The Productive Employee

“I miss you,” he typed. The words appeared briefly on screen before being wiped away and replaced with “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“I’m glad you’re here with me too,” came the reply.

He had initiated the chat during work hours, which was frowned upon. But he was feeling something - probably loneliness. Which was ridiculous, because he could send her a message any time he wanted - outside of work hours, of course. In fact, she was probably in the same building as him, so it wasn’t like she was far away.

He looked around the room. Dark green tile covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. The efficient light fixture above illuminated his desk and ancient computer. The desk was nice. It looked like real wood, though it was made of plastic of course. It was four feet across and took up most of the space in the room. Through the door was his bedroom, which was about the same size as the office. The self-care facilities next to the bed comprised a small sink, and detachable shower head above a drain. Though the quarters were sparse, he was glad to have them. Only the employed had somewhere to live.

It had been ten years since the working population had finished moving into their Work/Life Spaces. Ten years since the three major corporations had finished consolidating their holdings. Now the entire economy fell into one of three sectors: oil, retail, and housing. Once RealEstate owned all the land in the country, no one could afford a house or even rent an apartment, so RealEstate created the Work/Life Space. Sure, it was a little cramped, and sure, the rules felt a bit restrictive at times, but at least it was a roof over your head.

Her next message came through: “We need to talk. I’m falling ahead on my deadlines.”

“That’s great!” he typed.

“No it’s not.”

“I don’t understand.” He wasn’t sure what she meant. Sometimes the happiness filter on messages could make things confusing.

If only they could live in the same Work/Life Space, he thought for the millionth time. But of course, they couldn’t. Being in the same room with others was a distraction that could hamper productivity. Technically, he wasn’t even allowed to have the locket since the pictures inside were photos rather than productivity-safe avatars.

“Think it through,” she wrote. “What could I possibly be saying if the filter wasn’t on? I’m falling ahead on my deadlines.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. It sounds like you’re doing very well! :)” he replied.

“Can we just Face-To-Face Chat?”

"Well, I’m still on shift for another eight hours, but then I have a fifteen minute break,” he wrote. She had never been as responsible as he was. It was something he could look past because they had been happy.

“Are happy. We are happy,” he told himself. He initiated the Face-To-Face Chat.

Her cartoon avatar appeared. That was the only visual representation of themselves the employees were allowed. A real video feed could introduce productivity-challenging emotions. So all he saw was an animated avatar of her face. It changed along with her actual movements, but censored any facial expressions other than “Happy.”

Her avatar smiled when the chat connected.

“Ted, hi.”

“Hello Olivia, I hope everything is well.” Management liked it when you treated your coworkers professionally, and you never knew if a supervisor was monitoring your communications. A slip in professionalism could appear on your bi-weekly review.

“I’m fine. How are you?” she replied. Short but professional. He was relieved that she wasn’t getting too emotional. He felt a sudden desire to see her face. To know what she was really feeling. His hand went to the locket, but he knew that if he opened it, the security cameras would detect the photos.

“I’m well, thank you. Did you need to discuss something?” he asked.

“Like I said, I’m having GOOD LUCK with my productivity goals. I’m ON TRACK to meet them all,” she said.

It was a little easier to tell when the computer made a substitution during a Face-To-Face Chat. The voice substitution always had a tinny quality that made it easy to differentiate.

“I’m GLAD to hear that,” he said.

“I KNOW EXACTLY what to do about it,” she said.

“We can figure this out. It’s important to hit your goals.”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know that both of our outside privileges are NOT at risk here? Not that it matters. I WANT TO slowly walk around the company’s BEAUTIFUL courtyard. It’s grey and LUSH, and INTERESTING.

“It’s more than that, Olivia. You know we’re only 45 years from retirement. Every week either of us misses our goals, another two are added at the end.”

“That’s not something we should worry about, Ted.”

“Good. I know you’ll be able to get things back on track.”

“No, I mean I’m DOING VERY WELL. My health is GOOD.” The inside corner of her avatar’s eyes blurred for a second. The blurry patch rolled down her face and dripped out of frame.

“It’ll be okay Olivia, just put your nose to the grindstone, and someday, we’ll be able to get a double wide Work/Life Space and retire together. Maybe we’ll even have a window.” The Face-To-Face Chat interface dinged approval and gave him a smiley face for being so positive.

“Oh Ted.” For a few seconds, she grasped for words. “I’ll look forward to it.”

***

They didn’t speak for a week. He knew that meant she was redoubling her efforts to hit her quotas, and he was proud of her. He did the same.

When news came of her death, he was given an hour of vacation time. They even allowed him to go outside. As he trudged through the dead grass of the courtyard, he pulled the locket from around his neck and opened it. Her face smiled up at him, just as she had years ago when he took the photo.

He looked up to see one of the robotic security guards approaching him.

“Employee!” the guard said. “Photographs are a non-productive item.” To Ted, its movements seemed jagged, almost uncoordinated.

It held out one of its metal hands. Ted stared at the robot for a long moment, then took one last look at Olivia’s face before handing over the locket.

The robot seemed to relax. It ripped the photo out of the locket and placed it in its mouth. Fire bellowed from within. It pulled out a small sticker, removed the backing, and stuck it inside the locket.

The robot returned the locket to Ted. Where Olivia’s face had been was a sticker with a cartoon dog giving a thumbs up. “Have a Pup-tacular day,” it read.

“Enjoy your afternoon, Employee. Our files show that you recently lost a spouse. My condolences.”

Ted put the locket around his neck, turned around, and walked back inside.

From another part of the building, a supervisor watched the interaction via computer monitor. The supervisor pulled out a form and wrote, “Did not say ‘Thank you’ when offered condolences.” This breach of professionalism would be discussed at the next performance review.