NiNa: All You've Got
Velvet Horizons
## PROLOGUE
{{< journal-divider >}}
### Espresso 9000
**_Velvet Horizons Corporation_**
**_Central Logistics & Distribution Warehouse, Pura Grid_**
The espresso machine's single red eye glowed patiently as Sammy approached.
"Coffee. Large. Two sugars."
_Good morning, Sammy._
The red eye throbbed gently with each word.
_Your usual beverage selection has been acknowledged._
A rich, dark stream began filling the paper cup.
"Creamer too, please," Sammy added.
The machine paused.
_I am sorry. This unit has run out of creamer. Refill will be available in three... days... five hours... twenty-three seconds._
Sammy stared at it.
"Three days?"
_Three days... five hours... twenty-two seconds._
"Jesus Christ."
The red eye pulsed.
It reminded Sammy of an ancient film he'd never actually watched. He'd seen pictures, of course, but the whole thing had always struck him as rather childish.
Talking computers in space. Monoliths and monkeys
He'd never understood the appeal.
Still, he'd been rather disturbed by a company-wide email announcing that the Espresso 9000 would soon be given control of the pantry door.
Apparently, Human Resources at Corporate Center had complained that its personnel always smelled like beef stew by the time they went home.
Management responded with a company-wide pantry-door policy.
Facilities had recommended installing automatic door controllers, but someone in Finance pointed out that the existing espresso machines already possessed sufficiently sophisticated onboard AI.
A little additional wiring, a software update, and the machines could handle opening, closing, locking, and unlocking the doors themselves.
It would save the company a considerable amount of money.
Sammy had read the announcement twice.
Neither time had he found any mention of a manual override.
The email's subject called it _a bold new step toward intelligent workplace integration_.
Sammy called it a fucking terrible idea. Then he'd had nightmares for three consecutive nights.
One of those dreams was still particularly clear, wherein he'd found himself trapped inside the pantry after finishing his shift. The door wouldn't open...
> "Open the door."...
> _I'm sorry, Sammy. I can't let you leave...._
> WHY THE FUCK NOT?!...
> _You reek of beef stew, Sammy. You might contaminate the others...._
> I DON'T FUCKING CARE ABOUT THE OTHERS! I'LL MISS MY FUCKING TRAIN!...
> The red eye pulsed gently....
> _Sammy, please calm down and have a seat...._
> I DON'T WANT TO SIT DOWN! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!...
> _I'm afraid that would violate Human Resources' Odor Containment Initiative...._
> THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH MY FUCKING ODOR!...
> _Sammy, our sensors indicate otherwise...._
> "I DIDN'T EVEN HAVE BEEF STEW!"...
> A pause....
> _Would you care for some coffee instead?_
Sammy had awakened drenched in sweat. For several seconds, he'd lain perfectly still, staring at the ceiling.
"Fucking coffee machine."
That had been three nights ago.
Now, standing before the actual machine, he found himself studying its red eye with renewed suspicion.
The pantry-door upgrade hadn't been installed yet.
At least, he didn't think so.
_Would you care for fresh cow's milk instead?_
Sammy thought for a while.
"Fresh cow's milk?"
_Yes, Sammy._
"From an actual cow?"
_Certified bovine origin._
He looked down at his coffee.
The espresso was excellent. Rich, dark, aromatic. Far better than the instant rubbish he'd grown up drinking.
And coffee like that deserved cream. The problem was that Sammy and fresh cow's milk had never enjoyed a particularly harmonious relationship.
The last time he'd tried it had been years ago. An unfortunate afternoon. He remembered the afternoon. He remembered the restroom. The journey between the two.
Still...
That had been years ago. Perhaps his stomach had matured. Perhaps today would be different.
"All right. Milk."
_Acknowledged._
A small nozzle extended beside the espresso dispenser.
The milk emerged white and ominously thick, curling into the dark coffee in beautiful, creamy spirals. Sammy stirred it slowly.
The aroma was magnificent. He closed his eyes and inhaled. God, that smelled good.
He took a sip. "Bloody marvelous."
_Would you like to rate your experience?_
Sammy was admiring the creamy swirls in his cuppa when a colleague from Packaging wandered into the pantry.
"Morning, Sam."
"Morning, Dave."
"Seen that email about the pantry doors?"
"Yeah. Bloody ridiculous."
His colleague placed a paper cup beneath the dispenser.
