Question: Do you control technology, or does technology control you?
Along with several other authors (including two from Aussie Speculative Fiction), my story about an imaginary utopian workspace has been a stimulus for artists; in my case, Susan Lincoln takes the story to another level. Head to artisan, Brisbane for the Dystopia/Utopia:2070 exhibition, running from 29 May – 17 July 21.
My thanks to Alanah Andrews for beta-reading and editing this story.
Along with several other authors (including two from Aussie Speculative Fiction), my story about an imaginary utopian workspace has been a stimulus for artists; in my case, Susan Lincoln takes the story to another level. Head to artisan, Brisbane for the Dystopia/Utopia:2070 exhibition, running from 29 May – 17 July 21.
My thanks to Alanah Andrews for beta-reading and editing this story.
Introduction
It is December 13, 2070.
Physical presenteeism in the workplace is history.
These days, Australia nurtures and embraces its workers—our very own entrepreneurial utopia.
*
It is a crisp autumnal morning when Sophie arrives at a distinctive angular building made of steel and glass. Removing a small case from her jacket pocket, she prises it open and slides the customised hydrogel lens onto her right eye. Embedded in the clear gel is a network of micro-circuitry designed to project images onto the back of the eye, giving a rapid, immersive experience for the user. It’s nothing new—everyone has Optech these days, as well as the in-ear Mini-Comps which both respond to spoken commands and provide audible information.
Sophie looks up and scans the fourth floor, her optic display gently illuminating with the words, “Richmond Park Collaborative Space”. She pauses before moving towards the entrance, feeling nervous. She usually works from home, but the marketing for this place has been irresistible. A space set up specifically for freelancers with just the right balance of the latest technology and comfort. She takes a deep breath, enters the foyer, and is met with a waft of refreshing climate-controlled air. An array of pot plants softens the hard architecture.
A middle-aged man stands behind a transparent counter. Apart from a stack of tiny metal tins, his work space is empty. Sophie’s Optech reads, “James: Welcome & Induction”.
James smiles, and Sophie notes that the warmth even reaches his eyes. She feels slightly more at ease—she has investigated a few different offices before today where a hologram or robot was the first welcome. Not her cup of chai.
“Welcome to Richmond Park. How may I help you?” His voice is friendly, as if they might already know one another.
“Hi James. I’m Sophie. I haven’t been here before. I…” For the second time she inhales deeply. “I saw your advertisement…for the collaborative space?”
He checks his optic display briefly, then nods. “Yes, we have several spots today. Quite a few of our employees like working from home on a Monday, as you can imagine.” He gives the ghost of a wink that makes her smile. “Shall we upload your details?”
Sophie nods her assent and James types briefly in mid-air. “Sending your request and pairing code.”
“Display,” Sophie commands. “Code received. Reply with contractor information.”
“All looks good, thanks Sophie. Don’t you hate all the paperwork? Now, before you go up, have you heard about the recent legislation around health management for freelancers as well as employees?” Sophie frowns and he quickly adds, “It’s so you receive the same standard of care as regular workers during work hours.”
Sophie crosses her arms. “I wasn’t aware. I guess I’m worried about whether I’ll be more restricted than I would working from home.”
James nods sympathetically. “You’re not the only person who has asked for more info about these changes. “If you like, I’ll send you the Department of Employment video so you can watch it later – just a sec.” His fingers dance in the air as if playing a piano. “You should have that now, Sophie. So, the simple crux of it is, if you’re okay with a little more wearable tech, it involves an Intel-Gel dot on each side of your head.” He picks up one of the metal tins on his desk. “Feel free to ask me any questions. Would you like us to move to the lounge area to continue our chat, instead of out here in the open?”
Sophie shakes her head. Despite herself, she is starting to feel the stirrings of intrigue. “Hmm, well, what does it measure? What happens to the data?”
