Chapter Five
Jay woke earlier even though the service wasn’t until eleven. He had taken the morning off work. He could have taken the whole day off. Nobody would have missed him, especially as he mostly worked with machines, not people, and his supervisor usually only checked up on him once-a-month. She knew he was reliable, one of the best they had working for LinguSoft. But Jay had a lot to do, and he didn’t want to lose an entire day.
After breakfast, he spoke the instructions to programme a skyscene into the video wall, complete with gulls and the sound of waves crashing below. He took his flute, closed his eyes, and began to play. He had been improvising passages now for over a year, and had been surprised that the same melodies kept coming back to him. Over and over again, he found himself playing this one piece. It was a haunting, melancholic tune, and at first Jay had thought that it must have been something he had heard and had adapted, or even an obscure piece by a 21st century composer that he had forgotten and now thought was of his own invention. Now he was not so sure. He had started to convince himself that the music came direct from him, that he had found a channel of expression from deep within.
Jay remained like this for over two hours, until he received his alarm call:
“I’m sorry to interrupt Mister Gee, but you now have one hour before the ceremony.” Sounded the woman’s voice from the room speakers. He had programmed the announcer to sound this way when he had first moved into the apartment, and hadn’t ever thought of changing the voice. Now she felt almost real to him. He even used a name when he talked to “her”.
“Thankyou Aimee”
Perhaps he should think about changing it now that the real Aimee had reappeared in his life. Could he remember how to do that?
“Programme centre. Intercom Settings.” He said
“Affirmative. Affirmative. Intercom Settings menu.” said computerised Aimee’s voice.
Jay never ceased to wonder at the HCS, the Home Control System. And it only listened to him. It wasn’t that it recognised his voice. It was all controlled by the smart chip in his arm, and although Jay didn’t notice it, didn’t feel anything, there were identity checks going on, with the HCS sending and verifying information as he spoke. When the system had first appeared, he had tried, like many other children to see if he could change the settings in other people’s apartments, but hadn’t been able to. The HCS didn’t even respond to the smart chips that hadn’t been programmed with permissions.
Of course, guests could be given limited programme access. In fact it was necessary. Jay always remembered the day his mother and he had visited Aunt Dee (she was now dead), and Dee had left them in her apartment while she rushed out to buy some sugar. They had been there for over forty minutes before they started to worry. Try as they might, Jay and his mother could not get anything to work in the flat. They couldn’t make a cup of tea ot coffee, open the fridge, turn on the vid screen to watch TV, or even open the door to leave the apartment. They were prisoners. It was quite a scary situation. Imagine if Dee had been involved in an accident, Jay’s mother wondered. What would happen to them? How would they be able to tell anyone they were trapped inside? Of course, they had mobile telephones, but in some apartments, such as Dee’s (and Jay’s coincidently), the wave defence wall of the HCS had been turned on to stop interference between aprtments. Although it wasn’t normally a problem if you think that the HCS had telephony built in, but someone facing this situation?
So, what had happened? Dee had a reputation for being forgetful at the time, a condition that was later diagnosed as being a severe problem. She had met someone in the shop and had simply forgot that Jay and his mother were waiting in her apartment. After several coffees with her friend, Dee had returned to find Jay and his mother waiting exasperated. Jay’s mother had inisited on Dee giving her permanent access privileges afterwards, which was coincidently to be a great help in the future when Dee’s condition worsened and she forgot how to program the HCS.
Now, this was Jay’s problem. He couldn’t remember exactly how to do it.
‘Erm...voicebox settings’
‘Negative.’
‘Voice control?’
‘Negative. May I suggest the possible menu options?’
‘Go ahead.’
Fortunately, the HCS, like most computers these days, second guessed you. From the options, Jay was able to select a new voice. Male, Thirties. Polite. He baptised him ‘Jeeves’.
802 words written this time
3934 written in total
46,066 words left to write
22 days left to write
Target = 2,093 words a day if I want to finish on time
After breakfast, he spoke the instructions to programme a skyscene into the video wall, complete with gulls and the sound of waves crashing below. He took his flute, closed his eyes, and began to play. He had been improvising passages now for over a year, and had been surprised that the same melodies kept coming back to him. Over and over again, he found himself playing this one piece. It was a haunting, melancholic tune, and at first Jay had thought that it must have been something he had heard and had adapted, or even an obscure piece by a 21st century composer that he had forgotten and now thought was of his own invention. Now he was not so sure. He had started to convince himself that the music came direct from him, that he had found a channel of expression from deep within.
Jay remained like this for over two hours, until he received his alarm call:
“I’m sorry to interrupt Mister Gee, but you now have one hour before the ceremony.” Sounded the woman’s voice from the room speakers. He had programmed the announcer to sound this way when he had first moved into the apartment, and hadn’t ever thought of changing the voice. Now she felt almost real to him. He even used a name when he talked to “her”.
“Thankyou Aimee”
Perhaps he should think about changing it now that the real Aimee had reappeared in his life. Could he remember how to do that?
“Programme centre. Intercom Settings.” He said
“Affirmative. Affirmative. Intercom Settings menu.” said computerised Aimee’s voice.
Jay never ceased to wonder at the HCS, the Home Control System. And it only listened to him. It wasn’t that it recognised his voice. It was all controlled by the smart chip in his arm, and although Jay didn’t notice it, didn’t feel anything, there were identity checks going on, with the HCS sending and verifying information as he spoke. When the system had first appeared, he had tried, like many other children to see if he could change the settings in other people’s apartments, but hadn’t been able to. The HCS didn’t even respond to the smart chips that hadn’t been programmed with permissions.
Of course, guests could be given limited programme access. In fact it was necessary. Jay always remembered the day his mother and he had visited Aunt Dee (she was now dead), and Dee had left them in her apartment while she rushed out to buy some sugar. They had been there for over forty minutes before they started to worry. Try as they might, Jay and his mother could not get anything to work in the flat. They couldn’t make a cup of tea ot coffee, open the fridge, turn on the vid screen to watch TV, or even open the door to leave the apartment. They were prisoners. It was quite a scary situation. Imagine if Dee had been involved in an accident, Jay’s mother wondered. What would happen to them? How would they be able to tell anyone they were trapped inside? Of course, they had mobile telephones, but in some apartments, such as Dee’s (and Jay’s coincidently), the wave defence wall of the HCS had been turned on to stop interference between aprtments. Although it wasn’t normally a problem if you think that the HCS had telephony built in, but someone facing this situation?
So, what had happened? Dee had a reputation for being forgetful at the time, a condition that was later diagnosed as being a severe problem. She had met someone in the shop and had simply forgot that Jay and his mother were waiting in her apartment. After several coffees with her friend, Dee had returned to find Jay and his mother waiting exasperated. Jay’s mother had inisited on Dee giving her permanent access privileges afterwards, which was coincidently to be a great help in the future when Dee’s condition worsened and she forgot how to program the HCS.
Now, this was Jay’s problem. He couldn’t remember exactly how to do it.
‘Erm...voicebox settings’
‘Negative.’
‘Voice control?’
‘Negative. May I suggest the possible menu options?’
‘Go ahead.’
Fortunately, the HCS, like most computers these days, second guessed you. From the options, Jay was able to select a new voice. Male, Thirties. Polite. He baptised him ‘Jeeves’.
802 words written this time
3934 written in total
46,066 words left to write
22 days left to write
Target = 2,093 words a day if I want to finish on time
posted by blog-efl at 8.11.04
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