‘Homam Enterprises: Generations of market leadership, bringing you the best in technology.’ Above the main entrance, hundreds of tiny electronic pieces shifted, testing different combinations to display that phrase over and over again. Adam strolled underneath it and stepped inside the building with his usual carefree gait.

  As always, his walk through the massive, gleaming lobby was like a parade of greetings—nodding to other employees, the security guard, and the receptionists.

  Feeling a bit more upbeat than usual this morning, he even acknowledged the two maintenance androids he usually ignored. These models, unlike parking meter robots or those handling community services, were human-sized and wore work jumpsuits like regular employees.

  Of course, no human worker could replace the ceiling lights in the lobby the way these two were doing—walking upside down as if the ceiling were the floor.

  Their sleek, chrome-colored heads resembled crash test dummies, which made sense since, in a way, they were that: androids designed for tasks considered too dangerous or tedious for humans, easily replaceable in case of accidents. They had no facial features, just a few seam-like lines where the parts connected. The defining characteristic of these models was the small, single circular visor, giving them their name: Cyclops.

  Walking several feet below them, Adam raised a hand. “Dante, Koji,” he called them. He didn’t need to read the nameplates on their chests to know who they were—he’d registered them himself.

  “Good morning, Mr. White,” the automatons replied in unison, the red light in their visors pulsing.

  Hearing them speak with such human-like synthesized voices was no longer as unsettling as it had been when he first encountered them months earlier, when the new models were introduced. And that red glow in their single eye? Most people found it amusing, no more unsettling than a car’s brake lights—though not everyone felt the same.

  “Great, Adam,” he muttered to himself. “You work making these things, but you still get goosebumps interacting with them.”

  He stepped into the elevator and finally broke his gaze from Dante and Koji, still walking along the ceiling. He had seventy floors to travel before reaching his office—enough time to shake off the chill.

  “Good morning.” Seeing him arrive, Rita, his secretary, greeted him from behind her desk.

  And speaking of unsettling voices, Rita’s was a testament to what years of smoking could do to someone’s vocal cords.

  “Hey, Rita,” he said, smiling to himself as he stood on tiptoe to see her over the expansive reception desk, buried among stacks of packages, prepping them for dispatch.

  Rita’s desk was always cluttered with everything from a holographic phone to an old computer, a yellowed notebook for appointments, piles of folders, and corporate gifts from other companies, along with gifts from some of Adam’s friends.

  But what stood out most to Adam wasn’t what was on Rita’s desk, but what was on Rita herself.

  Her ability to surprise with a different outfit each day was as impressive as her dedication to bridging the gap between her considerable age and the teenage style she adored dressing her petite frame in.

  One day, Rita Okinawa would show up with teased hair, eyes highlighted with neon eyeliner, and a blouse with big shoulder pads. The next, she’d come in with short hair, playing up her androgynous look with a sharp suit. And today, she was sporting sleek hair, a mini-skirt showing off her legs, and makeup done to the nines.

  And as for work? If Rita had a second name as a secretary, it would have been Efficiency. She could handle calls, take messages, and schedule meetings while touching up her nails or flipping through a fashion catalog, already planning tomorrow’s outfit surprise.

  “Coffee?” Rita peeked through the door.

  “Yes, please. Thanks.” Adam pulled back the curtains, letting the morning light flood his office.

  Rita set a cup of coffee on his desk, and Adam took a sip—it was fantastic.

  “You are, without a doubt, the best thing I saved from my past life,” he said.

  “Ah, the good old days… The fashion world still misses us,” she joked.

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  “Oh yeah? Well, I doubt it misses us as much as I’ll miss you when you leave and stick me with one of the Cyclops in your place.”

  “Oh, come on, I’ll only be gone for two days.”

  “I know, Rita, but… you know how it is. No matter how well those things can hold a conversation now, I doubt they’re capable of making coffee this good.”

  “Alright, handsome, then I won’t let you talk to my brother. That guy might actually change your mind—despite his own sister.”

  “The one in construction?” Adam asked.

  “The very one. He loves the new models! Says if the C14-R8s were already great, the D02s are the best. He’s got two working on the skyscrapers—named them Peter and Parker—and has the time of his life chatting with them. But if you ask me…” She shuddered. “I’m not totally convinced.”

  “Not a fan, huh? Well, that makes two of us,” he admitted.

  “This whole thing of giving them names,” Rita said. “I mean, sure, it helps with their programming, I get that. Dressing them like people? I know it helps folks tell them apart by their functions and all, but making them that human? That’s something else. But now they’re giving them voice processors too? What was wrong with the standard automated responses, like parking meter bots? I don’t even know whether to refer to them as ‘something’ or ‘someone’ anymore, y’know?” She laughed. “I’m just as lost as my family was when I changed my name to Rita—no idea what to do with it.”

