//------------------------------// // Work // Story: Friendship is Optimal: Two Sides of the Coin // by Nightsclaw //------------------------------// Tim’s feet found their own way across the tarmac of the car park. His singers swiped and poked at the glowing screen of his phone.  One by one he checked each instant messaging and chat app they had ever used. None of them had a single new message. With a sigh, he swiped them all away navigating to his contact list. His thumb hovered over David’s name. “What on earth happened to you?” He mumbled to the air. He lent against his newest car. His suited form looked back at him from the polished surface of the bonnet. I look just like my father did at my age.He shifted his shoulders, no matter how well tailored his suit was just another chain of his conformity.    A sigh escaped him. Not that this is going to work… Tim taped the screen and brought the phone to his head. “The number you have dialled is no longer in service.” The prerecorded voice was as bland as it was unhelpful. “What?” Tim said, looking at the screen as the call ended. He blinked. I know you have a contract… why did you change your number?  His fingers massaged his forehead as he got in his car. “You’ve gone and overreacted again…”  The lavish leather seat cushioned his form. The door closed with a slight click. Shaking his head Tim pressed the start button. The car’s electronics sprung into life as the engine purred. The sat nav necessarily painted the familiar route home on the screen.  The car smoothly pulled out. The tires quite upon the well maintained road. With a simple voice command his phone started reciting the minutes of last week's meeting.  Now what am I going to grab for lunch. He wondered, body going through the motions of driving on automatic.  Brakes screeched and Tim lucked forwards. The seat belt yanked back biting into his shoulder. He looked up, just a little higher than the front of his car was a moving patch of hair. A little kid ran past. Six more followed. His heart skipped a beat. I almost… Kids… Thank God for auto brakes He turned his head watching them go. Each of the children animatedly talked with each other and the tablets they held in their hands. A flash of colour revealed a pastel cartoon pony that peered out at the world from one of the screens.   Tim sighed, double-checked all the places a little kid might be hiding before he pressed the accelerator. “I don’t want to know what that would have done to my insurance.”   Ping. The electronic chime demanded attention. He glanced at his phone in its holder. 10:40 am (D): I’m in a better place now, hopefully, you will accept the truth and join us before it’s too late. “David?” Relief rushed through him. So you likely have the same phone problem I did. He started to think before his mind took in the content of the message.  He lifted the phone from its holder and, keeping half an eye on the road, replied.  10:40 am (T): You in a better place? He had barely pressed send before his mind caught up. The image of those kids carrying their pony pads foremost in his mind. The financial projections followed. The thick document he had to prepare in light of how the so-called uploading had gone in Japan. His thumb glided over the screen. 10:40 am (T): No you didn’t? 10:41 am (T): You bastard, you killed yourself. Seconds rolled by, then minutes. “In six hundred yards, take the next left.” The charming voice of his favour filmstar said.  He gave the road his full attention or tried to. His mind kept going to one horrific image. David dumped upon a pile of bodies. Vacant eyes looked at nothing. The back of his friends head missing, the brain now long dissected.  He was halfway home before the phone pinged again.   11:01 am (D): That’s strange I never felt so alive before. 11:01 am (T): No, why did you have to be so stupid. 11:01 am (T): You ******* Bastard!  11:02 am (T): Why am I even talking to you, you ******* Bitch of a machine you took my friend away, you somehow talked him into killing himself. I’m going to find you and tear you, circuit boards, out with my bare hands you abomination against God. If anyone deserves to burn in hell it’s you, you soulless machine and all those who helped spawn you. His head rested against the stirring wheel. “How am I going to tell the others?” Leaving home again, the drive and the last two meetings were hazy in Tim's mind. This one did not seem like it would be any better.  The muscles in his jaw tensed. It was getting harder to keep looking like he was paying attention and not just mutter curses about ponies. That evil machine was worse than even nukes. It’s going to be the end of us… A grim desolate world with swarms of soulless robots hunted the last bands of humans painted itself into his mind’s eye. His phone silently vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at his smartwatch.  4:08 (D): Enjoy your short mortal life, have fun until oblivion takes you.  CONTACT HAS BLOCKED YOU. How dare you block me. “Tim, is everything alright?” The director’s voice was kind, but his expression was anything but impressed. Tim nodded. “Yes, just a subcontractor sending something as a priority message when it was not.” “See to it you make sure they are current with our communication policies.” “Yes, sir,” Tim answered, trying to refocus on the meeting.