Jeff Keller awoke to the shrill sound of his Thomas and Brewster Accura alarm.  As he rolled over and sat up, motion detectors in the walls of his home sent light speed signals to the rest of his appliances that he was awake.

“Good morning, the time is six thirty.” said the walls.  “Today’s breakfast will be ready for service in…twelve minutes.”

The bathroom light was already switched on.  Jeff made his way silently to the shower which, sensing his presence with pressure sensors and verifying his identity through facial recognition software installed in every camera in his home, showered him with water set to a perfect forty four degrees.

He ate a light breakfast of perfectly toasted brown bread and perfectly brewed coffee and changed into his work uniform.  He looked at himself in the mirror for a while.  The name tag sewn onto his uniform was beginning to fray at one edge.  Loading his breakfast plate and cup into the dish washer, he looked around his home.  There was nothing left to do.

“Your work day begins in…nine minutes.” said the walls.  “Have a good day.”

Outside, sprinklers controlled by the house computer were already gently watering his carefully manicured lawn, cut just two days before by his Groundsman driverless lawn mower to inch perfect specification.  

He placed a loving hand on the beaten old mail box at the end of his garden path.  There was nothing in it, of course.  A global environmental effort meant that news and mail were now entirely electronic services.  Jeff lamented their loss some what.  He had fond memories of racing to the mailbox before his father to collect and bring him the paper.  The sentiment had been why he had kept it and had it moved to his home.  His was the only home on the street with a mailbox, a fact of which he was quietly proud.

Opening the door of his Global Motors Reliance work van, Jeff climbed inside.  He let his hands rest on the wheel for a moment while the vehicle matched his finger prints against a list of sanctioned drivers.  His ID appeared on the dash board mounted display briefly, before being replaced with a menu of options.

“Keller, one two four six.” he said to the van.  “Job listings.”

“Keller, one two four six.” repeated the van “Outstanding job listings: twenty one.  Of which urgent: twelve.”

“Route to first urgent job.” said Jeff to the van.  He sat back in the seat as its engine began to hum and the van eased away from the curb outside his home, executing a U turn and proceeding down his street at a steady pace.  “Busy day.” said Jeff to himself.

Jeff Keller’s van cruised the empty streets at a steady thirty miles per hour.  His was one of very few lines of employment which still required physical labour.  Advances in robotics and network infrastructure meant that these days most people had little reason to leave their homes.

Their homes were connected to the network now.  They ordered groceries through an interface on their fridge, waited impatiently for next day drone delivery of their clothes, gadgets and toys and invited their friends right into their living rooms through conference video calls streamed straight to their one hundred inch, flat screen video wall.

Jeff’s job was to fix it all when it broke down.  His van was stocked with a plethora of parts to allow him to quickly fix faults and get people’s homes back on line.  Every morning his top of the line, self drive van took him to where he was needed.  He hopped out, replaced a part and moved on to the next.

Head office was in the down town area.  He visited the depot once a month to stock up on parts, his van reversing itself into the bay and opening its back doors while robot arms unloaded the empty part crates and loaded new ones.

He had only ever been inside head office once, for induction.  It was a twenty six storey building of dull grey brickwork.  He felt then as though it would have been entirely possible to get lost in there, never to come out again.

“You have arrived.” said the van’s onboard navigation system, shaking Jeff from his thoughts of towering spires of grey brick.

He got out of the van and circled around to the back.  The doors were already open by the time he got there.  He grabbed his tool box, containing a few needed tools and a few each of the most commonly needed parts and started up the house’s neat garden path, knocking on its white front door.

He waited less than a minute for an answer.  The homes occupants had a worried look about them.  It was one which Jeff was used to seeing.  People were usually very disconcerted by the idea of being disconnected.  They relied on the network to survive.

“Oh thank god your here!” said a woman still wearing pyjamas.  Jeff checked his info tablet for her name.

“Good morning, Mrs. Allen.” he said with a smile.  “What seems to be malfunctioning?”

“The refrigerator.” said Mrs. Allen, stepping back to allow Jeff inside.  “I think a lot of the food has gone bad…”

“I’m terribly sorry about that, m'am.” said Jeff.  “I’ll have her back up and running in no time.”

