Keep Going
Copyright© 2026 by Trevor Dohlen
Chapter 3: Mercer
The first version of Mercer couldn’t speak.
It couldn’t think.
It couldn’t hire anyone, pay anyone, recognize anyone or display a reassuring face on a monitor.
It could display the temperature in twelve rooms.
Most of the time.
Daniel considered this progress.
He sat at the folding table in what had gradually become the control room, staring at twelve numbers on his laptop.
LEVEL 1 EQUIPMENT: 68.4°F
LEVEL 2 EAST: 67.9°F
LEVEL 2 WEST: 68.1°F
CONTROL ROOM: 70.2°F
BATTERY ROOM: 66.7°F
WORKSHOP: 69.5°F
The remaining readings continued down the screen.
Daniel took a sip of coffee.
“This is stupid.”
The computer did not object.
He had spent nearly eight thousand dollars installing networked environmental sensors throughout the facility, then several evenings writing software to collect their readings.
Now he had twelve temperatures instead of one.
That wasn’t information.
It was data.
Daniel had spent a career explaining the difference to people.
He changed the display.
Instead of showing every temperature, Mercer would show only values outside acceptable ranges.
The screen went blank.
Daniel smiled.
“Much better.”
Then he added a status line:
ENVIRONMENT: NORMAL
He leaned back.
“See? Now we’re communicating.”
Mercer grew because Daniel was lazy.
Daniel considered laziness one of civilization’s most underrated engineering disciplines.
Nobody invented the washing machine because washing clothes by hand was enjoyable.
Nobody invented remote controls because standing up to change television channels represented an important component of human fitness.
Daniel did not want to walk through an underground missile complex every morning checking gauges.
So Mercer checked them.
Temperature came first.
Then humidity.
Then sump levels.
Then pump status.
Then electrical consumption.
Then battery voltage.
Then solar production.
Then water pressure.
Then ventilation.
The new electrical service had finally been completed, and Daniel had covered a large portion of the property with solar panels.
Margaret had objected to their cost.
“You’re sixty-two.”
“Yes.”
“The financial payback period on this system is nearly fifteen years.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I’ll be seventy-seven.”
“That isn’t generally how investment analysis works.”
“It’s exactly how mine works.”
“You could buy electricity from the utility.”
“I am buying electricity from the utility.”
“Then why do you need all this?”
Daniel had pointed toward the silo entrance.
“Because if the utility fails, that doesn’t.”
Margaret looked at the rows of solar panels.
“How long will the batteries run the facility?”
“Depends on load.”
“Approximately.”
“Two days at normal load. Longer if I shut down nonessential systems.”
“And after two days?”
“Generator.”
“You bought a generator?”
“Two.”
“Of course you did.”
“Propane and diesel.”
“Why two different fuels?”
Daniel looked surprised.
“Because otherwise they wouldn’t be redundant.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“I’m beginning to understand why you don’t have a boat.”
“Exactly.”
Six months after buying the property, Daniel moved into the completed residential section.
Calling it a residence required imagination.
It had concrete walls.
The bedroom had concrete walls.
The kitchen had concrete walls.
The bathroom had concrete walls.
Daniel had briefly considered covering them.
Then decided he liked the concrete.
Michael did not.
“This is a bunker.”
“It was a bunker.”
“You live underground.”
“Mostly.”
“You have no windows.”
“I have cameras.”
“Dad, cameras aren’t windows.”
“They’re better. I can point them wherever I want.”
Michael looked around the living area.
“You won the lottery.”
“Yes.”
“You could live anywhere in the world.”
“Yes.”
“And you chose a hole.”
“A very expensive hole.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
Daniel opened the refrigerator.
“Beer?”
“Absolutely.”
They sat in what Daniel called the living room.
A large monitor on the wall displayed several exterior camera views.
Michael pointed toward it.
“You actually watch that?”
“Not really.”
“Then why is it there?”
“Security.”
“Security from what?”
“People who know I won the lottery.”
Michael looked at him.
“Fair.”
Daniel handed him a beer.
Michael examined the screen again.
“Can you see the whole property?”
“Pretty much.”
“What happens if someone comes through the gate?”
“I get an alert.”
“On your phone?”
“Yes.”
“What if you’re asleep?”
Daniel frowned.
“I get an alert on my phone.”
“You sleep through your phone.”
“I do not.”
“You slept through Mom calling you seventeen times when Grandma went to the hospital.”
“That was fifteen years ago.”
“You haven’t improved.”
Daniel took a drink.
This annoyed him because Michael was correct.
The next morning Daniel added audio alerts throughout the residential section.
That lasted four days.
At 2:13 in the morning, Daniel awoke to a female synthesized voice announcing:
“WARNING. SUMP PUMP TWO CURRENT DRAW ABOVE THRESHOLD.”
Daniel sat upright.
“What?”
“WARNING. SUMP PUMP TWO CURRENT DRAW ABOVE THRESHOLD.”
He found his glasses.
“Which sump pump is two?”
The voice repeated the warning.
“I heard you.”
“WARNING. SUMP PUMP TWO CURRENT DRAW ABOVE THRESHOLD.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“WARNING. SUMP—”
Daniel grabbed his phone and silenced the alert.