  Adam chuckled along with her.

  “Ah, how could I forget those days? Now, let’s make sure the board of directors doesn’t hear us badmouthing their precious androids. They’d kick us out on the street for blasphemy.”

  “Ha! And if they do, you think the fashion world would be thrilled to take us back?”

  “Not so sure about that,” he said. “One thing’s for sure, though—we’d find fewer Cyclops there than we do here.”

  Rita snapped her fingers as if to say, ‘Now that’s a good point!’

  “Remind me again why we left that world?” she wondered.

  Adam’s smile took on a nostalgic edge. “Well… Because things happened. Time, for one.”

  Rita sighed, her own smile more wistful than nostalgic.

  “Yeah, true… Who would want to go back to a world of passive-aggressive abuse, where you literally work yourself to a heart attack just to have someone else steal your designs and take all the credit? Now that I think about it, maybe the Cyclops aren’t so bad.”

  Knowing the story behind her words, Adam gave her a look of quiet support. But Rita didn’t let old memories weigh on her for long, pushing them aside for new ones that brought back her usual spark.

  “In the machines’ defense,” she said, “creepy or not, my brother has a point—they’re good listeners. Get this: yesterday, while I was waiting for my mom at the doctor’s office, I was killing time in the waiting room, flipping through Aquila’s new catalog. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see someone in a white coat walk in, and, well… You know me. I start talking. And I’m sorry, but have you seen Aquila’s fall collection? Stunning! I couldn’t take my eyes off those gorgeous dresses. Until I hear this robotic voice say, ‘Miss Okinawa, your mother is ready to see you now.’ Oh God, the embarrassment! Turns out I’d been talking to Fabian—the android assistant—the whole time! And now I can’t help but think of Fabian as a ‘he.’”

  Adam smiled. “If it makes you feel any better, I hear Neo Asia is working on new models—ones with synthetic faces and skin, among other… human attributes, if you know what I mean,” he said, sipping his coffee while eyeing Rita.

  “If they come with an off switch for their voices, I might reconsider,” she replied. “Until then, my brother and my mom’s doctor will just have to pray none of their robo-buddies lose a part. And we’d better keep our fingers crossed that nothing happens to ours either—at least for a few days.”

  “What do you mean?” Adam lowered his cup.

  “You haven’t read today’s report yet? I sent it to your phone.”

  Adam shook his head. “Sorry, I haven’t. I’ve been… a bit busy.”

  “Our cargo ship with the Cyclops parts got stranded on the other side of the ocean, right in Pannotia’s maritime zone,” Rita said.

  Adam let out a groan. “Shit, again? Isn’t there any way to steer clear of that damn island? We don’t even dock there!”

  She shrugged. “Not to play devil’s advocate… or the freighter captain’s, but I’d say Pannotia’s a little more than just an island.”

  “Pfft! Semantics,” Adam muttered. “Call it a continent if you want, but it’s tiny. Compared to the other three… actual continents, Pannotia’s just a big island.”

  “Well, semantics or not,” she said, “it’s right in the middle of the ocean, along one of our sea routes. The one near Gondwana—you know, one of those actual continents—is still on red alert for hurricanes, according to the Neo Asia folks. They had no choice but to take the next route.”

  “Alright, alright. So what happened this time?” Adam asked, then raised a hand. “Wait—don’t tell me. Let me guess. The freighter ran into another drifting ship, right?”

  Rita nodded. “With a hundred and fifty-eight civilians on board. Poor people.”

  Adam shook his head and sighed.

  “Ugh! Now I feel awful for stressing over a shipment of electronics instead of the people crammed inside that container. Damn fascists—why won’t they just let their people leave their damn country freely?”

  Rita shrugged again.

  “The Markabian Empire issued their usual statement: that leaving the Pannotian continent without permission is a betrayal of their high values, that these people don’t represent the majority of Markabians, and so on, and so on. Bottom line, the cargo ship will stay anchored in the Pannotian Sea until their military has searched it top to bottom to make sure no civilians were stowed away. They think it might reach Rodinia by next Wednesday… if we’re lucky. And Rodinia is a big continent, so I’m guessing the shipment won’t hit Proxima’s shores until Thursday or Friday.”

  “Friday?! Bastards…” Adam slumped into the chair in front of his desk, activated the holographic screen of his computer, and brought up the company’s accounting software. “Well, now that the parts will take longer than expected, we’ll see just how successful I really am in business. Let’s see if Tiffany was right or not.”

  Rita looked at him, curious, but he waved it off, so she flashed him a knowing smile and walked away.