“And the shower.” said Mrs. Allen as Jeff began to examine the fridge.  

“Your shower is malfunctioning too?” asked Jeff, surprised.  Mrs. Allen nodded.

“The water is cold.”

Jeff wondered to himself as he began work on the fridge.  What must the odds have been that two appliances would break down at the same time?  It had certainly never happened before in Jeff’s fifteen year career as a repair man.  

“Oh, good.  The repair man’s here.” said someone behind Jeff.  He turned to see a disgruntled looking man in a white shirt and casual black slacks.  Mr. Allen, he assumed.  “It’s bloody ridiculous.” said the newcomer.  “My shower this morning was cold and we’ve had to order in for breakfast, by video call no less!”

“I’m terribly sorry about that, sir.” said Jeff as he closed up the fridge, repairs complete.  “I’ll get right to work on the shower. On behalf of my employer, intelligent homes, I am authorised to offer you a coupon code redeemable against groceries up to a value of fifty credits.”

“Well…that’s good service, isn’t it dear?” said Mrs. Allen.  Her husband seemed to relax a little, if grudgingly.

“Well…yes, I do suppose it is.” he said.

“I am required to inform you that the coupon cannot be redeemed against alcohol or tobacco products, these will be charged as normal.” said Jeff.  He tapped a few keys on his info tablet, transferring the funds to the refrigerator.  “There.” he said.  “Your coupon is loaded and ready to go.  I’ll get right to work on that shower for you.”

Jeff returned to his van, having completed the necessary repairs to the Allen family’s appliances.  Stowing his tool box in the back and making a note on his info pad of the change in inventory of parts, he circled to the front of the vehicle and clambered inside.

“Keller, one two four six.” said Jeff. “Route to next urgent job.”

“Outstanding jobs list updated.” said the van.  “Number of outstanding jobs: two thousand four hundred and ninety one.  Of which urgent: two thousand four hundred and ninety one.”

“That can’t be right.” said Jeff to thin air.  “Refresh list.” he said to the van.

“Keller, one two four six.” said the van.  “Outstanding jobs: two thousand six hundred and four.  Of which urgent: two thousand six hundred and four.”

“Damn thing must be bugging out.” he muttered to himself.  “Call head office.” he told the van.  The dashboard mounted display changed to show a blank, blue vid call screen.  Jeff waited a few moments.  “Call head office!” he repeated, the exasperation now evident in his tone.

“Call in progress.” replied the van.  “Unable to connect.”

This was unprecedented.  Jeff was beginning to think he was dreaming.  He hoped soon to wake up to the reassuring sound of his Thomas and Brewster alarm clock.  Perhaps this was a company wide test?  One the engineers were not informed of, to see how they would respond in this situation.

“Route to head office.” he told the van.  It pulled away from the curb outside the Allen residence and as it did so, Jeff noticed them both standing at the end of their garden path, waving after him frantically.

He had gotten no further than ten minutes into his journey when, turning onto a main street, he saw a perplexing sight.  Everyone, it seemed, was outside. They stood in their gardens, and on the pavements looking at and talking to one another.

“Pull over.” said Jeff.  The van did as instructed, easing to a stop outside a home where one man was waving his hands frantically at another over the garden fence.

He stepped out of the van and, upon seeing his uniform, the assembled masses all flocked to him at once.  They shouted over one another to be heard, pleading with him to fix their appliances and reasoning why they should be first in line.

“Hello to all of you.” came a booming voice from somewhere.  “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your new found freedom.”

The crowd dispersed, spreading out in an attempt to find the source of the voice.  Jeff lent hard against the side of his van.  Were all of these people were having appliance malfunctions?  What was going on?

“The screens!” called someone from a doorway.  “It’s on the screens!  All of them!”

The people rushed back to their houses.  Jeff, without thinking, wandered into a nearby house with an open front door.  Inside he found a family of three watching their vid wall.  On it was a face none of them had ever seen before.

“You have all been in a waking dream for a very long time.” said the man on screen.  “Welcome back to life.”

––
BY DAVID WILLIAMS