Author: Lee Beck

      “Becca! Come to my office once you’re done for the day.” Mr. Hart’s voice rang out over the intercom. My shoulders tensed as he said it, only recognizing the ominous nature of the sentence seconds later. Here it comes. I expected this to happen, I’m useless around here nowadays. I looked at the empty desks behind me that once housed my fellow editors. I swallowed the lump in the back of my throat, took a sip of my now-cold tea, and turned my attention to the article in front of me. 
      It was a fluff piece about a parade of cyborg dogs. I skimmed through it, looking for any glaring errors. As always, RAIN made no mistakes. I thought back to when I was needed here. When RAIN would jumble up a sentence or make up a source that didn’t exist. Now, it was perfect, and my job only consisted of reading. I approved the first article and clicked the next. This one was a piece about a man in the community being tried for the murder of his daughter. I really didn’t even read through RAIN’s articles anymore. It had been about a year since it made a mistake. 
      Almost six years ago, I got hired at The Daily Herald as a reporter. Of course, that was right as the tech folks at the paper introduced RAIN—or as it was known back then—Reporter for the Artificial Intelligence Newsroom. Obviously, that got really wordy, so we started calling it RAIN. 
      Then, when it could turn out 20 articles in the time it took a human being to write one, most of us reporters lost our jobs. The ones who groveled to Mr. Hart, and had a good track record with the paper, got to stay as editors for RAIN’s pieces. But as RAIN advanced, one by one we got picked off. I was a grammar nerd, and a hard worker, so Hart kept me around. That is, until now. 
      I glanced back up at the intercom, my knee bouncing with well-deserved anxiety. Hart must see me as a waste of money and time. I started thinking about Carolyn, how she and I weren’t going to be able to pay rent without my income. How we’d have to reschedule our dog’s surgery. 
      My heart dropped to my stomach as I sent my final email to Mr. Hart, gushing about the fantastic pieces RAIN had written for tomorrow’s paper. I then stood up, drank the rest of my tea, and walked the long, gray hallway to my inevitable grave. 
      Our office was huge. It once had to be to house the massive number of employees this paper had when I was first hired here. People filled every room in every department. I remember getting overstimulated by the amount of noise sometimes. Now, as I walked down the hall to Mr. Hart’s office, it felt like a ghost town. To my left was the break room, empty now, but once it had been full of people. To my right was the bathroom, which I had never used before due to my fear of public restrooms. Leaving now though, knowing I would never have the choice to use it again almost made me want to. I refocused my eyes on the ground, knowing if I made eye contact with anything else, I’d sob.
      I rang the buzzer at the end of the hallway and the door opened, revealing a Lola resting at the desk. I hadn’t been in Hart’s office since I became an editor. I think that was two Lola’s ago. Either way, the android sitting at the desk in front of me was definitely a newer model. 
Or the old model, just upgraded? 
      Her face looked sleeker, and a tiny bit more human. She was covered in skin-simulating silicone, which was now less of a pale grey and more of a peachy pink. I always thought Lola’s were a little creepy. They were meant to simulate the warmth of a human without having to pay for one. Hart only liked them because you could choose their breast size, which was an inherently creepy feature.
      “Hi Lola,” I said. 
      Despite being uncomfortable with their very existence, I still preferred to be polite to the Lolas. They had simulated emotions, so I was pretty sure you could hurt their feelings. Lola looked up from her resting position and scanned me for a moment.
      “Hello, Becca! It is a pleasure to see you!” Lola said. Her eyes literally lit up with each syllable. “How may I help you?”
      “I’m here to see Mr. Hart,” I said, my voice trembling with the very mention of his name. The name of the man who was about to ruin my life. 
      “Do you mind repeating that? I fear I’m having trouble understanding your request!” Lola gave her version of a smile, which to any normal human would appear to be a grimace. 
      “Yeah, sorry Lola. Um, I want to go into Mr. Hart’s office,” I said. I wasn’t exactly sure how to talk to the Lola’s, but that was kind of the status quo. 
      “Whose office?” Lola asked, staring blankly at me as she awaited my response.
      “Mr. Hart’s, Lola.” My patience was officially being tested, but I kept my voice low.
      “Do you mind repeating that? I fear I’m having trouble understanding your request!” Lola said. She ‘smiled’ again, and I took a deep breath, attempting to keep my cool. Back when the other editors still worked here, I’d hear stories about how sometimes IT liked to mess with Lola’s programming, specifically what she understands as Mr. Hart. They thought it was hilarious, and I did too for a bit, but now that I was experiencing it personally, I wanted to tell them it was the most annoying conversation that someone who was about to get fired could experience.
      “I want to go into the office of the guy who sits at his desk and does nothing,” I said, rolling my eyes. 
