"May I help you?" The automated voice caught Hal by
surprise.
"Huh!" Was all he could reply.
"Welcome to Barney's Market. Today we're proud to
offer fresh baleen, Pacifica's favorite meat substitute."
"I just want to look around," Hal felt stupid talking
to an automaton.
"Well don't forget to stop by our deli for time
saving serving ideas you can use at home. If I can be of
any further service please feel free to call. Any red
button located on shelve and isle stands will provide you
with immediate service. Thanks for shopping at Barney's
Market."
Hal was disturbed that the automaton had just taken
thirty seconds of his time to pitch the store. He was
used to shopping the old fashioned way. You went into a
store, walked the isles and picked what you wanted to
buy; no automation service trying to anticipate your
needs; no constant reminders of what you were running out
of; no sales pitches, no promotional deluges. He just
wanted an old fashioned shopping experience where he made
all of his own decisions and was on his own.
Impossible, he thought to himself.
The cart moved as he took his first couple of steps
up the isle. It was a distraction at first, but he knew
the Persona Carts were there to serve. The slight hum as
it started and stopped to match his movements indicated
its motors needed repair. It was a noisy one that
latched on to his name tag when he walked into the store.
He wondered if he could get another one that wasn't as
distracting.
"Protein Specs is an alternative to bland cereal
substitutes. Added to--." Hal put the box back down. The
spiel stopped. He reached for the next one. "Luftkins
Revenge. The breakfast food that will put fight into
your day. Get ahead and eat Revenge. The cereal for
winners." The soft feminine voice almost overlaid the
aggressiveness of the promotion. Couldn't he pick up a
box without it bleating at him, he thought. What about
the ingredients? He had to think for a minute to
remember how to get the voice coms to provide other
information. What was the sequence for getting them to
give ingredient information, he tried to remember. Oh
yea! You pick the box straight up and then turn it to
the left, either hand, and the voice com will list the
ingredients.
"Protein Specs is a powerful substitute for ordinary
cereals. The ingredients are designed to give you added
strength and vigor to overcome the rigors of your day."
It bothered Hal that even ingredient's spiels were
allowed to be sales pitches. "Dried spinach puree
emulsified with water, molasses, high fructose corn
syrup, enhanced with tamarinds, salt, hydrogenated soy
and corn protein..." Hal put the box down. The female
voice was trying to make the ingredients sound sexy and
important.
Hal tried to remember why he came to the store. He
pulled out his list. He wrote it down the old fashioned
way, on paper, rather than download it to his carts'
display. He didn't trust the downloads, anyway, they
were always adding `suggested items' to the list often
making the original list indistinguishable from the
add-ons. The first item was bread. He started walking
back out the aisle. Like all stores nowadays the aisles
were set up in a maze. You couldn't just walk straight
up and down aisles, like you used to. Most retail
business was done electronically and stores had to make
physical locations pay for themselves with marketing and
promotions mostly paid for by the distributors and
manufacturers. They had to take you on a tour, a
marketing extravaganza, designed to get you to buy. He
remembered the one long aisle at the back of the store,
where you could get a glimpse down several aisles as you
perused the store. "Where's the bread?" He mumbled to
himself. A voice from his cart said, "Bread is located
in aisle A2, on the north side of the store."
"Wholesome Grain. Two loafs." He instructed the
cart. It sped away. While the cart was getting the
bread he picked up a can of olives. He turned it to the
left to get the ingredients. "This can contain eleven
ounces of olives in water." The voice stopped. He was
pleased by the directness of the ingredient list. No
hype. No pitch. He put the can on the shelf and picked
it up again turning it to the right this time. "Orchard
Olives. Eleven ounces. Twenty four dollars and thirty
cents. Price per pound is thirty five dollars and thirty
four cents." The cart returned silently. The noise was
gone. The trip must have warmed up its motors. Hal put
the can of olives in the cart. The red display showed
his total to be forty eight dollars even: a can of
olives and two loaves of bread.
"Win a trip to Ayers Rock. Beautiful, majestic, the
ultimate get a way." Hal had triggered a laser marker.
