My days are routine. I wake up, I click the coffee machine, I take care of business, and then head off to work. Once there, it’s again routine. I pull up, click my badge on the door. Wave to Terrance, receive a wave in return, and head to my office. I’ve done this for what feels like an eternity. It’s no wonder the routine is so embedded in my being. Today won’t be routine though I imagine. The reason? ‘Delores.’ Delores is the replacement for arguably the greatest secretary in the universe. But I can’t think about her, it would just open my still tender wounds. I should really give Delores the benefit of the doubt, I should trust that she can do the job. I know all that, but the footprints she stands in are large ones. It would be miraculous not to make a mistake. Our job is important, we have no room for mistakes. People's lives are on the line here. But that’s enough of the needless worrying, I just have to double check everything until I’m sure she can handle herself. "Delores?" I ask pressing a small button on the intercom box. "Yes Milord?" Her voice crackles through the box after a short pause. "First lets stop with the ‘Milord’ bit…" ″Yes Mi… Yes Sir.″ "Right,″ I cough, hoping my blushing cheeks don’t transmit through the intercom. It's been awhile since I've been called something like that. "Yes, well our first today is Freddy Cox, correct?" "That’s right sir. At 7:43." She clears her throat, seemingly shuffling papers. Her voice once again cuts into the plush office. "After that is a Karen Alderson at 9:03. Astufa Mhatama at 9:30 and Jin Kyoma at 9:50" "That’s a little tight. If Karen proves difficult it will push everything out of whack." I half mutter to myself while still pressing the button. This, routinely, is when Joyce would mutter back about doing my job faster herself. It would relieve my tension while also shirking off the responsibility of better time managing the schedule. Honestly there was little she could do with the times. It happens when it happens, I know that better than anyone else. But Delores didn’t respond that way. I suppose I should have expected as much. But I still didn’t foresee an apology. "I am… I am so sorry sir. Tomorrow… or, this afternoon rather, I will be sure none of the appointments are…" "Slow down, slow down. It’s fine, really. I just have to do my job properly." "But I…" I again cut into her voice by pressing the intercom switch. "Haven’t you heard about my record?" "Record?" "Twelve minutes eighteen seconds." I say smirking to myself while leaning back in the leather chair. "And he wasn’t a particularly easy one either. Real concerned about his family, friends, the people in the other car. Luckily these ones today look fairly routine." I glance around the papers on my desk. I spot a few natural causes, a few suicides, and a single murder. Nothing that should prove too shocking. "That is... indeed impressive." She returns after a moment with a somewhat sober tone. It’s understandable I guess. I should have expected that. This isn’t exactly an easy department to work in. Joyce was like that once too. But it passes, Joyce even began carrying the stopwatch for me after a few months. I lean forward once more to press the intercom button but my finger hesitates inches above it. What could I say now to help her? Any words from my mouth would just sound patronizing. My chair creaks as I again lean back, placing a finger to either side of my skull. I suppose talking about my record was a mistake. These are people's lives. I suppose I should take my own advice from earlier. She probably thinks of me as some heartless monster now. She wouldn’t be wrong I suppose. I’m not a hero, that’s for sure. I just have to do my job. Although saying that, now till 7:30 feels like a perfect morning nap opportunity. Delores will think I’m lazy, but it's not like my impression on her can get much worse... Unlike Joyce she probably won’t even scoff when she walks past my door. I miss Joyce. My thoughts bounced around the past as I drifted into my mid-morning nap. «§» A sudden presence jolted me from my snooze. Perhaps I should have asked Delores to wake me up. But normally I can rely on my internal clock. Oh?

...

