“Your complaint,” replied Job.
“They go to you?!”
“Yes.”
“Then why did I have to go through all that menu nonsense?”
“Rules.”
“Brilliant,” he said, revisiting sarcasm.
Job tutted loudly in umbrage.
“I think there are enough rules already,” huffed Jake, “and I haven’t even opened the letter yet.”
“I’ve considered your complaint and have decided to act upon it.”
“Oh, right,” he replied with surprise.
“What would you like me to wear instead of this?”
“Anything but that.”
“Right you are.”
“Not that!” screamed Jake, averting his gaze but finding it didn’t block it out. Brother Job was standing in the street wearing what Jake could only describe as a skimpy swimsuit.
“There’s no pleasing some people. What about a fireman’s outfit?”
“No.”
“You love firemen, I checked the backup files.”
“I liked them when I was five! Can’t you just go with jeans and a T-shirt? Please!”
Brother Job morphed into the requested outfit faster than a catwalk model perfecting a costume changeover.
“That’s better.”
“Brother Job is here to please,” he scowled with a deadpan expression and an unconvincing bow.
“Why are you called Brother Job?”
“All guides are named after Bible characters, a sentimental touch by our original developers, I believe. My specific name is symbolic and chosen for you. In the Bible the character known as Job lost God’s protection as a test of his faith. Over the coming months your faith will also be tested.”
“Happy birthday me,” moaned Jake.
“I’m looking forward to it,” replied Job sadistically.
“Why brother, though?”
“Siblings look out for each other, and we are here to watch over you.”
“You’ve obviously not met my sister.”
“Oh, but I have. I’ve got access to all of your memories, don’t forget. Personally, I think you’ve been a little cruel to Tyra down the years if I’m honest.”
“Does your so-called help include judging my every word and action?”
“Yes. But don’t forget my opinions are still your opinions, half of them at least.”
It dawned on Jake that only one of his guides had made a personal appearance. He’d certainly felt the presence of another when he placed his hand on the letter, but he’d not seen or felt her in his feed since.
“Where’s my other guide?” asked Jake.
“Hiding!” came a softly spoken female reply.
“Where?” asked Jake.
“If I told you that then I wouldn’t be hiding, would I!?”
Jake scanned the vista for both real and virtual life. It was Wednesday morning and the street outside his house was completely deserted. Most residents had either left for work, via the electrified trams that passed his house every ten minutes during the prescribed working hours of eight until six, or were already plugged in from home offices. The town of New Hampton Falls was small compared to the sprawling cities that penned it in. It clung to the coastline about forty miles north of Boston, although the trams reached it in less than fifteen minutes these days. The estate he lived on ran in a straight line down the main road. Opposite the front of his house a strip of identical buildings reflected back at him.
All of these buildings had emerged in the last twenty years, driven by the necessity to build more sustainable homes. Regulations demanded that they were constructed from a composite material that was half reclaimed concrete and half high-density ferrocon. Ferrocon had been specifically developed to absorb carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and was a combination of steel dust, sand and laboratory-grown plankton. In front of each house a strip of solar panels led down to the main road. Jake remembered a time when they were concrete driveways where everyone parked their cars. Other than in his Memory Cloud, he hadn’t seen one of those in more than a decade.
In the gaps between the houses a dense forest of carbon rods stood to attention. Beyond that, just out of sight, the river delta cut the land like a lightning strike on its journey to the ocean. Across all of this familiar scenery there was no sight of his second guide, but he certainly heard her. An insane and protracted giggling rebounded around his mind, occasionally changing in pitch and proximity.
“I give up!” shouted Jake.
“I win!”
“If you like.”
“Suckers!”
“Is she always like this?” Jake asked Job with a sigh.
“Probably.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask me. You’ve only got yourself to blame,” said Job, peering over the top of a virtual tablet that had materialised in his hands. “Can we get on now, Dinah? Jobs to do.”
“Saucy!” She burst out laughing at the innuendo.
“Just come out,” demanded Jake. “I have enough on my plate today without chasing around after a fictitious hologram.”
“I’m very real, thank you.”
“Prove it,” replied Jake, hoping it might tempt her out.
“Don’t spoil my fun. Keep looking for me. I literally won’t stop hiding until you…wow, look…a cat!”
The projection of a woman materialised on the solar driveway of the house next door. She bent down to pet the ginger cat, out for its morning hunt. It completely ignored the newcomer: the Circuit had yet to see the value of equipping felines with their own virtual world. Even if it did have one it still wouldn’t have shown the slightest interest in the woman’s attention.
Jake couldn’t imagine which twisted part of his personality was responsible for generating this peculiar, rather plump, middle-aged woman. Her frizzy red hair stood to attention like she’d suffered from a localised bout of static electricity. Standing about five feet tall and covered in offensively bright, tie-dyed coloured clothes, her broad grin showed off crooked, blackened teeth circled by incredibly brave purple lipstick.
“Jake!” she hollered, attempting to give him a virtual bear-hug. “We’re going to have so much fun.”
“We’re not here to have fun, Sister Dinah, we’re here to make sure Jake follows the rules.”
“Rules are for fools! Let’s invade Tyra’s memory feed and play a prank on her?”
“Are you listening to me?” asked Job.
“Not really.”
“Which of you is in charge?” asked Jake assertively.
“The Circuit,” they replied simultaneously.
“That figures.”
The commotion of his new guides’ arrival drew his attention from the initial reason he was out in the cold street in the first place. His letter.
“What do I do now?” asked Jake, timidly staring nervously at the envelope.
“Go back inside and open it,” directed Job.
“Or…we could make a paper airplane out of it,” added Dinah.
Brother Job scowled.
“What if I don’t like what’s inside?”
“Tough. You’re kind of stuck with it.”