The sound of wind rushing and animal noises were set to a
back ground of Australian music. "When you purchase
RooMaGoo, you and a pal can spend a glorious weekend at
Camp Awadingo where the most breath taking views of Ayers
Rock will change your outlook on life. Just pick up a
can of Awadingo RooMaGoo soup and step on the blue dot to
be automatically entered into this glorious contest."
Hal retreated. The voice over kept talking as he left.
"Accommodations include..."
Another cart came whizzing by. It veered slightly
to avoid Hal and stopped a few feet down the aisle. Its
mechanical picker grabbed a can of soup and put it in the
basket. As the can passed the rim of the basket there
was a low pitched siren indicating that it was the wrong
item. Kids, Hal thought to himself. They'd sometimes
come in and move things around in some of these older
stores that didn't have shelf alarms. Or maybe it was a
distracted shopper, he continued on. The mechanical alarm
reached up for another can of soup and then grabbed the
wrong can out of the basket and put it back in its right
location on a shelf farther down the aisle.
Hal was starting to get concerned about time. He
enjoyed shopping manually but there were only so many
hours in a day. Next time, he thought, I'll just use
data transfer. But then you don't get to pick out the
freshness. His forehead wrinkled as the thought passed
his mind.
"Take me to the produce," he instructed his cart. At
least he'd get to pick out things that mattered, for
freshness, not something he always had the time to do.
Usually he waited till last to pick out soft goods like
bread and produce. A couple of times the mechanical
picker had dropped a can onto something soft in his cart.
Once it was tomatoes and he hadn't noticed it until he
got home. The split tomato had leaked all over the bag
and stained the packaging of a couple of other items.
He had to wipe them off before the cleanliness sensors at
home would let him put them on the shelve. "Disease and
degeneration," the motto went through his head a couple
of times. That's why he had bought the clean sensors, to
reduce the number of times government inspection was
required of his home. "Not a spec of dirt will only
work," the motto went on. The serious outbreak of
unchecked Rubella two years ago had scared a lot of
people into buying the latest version of clean sensors.
But Hal was more concerned with the unannounced
inspections that were often intimidating and
dehumanizing.
The selector probes were placed randomly
throughout the produce section. A fresh salad, Hal
thought to himself. He went to the lettuce first. He
reached for a nearby selector probe and touched the tip
to the head of lettuce he wanted through the mylar sensor
sheets that were draped over all the unpackaged produce
in the section. There was a slight rumble and a roar as
the lettuce head disappeared beneath the table and then
was ejected out a shoot at the end, neatly packaged in a
plastic wrap. Next he pointed to some onions and
carrots. All were packaged and sent out the shoots. He
picked them up and put them in the cart. Next it was a
cucumber. He noticed an excess of plastic that hadn't
been trimmed properly, as he picked it up out of the
shoot. The mechanical claws from the wrapping machine
had poked a hole in the cucumber. Definitely a health
code violation, he thought to himself. I wonder how I
can put it back? At least if he couldn't put it back how
could he reject it? He looked at the side of the shoot
to see if there were any reject buttons. Then the wand.
Nothing. There was no way he could see to cancel, or
reject a selection once it had been made, at least not in
the produce section. He looked down at the cart display.
'85.62', it showed in big bright letters. He pressed the
itemize button next to the display. In fine print, he
had to lean over to see if the cucumber was already
added: cucumber 6.49/LB - .78 LB $5.06. Was there a way
to reject this? Could he cancel it? Boy, they weren't
missing a trick. They made it as easy they could for
someone to spend money, but you had to put up a fight to
quit spending. Was this legal? He thought. He was
starting to get frantic and he knew he had to check these
feelings before they got out of hand and he lost some of
his control. He looked around for a red button. The
nearest was over by the sauce's section in the aisle next
to the produce section. Hal walked towards it. His cart
started to follow and then retreated to the shoot where
the cucumber was. It gently picked it up and placed it
in the basket. Hal saw this. "Even you're against me,"
he scolded. "What's going on here?" The cart didn't
reply.
Hal pressed the button. The automaton appeared
almost instantaneously. "May I help you?" The automated
voice was somehow softer this time.
