone over it.”

She knew that I had, but she just wanted to direct my thoughts from the scene outside to the interview coming up. It had been a couple of years since I had a steady office job. I had done a couple of years working in the local community garden because my neighbour had convinced me that it was relaxing and rewarding. It was for my body, but my mind needed something more challenging than figuring out the proper seed spacing.

After a while the car pulled up to a door of a building in a campus of low buildings. Walking up to the security door it opened automatically for me. Stepping in the lobby which smelled faintly of fresh baked cookies and coffee I glanced around.

“It’s down the hall, third door on the left, room 106. I’ll wait here. Goodluck!” Janet says in her helpful upbeat way.
I nod. I hate being without Janet but that’s just how interviews are done. It’s so artificial. It’s not like I’ll be without Janet’s help while working. It has always seemed silly to me but traditions die hard.

20 minutes later I emerge from the room with a smile on my face. I think that I’ll be able to work with these people. It seems to be a good fit, like Janet knew it would be.

“I’m negotiating your start date and I’ve going through the material they sent over. It looks very promising. Are you happy?” Janet inquires.

I nod and continue to the door for the car that will be waiting momentarily.
I pause.
“Wait, negotiating the start date? Why not tomorrow?”
“Ah. Well, before you get into another project I thought that it would be good to go see your mother. You’ve got a tube ticket for 30 minutes from now and I’ve arranged a nice place for you to stay and dinner reservations.”
“If I hadn’t asked, you wouldn’t have said anything until the car pulled into the tube station?”

The silence from Janet was all the answer I figured that I’d get right now. I continued and stepped into the waiting car. It was newer, still had that “outgassing” smell. It might have been printed this morning. The window lowered to let in a breeze before I could reach for it and the car started off.

“Anything useful in the feeds?” I asked Janet.
“No. And I wanted to apologize for this morning about your painting. You are improving. It’s just that you don’t really like painting. It frustrates you and raises your blood pressure. You can get very good at it, but you’ll never be great.”

I nod before Janet can go on. I know all this somewhere deep down but it still sucks to hear to. Janet has her reasons to be telling me this. Goading me into doing better? Managing expectations? Crushing my dreams? I’ll shelf painting for now and maybe come back to it later. I’ve got time. Lots and lots of time.

At the tube station I hop out and walk through the doors. Janet indicates the third waiting car. There are 3 people already there waiting. It won’t be long, but since it will be a couple of hours to get to the west coast I divert to the bathroom first. No one wants to be that person that causes a car to be rerouted and delayed for a bathroom stop.

I stare into the mirror after washing my hands. I don’t see any gray hairs, but some days I swear I can feel them.

“Come on Brad. Three minutes until departure.”

I take an empty seat in the waiting car. Another person slips inside right before the doors close and then the car starts to move to the tube. Pretty soon we’re on our way. I open my reader and see that Janet has highlighted a new story that she thinks I’ll like. The futuristic kind with space rangers, benevolent aliens, and smart dialog. The robotic dog is a nice touch.

I finish the story shortly before the car pulls into our final tube station. I hustle out of the station to a waiting car. I’d normally just borrow a bike for a short distance, but it’s raining. It’s a bit early for dinner for me, but a bit late for my mom. I try to not let her wait long.

Halfway to the restaurant a thought occurs to me.
“Janet, when is my mom’s birthday?”
“Today Brad. This is your gift, making sure you see your mom on her actual birthday.”
“Right. Okay. You’d think that I’d remember that by now.”
“Well, you’re only 258 year old. You’ve got some time to learn your mom’s birthday.”

Janet hasn’t even bothered to make her voice sound sarcastic. I wonder if that’s a bug in my splinter of the AI that I call Janet or something widespread. I’ll keep an eye on it.

I look back out the window at the rain hitting the pavement and wonder what it would be like to live in the future.