The Hardest Word

As he made his way through the street door into the foyer of Anders and Bodkin, the chunky man in the undersized suit barged into Johnny.

Johnny was heading out for his lunchbreak after a morning of taking calls from frustrated customers whose kitchen appliances, made by Anders and Bodkin, were acting up. The company was one of the only remaining corporations to use real people to take customer calls, and definitely the last to have its customer care department in the company’s head office. Following the collision, the chunky man side-eyed Johnny and nodded. Johnny raised an eyebrow and continued out to the street.

The day wasn’t exactly glorious, but the sun was making some effort to shine through a thin layer of cloud, and the bustling city streets had an atmosphere of late-spring optimism. Most people looked vaguely content, some chatting with companions, others half-smiling to themselves as they strode towards their lunchtime destination. But underneath this veneer of ease, there was the usual tension.

Johnny always bought his lunch at the same sandwich bar because it still had human staff, including a pretty server called Sally who always called him by his name.

There was a queue at the counter, and Sally looked a little stressed. She still caught his eye and smiled as he entered. Johnny’s face grew warm.

A screen above the counter was showing a live news report from an address by the Supreme President. The SP lay across a platform, his colossal body clothed in a huge kaftan, large cushions spread beneath him. The sound was off, but text ran along the bottom of the screen, summarising the SP’s speech. He was reacting to a recent incident in which his car had allegedly ploughed into a group of protesters outside the Supreme HQ, killing six people and injuring three others.

‘They were bad people…stupid people…they deserved what they got…’

‘Hi, Johnny!’ Sally was grinning at him as he reached the head of the queue.

‘Hi.” Johnny beamed.

‘What can I get you?’

Johnny had completely forgotten what he’d planned to order. His smile faltered as he fumbled with his thoughts.

‘Cheese and chutney?’ offered Sally, glancing at the line of customers behind Johnny, now extending out of the door.

Johnny’s face was burning now. ‘I’m…’

Sally looked alarmed, shaking her head.

‘I’m having a moment,’ said Johnny, looking back at the queue.

‘It’s fine,’ said Sally.

‘Cheese and chutney would be great. And a black coffee.’

Sally called the coffee order to the barrister, one of the few remaining human barristers in the city, and grabbed his sandwich from the chiller cabinet behind her. She entered the prices into her tablet and turned it around so Johnny could see the total. Johnny nodded and tapped his phone against the screen.

‘Here’s your coffee,’ said Sally, passing the bamboo mug across the counter.

Still feeling flustered, Johnny failed to take a firm grip on the mug and managed to slop steaming hot coffee onto the counter, some of it splashing onto the white top of the woman standing behind him. The woman let out a startled squeal. Mortified, Johnny turned towards her.

‘I’m so…’ he began, but the woman, pulling the hot fabric of her top away from her chest, glared at him with wide eyes.

‘It’s fine, Johnny,’ said Sally, ‘I’ll get a cloth.’

Johnny pulled a suitably contrite expression at the woman, who gave a curt nod in response.

Johnny took his sandwich and what remained of his coffee to a nearby park. He sat on a wooden bench and stared at the still water of a large pond, breathing deeply and saying the words ‘stay calm’ in his head.

It had been a tough morning with so many unhappy customers. Being an empathetic person, it was painful for him sometimes to deal with their frustration without responding in the way he wanted to. But he knew everything he said would be heard, not just by his bosses, who recorded every call, but via his phone or one of the millions of devices set up around the city. The Supreme President wasn’t playing. He hadn’t achieved his worldwide dominance by kowtowing to others, and he was making damned sure everyone followed his example.

Johnny finished his lunch and stood, brushing crumbs from his trousers.

‘Can you spare some change?’ The homeless man was dressed in a stained pair of overalls, and the hand he held, palm up towards Johnny, was black with filth.

Johnny forced himself not to recoil. ‘No, I’m…I can’t.’

He walked hastily away, deciding to cut his lunchbreak short. Suddenly, the crowded streets felt oppressive and full of potential danger. It would be so easy for him to bump into someone, or cut across their path and say the wrong thing. At least at work, he had a script to guide him. They might as well use AI, given the amount of freedom he actually had when responding to customer queries and complaints.

The coverage of the Supreme President’s address was being broadcast on a giant screen in the main square.

As he crossed the heavily populated space, Johnny noticed a young woman being dragged into a side street by two uniformed, armed men.

‘I didn’t mean to say it!’ she was screaming. Gunshots followed. Johnny screwed his eyes shut, then continued walking. Others looked towards the side road down which the woman had been dragged, but then continued on their way, or stopped to look at the screen looming over the square. Perhaps they were using the sight of their great leader to remind them of the severity of breaking the rule, as if the gunshots hadn’t been enough to do that.

Johnny wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on like this. As he entered the foyer of Anders and Bodkin, he noticed the chunky man from earlier walking from the elevator toward him. They exchanged a brief look as they passed each other. The man nodded.