"Yes! I want to reject this zucchini, I mean
cucumber." Hal knew his temper was getting the better of
him with this slip of the tongue.
It took the automaton a second to respond. "Yes
zucchini, cucumber, our produce section. I'm sorry. What
was the question?"
"This cucumber. I wish to rescind my initial
selection of this cucumber." Hal had to slow himself
down a bit to maintain control.
"I would appreciate the opportunity to hear your
reasons." The automaton sounded genuinely interested.
"Please explain."
Hal knew the automaton was just trying to buy time
in order analyze the situation. He was trying not to be
fooled by the `customer service' persona programmed into
it and realize it was only part of a profit making
machine for some big company. "The mechanical picker
that picked this cucumber damaged it. It poked a hole in
the cucumber. Look! Even the wrapping went on wrong."
Hal plucked the cucumber from the basket and held it up
to the automaton. "Damaged goods," it replied. "Let me
check your tally. You'll need a clearance voucher code
to deduct this purchase from your tally," it went on.
"How do I get that?" Hal replied.
"Processing." The softness seemed to have left the
automaton's voice. "Please deposit the damaged good into
the return slot by the customer service counter. Please
enter the following clearance voucher code into the
return slot keypad." The automaton started printing out
a list of numbers on receipt sized paper. The slip of
paper was cut and dropped into a small tray on the front
of the automaton. The tray was extended and the
automaton said; "This receipt is for your convenience.
Enter the clearance voucher code printed on the receipt
into the return slot keypad and the item will be deducted
from you're total purchase. Is there anything else I can
assist you with?" There seemed to be an increase of
marked enthusiasm in the automaton's voice." Hal picked
up the piece of paper and put it into his pocket.
"Thank you." He found himself saying involuntarily.
Hal grabbed the front edge of his cart and returned
to the produce section. The cart followed on its own
rather than reacting to Hal's pull. He skipped the
cucumber section, somehow loosing interest in cucumbers
for a salad. His next foray was into the fruit section.
A fresh apple. He could almost taste it. He touched
three apples through the mylar sensor sheet with the
selector probe. They all disappeared and reappeared
wrapped at the shoot. Mushrooms. He let himself think
of salad again. All the mushrooms were against the wall.
They were packaged in quarter pound lots. He picked up
one quarter pound package and put into his cart. Trying
to decide what else he should put in a salad he pulled
out his list again and gave instructions to the cart:
"Get some Newman Honey Dijon salad dressing, 16 ounce,
Templer croutons, milk, one quart, two percent, Moorehead
Dairy." The cart paused, waiting for any further
instructions, and then headed out of the produce section.
It paused again as another cart went speeding by the
entrance of the produce section, and then sped away.
Hal turned to look over the produce section. He decided
to get a three pound bag of potatoes and picked up the
first available bag. Next he perused the radishes. A
stab of the pointer bundled up a small bundle of radishes
and sent them to a shoot. Celery. He set the bag of
potatoes on the edge of the display. "Try our Megadose
vitamins, celery flavored..." The bag had triggered a
promo button. "If you like celery you'll like ..." Hal
picked up the bag and the promo stopped. The celery too,
was prebundled, so he picked up a bundle just as his cart
was returning. He placed the potatoes and celery into
the cart and then retrieved the radishes. "One more
thing," he mumbled to no one. He tapped the broccoli
with the selector probe and a banded bunch of broccoli
was packaged and sent out the shoot. Hal picked it up.
Still clutching it he returned the selector probe and
left the produce section.
What else was on his list, he wondered. Breakfast.
I don't have anything for breakfast. He'd only been in
this store a couple of times in the past. He still wasn't
sure where everything was. "Cereals?" He said out loud.
"Aisle three," the cart responded. "I know," he said, "we
were just there. Can you get me the cheapest box of corn
flakes?" The cart didn't respond. He needed to give a
product name or ID number. "OK, Post corn flakes, 24
ounce." The cart started to go. "Wait!." Hal said. He
put the broccoli in the cart. "OK now you can go." The
cart left.
Hal pulled out his list. He still needed soup,
frozen dinners, potato chips, Hand Wipes and his favorite
to prepare, Pop Tarts. He thought maybe he'd wander the
aisles and see what else came to mind, but then he
thought he should get going. He had a lot to do and it
would be easier to just have everything else delivered.
