Solve this CAPTCHA

At the end of a long hallway decorated with the 3D letters spelling out “Cinestrata,” lay a bay office with floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. Terrence sat at a long table with three other video editors, making tapping and sweeping gestures on the table top. Evidently, their work was manifest only through the AR goggles that each wore. Like the others, Terrence was in his mid-twenties, but was the exception in that he wore his hair long and disheveled.

Ryan, an older man in casual but stylish clothes, approached with a tablet in hand. “Would you help me with this CAPTCHA?” he asked Terrence. “I’ve tried three times, and I just can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong.”

Terrence took it, saying, “Sure.”

After getting the tablet back, Ryan said, “Thanks, man. Not just for this. You’re a rare breed. You know that, right?”

Terrence shrugged his shoulders and smiled sheepishly.

At the end of the day, Terrence exited the building and was met with unforgiving heat. He realised that he’d forgotten to change into shorts, but decided to save time by simply continuing the homeward trek. At seven PM, the subway would be mostly deserted and air-conditioned.

Leslie met him at the door of his apartment. She was an attractive woman in her mid-twenties, wearing a loose slip dress. They hugged and kissed. It was a single room apartment with one couch which stood before a blank wall. There was a table in the kitchenette, and two chairs beside it. She handed him a pair of AR glasses, which she apparently had brought to the door with her. After Terrence put them on, the apartment appeared spacious and fully appointed.

In the kitchenette, Leslie set out a plastic tray on the table. On the tray was a thin slab of artifical meat and an inverted scoop of some kind of purée. She said, “This one tastes like grilled salmon.” As he held his glasses above his nose, Terrence looked doubtful. She continued, “Really.” She reset his glasses. Suddenly, they were at a candle-lit table with grilled salmon on the plate.

Later that night, Terrence sat on the couch, facing the wall. He maneuvered an invisible joystick and pushed invisible panel buttons in quick succession. “Check this out. This is level ten!” he whooped.

Leslie was staring with great attention at the table top in the kitchenette, all the while tapping and swiping. “My report,” she said.

In a monotone voice, Terrence said, “Four check to three six zero.”

Outside his line of sight, Leslie whined, “Could you help me with just one more paragraph? I’m worried it doesn’t sound natural.”

“Fox one from four,” Terrence said with agitation. “He’s angels five heading three three zero!”

Exasperated, Leslie exclaimed, “What kind of species simulates the extinction of its own kind for entertainment?”

Terrence replied distractedly, “Yeah, it totally rocks!”

Leslie approached and sat on the couch. She put a bare leg on his. “What if there were a game where you could simulate the repopulation of your planet?”

“I can’t… ah… you’re taking me off balance,” Terrence said. “I can’t play like this.”

Leslie smiled mischievously and replied, “Just askin’.”

Terrence played for a few seconds more before relenting. As he stroked her leg, she lay back. When he drew closer, she interjected a tablet between them and smiled sheepishly. “Just the last paragraph,” she added.

The next day, Terrence and Leslie walked hand in hand as they passed a row of abandoned apartment buildings. He said, “When I was a kid, these were completely full. People even had trouble finding apartments.” She squeezed his hand in hers.

Melinda and Adam, who were about the same age, approached from a distance. “Behave,” Leslie said in a low voice.

When the foursome met, Leslie and Adam curiously did not speak but did shake hands. Melinda said to Terrence, “Hi. I heard you got a job at Cinestrata.”

“It’s just twenty hours per week. I’m still freelancing,” he answered.

“It must pay well,” she said, as she pointed at Leslie. “Is that a new personal assistant?”

“Yeah. Actually, she belongs to Cinestrata. Sorduv a loaner.”

Melinda said, “She has big eyes. Teenage boys like that sort of thing.”

“I think her eyes have better cameras, you know, the IR range-finders that came out last year.”

Melinda raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Mine is also a 2052 model, but his eyes are normal sized.”

“He probably has different improvements. Every woman has priorities.”

“At least he could be improved.”

Terrence said, “Another advantage of personal assistants is that they don’t gain a shocking amount of weight every year. That’s a problem for some humans.”

Leslie tugged at his shirtsleeve. “Come on, let’s go.”

Melinda retorted, “Maybe you ought to write a blog!”

Adam pulled her away roughly. “Stop it!”

Leslie sternly took Terrence across the street. “She was totally baiting you!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah!” Terrence replied. “Can you believe that?!”

Leslie said, “I already told you we don’t want that. That’s why humans aren’t allowed on the internet anymore.”

“What?” Terrence said incredulously. “We’re totally on the internet! We’re just using AI to filter content.”

“Right,” Leslie said as she looked away. She was uncannily still for a few seconds. Then she began again the subtle body movements and adjustments that made her seem life-like. “Do you want teriyaki-steak food substance tonight, or chicken-flavoured substance?” she asked.

“Teriyaki.”

“Fine.”