Dr. Keija Frampton owned a zoo. Adjacent to her main house, there existed a place where synth lions, falcons, panda bears, and hippos, among other things that creep, could play, charge, and run. She also owned a stable of thoroughbred  synth horses and hired a team to take care of all the artificial animals while Dr. Frampton worked on business. One of her hippos she kept as a forever baby. Dr. Covey Strong looked at the baby.

“Cute,” he remarked, looking at it flapping its ears. “Maybe I’ll get one of these for Monica II,” he mentioned.

“Did you want to get back to the plans? I appreciate you bringing me out here.”

“Yes, of course. We can go back to the house.”

As they ambled up the pathway to the home, Dr. Strong noticed two learned machines sparring with the other. A grin crossed his face and he chuckled lightly.

Once they entered the space, the huge ceilings and delightful decor beckoned them. They sat at the dining room table. Dr. Frampton sat at the head of the table and Dr. Strong sat to the left of her.

“What I planned to do along with Bell’, was create a space for the entire fleet of synths to be on one accord,” she explained.

“How do you plan on doing this?” he asked.

“I’m going to rejigger the code and make it possible for the synth animals and the synth humans to interact. Hell, I even want the synth plant life to be on the same wavelength.”

“Now that’s deep. To alter all of those different synths and have them aligned and tuned to the same frequency…that’s deep,” he repeated.

“I want to do it within the next six months,” Dr. Frampton replied.

“I think that’s enough time to explore the various ramifications associated with such a task,” he mentioned ogling some grapes on the table. 

“Help yourself. They’re from the garden,” Dr. Frampton suggested.

‘Thank you. I really think this project will launch you beyond your expectations.” He savored the sweetness of the green globules.

“I have to have the mindset of not just a co-CEO but that of the engineers and producers under me. If this goal is to be accomplished, I have to take into account the many too many problems that lay ahead,” Dr. Frampton related.

“Oh, there’s going to be some problems,” he reminded her.

“It’s like the late great Mr. Goulding once said, “happens happens.”

“You know I never really understood what he meant by that except that it means things just occur and you don’t have too much control over it,” Dr. Strong mentioned.

“That’s about right. I’ve already ordered enough components to grow the base. I still am looking at plans for people to afford the creations. We’ve been making synths for the wealthiest. That’s truly a niche market. If we double our production, keep the quality, and lower costs, we may have another revolution on our hands.”

Dr. Strong looked around the space. He noticed the chandelier studded with diamonds and the platinum coating on the ceiling. 

“Yes,” he voiced, “I do think that the middle class will always yearn for riches. I’m glad that the people of Smartystan have a place where they can earn high wages and enjoy the fruits of their labor.”

Dr. Frampton then used her brain chip to summon a synth with coffee.

“I know you like yours black with an upright backbone!”

“Hazelnut cream, three sugars, and a splash of vermouth.”

“No, that wasn’t the chip. I could tell. You recalled it, Covey.”

The coffees steamed on top of the glass table. 

“But back to business….” Dr. Frampton announced. “We can have tiers of different models that will be affordable for the shrinking middle class.”

“Absolutely, we can create a way for those who are getting out of that rung to go to the upper middle class into the higher levels of economic prosperity.”

“This is all about flourishing,” Dr. Frampton pointed out. “As long as there’s supply, people will demand.”

“That should be the title of my next book, with your permission.”

She sipped her coffee. “It’s yours.”

“I just want to know the ratio of synths to humans now living in the city.”

“It’s an eighth of the total population with that number increasing by the day.”

“When we look at the numbers, we’ll see just how much you two can produce over the next few months,” Dr. Strong observed.

“With upgrades every year, we’ll know that the increase will be beneficial to all.”

Dr. Strong looked grave. “Something's amiss….”

“The attack on the plant, the fire, the insurrection at the gates, they all made this action somewhat precarious,” Dr. Frampton sighed.

“You needn’t worry about any of that. This is still SuperSynth, no? The same company that carries the banner saying, ‘In Reason we trust’....”

“That’s right. We hold to that truth and in everything we do, and we live up to that motto,” Dr. Frampton beamed. She had worn a gray tunic with red and platinum accents and a gray head band.

“I know you do.” Dr. Strong wore his usual black suit with white starched shirt unbuttoned at the top. 

“That’s why I’m making sure you know our plans and can see to it that you spread the word in one of your columns, hell that next book, that synths are here to stay,” she asserted.

“I can see that happening. I’m going to shout from the artificial mountaintops that we’re going to have more synths on the way.”

Dr. Frampton looked at Dr. Strong. Her ebony eyes met with his and they shared a profound laugh.

“See this is what people miss about business. As much as I love data, it’s moments like this that I cherish.”

Cherish or perish,” Dr. Strong grinned. They laughed again.

“That’s right. But if we are to consider the data, we can find the analytics to be of supreme importance. Fifty percent of households in Smartystan own at least one synth. Two thirds of the Smartys own a learned machine. With these analytics, we can scale up and not have to worry about cost or losses.”

