Future Fiction

Buyer Beware (SciFriday Challenge 18)

Lyle Carter stood in front of the office and gathered his thoughts. He knew what would take place in the next few minutes would determine the course of the rest of his life - once he worked up the courage to actually open the door, that is. He glanced at the clock projected on the inside of his glasses.

"Three o'clock. It's now or never," he thought. The CEO wasn't someone you wanted to keep waiting.

Lyle waved his hand in front of the ID panel.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Carter," a synthetic voice from the panel stated. "Your appointment with the CEO has been confirmed. Please proceed." The metal door slid open without making a sound. Lyle exhaled sharply, attempting to calm his nerves, and walked through the door.

Inside the office, behind a luxurious wooden desk, sat the CEO of Intergalactic Transportation Services. "Good to see you again, Mr. Carter," he said, not even looking in his direction. Instead, his attention was focused on a holographic news article hovering over his desk. "I wish it were under better circumstances." He paused a moment to close the article and shake his head. "But I'm getting ahead of myself." The CEO looked directly at Lyle. "How is my favorite Director of Advertising?"

Lyle knew there was really only one suitable way to answer the pleasantry. "Well enough, considering recent events," he responded.

The CEO slouched a bit in his seat. "Yes," he sighed. "Seems like everyone in the galaxy has it out for our business. I presume you've finished the advertisement to counter some of this negative publicity?"

"Yes, sir," Lyle replied, pulling a small, chrome datapack out of his suit pocket. "I've put together a small storyboard presentation of what our team has been working on." Lyle retrieved a small holographic sphere produced by the datapack, and showed it to the CEO. "I know how important the next few weeks will be to the company, and I know you wanted me to run this by you before it aired," he said with concern.

"Good. Give me the short version, though. I have a three fifteen appointment with the PR Director," the CEO said.

"Of course," Lyle nodded. He palmed the sphere and tossed it into the wall. Immediately, a scene depicting a man and a woman in front of a mirror was projected along the surface. "What we have here is a couple preparing for their day," Lyle began. "The scene begins with the woman putting on her makeup, and the man about to do the same. The man pauses a moment and begins to pull on his face. Unhappy with the way it looks, he comments on his appearance. 'I've been to nine planets in the past twelve years and it's beginning to show,' he frowns, and turns his face to where the audience can see." Lyle swiped his hand over the surface of the wall to reveal the next image showing the actor's face.

"Let me interrupt you for a moment, Lyle," said the concerned CEO. "Nine planets? That's all?"

Lyle was beginning to sweat. "Yes, sir. That's the statistical average for the scarring to become very noticeable.

The CEO raised an eyebrow. "Didn't the Yerol study show some far more favorable numbers than that? If it did, use the results from that study instead, and put a small disclaimer at the bottom of the ad. And look at that face!" he continued, pointing at the display. "This is a commercial, not a horror holofilm! No one wants to think about that when they're about to use one of our space bridges. Tone that image down a bit," he finished.

Lyle stared blankly for a moment. "I already did..." he thought. The advertising director recomposed himself and continued. "Well, there's a reason we chose to use the intense scarring, sir, and it's in the next bit of dialogue." He swiped his hand against the wall again, revealing the face of a rather concerned wife. "'Dear,' she begins, 'have you been taking those cheap bridges again? You know that's not safe!'"

The CEO began to shake his head. "Mr. Carter, I think I've seen enough. 'Not safe?' -this is not at all the tone the ad should be taking. I thought I made it clear in the memo that we were to focus on how our company is superior to the competition. So far I haven't seen one good thing about the service we offer. In fact, it's all been negative!"

"Sir," Lyle's voice faltered, "in light of the recent news, we considered it best not to hide or deny the symptoms and dangers of travel."

"They know the risks well enough," interrupted the CEO. "It's written clearly in the user agreement every traveller signs before they use one of the bridges. I shouldn't have to tell you this, Lyle, but it's not your job to inform them, it's to make people want to use our service. No one needs to think about the side effects."

"S-sir, I don't...." Lyle stuttered.

"We're done here, Mr. Carter." The CEO motioned for him to leave. "Stick to the memo," he added as Lyle turned to leave.

_*_*_*_*_

As Lyle opened the door to his apartment, he could practically hear his sofa calling his name. In reality, his apartment was oddly quiet.

"Rosie, where's Becca?" he asked as he slipped his shoes off in the doorway.

"My sensors indicate that her sleep cycle has been interrupted and she will be up shortly," the robotic babysitter answered from the kitchen.

Lyle made a beeline to his couch, leaned a bit, and let gravity pull him into the soft cushioning. He caught the scent of dinner coming from the kitchen as he lied motionless. It smelled like Rosie was making rosemary chicken again.

Even though he was at home, his mind couldn't help but return to the outcome of his presentation. He reluctantly tapped on the corner of his glasses, causing an inbox to project on the surface. He maneuvered through the messages using his eyes, and found the memo the CEO had spoken about. He stared at it until it opened.

"Re: ltcarter, hkjeffers, jcgrant, mktdpt

Focus data for marketing group: 'Most Reliable MicroWormholes' - Yerol study, 'Most Accurate Deconstruction and Reconstruction Process' - Sol Co-op, 'Least Tissue Corruption' - Yerol study.

We need to make the focus of our future advertisements based on data like this. Everyone knew that traveling by microwormholes was dangerous, even before the reports. The galaxy's economy depends on this type of travel now, so the scales are already on our side - do everything in your power to keep them there and on the company. I need a presentation finished by the end of the week."

Lyle's face began to itch. He tapped his glasses again, and got up from the couch. He went to the bathroom, turned on the sink and began to scrub his face. "Maybe self-insertion wasn't one of my best ideas for an ad," he pondered as he looked up into the mirror. The times he had been deconstructed and reconstructed to fit through the microscopic wormholes were beginning to take a toll on his face as well as his body. The silver colored scars drew lines across his face, some nearly as long as his hand. The lines acted as filler for the parts of him that were "lost in transit".

"Hi, Daddy," a small voice from behind him peeped. "Did you get dirty at work?"

"Hey, Becca," he said as he turned and smiled. "Just taking off my makeup." He looked down at her small, unblemished face. It seemed to Lyle that the child's smile was radiating warmth and happiness.

"I wish I had shiny lines in my face," she pouted, folding her arms tightly.

Lyle was somewhat shocked at her response. Against his will, his mind flashed an image of his daughter's face covered in the metallic scars. "I don't think so," he said as he shuddered. Becca's bottom lip began to stick out and she lowered her head. Lyle still couldn't believe her indifference toward the scarring. It wasn't just external damage that was caused by traveling, but he reasoned she was too young to understand.

"Enough is enough!" he thought as he looked at his child. "I can't do this anymore. This technology that I have to sell is hurting others! People - people like my daughter - get scarred and could even die if they travel too much! All we do is ignore the consequences and cover it up with makeup or surgery because we've grown so accustomed to it! I'm done. We have to get out of here... one last trip..."

Lyle got down to one knee. "Becca, how would you like to go on a vacation?" he asked.

Becca looked up at Lyle and smiled from ear to ear.