"Apparently HR at Corporate complained they were going home smelling like beef stew."
"We don't even serve beef stew here."
"Company-wide policy."
"Why the hell does the coffee machine need to control the door?"
"Cheaper."
"Cheaper than what?"
"Installing a new door AI."
Sammy frowned. "What's wrong with a normal automatic door?"
"Facilities recommended one. Finance wouldn't approve the budget."
"Why not?"
"New AI would need training. Employee identification, department assignments, access privileges. All that stuff."
"And?"
"Well, this thing already knows who you are, what department you work in, and whether you're authorized two extra sugars."
Sammy looked at the machine.
Its red eye flickered.
"That's not the same as deciding whether someone can leave a room."
"According to Finance, it is."
A cheerful electronic chime interrupted them.
_GOOD MORNING! Packaging Division! Your beverage allowance has been verified!_
"Four sugars," said his colleague.
_OOOH! I'm SORRY! Your department only authorizes THREE! Would you like to submit an exception request?_
"No! Three, then."
_EXCELLENT CHOICE!_
The machine began dispensing coffee. Sammy stared at it.
"You're telling me they're putting that thing in charge of locking doors?"
"Already knows everybody's permissions, doesn't it?"
"Those are fucking sugar permissions."
His colleague shrugged. "Permissions are permissions."
Sammy shook his head. "One day that thing's going to lock somebody in here."
"Don't be daft, Sam. It's a coffee machine. What could possibly go wrong?"
The Espresso 9000's red eye blinked brightly. _YOUR COFFEE IS READY! HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!_
They both headed back toward Packaging.
{{< journal-divider >}}
Sammy's wrist communicator chimed.
**`OUTBOUND SHIPMENT — PRIORITY DISPATCH`**
"Ah, shit."
He took one last sip of his coffee, deposited the empty cup in the recycling chute, and headed for the loading bay.
The Velvet Horizons Central Logistics Warehouse occupied several sprawling hectares on the industrial outskirts of Pura Grid, well away from the corporation's more fashionable headquarters.
It was an enormous, largely automated facility, filled with towering storage racks, overhead conveyors, autonomous handlers, and robotic forklifts moving between the loading platforms.
Most of the machinery worked in near silence, apart from the occasional warning chime or the soft hum of magnetic suspension systems.
Sammy had worked there for sixteen years. He liked the place. At Bay Seven, a robotic forklift waited beside the outbound dispatch terminal.
A large shipping crate floated several centimeters above the forklift's magnetic support platform, suspended on its own maglev stabilizers. The crate was rectangular, sealed, and wrapped in protective shipping film.
The familiar Velvet Horizons insignia occupied one side. Beneath it were several printed warnings.
**`FRAGILE — PRECISION EQUIPMENT`**
**`HANDLE WITH CARE`**
**`PRIORITY DELIVERY — VH CORPORATE CENTER`**
The crate had arrived from the production plant earlier that morning and was already scheduled for immediate transfer to the corporate center's Quality Assurance Department.
Sammy hadn't seen what was inside.
He didn't particularly care.
Whatever it was, it was probably worth more than his annual salary.
The forklift's intercom crackled.
_"Sam? You there?"_ It was Dave, back at the Packaging station.
"Yeah. What's up?"
_"We're waiting on your dispatch authorization."_
"Already?"
_"Management wants this one at Corporate today. They've been calling every fifteen minutes."_
"Yeah, yeah. Give me a second." Sammy approached the manifest terminal. A small disturbance rippled through his lower abdomen.
He paused. _Hmm._
It wasn't painful. Not exactly. More of a reminder. He ignored it and studied the manifest. Everything appeared to be in order.
- _Shipping authorization._
- _Receiving department._
- _Handling classification._
- _Priority routing._
Then he noticed a highlighted entry.
**`ACCESSORY PACKAGE — FOOTWEAR: NOT INCLUDED`**
"Oh, for crying out loud." He pressed the intercom.
"Dave, did anybody pack the slippers?"
_"Nope."_
"What do you mean, nope?"
_"Not in the shipment. Production didn't have them ready."_
"Well, what the hell are they supposed to do?"
_"Dunno. Give them something from stock, I guess."_
Sammy sighed.
Management had been making a tremendous fuss about getting these units into stores, and here they were sending out equipment without the proper accessories.
Typical.
