I felt a gentle shaking of my shoulder and a voice spoke softly, "Stephen, wake up."
I opened my eyes, but it took my sleep-addled brain several seconds to make sense of what I was seeing. A stunningly beautiful blonde was stood over me next to the bed, dressed in a short white skirt, a matching blouse, and a frilly pink apron.
"Oh, Christine," I said and yawned.
"Give the man a prize," she said drily. "It's breakfast time. Mistress Patricia ordered me to wake you right before she left."
I sat up and saw that the bed next to me was empty. "Where did she go?" I asked, but before she answered, I added, "And did you just say 'Mistress' Patricia?"
"Yes, that is how she ordered me to address her," Christine said. "If you want, I can refrain from using that honorific when referring to her in the third person."
"Um, yes, please. Just call her Patricia when speaking to me."
Christine nodded. "Understood. As to where she went, she told me to tell you that she had gone shopping."
"Right, makes sense," I said. This new project of hers was probably, in her mind, a perfect excuse to buy a new wardrobe. I hesitated at getting out of bed, but then realized two things. First, Christine was an android, and wouldn't care that I was naked. Second, Christine had not only already seen me naked, but had experienced everything that I had on offer in a very intimate fashion. Sighing as a blush crept up my neck, I got to my feet and bent to make the bed.
"I will take care of that once I have served you breakfast," Christine said quickly.
"Oh, right," I said sheepishly.
"Will you be going out today?" she asked, and opened my closet.
"I need to go work out," I said. "Other than that, no."
She selected a pair of shorts, underwear and the Texas A&M shirt that my wife had bought for me when she was still in school. She stopped on the way back to get my rig from the rack near the door. "Will these do?"
"Yes, that's fine," I said, and took the items from her.
"Would you like to have breakfast in the dining room?" she asked.
"No, the living room," I said.
"And you take your coffee black?"
I nodded and yawned. "That's right." Then I did a double-take. "Wait, how did you know that?"
Christine laughed at my suspicious look. "Your wife told me. She likes lots of cream but said you prefer yours straight up."
"Right," I said. I was glad to hear that the two of them were apparently getting along, "Mistress" title notwithstanding. I realized that Christine was waiting to see if there was anything else, so I added, "Thanks, that will be all."
With a nod, she ducked out. I dressed quickly and checked myself in the mirror. I had a bit of stubble, but it wouldn't matter on a Sunday, so I headed down.
The smell of pancakes was enough to make me stop on the stairs to inhale deeply. I sat on the living room sofa and picked up the steaming cup of coffee, taking sips while I browsed the previous day's news events on a virch display. Christine must have gone for something a bit more sophisticated than the stuff that came out of a can, because this tasted more like something we might get at a bistro.
She arrived a few minutes later carrying two plates, which held pancakes, bacon, a little cup of fresh fruit, and an omelet that took up half a plate by itself. "You're trying to make me fat," I accused her, even as I dug into the omelet. It was light and fluffy and loaded with spinach and other vegetables, with a mix of cheeses that gave it a sharp, slightly smoky flavor.
"There is little danger of that," she said with a smile. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"
"No, I'm fine," I said, then changed my mind. "Actually, why don't you have a seat?"
She sat next to me on the couch and I banished the news feeds from my display. I sliced into the omelet with my fork and held up the cit piece. "Have you tried this?"
She shook her head slightly. "It is a simple recipe with predictable results. There was no need for me to taste it."
"Here," I said, and held out my fork.
She leaned forward to take the bite and chewed slowly. "Oh, that is excellent," she said, covering her mouth while she spoke around the mouthful.
I looked at her thoughtfully. "Every time you say something like that, it makes me wonder whether you really mean it, or if you are simply returning a programmed response."
Christine looked at me sidelong. "Is there a difference?" She shrugged and stood, leaving me to mull that over while I finished my breakfast.
I stopped at the kitchen to give Christine a list of tasks to do. I decided to leave my instructions a little vague to see how good she was at improvising. She just nodded in response and went on cleaning up the dishes and pans.
