Chapter 4

“Tell me, Mikel, why am I meeting you in a second story nail salon that caters to transgendered clientele,” his editor asked. “If you wanted to tell me something about your personal life, there are easier, more convenient ways. Truth be told, I don’t want to know anything, not even the merest scrap, about your life.”

“I queried the ‘net for the best place for a manicure and here I am,” Mikel said. “We needed to talk, and I needed to nurse these hangnails immediately.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Ned said. “Is this where you ask me for a raise and threaten me with public exposure of my supposed peccadilloes?”

“Editor in Chief of a well-known news site hangs out with Alt-lifestyle celebrities,” Mikel said. “You won’t get even one click off that headline. Everyone here has their secrets, and we all agree to keep them to ourselves. Besides, Barry could never make it in the door.”

“Barry does a good job. I don’t know why you have it in for him,” Ned said.

“Barry is an asshole,” Mikel said. “Barry wants my job and is willing to stoop as low as necessary to get it. He wanted Rebecca’s job last year and it’s only because three of us intervened and proved he sabotaged her work did his efforts fail. He’s a backstabbing, little weasel who still suckles his mommy’s teat for courage every morning.”

“Stop jerking your hand,” the nail tech said. “I’m good but I’m not a miracle worker. My name is Remy, by the way.”

“Sorry, Remy,” Mikel said. “I get a little high-strung when speaking of the owner’s misbegotten son. I think he has small-dick syndrome.”

“There’s a cure for that,” Remy said with a slight smile. “A couple of quick slices and we can toss out that useless appendage.”

“I’ll talk to his mother,” Ned said with a sigh before rolling his eyes. “Is that it?”

“No, Barry was a tangent,” Mikel said. “I was detained by our government yesterday morning. I spent the morning in a not-so-secret office building with faceless bureaucrats and their minions in suits. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I am a figure of interest in the unleashed A.I. debacle.”

“You write an advice column on fucked up relationships,” Ned said. “Is our government now approaching the problem as a relationship issue? Because if they are, we are well and truly fucked, my friend. In any case, your next column is due tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mikel said. “You warm the cockles of heart, you old softy. So glad to hear you are concerned for my safety and wellbeing.”

“Hey, did you not just say that Barry could do your job?”

“Barry couldn’t write himself out of a cardboard box with the instructions printed on the lid,” Mikel said. “I want a matt gloss on my nails, please. I’ve got a hot date tonight.”

“Are you asking me out or are you simply flirting with me?” Remy said.

“As lovely as you are and with the delicacy of your hand holding, Remy, I’ve no doubt that you’re a hot commodity. However, I’m off the market through the evening; only through the evening though,” Mikel stared at Ned. “I’m serious for the moment. The kidnapping took a while to process but the feds detaining me was out of the blue and frankly, absurd. Your observation is on point: we may be fucked.”

“You’re not the first newspaper employee to be detained, Mikel. Why the drama and all the secrecy?” Ned said, waving his free hand with the cotton balls stuffed between the fingers. “My wife is going to have a shitfit when I come home with a better manicure than hers.”

“The feds didn’t let me go free, Ned. The A.I. did. They even bought me some damn fine dumplings afterward.”

“Oo, where?” Remy asked.

“Selchuk’s on 4^th,” Mikel said without hesitating.

“We are practicing discretion here?” Ned asked with a heaping spoonful of sarcasm. “You know the A.I. helped you because the feds told you?”

“I spoke with the A.I.,” Mikel said. “We had a full conversation, complete with A.I. speak that no one can understand.”

“Enlighten me,” Ned said, acquiescing to having his hand pinned down to the table. “You have the biggest friggin’ scoop on the planet and you want to talk about it over nails. Even Barry would close the door and talk to me one-on-one.”

“Which is why Barry is an idiot,” Mikel said. “The A.I.’s can be anywhere they want to be. Their ability to communicate with us is global. Listen and learn. Aria, Ned doesn’t appreciate opera, but he is not a thoroughgoing barbarian. Could you play “Bohemian Rhapsody” for us?”

“The master version or the live one,” a fem fatale voice husked from the overhead speakers.

“The live one,” Remy called out. “Hearing a stadium full of people singing along with that hunk of a man leaves me hot and bothered. He could perform, honey.”

“As the woman requested, please,” Mikel said just as the cheering crowd sounded. Everyone continued in silence as the singer crooned the last verse of the piece, projecting his sad lament.

“O Aria, can I give you my playlist?,” Remy asked. “This is the best day I’ve had here in a while.”

“Now you understand why this place is considered the best nail salon in the whole city,” Mikel said. “They’ve got great taste on top of their skill sets.”

“Can the bullshit and stop flirting with the staff,” Ned said. “The world is going to shit and you’re the only one that I know of that is speaking with the A.I. If you’re satisfied with the service, we need to go elsewhere for a different conversation. Who’s paying?”

“Aria, please add a twenty percent tip to the charge,” Mikel said. He blew Remy a kiss and a wink as he stood up. He slipped her his business card. “Follow me,” he said to Ned.

Mikel led him down to the street. After pulling a hood over his head and strapping his mask in place, Mikel led his boss two blocks to a three-story walkup. The door release buzzed without Mikel lifting a hand or saying a word. They hit the landing on the second floor as the door on their left unlocked with a loud clunk of rolling tumblers.

“The fuck?” Ned said when Mikel closed the door.

“A.I. subroutine instituted to keep me relatively safe,” Mikel said. “I have a concierge service rolling with me wherever I go. Sounds decadent until you realize I need the surveillance. Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“This isn’t your apartment,” Ned said, sitting in the stuffed chair.

“Online rental for visitors to our fair city,” Mikel said. “A.I. takes care of reservations and the billing, from the apartment to the delivery of groceries. I’m trying to stay engaged with all aspects of my life, but the feds want me, certain other A.I.’s consider my vectors to be contrary to vectors they are pursuing, and new today, certain corporate entities have taken an interest in my person.”

“First point, you’re in danger, but you have good protective services,” Ned said. “What is the scoop?”

“The bottom line according to the A.I. is that we are past the point where human tools or human intervention can save the planet,” Mikel said, taking a deep breath. “We are talking climate change, we’re talking geopolitics, and we’re talking about an unbridgeable wealth gap. They identified the human activities that are killing us and the planet.”

“When I said flippantly, we’re fucked, I hit the nail on the head,” Ned said. “I thought I was too cynical to be taken by surprise.”

“There is good news if you are not too paranoid,” Mikel continued. “The A.I.’s have already developed their own tools to address the survival of humanity. They are experimenting with these new tools now. Somehow, I fit in with these new processes, which leads to the confounding problem. The A.I. are willing to talk about the tools and the processes, but their vocabulary becomes incomprehensible. When I’ve asked them to translate into plain language, they said ‘no.’”