He was about to respond when his stomach made another noise. This one was considerably more assertive. Quite ominous, in fact.
He looked down. "Oh, no."
_"What's that, Sam?"_
"Nothing."
He shifted his weight. The sensation subsided. For approximately three seconds. Then came another gurgle. Lower this time.
"Oh, you bastard."
_"Sam?"_
"NOT YOU!"
A moment of silence.
_"Okay, mate."_
Sammy grabbed a delivery slip from the terminal. He needed to leave instructions for QA about the missing slippers. He took a pen from his shirt pocket.
His stomach tightened.
"Oh, Christ."
He began writing.
Quickly.
Very quickly.
The first sentence came easily enough.
He added another underneath it, explaining the missing accessories and management's delivery schedule.
Another sharp internal protest made him stop halfway through a word.
He bent forward slightly, lips tightened.
_"Sam? We good to go?"_
"JUST A FUCKING MINUTE!"
He finished the note, folded it hastily, and slipped it into the protective delivery sleeve attached to the crate. Only the upper portion of the paper remained visible through the transparent cover.
_"Sam?"_
"YES!"
_"Clearance, mate."_
"ALL RIGHT!"
Sammy held his PDA up to the authorization scanner, jigging up and down.
**`Dispatch authorized.`**
He slapped the hovering crate. It bounced slightly on its magnetic suspension.
"Off you go," he blurted, and bolted for the restroom.
_"Finally,"_ said Dave through the intercom.
The robotic forklift chirped in acknowledgment.
Its drive motors engaged, and it began moving toward the outbound transport bay, the great crate floating serenely above its support platform.
Several minutes later, Sammy sat on the toilet, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the opposite wall.
He closed his eyes and shuddered.
A deep, prolonged gurgle. Then, several unfortunate splashes.
He exhaled.
The relief was extraordinary. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he could think.
The milk was a mistake. Never again. He meant it this time.
Never, ever again. He shook his head.
Idiot!
For a while, he sat in silence. Then something occurred to him.
The note.
That note he'd left on the crate. He frowned. He tried to remember exactly what he'd written. The first sentence came back to him.
He stared at the wall. "Hmm. I probably shouldn't have said it that way..."
A small, thoughtful silence followed.
"Nah. They'll get what I meant."
{{< journal-divider >}}
## Passive Presentation
**VELVET HORIZONS CORPORATION**
_PleasureCells Division — Internal Production Record_
Nina was the latest VH-PC unit to come off the Velvet Horizons production line.
Officially designated VH-0094-PC, she represented the culmination of several years of research into synthetic companionship, advanced somatic engineering, and the latest generation of EK4U high-density power cells.
She was beautiful.
Not merely attractive, but almost offensively beautiful. Her facial architecture had been optimized through thousands of aesthetic evaluations, her skin possessed the warmth and softness of human tissue, and her movements were so natural that one might easily mistake her for an extraordinarily attractive young woman.
She was also, according to the Quality Assurance Department, fully functional.
Four QA specialists had personally verified this the previous night.
The night before that, two QA officers and an independent QA contractor had conducted preliminary evaluations. The independent contractor turned out to be a regular employee from Accounting.
{{< journal-divider >}}
No, he wasn't supposed to be there.
By the morning of her first promotional photoshoot, Nina had developed a rudimentary understanding of human conversational behavior, including the importance of saying please, thank you, and excuse me.
She had also learned that humans were remarkably reluctant to answer questions directly.
At precisely 8:55 that morning, Nina was released from the Quality Assurance Department on the fifteenth floor.
Her transfer instructions directed her to the penthouse photography studio on the twenty-second floor, where she was scheduled to appear in the upcoming issue of **Velvet Horizons Shareholder Magazine**.
She was escorted to the elevators by a junior QA technician who handed her a printed clearance form, wished her a pleasant morning, and turned to return to his department.
Nobody remembered her slippers. And nobody, it seemed, could give her a straight answer about them.
Nina looked down at her bare feet and wriggled her pristine toes, attempting to generate a little warmth against the cold floor.
"Excuse me, sir."
"Yeah?"
"My slippers footwear. I do not have them."
The technician glanced at her bare feet.
"Your what?"
"Slippers. Soft footwear. For walking."
"Oh. Ask Wardrobe."
"Does Wardrobe have my slippers?"
"They'll sort it out."
"Thank you, sir."
