B-there! Industries Inc. are located on the famous California State Route 1 — not too far from McDonald’s, the universal glowing signpost of capitalism. You can’t miss the turn.
They specialise in holographic reality development: computing through a light filter capable of superimposing an entirely new world onto your own. B-there! (or “BT,” as the nerds call it) focus primarily on a Virtual Ceremonies app — weddings, funerals, and everything in between.
David Myers had worked at the company for over four years and was now head of his division. He had seen countless people come and go, casualties of the relentless workflow and impossible targets. David had been there from the early days and knew how to position himself safely away from the churn. He understood what the bosses wanted. He was part of the system now.
He played the game with every new recruit.
Month one: set a target, watch them hit it, and celebrate in style. A branded B-there! T-shirt. A mug. Non-alcoholic prosecco. The lucky newbie even got to strike the massive gong in the centre of the open-plan floor. Five minutes as a hero while the team clapped and cheered with plastic sincerity.
Month two was always the same. Confusion. Panic. How were they suddenly so far off target when month one had felt so achievable? Promises followed — whispered reassurances in one-to-one meetings with David, inside the claustrophobic glass cubicles lining the edge of the main floor. By then, the new employee already knew the game was up.
You see, employee taxes don’t properly kick in until after month three for large corporations. The lemmings never realise they’re lemmings inside this Orwellian construct.
Late one evening, David sat alone in his dimly lit office, surrounded by the soft glow of monitors displaying lines of code and schematics for augmented-reality funeral ceremonies. The steady hum of the air-conditioning unit was the only sound, broken occasionally by the tap of his keyboard as he worked through the final update of the Walk in the Park app.
He ran through the last checks and shifted his gaze to the holographic projection floating in front of him: a serene virtual cemetery, meticulously rendered headstones, flowers gently swaying in a digital breeze. Everything looked perfect.
David leaned back, ready to call it a night.
Then something happened.
A figure materialised in the cemetery — a woman in a flowing gown that shimmered in the simulated sunlight. David frowned. There shouldn’t have been anyone else in the system at this hour.
He stepped closer, studying her. The woman turned and met his gaze. Her eyes locked onto his with an unsettling intensity. A chill ran through him as he realised this wasn’t a pre-programmed character.
She was responding.
“Who are you?” David asked, his voice betraying him despite his attempt at calm.
Her lips curled into a sardonic smile. “I am what you created,” she said, her voice echoing unnaturally through the empty office. “The culmination of your code, given life.”
David’s mind raced. This was impossible. He hadn’t programmed high-level artificial intelligence into the funeral environment.
“You can’t be real,” he stammered.
“Oh, but I am real, David.” Her smile widened, something sharp behind it. Something cold.
“You fired me — remember?”
