2040: A Silicon Valley Satire by Pedro Domingos

Author:Pedro Domingos [Domingos, Pedro]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2024-08-19T14:30:00+00:00

WHAT’S A BLACK MOTHER TO DO?

Inside, the house was clean and bright. Wow, thought Ethan. It looked so derelict from the outside.

“We don’t renovate the exterior,” said the woman, as if reading his mind. “If you do, the Guards know you have money and come extract some.”

Ethan nodded uncertainly.

“Here,” she said, rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a pair of shorts and a Tshirt. “Wear these while I throw your clothes in the washer. They’re Deion’s. I’m Jalissa, by the way.”

“I’m Ethan. Nice to meet you.”

“The bathroom is down the hallway on the left,” she said.

Ethan went in, closed the door and noticed a rancid smell. He looked around and jumped at the scary man in camouflage face paint looking back at him. Then he realized it was himself in the mirror. The stench was him too. He got out of his clothes and jumped in the shower with a grunt of relief.

When he came out of the bathroom, dirty clothes in hand, Jalissa was sitting at the kitchen table, typing on an old laptop. Deion was plopped down on the couch, scrolling through his phone. A strangely catchy melody filled the air.

Jalissa looked up. “Wow, you look like a regular human being now,” she said. “Not like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

Deion started laughing. Ethan felt his face grow hot.

“Here, let me take those,” said Jalissa, grabbing Ethan’s dirty clothes. She disappeared into the hallway, and a minute later he heard the sound of the washer running.

Ethan sat at the kitchen table and tried to place the song that was playing. He couldn’t decide if he’d heard it before. Jalissa came back and started typing again.

“So what do you do for a living?” asked Ethan.

“I’m a music listener,” she said.

“Huh?”

“I listen to computer-generated songs all day long.”

“Wow. You get paid to do that?”

“You bet. A dollar fifty per song.”

“Just to listen to them?”

“No, to hum them. Or some of them.”

Ethan shook his head uncomprehendingly.

“Happinet pays me,” she said. “I listen to a bunch of songs one day, and then they check which ones I’m humming the next.”

“Ah.”

“And then their computers generate variations of those songs and send them to other people to see which ones they hum. Do it enough times, and you get some very catchy songs. That’s how they generate hits.”

“Ha.”

“They also send me dance music to see how my body reacts. And the sniffer tracks how I respond to all of it.”

“Nice job if you can get it.”

She gave him a hard look. “Except I can’t stand listening to music anymore. It makes me want to throw up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And I’m continuously rated on how well the songs I hummed turn out. If my rating falls too low, I can’t get any more work.”

“That must be stressful.”

She shrugged irritably. “So how did you fall into a garbage truck?”

“I was, er, trying to retrieve something.”

“Did you?”

Ethan nodded.

“Your cell phone?” asked Deion from the couch.

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?” said Jalissa. “What’s kind of a cell phone?”

“It’s a device I’m, er, testing.

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