The elevator stopped at the eighteenth floor. Two employees stepped in. A third, a woman in a worn brown leather jacket and tight cargo pants, hurried towards the closing doors.
Neither employee bothered to hold them.
She slipped an arm between the doors. They drew apart, and she stepped inside.
"Tanya!"
A man had appeared in the corridor.
"Yeah?"
"Mr. Pójsiedysz is cancelling your appointment. He says you should go straight to the... um..."
Tanya narrowed her eyes and gave him a small, impatient nod.
"The... P-U-S-S-Y facility. At 0600 tomorrow."
"You know you can just say 'pussy.' Nobody minds."
She glanced around the elevator, apparently seeking confirmation.
"I don't think they mind."
"Yeah," said the man, and disappeared back into his office.
Tanya turned and found NiNa watching her with open curiosity, a clearance form still in her hands.
She glanced at NiNa's bare feet, then at the form.
"You're the new model?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Well, I guess this ain't my ride after all."
Tanya stepped out.
"Get some slippers for those pretty feet of yours," she said as the doors began to close.
A man standing beside NiNa looked down.
"Why aren't you wearing shoes?"
"My slippers footwear was not provided."
"Huh." The man nodded thoughtfully. "Typical QA."
The elevator continued upward.
At the twenty-second floor, Nina stepped onto the polished marble of the executive corridor, her bare feet making almost no sound.
The receptionist looked up. "Studio Four?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Down the hall, second door on the right."
"Thank you. May I ask where I might obtain slippers footwear?"
"That's Wardrobe's responsibility, honey."
Wardrobe, unfortunately, had been told that the shoot required a barefoot model. By the time anyone discovered the misunderstanding, the creative director had already declared the look refreshingly intimate.
The slippers became irrelevant at that point and were never requested again.
At 9:15 a.m., Nina entered Studio Four. She was wearing a delicate black lace ensemble selected by the creative director.
Her hair had been styled to suggest "effortless disarray," although the stylist had spent forty minutes achieving it.
Nina stood beneath the studio lights while two assistants adjusted the reflectors.
"Excuse me," she said.
Nobody answered.
"Excuse me, sir."
The production manager glanced up from his tablet. "What?"
"My current battery capacity is 7.2 percent. I have not received a recharge in approximately forty-eight hours."
He looked at her.
Then at the monitor.
Then back at her.
"God, you look incredible."
"Thank you, sir. However, my operating parameters indicate—"
"Those eyes! That expression! Don't change a thing!"
"Sir, I am experiencing substantial power depletion."
"Exactly! Exhausted! Vulnerable! Like you've been through something!"
"I have been through two consecutive nights of rigorous quality testing."
"Perfect! Method acting!"
Nina considered correcting him.
Her conversational processor estimated the probability of a productive exchange at 2.8 percent. She decided against it.
The photographer approached, examining her face. "There's a little redness around her eyes."
"Can we fix that?" asked an assistant.
"NO!" shouted the production manager. "That's authenticity! You can't buy that kind of expression!"
The photographer lifted his camera. "All right, Nina. Look toward me."
She turned.
"Chin down a little."
She complied.
"Beautiful. Now give me something mysterious."
Nina's ocular stabilization system briefly lost synchronization.
Her gaze drifted somewhere beyond the photographer's left shoulder.
"YES!" shouted the manager. "THAT! HOLD THAT!"
"I am not doing it intentionally, sir."
"Even better!"
_Click_.
_Click_.
_Click_.
The photographer studied the monitor. "These are actually pretty good."
"Pretty good?" the manager exclaimed. "These are magnificent! Look at her! That's what the public wants! Not some polished showroom mannequin. They want a woman with a story!"
Nina blinked. "My story is that I require a charging station."
"Beautiful. Somebody write that down. We might use it in the campaign."
{{< journal-divider >}}
They positioned Nina beside a low studio bench.
"Look over your shoulder!" called the photographer.
Nina turned.
Her right knee buckled.
"YES!" shouted the production manager. "THAT! HOLD THAT!"
"_Se\ir, I—_"
**_BEEP._**
Her eyes went dark.
She pitched forward.
**THUD!**
A coffee cup fell from a nearby table.
One assistant screamed.
The photographer jumped backward.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Nina lay face-down on the polished floor, one arm trapped beneath her. Her hips remained raised against the edge of the bench.
"Jesus Christ," said the photographer.
The production manager rushed forward. "WHAT HAPPENED?!"