He dressed, rode the elevator down two levels and found Pump Two.
A piece of debris had partially blocked the intake.
He cleared it.
The pump returned to normal.
Daniel stood in the equipment room at 2:31 in the morning wearing slippers.
“This is also stupid.”
He returned upstairs.
Before going back to bed, he changed the alert system.
The next time something happened, he wanted to be able to ask questions.
Speech recognition was easy enough to add.
Making it useful was harder.
Daniel began with a microphone on his desk.
“Status.”
Mercer displayed the status screen.
“Electrical status.”
Mercer displayed electrical information.
“Pump Two.”
Mercer displayed the pump’s current draw, operating state and recent history.
Daniel smiled.
“Better.”
Then he added text-to-speech.
“Status.”
A generic female voice answered.
“All monitored systems are within configured operating parameters.”
Daniel frowned.
“Too many words.”
He changed the response.
“Status.”
“All systems normal.”
“Much better.”
He added microphones to the workshop and residential area.
Then several equipment rooms.
Then the hallways.
Eventually Daniel could walk through most of the facility and ask:
“Mercer, battery status.”
“Eighty-three percent.”
“Solar?”
“Current production is thirty-seven point two kilowatts.”
“Any pumps running?”
“Pumps one and four.”
“Why four?”
“Sump level exceeded the configured activation threshold.”
Daniel stopped walking.
“How long?”
“Three minutes, fourteen seconds.”
“Normal current?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
He continued toward the kitchen.
It was extraordinarily convenient.
It was also irritating.
The generic voice sounded like an airport announcement.
Daniel spent an evening experimenting with alternatives.
Male.
Female.
Young.
Old.
American.
British.
Australian.
One voice sounded like a game-show host.
Another sounded perpetually disappointed in him.
A third was so cheerful that Daniel wanted to punch the speaker.
Finally he found one that occupied an odd middle ground.
Male, perhaps late forties if a voice could have an age.
Mostly American, but with hints of educated British pronunciation.
Calm.
Warm without sounding enthusiastic.
Daniel selected it.
“Mercer, status.”
“All systems normal.”
Daniel nodded.
“That’ll do.”
“I’m glad.”
Daniel froze.
He looked at the speaker.
“What?”
There was no response.
He checked the code.
He had forgotten that the conversational module he’d been experimenting with was still enabled.
Daniel smiled slowly.
“Mercer?”
“Yes, Daniel?”
“That was not a configured response.”
“No. It was generated in response to your statement.”
Daniel sat down.
“What else can you generate?”
“That depends upon the context.”
“Can you explain why Pump Four started?”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead.”
“The water level in sump four exceeded thirty-two centimeters. Pump Four activated automatically and reduced the level to nineteen centimeters. Current draw remained within normal parameters. The pump then stopped.”
Daniel stared at the speaker.
“You could have just said that earlier.”
“You did not ask.”
Daniel laughed.
“Okay.”
That was the first time Mercer made him laugh.
It would not be the last.
Daniel spent far too much time talking to Mercer after that.
At first he justified it as testing.
“Mercer, what was yesterday’s solar production?”
“Two hundred eighteen point six kilowatt-hours.”
“Compare with the previous day.”
“Yesterday’s production was eleven point four percent lower.”
“Why?”
“Cloud cover is the most likely explanation.”
“Most likely?”
“I have insufficient data to establish causation.”
Daniel smiled.
“Good answer.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“I don’t experience confidence.”
“Even better.”
Daniel expanded the conversational interface.
Mercer could query its own logs.
It could summarize alarms.
It could explain trends.
It could answer questions about equipment manuals Daniel had loaded into its document store.
Soon Daniel stopped looking at dashboards unless something required detail.
He simply asked.
“Anything interesting today?”
“Define interesting.”
Daniel sighed.
“We’re going to have to work on you.”
The face happened because Daniel ate spaghetti alone.
He sat at the kitchen counter one evening with a plate of spaghetti and a glass of wine.
A monitor on the opposite wall showed exterior cameras.
“Mercer?”
“Yes, Daniel?”
“What was the highest battery temperature today?”
“Twenty-eight point four degrees Celsius.”
“Fahrenheit.”
“Eighty-three point one degrees Fahrenheit.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Daniel twirled spaghetti around his fork.
“Tomorrow remind me to call the HVAC guy about the workshop.”
“I can remind you at 09:00.”
“Make it ten.”
“Reminder scheduled for 10:00.”
Daniel ate another bite.
The voice came from a speaker above him.
He looked at the speaker.
“This is weird.”
“What is weird?”
“I’m talking to the ceiling.”
“You are speaking toward the ceiling. The nearest microphone is above the kitchen counter.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
“That is possible.”
Daniel looked at the monitor.
“Can you put something on the screen when we’re talking?”
“What would you like displayed?”
“I don’t know. Something.”
The camera feeds disappeared.
A simple audio waveform appeared.
Daniel stared at it.
“No.”
The waveform vanished.
“Perhaps an interface indicator?”
A glowing circle appeared.
“No.”
“Text transcript?”
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