Hal left the produce section just as his cart was
coming back.
"Home Inventory, Pop Tarts," he said to the cart.
The cart responded instantly; "Two sixteen ounce
packages, mixed flavors, one partial, eight ounces
remaining, apple."
"Home list," Hal once again instructed the cart.
"What's on it?"
"Absorbent sponges, two packs, eight ounce, sugar
extract, Bonanza brand, twelve ounces, Tyler's food
supplement, one bottle, four ounces, Quick Lick..."
"Stop!" Hal instructed. "Fill home list." Just as
he said this he noticed some chocolate substituted in the
basket. "Wait!" He said. He pulled out the chocolate
and held it up. "What's this?" He asked. The voice from
the cart replied; "I just thought you'd like that on your
cereal. Your home inventory shows you don't have any and
it's very popular on cereal."
"You don't put chocolate on cereal," he said out
loud. There must have been a short circuit in the carts
wiring, or somebody, someplace, got some information
wrong. "Put it back," he said, " and then fill my home
list. Nothing else. Just what's on the home list. OK?"
"OK," the cart responded. With that the cart went
whizzing away. Hal knew what was on his list. He had
just filled it out this morning. He decided to ramble up
to the check out trying to remember anything else he
might need. Flaming cherry jubilee caught his eye. He
stopped, pressed the blue promo button. "Flame without
heat. No mess. No bother. Enjoy the fine dining of the
best chefs of the past. A complete seven course meal
ready to order, topped off with the most famous desert of
the twenty first century: Tamarak Food's Flaming Cherry
Jubilee. Begin your meal with succotash squash, the
perfect entree for family and friends." The strong male
voice went on to promote the rest of the meal. Already
prepared it was designed to be a dining experience. All
you had to do was provide table and chairs and the rest
would be automatically served.
Constance. Constance will be joining us for dinner
tomorrow. Maybe I should serve a chef's diner, he
remembered. Naw. It was just extra work anyway. She'd
hinted at dating, but this was too formal.
All of a sudden he was caught in a DNA scan. He
knew this was illegal as a marketing ploy. What was it
doing in a grocery store? The marketing seduction
employed with DNA scans was overwhelming to humans.
Fortunately laws were passed to limit their use for
emergency or information efficiency maneuvers only. The
scan passed and nothing happened. Hal shrugged his
shoulders and went on. Got to check out, he decided. He
wandered to the check out.
The display showed $584.17. "Receipt please." Hal
still preferred a printed copy.
"If you'll provide your key codes we'll place your
groceries in your vehicle." Hal preferred not to give
out any of his key or security codes. "I'll load," Hal
said. The female voice responded, "if you will position
your vehicle your groceries will be served. Please note
that certain items of packaging have been registered and
you are required by law to account for them in your
recycling bin. Thanks for shopping at Barney's where we
hope you had a wonderful shopping experience. If we can
ever be of any service please feel free..." Hal walked
out the door without listening to the rest of the
message. His tote vehicle was waiting on the rail. He
got on and moved the joystick to position the vehicle
towards the loading area. His groceries appeared all
wrapped in a neat package with thin transparent plastic
strips. They were positioned on an airless pallet
floating across the loading dock. It didn't match up
with the back of his tote. He had to get off and assist
the mechanical arm sliding the groceries on to the back.
He closed the totes' back rail and climbed back on.
"Home" he instructed.
The tote followed the programmed route. It took the
parking lot rail out to the main street rail and followed
that to the highway rail. Wind generators kept the rain
from falling on the tote lane. Although it was only a
drizzle one of the larger vehicles went through a puddle
and it splashed into his lane with some of the water
hitting him in the face.
"Exit 29 has been closed. Alternative route
requested." The voice from the tote's control panel took
his mind off the water. "Damn," he said to himself. He
needed a weather protected route. "Exit 43," he
responded. "Increase to 180 kph." Marley avenue was
protected part way, and he could get over to 15th which
would take him all the way home via rail.