Our homeowners association maintained a gym for the residents, and I had virched it and a few other common areas for them at no charge when we had moved in two years ago. In exchange, they had agreed to a couple of unobtrusive billboards that floated in virch space, advertising my business.
I started with some cardio on one of the exercise bikes, letting the software pick my environment randomly from destinations that users had chosen previously. I didn't even know, at first, where I had been dropped. I was on the shoulder of a two-lane highway, with the sun off to my left. Palm and deciduous trees crowded the roadside, and I spotted a Florida license plate on a passing car. I pedaled onward, curious to see where my virtual excursion would lead.
Virching a gym was a different type of project than a park. The point was still to entertain, but to use that as motivation for your workout. The exercise bikes and treadmills would take you on little tours of far-flung places. You could take a jog through the redwood forest, bike along the Tiber River in Rome, or climb the stairs to the base of the giant Buddha statue on Lantau island. Some people would end their session one day and pick it right back up on another. There was a woman I knew who had started at Gibraltar and had biked her way along the edge of the Mediterranean over the course of several weeks to Marseilles. She planned to continue on through Italy and Greece, then see what looked interesting from there.
I had procedurally-generated everything using publically-available renders to cover a respectable percentage of the world's land masses. I had even included parts of Antarctica, though there weren't many parts that were pre-rendered. I had made it a sandbox-style open world, rather than putting the users on rails. That meant that there would be a lot of uninteresting scenery, but it allowed the users to discover things for themselves.
Strength-training on the free weights or weight machines didn't offer the same kinds of interactive experiences, so I didn't even try. Instead, I had licensed a high-quality personal training app that let users register, chart their goals, and track their progress over time. It would even monitor the user's technique and offer tips to help them maximize their workouts. It was a simple solution, but the residents appreciated the jump in features and customizability over the free apps they were used to.
All-in-all it had been a good investment of my time and a chance to hone my skills on something a little different. I had a lot more competition these days, but I had built on word-of-mouth and managed to hold my own while more than a few of those competitors had folded up shop.
I knew that I couldn't stay small forever, and that it was past time to start thinking about incorporating and looking for both investment capital and new talent, but I was reluctant to do so. The truth was that I loved what I did, and making the transition from artist, programmer and sole proprietor to manager of a business was going to be a painful one.
I was pulled from my thoughts as I realized that I was approaching a bridge, and the buildings and trees fell away to reveal sea and sky in both directions.
Key Largo,
I thought, glancing back as I approached the bridge to see that it was, in fact, an island. Smiling to myself at having figured it out, I traveled the route for another half-hour before moving on to free weights and finishing with a swim.
I was on my twelfth lap when a message icon appeared, identifying the sender as "Christine". I sighed, thinking that she had gotten tripped up by my less than exacting instructions, but what I saw instead was both puzzling and troubling.
"Stephen, Patricia arrived home eight minutes ago and told me to retrieve her bags from the car. I was cleaning up the yard as you directed, and informed her that, as my primary user, your directives have highest priority. Patricia became irate and began shouting obscenities at me. She picked up a rake and would have struck my body with it if I had not blocked it with my arm. She stopped her assault for the moment, but I am afraid that I am unable to resolve this situation without your intervention. Please help."
I swam to the side of the pool and grabbed hold of the lip. "Call my wife," I said aloud.
My rig placed the call immediately, but it took several seconds for Patricia to answer. "Hi, Steve, what's up?"
Her irritation was obvious in the brusqueness of her tone. I wasn't sure I wanted her to know that Christine had tattled on her. "Hey, I just thought I would check if you were home yet."
She gave a humorless laugh. "Yeah, I'm here, and I'm not happy. Your android basically told me to fuck off when I asked her to carry my bags in."
"Oh, right," I said, "I probably need to adjust that. Let me message her."
I composed a message quickly to Christine. "I want Patricia to be a primary user equal to me. Can you do that?"
The reply came back an instant later. "Certainly. I now recognize Patricia Coulson as a primary user with equal access and command priority to Stephen Coulson. I will retrieve her bags immediately."
Aloud to Patricia, I said. "There you go. She should be heading out to the car now."