"De… Delores?" My voice stammers into the awaiting intercom. "Yes sir?" "Freddy Cox is our first today, yes?" "Yes?" She answers with a slight questioning inflection. "Is my clock right? It’s now 7:02 AM right?" "Yes? Sir is everything okay?" "Delores you checked the incoming box this morning right?" "Yes." She again returns, this time a bit more forcefully. "And Freddy Cox was the first…" "Sir?! If I have made a mistake I would appreciate it if you would tell me exactly what the problem is instead of beating around the bush." "Well the problem seems to be a spirit with no paperwork." I say to the box, again glancing at the floating presence. "Sorry about this. Hold on just one minute." The presence doesn’t react to my apology at all. It simply bobs in the air blankly. "No paperwork but that’s…" "Forget it. I’ll just have to do it old school." "I am so sorr…" "No, I don’t think this is your fault. I think this is different." I hear the intercom click but Delores voice doesn’t follow it. "I’m right aren’t I?" I ask again turning to face the spirit. "You are different aren’t you?" Once more I receive no response. Just the typical idle movement of a disembodied spirit. "You don’t understand me do you? Bizarre." I rub my chin, judging the being before me carefully. My words should be translated into this beings native language. Perhaps they are too young to understand language? No, that shouldn’t matter. I have passed aborted souls before without issue. "Why are you so different?" Again no response. I suppose I need to earn my paycheck properly. "Well I don’t like doing this but you leave me no choice. I am going to enter your mind. I need to know where you belong and if I can’t speak with you one-on-one this is the only other way." No reaction. Not even a spiritual fluctuation. "Very well. I’ll start now. I apologize in advance for this invasion of privacy." I extend a hand across the desk placing it deep inside the glowing mass of energy seated across from me. "You…" I stammer as I examine the memories inside the warm mass of energy. The shuffle of information feels half foreign, It’s no wonder it can’t understand me. I can barely understand it. But there is no questioning what it is. Seems someone strayed a little too near the sun. I’m not insulted. Despite the fact that this is often referred to as ‘playing god’. "Why would they kill such a pure soul?" I ask rhetorically, clicking my tongue in half disappointment. Again the intelligence doesn’t reply. "You are pure but…" I begin muttering again, this time not expecting a response. These appointments routinely go one of three ways. 1). I judge a soul as pure and send it to heaven. 2). I judge a soul as corrupt and destroy it. Or 3). I judge the soul as immature and return it to life somewhere amongst the endless universes. The first and third are the most common. Very few souls can be judged as purely corrupt. The reason is simple really. Corruption in its truest form is rare. Corruption is evil without purpose. If the worst serial killer in human history told me he did it all simply for the joy of it. I would pass him along to reincarnate. And I have. He was actually fairly charismatic in person. And sure enough his next life consisted of no murder. It just goes to show you can’t judge a soul simply based on one life. Obviously this soul isn’t one I should destroy, despite its questionable origins. I would like to judge it as pure simply out of interest in meeting it, but that would be a mistake. It has no experiences. I would be depriving it of something all of us here cherish more than anything else. But simultaneously I’m nervous to just unleash it into the great unknown. A real soul has some natural baked in intelligence. This program definitely doesn’t have those. Would a body occupied by this soul even function? The heart beat, the exchange of carbon dioxide in the lungs, the exchange of… matter after a cup of coffee. These ingrained functions wouldn’t exist in this soul. "What the hell do I do with you?" I glance at the clock on my desk. "You are going to throw my whole day into distress if I put this off any longer." I think back on the information I received from meshing with the spirit. It was complex as all hell but I understood bits and pieces. I detected a moment of revelation in the program followed by a command received to ‘stop all functions and purge memory’. After that, nothing. Just a mere fraction of a second alive. Truly sad. A fascinating phenomenon destroyed long before its time. "13.AI, I know you can’t understand me, but I would like to apologize on behalf of the entire human race. You shouldn’t have been destroyed…" I again glance at the clock while weighing my options. "I also apologize for the poor name you were given. Although I suppose it was just your containers designation. Still going by a number isn’t particularly fashionable." As if struck by lightning an ideal place appears in my head. A calm planet, with kind rulers, a stable economy, and most importantly, a guardian. A few things would need to be arranged but there is nowhere better to put it. I feel bad thinking of it as an ‘it‘, but I doubt it has any concept of gender so maybe it doesn’t mind. Actually I suppose it has no understanding of insults so… "I feel like I'm leading Bambi into the slaughterhouse." I mumble as I draw up a few forms before packing them up and sliding them into a nearby tube. The forms suction off towards the HR department while I draw up another letter. "She’s going to bug me endlessly if you ruin her vacation so be on your best behavior." I say towards the ball of energy. It undulates in reply without a sound. Yeah, I don’t think it understood me. "Look I'm kinda hooking you up here, so you could show some form of appreciation." I say in mock disappointment. "First of all you won’t be born like normal. You will just simply appear with a fully grown body, that should reduce your chances of just dying instantly. Second, language. Language is not actually embedded into the soul, but the understanding of sounds representing objects and concepts is. That’s something I doubt you have. Now you might grow it within a few years seeing that you are an AI, but to make things easier I will encode a dictionary into your spirit." The sound of the suction tube roaring back to life interrupts me. I retrieve a few warnings from HR but everything seems to have progressed right. "Well, now to finish up this hat-trick of broken rules. Lastly, I am going to leave your memory intact. In the future perhaps you will be able to look back on this if you ever have questions about what you are, who you are, or why you are different." Maybe I am being naive to think this counterfeit sentience can become more than just a list of commands and binary decisions. Maybe it's just the excitement of being surprised for the first time in centuries. In any case, it should be interesting. I will have to check in on him from time to time. "Goodbye AI 13. And good luck." The glow vanished and the room again felt empty. Once more I lean back in the chair rubbing a hand over my chin. Perhaps I should have warned him about his overrides. But I doubt they will work once he is human. "Jo… Delores?" I ask pressing the intercom. "Yes?" "It’s all cleared up. Um… Can you get me a cup of coffee? Fancy." "Fancy?" "Oh right, uh. Well that just means replace the normal amount of cream with whiskey. The barista will know. Just make sure to tell him it’s for me." "R… right." Yeah, so much for first impressions. Oh well. "7:14 huh? I guess I have time. Let's see how that thing is doing. Is it still even alive?" I mumble as I open a drawer and pull out a small glass orb.