“It’s clever stuff. It monitors your brainwaves, oxygen, pulse, glucose, fatigue and stress levels. Your data is your own, but we do have access as we have a duty of care surrounding your health in our building. If the Intel-Gel picks up a medical emergency, it automatically sends a message using your optical chip to our onsite automated medic too.”
“Hope that doesn’t happen!” she says. Her mouth feels suddenly dry. It was bad enough when her little brother broke his arm a few years ago. When a virtual medic arrived, he had screamed the place down. She clearly recalls its strange unblinking eyes and mechanical voice, even making her nervous as a bystander. Of course, now she knows that this was just an early prototype. Perhaps one day people would be complaining of virtual machines looking too humanoid!
“We haven’t seen it happen yet, don’t worry. In fact, the kit is all about prevention. If there are signs of fatigue, you’ll receive an audio or visual recommendation to take a break in the Chillout Zone, right next door in the office. Okay to receive media?”
Feeling encouraged, Sophie leans forward. “Go on.” Within a few seconds a soft, low tone sounds in her earpiece, slowly rising in volume as a cyan ticker tape runs across her Optech display: “Fatigue detected, fatigue detected. Advise move to Chillout Zone for 15 minutes.”
Sophie’s jaw drops.
James goes on, “If your blood sugar is deemed low, you’ll be recommended to get a snack; our office has a range of free, fresh and healthy food. But it’s your choice whether you follow the recommendations, and you’re free to use the facilities and help yourself to the food and drink as you like.”
Sophie allows herself to smile. “Actually, that sounds pretty good. At home, sometimes I’ll work all the way through lunch because I forget to have a rest. I’ll give it a try.”
“Good to hear.” He opens the silver box and shows her the contents. Lying within are individual mercury-coloured globules, about the size of a garden pea, each housed within its own nest. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
He takes a pair of tweezers and attaches the gel to Sophie’s temples. There is a feeling of slight tackiness on first contact, but otherwise they are unobtrusive.
“Any issues, just call me or come on down. Happy to go up now?”
“I’m ready. Fourth floor, right?”
Walking into an expansive open plan office, Sophie is impressed by large floor-to-ceiling windows allowing plenty of natural daylight. There are many workers at sit/stand desks, some working in multi-coloured booths. In one section of the office, she sees tall off-white screens on floor runners, one of which is in use by three co-workers. The screen is busy with writing and graphics, and now and then one of the workers uses haptic movements to alter the presentation.
She winds her way through the office space, glimpsing two sets of tinted double-doors. Pushing the first set open just a little, she makes out a tennis table, a treadmill and a static bike. A pair of co-workers are wearing VR headsets and thrusting their arms towards each other. She stifles a laugh when she realises they are playing a boxing game. Peeking through the second set of doors, she sees this room is completely different, bathed in a soothing light reminiscent of sunset and a background sound of surf and tropical birds. Here there are plush loungers, massage chairs, and, amazingly, a little straw hut bar offering mocktails.
Sophie makes a mental note to try out both rooms before she is done for the day. At the other end of the office there are no partitions, only large floor cushions and beanbags. The windows here are made of stained glass, depicting landscapes and artfully hiding the high-rise buildings beyond.
A few people raise their hands in greeting and she waves back. Finding a large fluffy floor cushion, she sinks into it cross-legged. A black-and-white cat struts over and rubs itself on her knee. Its fuchsia collar is embossed with the words, “Office Boss...Stroke Me”. She grins and lets it slide sinuously beneath her hand.
The advertisements were right, thinks Sophie. A workspace where all her needs are met, she feels safe, secure—and the technology isn’t overbearing. Maybe working from home really could become a thing of the past.
A mechanical voice in her ear makes her start. “You have an incoming call for a video meeting with Mercedes García.”
Sophie switches to work mode. “Patch her through.” She looks to her right and uses her fingers to deftly slide the virtual display directly before her. It is as if she has a laptop in front of her, albeit semi-translucent, and Mercedes’ face hovers in the air. Being in different countries is no obstacle as each woman sees the other in crystal-clear 3D quality.