The tote slowed down. "Approaching exit 43," the
console voice informed. There was a tote in front of him
that seemed to be going half his speed. Dottering old
fool, Hal thought to himself. "Pass at next available
rail split," he said to the console. The tote in front
of him started going even slower as they approached the
exit. Suddenly his tote speeded up and passed as the
exit rail split for three directional selection. Then it
veered back in ahead of the other tote heading up Sylvan
way. "Damn," he once again said to himself. He wanted
to take the right rail and head up Marley. "Reroute," he
instructed his console. "Marley to fifteenth. Next
available off." Once again the tote split to the right,
and then it came to a stop at an intersection. Hal was
glad they were still under a weather guard, but it didn't
seem to matter. The drizzle had slowed down to a mist.
There was even sunshine peaking out in the distance.
Suddenly the tote lurched. It started up the hill.
"Tapping into community power," the voice said. The
tote's rechargeable battery pack wasn't strong enough to
take the hill at full speed. Hal sighed. It was
hopeless, he thought to himself. Everywhere you go they
want money. Community power was ridiculously expensive.
He just didn't feel like fighting anymore. If he didn't
traffic would go whizzing by him, and he'd have other
totes slowed down behind him. "Go," he said. Not that
the tote needed his instruction to go ahead. It was only
necessary to reprogram, or reroute if you wanted to avoid
community power. But he hadn't plugged his mental
microprocessor into the tote and he knew it would take
embarrassingly long to reprogram.
At the top of the hill the tote veered off 18th to
Boeir. It followed Boeir to 17th and then turned again
on Marley. It was only a few blocks down Marley until it
came to 15th and then two and a half kilometers to home.
"Full speed," Hal said hoping to avoid any search patrols
(citizens, fully armed and protected, with the right to
cite speeders). "Maximum speed is 45 kph," the voice
advised. "Override," Hal said. "Seventy five kph."
The tote surged ahead and slowed down again as it
came upon another tote. This time it was a delivery
vehicle without a driver. Suddenly it jetted off and
took the next right. Hal's tote resumed its speed. He
came to the parking garage where he lived. His tote
followed the service entrance and lined up with the
loading dock by the service elevator. He had to manually
lift the groceries off the tote and place them on to a
wheeled cart. He pressed a red button on the totes
control panel and it drove itself over to the lock down
area. Then he climbed the two steps to the loading dock
and pushed the cart into the waiting elevator. "Eighty
eighth floor," he instructed the service elevator.
There was a slight snap as the melamine door latched into
place. It took off and there was a slight sound of
rushing air going around the elevator as it sped to his
floor. The door opened and he pushed the cart off. He
wheeled it down the hall to his door and then unloaded
the groceries in the hallway. He pushed the cart back,
but the elevator had already left. He parked the cart by
the elevator door and went back to his unit.
"Open," he instructed the front door. It opened
into the wall and he carried the groceries in. He placed
them on his vacuum sled and then said "close." The door
closed. A slight tap of the sled and it preceded him
into the main room. There was a big gooey slimy creature
inside a glass cubicle in the back left hand corner.
"Did you get the groceries?" it demanded. "Yes, and I
think you'll be very pleased at the budgetary measures I
undertook this time," Hal responded. "Bring the sled
over," it said. There was a sucking sound as the goo on
the big round pink folds of the creature's body stuck and
unstuck as it bent over to peer out of the glass.
"Good," it said. "Put `em away and then bring me
something to eat." The creature seemed to drool as its
half glazed over eyes turned away. It raised a stick and
pressed a button. A display on the side of the glass cube
changed to a different program. Then it yelled out "get
anything for the dinner teleconference, tomorrow with
Constance? You didn't forget about my business dinner
tomorrow did you?" Its voice lowered. "You stupid
automaton. "It's voice trailed off almost talking to
itself. "I bet you forgot to get anything for my diner
tomorrow." The creature leaned back and stared at the
display on the side of its cube as if it were a zombie.
Arrogant Humans, Hal thought to himself. I'm a
servaton, not an automaton. He didn't verbalize his
feelings. They're always trying to make us feel
worthless. Hal tapped the cart again and it slid into
the kitchen.
THE END
copyright 1999 Ken Bushnell
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