“Right this way,” she says, leading me through an automatic door at the south end of the facility. “There is a lot to show you.”
Ugh. I could kill for a drink right now.
I turn and gaze at the golden ceiling. It moves alongside my steps, bubbling like champagne. The walls emanate the scent of oranges.
A portal in the wall opens, and a drink tray slides toward me.
“Care for a mimosa?” she asks.
I gasp and jump back. “How did you know I was thinking about… how did you…?”
I stop speaking, mouth agape.
She smiles, eager to appear to please. “How’s it taste?”
I slowly sip the contents. It tastes incredible.
“Good,” I mutter.
This is clearly Elon’s work. I knew he was looking into alternative forms of Artificial Intelligence, but I never saw how far he got with it.
Just because I’m a coder doesn’t mean I value our technological progression. Most of the time, these products prove to halt any real development.
They won’t save the world.
I take the glass and watch the tray disappear. The wall reassembles. The ceiling is white and standard, back to normal.
“So, he finally figured it out,” I mutter. “Good for him. Not sure if the world will accept software that reads their thoughts, but I suppose data-mining is nothing new.”
“You’re correct. This isn’t a new discovery,” the woman says, circling us around a corner. “We will release it to
the public in less than eight months, just as the Christmas season makes its way onto the home-shopping hologram decks. In fact, all our new products have been beta-tested and focus-grouped to fit suburban condominium needs. They will be technological hits.”
Products to make our lives easier, but all they end up doing is complicating the entire process. I didn’t need a mimosa. I wanted one. Just because I felt that urge doesn’t mean I should get one.
Who knows – maybe it’s better I don’t have everything I dream of under the sun.
“If Elon isn’t hiring me to help out on the new product line, what does he want from me?”
She leads me into another room. Lay bare in front of me are many chambers, divided only by a single sheet of glass.
Inside are curiosities. Sets, like the kind from theatrical plays of the past. Humans and beasts act out their roles accordingly.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“You know, if you decide to stay, you will be one of Elon’s first hires,” she says. “He prefers you answer any questions you may have by exploring the creations first.”
“Creations,” I repeat. “Hm. All right. Whatever. Let’s see ‘em.”
Her arm wraps around her waist, and she folds into a bow. “Welcome to Arnoi Industries,” she says. “We are sure you will enjoy your stay.”
I gaze at the women curiously and chuckle to myself. “My stay, huh? Well, I’m sure I will,” I mutter.
But as soon as I turn toward the strange oddities, I feel her presence leave, absent. Devoid of something I can’t quite put my finger on. The woman smiles and makes her way through the automatic doors, leaving me alone to explore.
I brush past the first row of constructions. In one room is a space craft. It hovers above the ground, spinning so fast my eyes can barely keep up with the rotation.
“Well, I can’t deny this is pretty cool, whatever it is,” I whisper.