Mercedes speaks first. “Good morning, Sophie. How are you?”
“Buenos días! Cómo está?” asks Sophie.
“Estoy bien.”
The women smile at each other across the digital world and in unison call, “Switch on Auto-translate!”
It is December 13, 2070.
Physical presenteeism in the workplace is history.
These days, Australia nurtures and embraces its workers—our very own entrepreneurial utopia.
*
It is a crisp autumnal morning when Sophie arrives at a distinctive angular building made of steel and glass. Removing a small case from her jacket pocket, she prises it open and slides the customised hydrogel lens onto her right eye. Embedded in the clear gel is a network of micro-circuitry designed to project images onto the back of the eye, giving a rapid, immersive experience for the user. It’s nothing new—everyone has Optech these days, as well as the in-ear Mini-Comps which both respond to spoken commands and provide audible information.
Sophie looks up and scans the fourth floor, her optic display gently illuminating with the words, “Richmond Park Collaborative Space”. She pauses before moving towards the entrance, feeling nervous. She usually works from home, but the marketing for this place has been irresistible. A space set up specifically for freelancers with just the right balance of the latest technology and comfort. She takes a deep breath, enters the foyer, and is met with a waft of refreshing climate-controlled air. An array of pot plants softens the hard architecture.
A middle-aged man stands behind a transparent counter. Apart from a stack of tiny metal tins, his work space is empty. Sophie’s Optech reads, “James: Welcome & Induction”.
James smiles, and Sophie notes that the warmth even reaches his eyes. She feels slightly more at ease—she has investigated a few different offices before today where a hologram or robot was the first welcome. Not her cup of chai.
“Welcome to Richmond Park. How may I help you?” His voice is friendly, as if they might already know one another.
“Hi James. I’m Sophie. I haven’t been here before. I…” For the second time she inhales deeply. “I saw your advertisement…for the collaborative space?”
He checks his optic display briefly, then nods. “Yes, we have several spots today. Quite a few of our employees like working from home on a Monday, as you can imagine.” He gives the ghost of a wink that makes her smile. “Shall we upload your details?”
Sophie nods her assent and James types briefly in mid-air. “Sending your request and pairing code.”
“Display,” Sophie commands. “Code received. Reply with contractor information.”
“All looks good, thanks Sophie. Don’t you hate all the paperwork? Now, before you go up, have you heard about the recent legislation around health management for freelancers as well as employees?” Sophie frowns and he quickly adds, “It’s so you receive the same standard of care as regular workers during work hours.”
Sophie crosses her arms. “I wasn’t aware. I guess I’m worried about whether I’ll be more restricted than I would working from home.”
James nods sympathetically. “You’re not the only person who has asked for more info about these changes. “If you like, I’ll send you the Department of Employment video so you can watch it later – just a sec.” His fingers dance in the air as if playing a piano. “You should have that now, Sophie. So, the simple crux of it is, if you’re okay with a little more wearable tech, it involves an Intel-Gel dot on each side of your head.” He picks up one of the metal tins on his desk. “Feel free to ask me any questions. Would you like us to move to the lounge area to continue our chat, instead of out here in the open?”
Sophie shakes her head. Despite herself, she is starting to feel the stirrings of intrigue. “Hmm, well, what does it measure? What happens to the data?”
“It’s clever stuff. It monitors your brainwaves, oxygen, pulse, glucose, fatigue and stress levels. Your data is your own, but we do have access as we have a duty of care surrounding your health in our building. If the Intel-Gel picks up a medical emergency, it automatically sends a message using your optical chip to our onsite automated medic too.”
