Hester, 19

 

   “Delivery for Hester Taylor.”

   “That’s me.”

   “Voice recognition accepted.”

   Hester watches as the silver drone zooms to a stop two feet in front of her. The compartment below its camera eye opens and she grabs the delivery bag from Lou’s deli. The drone flies up towards one of Atlas Hawkins’s perfectly formed clouds in the sky. As it climbs, she can hear it say, “You have a great day! And remember, the future is Atlas!”

   “It’s a good day to get off this planet, that’s for sure,” Hester mumbles between mouthfuls of her PB&J on white. She rescues a strand of chestnut colored hair that was being consumed along with the sandwich and crosses the road. A bulbous glider truck hovering above the concrete narrowly misses her as it moves swiftly by. The sign on its iridescent surface reads, “Kellogg’s Krickets protein bars keep you going all day!”

   As Hester nears the Ice Cube, a glider bus from the local high school pulls away from the parking lot. A group of teens step onto the moving sidewalk that leads into the building.

   Hester sighs as she takes in the monotone clothes the kids wear, the lack of jewelry or weird hairstyles. They barely interact with one another. Only the personalized biochip tattoos on their right cheeks reveal some idea of what is living under their muted exteriors.

   The teens are ferried single file into the square glass building through the main entrance. Their biochips are scanned, causing them to illuminate briefly. A speaker can be heard saying:

   “WELCOME TO THE CAMBRIDGE YOUTH CENTER. KEEP TWO FEET BETWEEN YOU AND NON-FAMILY MEMBERS. PRE HAWKNET HACKING MEANS JAIL TIME. PRESIDENT HAWKINS WILL ALWAYS PROTECT YOU.”

   After finishing her sandwich, Hester steps into the entrance to the left of the moving walkway. For a second, she worries again that the system will finally catch on this isn’t a Hawkins-issued biochip. But her Sanskrit symbol illuminates as it is scanned, and she is permitted entry.

   As Hester crosses the threshold, watched by cameras peppered all over the bright, airy space, she overhears two teen boys speaking in low tones.

   “Man, I wish I could’ve seen how DC12 evolved. From chatbot to World War Three in under a year? That code must have been blinding,” says the boy with blond hair and a slight lisp. His biochip is a tattoo of a wolf. He looks around nervously as he talks.

   His black-haired friend, acne-ridden with wide-set eyes, replies, “Yeah, I thought it would be on a sanctioned page, but it’s pre Hawknet, bro. We can’t taste it.”

   “I can hack your biochips if you want?” Hester says. “You can download everything about it.”

   The boys look up at Hester, startled. The blond one instinctively takes a step back from her. “That’s… er… that’s OK. I don’t feel like going to jail,” he says.

   “She’s joking, char. No one can hack the bios,” interrupts his friend. His biochip is the Red Sox B.

   Hester shrugs. “Fine by me. But you’re right: the code was blinding.” She walks away from them and over to the corner of the room where there are four Lehmann interface stations placed side by side.

   Hester never tires of the elegant design: a cerulean blue sculpture gleaming in the late afternoon sun. With no sharp edges, the computer terminal has a built-in seat that molds instantly to each user’s body, allowing ultimate comfort.

    Only Lehmann could create these.

   These stations are normally used by teens for career planning with virtual guidance counselors, but Hester has another task for the terminal situated by the wall. She slides into the seat and feels it yield to her weight. As she sits, the solid blue panel in front of her becomes a translucent screen, waiting to be connected to a counselor. But that won’t happen today.

   After checking she isn’t being watched by the other teens in the room, Hester pulls a small black disc out of her pocket, its surface glassy smooth. She places it on the small desktop below the screen and it instantly morphs into the same color as the terminal, making it look invisible.

   Hester smiles. Knowing her connection is now shielded, she closes her eyes and links her biochip to the terminal.

She opens her eyes to see the words in her mind appearing on the translucent screen in front of her—

 

   "Marvin?"

 

   It only takes a few seconds for her question to be answered.

 

   "It’s been two weeks since your last update. Explain yourself."

   "Change of plans. Lehmann was uncooperative. She thinks it’s a ridiculous idea and that I will fail spectacularly."

   "That is unfortunate. We’ll have to rethink this. Time to come home."

   "No, not yet, Marvin, please. I got a job! The first 19-year-old in 25 years to work for the US military!"

   "What?! What are you talking about?"

   "I’m the new AI programmer for Camp Constellation! I was referred to the Pentagon by Prof. Snelling at MIT. Aced my interview yesterday."

   "Hester, this was NOT part of the plan. I see now that sending you was a terrible error in judgment."

   "But I’ll have access to multiple AIs there, including Lehmann’s! Just give me a month, OK? I know it will work!"

 

   Hester waits for a response, panicked at the thought of having to go home now. For several seconds, there is nothing. She can feel her heart beating faster while she waits. 

 

   "This isn’t some school project, Hester. Do I need to remind you how important this is?"

   "No, of course not, Marvin. But you know it has to be me. I can do this. Please?"

   "Right now, you have permission to continue, but ONLY until I think of a better way. Understand?"

   "Yes! Thank you!"

   "Don’t get too comfortable. How are you? Have you made any friends?"

   "Friends? God, no! The kids here are just—"

 

   She glances around the room at the kids scattered about. None of them are slouching or falling asleep. They sit at desks ramrod straight, barely glancing at one another as they do their homework using their biochips. Not even a stolen yawn or suppressed giggle—it freaks her out more than she can describe.

   Hester looks back at the screen: Marvin is gone. She picks up the black disc and stuffs it into the pocket of her gray jumpsuit.

   She stands up and the translucent screen becomes solid again. Relieved she managed to win Marvin over, Hester lets out a long breath and walks to the exit. As she passes by the two boys she spoke to, she fights the urge to scream at them to wake the hell up and do something, say something! But she knows it’s pointless.

   “Peace out, Earthlings,” she mumbles under her breath. In two days, Hester will be on a NASA ship heading to Mars, and for her it can’t come soon enough.

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