“And the income, of course, is tax free for everyone. It just makes sense. We converted the no sales tax of Old Delaware and ensured that there be payment for government services only on contracts and the things people buy. It just makes sense.”

“That’s right. We’re not waging any wars yet, but we have a few ideas of how to replace the military and police forces with more synths and less humans and actual animals like police dogs,” Dr. Frampton discussed.

“There’s been some push back about that….” Dr. Strong almost sang the words.

“I know. Even the people of this fair city-state-nation have become skittish, wondering if the synths will take over everything. We assure people time and time again that there’s no threat to humanity. We have ensured that the synths are not slaves but they don’t have rights. Our dominion over them is the blessing in all of this. A blessing that says we’re going to control the narrative rules out all ideas of some synth takeover.” 

Dr. Strong sipped. “That’s good coffee. But that’s right. With the demand for more synths, there will be a day where people won’t have to risk their lives fighting fires or wars or people in the streets. The song of the synths is to only aid but there will come a time when humans will just have to focus on work as opposed to menial tasks. That day may already be here.”

Dr. Frampton continued to sip while nodding her head in agreement.

“I want it to be. Plenty of people have said that millionaires and billionaires are nothing but moneygrubbers, and we are, but it’s more than that. It’s how we earn our money that I think most people in the past have stated is somehow dirty. Smartystanians, for the great majority, know better. They picture us with huge cigars in her mouths kicked back while everyone else does the work. We are the work!”

“That’s something most people can’t figure out, I mean from the time before this marvelous place. That’s what ACA can’t grasp. They’re fighting a war with themselves, not us. If they only knew that people with average abilities can thrive and flourish on their own terms in their own way, they wouldn’t spew such vitriol,” Dr. Strong noted.

“I know that’s right,” Dr. Frampton replied. “That Vergara is someone who is not all that dangerous. I mean he’s got some power underneath him, but he’s really nothing.”

Dr. Strong finished his coffee. “That’s what I’m saying. For all those who rally against the benefits of living here, they’ve yet to discover the virtues espoused by its inhabitants. The Smartys are the ones who have decided to live here on whatever scale of ability and have achieved excellence. People are free to be faithful or have no faith at all. People can gather together under our laws and fill out one sheet of paper to start a business. There is no stopping them.”

Dr. Frampton sipped the last bit of her coffee, too. “The influx of synths into this space will provide humans with joy and pleasure as I’m sure you can attest….” she smirked.

“Of course. While you other Founders have found romantic love with other humans, Monica II and I have been living in bliss this whole time.”

“Legally you’re married so she is as close to a human being as she’s going to get.”

“This is true. We exchanged nuptials and just stayed focused on the bounty of our world.”

Dr. Frampton clapped softly. “All of this points to the fact we’re going to have a major shift in production. And about Monica….”

“Please don’t mention her Keij’, we were doing so well.”

“No, I still feel partially responsible for her demise. They cancelled her out of bitterness and spite. I should’ve programmed her better, I should’ve put in a self-defense mechanism that comes standard with all our latest models.”

“But I could’ve built her like a fortress, like Monica II. I could’ve done better.”

“At least I could’ve installed the martial arts features within her framework. That would’ve stopped the from––”

“Are you sure? Because I want to make this right. I know Monica II can defend herself, but what about the people who purchased one of my synths that didn’t upgrade? What about the many households still using a system that is vulnerable to attack?”

Dr. Strong looked at Dr. Frampton. A glint remained in his eyes. “What happened happened. There’s no use in you working yourself up like this. I told you three times to not worry about it because there is no worry. In this benevolent universe, horrific things still happen to good people. Great people make extraordinary products that change the world. We wrote Declaration 3. Awful things take place but we don’t dwell. We don’t sulk and curse the heavens. No, we stand up and keep this thing moving. That’s part of your business. That’s why you remain a stalwart for the ever-growing mind.”

Dr. Frampton brushed back a tear and inhaled deeply. “I’m going to need my therapy session soon,” she laughed lightly while dabbing at her eyes.

“Just take in all of this. Our time is fleeting. Every ounce of strength we exert is a testament to the fact we’re makers on the landscape. Never mind the blights that may arise. We’ll go with intrepidity under wings and fly towards the sun, knowing that we have the notion to win.”

“Thank you for inviting me to your lovely home again, Keij’. I think I’ll go look at the hippos,” Dr. Strong intoned.

Chintan Jani

Smartystan

Happens Happens

Dr. Keija Frampton owned a zoo. Adjacent to her main house, there existed a place where synth lions, falcons, panda bears, and hippos, among other things that creep, could play, charge, and run. She also owned a stable of thoroughbred  synth horses and hired a team to take care of all the artificial animals while Dr. Frampton worked on business. One of her hippos she kept as a forever baby. Dr. Covey Strong looked at the baby.



Smartystan

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Skyler Saunders

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Smartystan

Happens Happens

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It’s What’s After Me

This is an Exclusive Story for supporters of Skyler Saunders