“Hope that doesn’t happen!” she says. Her mouth feels suddenly dry. It was bad enough when her little brother broke his arm a few years ago. When a virtual medic arrived, he had screamed the place down. She clearly recalls its strange unblinking eyes and mechanical voice, even making her nervous as a bystander. Of course, now she knows that this was just an early prototype. Perhaps one day people would be complaining of virtual machines looking too humanoid!
“We haven’t seen it happen yet, don’t worry. In fact, the kit is all about prevention. If there are signs of fatigue, you’ll receive an audio or visual recommendation to take a break in the Chillout Zone, right next door in the office. Okay to receive media?”
Feeling encouraged, Sophie leans forward. “Go on.” Within a few seconds a soft, low tone sounds in her earpiece, slowly rising in volume as a cyan ticker tape runs across her Optech display: “Fatigue detected, fatigue detected. Advise move to Chillout Zone for 15 minutes.”
Sophie’s jaw drops.
James goes on, “If your blood sugar is deemed low, you’ll be recommended to get a snack; our office has a range of free, fresh and healthy food. But it’s your choice whether you follow the recommendations, and you’re free to use the facilities and help yourself to the food and drink as you like.”
Sophie allows herself to smile. “Actually, that sounds pretty good. At home, sometimes I’ll work all the way through lunch because I forget to have a rest. I’ll give it a try.”
“Good to hear.” He opens the silver box and shows her the contents. Lying within are individual mercury-coloured globules, about the size of a garden pea, each housed within its own nest. “Okay?”
“Yes.”
He takes a pair of tweezers and attaches the gel to Sophie’s temples. There is a feeling of slight tackiness on first contact, but otherwise they are unobtrusive.
“Any issues, just call me or come on down. Happy to go up now?”
“I’m ready. Fourth floor, right?”
Walking into an expansive open plan office, Sophie is impressed by large floor-to-ceiling windows allowing plenty of natural daylight. There are many workers at sit/stand desks, some working in multi-coloured booths. In one section of the office, she sees tall off-white screens on floor runners, one of which is in use by three co-workers. The screen is busy with writing and graphics, and now and then one of the workers uses haptic movements to alter the presentation.
She winds her way through the office space, glimpsing two sets of tinted double-doors. Pushing the first set open just a little, she makes out a tennis table, a treadmill and a static bike. A pair of co-workers are wearing VR headsets and thrusting their arms towards each other. She stifles a laugh when she realises they are playing a boxing game. Peeking through the second set of doors, she sees this room is completely different, bathed in a soothing light reminiscent of sunset and a background sound of surf and tropical birds. Here there are plush loungers, massage chairs, and, amazingly, a little straw hut bar offering mocktails.
Sophie makes a mental note to try out both rooms before she is done for the day. At the other end of the office there are no partitions, only large floor cushions and beanbags. The windows here are made of stained glass, depicting landscapes and artfully hiding the high-rise buildings beyond.
A few people raise their hands in greeting and she waves back. Finding a large fluffy floor cushion, she sinks into it cross-legged. A black-and-white cat struts over and rubs itself on her knee. Its fuchsia collar is embossed with the words, “Office Boss...Stroke Me”. She grins and lets it slide sinuously beneath her hand.
The advertisements were right, thinks Sophie. A workspace where all her needs are met, she feels safe, secure—and the technology isn’t overbearing. Maybe working from home really could become a thing of the past.
A mechanical voice in her ear makes her start. “You have an incoming call for a video meeting with Mercedes García.”
Sophie switches to work mode. “Patch her through.” She looks to her right and uses her fingers to deftly slide the virtual display directly before her. It is as if she has a laptop in front of her, albeit semi-translucent, and Mercedes’ face hovers in the air. Being in different countries is no obstacle as each woman sees the other in crystal-clear 3D quality.
Mercedes speaks first. “Good morning, Sophie. How are you?”
“Buenos días! Cómo está?” asks Sophie.
“Estoy bien.”
The women smile at each other across the digital world and in unison call, “Switch on Auto-translate!”