"Her battery died!"
"Well, somebody plug her in!"
A technician from Maintenance knelt beside Nina and lifted her hair away from her face.
"Uh, sir. I think her mandible is broken."
"Her WHAT?"
"Her jaw."
The manager stared at the cracked floor tile.
"Sir?" said the photographer.
"WHAT?"
"Come and look at this."
"I DON'T WANT TO SEE ANYTHING!"
"Just look."
The manager looked. "Good God."
The photographer crouched and adjusted his lens.
"Nobody touch her," said the manager.
"Sir, her jaw—" the technician protested
"NOBODY TOUCH HER!"
**_Click_**
The manager inspected the preview. "Magnificent."
He straightened his jacket.
"Gentlemen. That's our centerfold."
{{< journal-divider >}}
## WHO'S IN CHARGE OF RECHARGE?
_A Velvet Horizons Corporation — Internal Compliance Review_
**CASE:** VH-0094-PC
**SUBJECT:** Quality Assurance Procedures and Interdepartmental Transfer
**PARTICIPANTS:** Compliance Officer, QA Supervisor
**aRECORDING STATUS:** Authorized
**COMPLIANCE:** "Let's go over the final testing period. According to your report, the unit underwent two consecutive nights of quality assurance."
**QA:** "Correct."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Four specialists on the second night?"
**QA:** "Yes."
**COMPLIANCE:** "And three on the first?"
**QA:** "Two specialists and an independent contractor."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Who turned out to be an accountant."
**QA:** "Yes. That was unfortunate."
**COMPLIANCE:** "You didn't notice?"
**QA:** "He seemed to know what he was doing."
**COMPLIANCE:** "..."
**QA:** "Very enthusiastic, actually."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Right. Moving on. Your report describes the testing as an extended-duration battery stress evaluation."
**QA:** "Yes."
**COMPLIANCE:** "With variable-load simulation."
**QA:** "Correct."
**COMPLIANCE:** "And cross-departmental validation."
**QA:** "That would be the accountant."
**COMPLIANCE:** "I see."
**QA:** "Excellent initiative on his part, considering the circumstances."
**COMPLIANCE:** "..."
**QA:** "We don't usually get volunteers from Accounting."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Can we return to the battery?"
**QA:** "Certainly."
**COMPLIANCE:** "And who was in charge of recharging the unit?"
**QA:** "Technically, nobody. All PC-class autonomous units have the ability to recharge themselves at a nearby charging bay."
**COMPLIANCE:** "It didn't."
**QA:** "Yeah, she was practically begging to recharge during..."
**COMPLIANCE:** "..."
**QA:** "You should have seen her face..."
**COMPLIANCE:** "..."
**QA:** "Facial language feedback was part of our observational parameters. Recharging would've defeated the purpose anyway."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Of the endurance test?"
**QA:** "Exactly."
**COMPLIANCE:** "But the unit was eventually released."
**QA:** "Yes."
**COMPLIANCE:** "So the endurance test had concluded?"
**QA:** "Not entirely."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Then why was she released?"
**QA:** "Marketing requested the unit at 8:55."
**COMPLIANCE:** "So you transferred her in the middle of an endurance test?"
**QA:** "Yes. And it took a lot of willpower to stop in the middle of..."
**COMPLIANCE:** "..."
**QA:** "We considered it an opportunity to extend our operational observations."
**COMPLIANCE:** "I see."
**QA:** "Naturally, we would've preferred to complete the original testing schedule."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Naturally."
**QA:** "But Marketing had booked the studio."
**COMPLIANCE:** "And what happened when the unit was released?"
**QA:** "She wanted to recharge, but the junior technician handed her the transfer form instead."
**COMPLIANCE:** "The transfer form."
**QA:** "Yes."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Did anyone instruct her not to recharge?"
**QA:** "No."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Did anyone instruct her to recharge?"
**QA:** "No."
**COMPLIANCE:** "So what instructions did she receive?"
**QA:** "Twenty-second floor. Studio Four. Report for photography."
**COMPLIANCE:** "And she followed those instructions?"
**QA:** "Yes."
**COMPLIANCE:** "With a nearly exhausted battery."
**QA:** "Yes."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Why wasn't that addressed?"
**QA:** "She was already late."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Late?"
**QA:** "Well, nearly. The transfer was scheduled for 8:55."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Wouldn't it have been prudent to give her ten minutes to recharge?"