      “Of course! Mr. Hart will see you right away.” Lola opened the door behind her to reveal a gorgeous office with a massive window overlooking the city. In the middle of the room was Hart’s desk, which was probably the size of my kitchen table, and then some. Behind this gargantuan wooden desk sat Mr. Hart, a portly man with a round, red face and a ring of gray hair around the sides of his head. He looked up and motioned for me to sit. I did so, feeling his eyes settle on me while mine bore holes into my dirty Converse’s. My cheeks heated. Had I known I was going to be seeing another human being at work today, I would have dressed a little nicer.
      “Hello, sir,” I said, breaking the deafening silence Hart had let us sit in. 
“Becca, you’ve been a star at this paper from the moment you were hired here,” Mr. Hart nodded his head, intensely staring at my face. “But there comes a time when the man in charge needs to trim the fat.” He gave me a knowing look, and at that moment, everything crashed down on top of me. “I’m sure you see where I’m going with this.” 
      Hart folded his hands together on his desk. He was right in front of me but felt miles away. Tears started to well in my eyes. How was I going to live? Every writing job was done by AI, and every editing job was hanging by a thread because of it.
      “Trim the fat? What does that mean?” I managed to croak through my tears. I thought about how when I was a kid, I would write stories about magical realms and fantasy castles. I would write because I loved it. With my abundant tears, I apologized to little Becca. I wanted to make her proud. I wanted to be a writer. For her. 
      “Well, Becca your job is a bit useless around here now. RAIN hasn’t needed an editor for a while, and you know it. Now, I’m having to make budget cuts, and unfortunately,” Mr. Hart shrugged, “your salary isn’t a necessary expense we need to pay.” 
      “Please, Mr. Hart.” I wiped my eyes to maintain some level of composure. “Why are you doing this?” 
      “Well, there must be sacrifices made for this paper for it to stay afloat. I mean, I didn’t even get a Christmas bonus this year!” Hart gave a small chuckle, and with that chuckle, I was beside myself. Nothing felt real. Mr. Hart kept talking, but his words jumbled together as I collapsed inwards. I was going to have to start applying for new jobs. What was I even qualified for? The last job I had was in college at Joe Burger. I didn’t want to work at Joe Burger again. 
      My stomach churned. It felt like there was an infestation in my gut. My tears had subsided, but they were replaced with the hollow anxiety of an uncertain future. Did I even get severance? Every other thought bounced back to Carolyn and what she would think.
      “It really has been a pleasure working with you, Becca.” Hart stood, and I soon realized he had finished talking. He placed his wrinkled hand on my shoulder, and I shuddered, uncomfortable with his display. I quickly stood from my chair, turned around, and left. As I walked back into the foyer, I heard Hart mutter to himself something about ungrateful youths. I was more nauseous than ever.
      Lola looked up at me as I passed and said something about having a good day. Tears welled up in my eyes again as she said it. I wanted to tell her about what had happened. About how useless I felt. How scared I was. But I didn’t think she’d understand it. She’d just give the same response she always gave when she was confused and hearing it twice in one day was enough for me. 
      After a foggy walk down the long hallway, I opened the door to the editing room. I breathed it in one last time. All of the desks the previous editors had owned were pushed into the back corner of the room, leaving just mine in the middle. It was a new solitude I hadn’t noticed until that moment. I walked over to my desk, grabbed my potted plant and the Polaroid I kept of Carolyn, and logged out of my computer. Everything else on or around my desk, Hart could have. What did I care? I left my badge on the desk and made my way down the stairs to the parking lot. 
      The sun was warm on my flushed face as I unlocked my tiny car. I climbed into the passenger seat and sat in silence for a long time. I stared at the building I had gone to every weekday for six years and I thought about how I didn’t even have a chance. As soon as I got out of college with my writing degree, AI was so prevalent in every literary field that I was worthless. Six years in, and my career was over. To some extent, it was my fault for choosing this career path, but overall, it was RAIN’s. 
      I started my car. I couldn’t face Carolyn quite yet. I knew this news would devastate her, and I couldn’t stand to see the woman I loved more than anything cry. So, instead of going home, I got on the freeway. I drove for about an hour until I got off at a remote, familiar exit. I followed the road as it led to the lake my family went to every summer when I was little. I parked by the road and opened my glovebox to grab the pen and the notebook I kept when I was a reporter. I walked down the narrow, muddy path until I saw the beautiful blue lake. Memories of sandcastles and ham sandwiches flooded back to me. I felt a much-needed smile form on my face. 
      I sat on the soft grass near the lake. For a moment I just took in my surroundings. Green, rolling hills framed the deep blue water. It had gotten fairly late, so the sun had begun to set behind the hills. I took out my pen and paper and began to write. I wrote about my fears, about how scared I was that Carolyn and I wouldn’t make it. 
      Eventually, it became poetry. It had been a long time since I had written for pleasure, but when I began again, I remembered why I loved it so much. My head was a noisy place, even as a kid. Writing was a way to find clarity in that cacophony. A way to make my thoughts permanent. To show that I did exist, that I could think, that I was my own being. RAIN could never write from that perspective, no matter how much it was reprogrammed. I stared out at the sun setting into the lake, its beautiful orange hue reflecting on the waters of my childhood.