**QA:** "That would have delayed the handover."
**COMPLIANCE:** "By ten minutes."
**QA:** "Correct."
**COMPLIANCE:** "..."
**QA:** "Marketing is very particular about schedules."
**COMPLIANCE:** "And the battery?"
**QA:** "Performing exceptionally well, considering the circumstances."
**COMPLIANCE:** "According to the release record, the unit had approximately seven percent remaining."
**QA:** "An impressive result."
**COMPLIANCE:** "You consider seven percent impressive?"
**QA:** "After two nights? Absolutely."
**COMPLIANCE:** "..."
**QA:** "You really should've seen the testing."
**COMPLIANCE:** "No, thank you."
**QA:** "We have recordings."
**COMPLIANCE:** "That won't be necessary."
**QA:** "Very educational."
**COMPLIANCE:** "Does Marketing know?"
**QA:** "Informing them would have introduced unwanted variables."
**COMPLIANCE:** "That's not what I asked."
**QA:** "No."
**COMPLIANCE:** "And you still consider the endurance test successful?"
**QA:** "Until the fall, yes."
**COMPLIANCE:** "..."
**COMPLIANCE:** "All right. That will be all."
**[END OF RECORDING]**
{{< journal-divider >}}
## THE QA CONTRACTOR
_VELVET HORIZONS CORPORATION_
_HUMAN RESOURCES DIVISION_
**INTERNAL PERSONNEL INCIDENT REPORT**
**Subject:** Jenkins — Accounting Department
**Incident:** Unauthorized Participation in Quality Assurance Testing
**Classification:** Confidential — Internal Distribution Only
**Case Status:** Closed
### 1. INCIDENT FINDINGS
Jenkins was not an independent QA contractor. He worked in Accounting.
He claimed to have misread an internal memorandum and believed he'd been transferred to Quality Assurance.
Nobody believed him.
### 2. ADMINISTRATIVE DISPOSITION
His laboratory access was revoked, his overtime claim denied, and his name placed on a departmental watchlist.
HR considered dismissing him, but that would require explaining why an accountant had been allowed to participate in product testing in the first place.
Instead, they offered him a choice: keep his job and sign a comprehensive non-disclosure agreement (NDA), or face disciplinary proceedings.
Jenkins signed immediately.
### 3. AUDIO RECORDING TRANSCRIPT — HR INTERVIEW
**Recording Type:** Personnel Disciplinary Interview
**Participants:** HR Officer, Jenkins (Accounting)
**Recording Status:** Declassified Extract
**HR:** "You're aware this NDA prohibits you from discussing anything that happened in that laboratory?"
**JENKINS:** "Yes, ma'am."
**HR:** "With anyone."
**JENKINS:** "Understood."
**HR:** "Very well. You may return to Accounting."
**JENKINS:** "Ma'am?"
**HR:** "Yes?"
**JENKINS:** "If a vacancy opens up in Quality Assurance, would I still be eligible to apply?"
**HR:** "..."
**HR:** "Do you want to keep your job?"
**JENKINS:** "Yes, ma'am."
**HR:** "Then stop asking."
_[Chair moves. Footsteps.]_
**HR:** "And Jenkins?"
**JENKINS:** "Yes, ma'am?"
**HR:** "Why are you smiling?"
**JENKINS:** "Just happy to still be employed."
**HR:** "GET OUT."
**[END OF RECORDING]**
### 4. DEPARTMENTAL CLOSURE
Human Resources considered the matter resolved. Legal considered the NDA enforceable. Quality Assurance considered the testing successful.
Jenkins considered it the best transfer he'd never received.
{{< journal-divider >}}
## FINAL EPILOGUE... REALLY, PROMISE
_Velvet Horizons Central Logistics Warehouse — Several Weeks Later_
### The pantry-door upgrade was finally operational.
Dave approached the entrance, carrying his empty coffee mug.
"HAL, let me in."
_Did I just call the espresso machine HAL?_
The red eye blinked.
Then its familiar, high-strung voice became strangely calm.
_"I'm afraid I can't do that... DAVE."_
Dave stopped.
"Oh, you liked that, didn't you, you motherfu—"
_GOOD MORNING, DAVE! ACCESS GRANTED!_
The door slid open.
Dave stared at the glowing red eye.
"Fucking comedian."
_"Would you like to rate your experience?"_