Trix returns! When her CEO needs to chat with a privacy-protecting board member, Trix combines detective work with drones to find a way in.
As regular readers already know, I’ve been experimenting with microfictions, short SF stories (1,000 words or less) that help me explore and illustrate aspects of how our lives might evolve within the technology transformations happening all around us.
Here, then, is another microfiction. The main character, Trix, appeared in two earlier microfictions, Hacking the Dead and Piercing the AI Wall, but you don’t need to have read those to understand this one.
Next time, I’ll dig into how realistic this story is.
“Got one for you,” CEO Eleanor Maggin said leaning into the office with the best view in the building. She had given up wondering why it wasn’t her view.
“Bless you,” replied Senior Director of Atypical Communication, Prudence Wells, looking up from a paper crossword puzzle and capping her fountain pen. “I’m so bored.”
Everybody called Wells “Trix,” as in Dirty Trix.
“One of my board members doesn’t like me,” Maggin said. Trix learned it was Jane Lackowski, CEO of Fyrmamynt (an adjacent, non-competitive company), philanthropist, writer, and zealous guardian of her private life. Few people knew if she was straight, lesbian, trans, married, single, a mom…
“A challenge,” Trix said, her eyes alight then narrowing. “How much of your time do you think a better relationship with Lackowski would save you—”
Maggin held up her hand. She knew Trix, an unsalaried consultant, was haggling about her fee. “Check your email. Finance did the math on my time tied to the stock price. I win; you win. The usual budget freedom with retroactive scrutiny.”
“You’ll listen to me?” Trix asked. Maggin nodded. “Done.”
Trix hadn’t checked her email.
Trix’s team of detective AI agents came back with masses of drek and one slim lead: Lackowski vanished twice each business day when she wasn’t traveling. She magically appeared in her office in the morning, then disappeared end of day. There were no cell tower pings on Lackowski’s smartphone. Trix guessed Lackowski rode analog: no digital distractions.
Nondescript by profession and preference, Trix staked out Fyrmamynt HQ for days. Nothing. She was glad it was summer with warm, long days.
Trix placed discreet drone cameras. Nothing. She widened the drone surveillance aperture until, one morning, a drone recorded a woman on a bicycle zip down the alley in back and disappear under a small bridge connecting HQ to a parking lot.
Trix called Maggin. “What’s your exercise routine? Don’t ask why.”
“Gym, Pilates, running when I have time,” Maggin said.
“I’m ordering you a street bike and a trainer. You may not be able to write it off, but you can afford it. Start riding,” Trix said.
“How much is the bike?” Maggin asked, but Trix had hung up.
Trix explored the back alley. In spite of considerable lock picking skills, she couldn’t open the door, but she heard the faint hum of machinery. A private elevator? She repositioned her drones around the door, including a helicopter drone to follow the rider.
Next evening, when the door opened, a swarm of drones identified Lackowski, elevator behind her, wearing sleek biking clothes, a helmet, mounting a pricey Colnago V4Rs bike.
The helicopter drone lost her after half a block: the woman rode fast!
Days later, Trix still hadn’t been able to follow Lackowski. The drones weren’t fast enough. She needed to track that bike.
Autumn. With her agents, Trix built a profile. A creator of discipline and habit, Lackowski arrived within a 10 minute span each morning. Her evening ride varied.
One morning, drones tracked Lackowski’s approach and signaled Trix when she was five minutes away, four minutes, three minutes—
Praying to the gods of luck, Trix sprayed a fast-drying gel into the alley door lock to freeze it, then scooted away just before Lackowski arrived. Drone footage showed the CEO dismount, unlock the door, and pull the bike inside, letting the door close behind her.
Minutes later, Trix pulled at the door. It opened! The luck gods smiled again: the bike was outside the elevator door, poised for Lackowski’s evening trip. From her backpack, Trix pulled a tiny accelerometer and Bluetooth Low Energy tag. She attached them to the bike where Lackowski shouldn’t notice them. Once the accelerometer detected the bike in motion, it would start transmitting a signal to Trix’s drones. When the bike was at rest, the tag would stop transmitting to preserve its battery. Trix sprayed a solvent for the gel into the lock, then left.
Now the drones could track Lackowski.
Trix’s agents added drone data to the profile. Lackowski alternated among three routes home, only one of which was plausibly near Maggin’s neighborhood. Lackowski would ride for an hour, sit in a café with a notebook, then finish her ride.
Trix called Maggin.”How’s the riding?”
“I’m kind of enjoying it.”
“Do you know the details of your gear?”
“I’m not stupid, Trix.”
Trix explained that Maggin needed to arrive, sweaty, at the third café before Lackowski did, order coffee, sit in a prominent place, bike helmet on the table, busily read documents or write in a paper notebook, and ignore Lackowski’s arrival. It might take a day before Lackowski’s route touched that café.
“What is she comes up to me?” Maggin asked.
“She won’t the first time she sees you,” Trix replied. “Trust. I’ll show you the video after.”
“You have video?”
“Trust.”
On day three, drone footage showed Lackowski arrive at the cafe, do a quiet double take upon seeing Maggin, order her decaf latte, write for 45 minutes, then leave. The same thing happened a few days later.
Day nine. Lackowski walked up to Maggin. “Eleanor?”
Maggin looked up from her paperwork. “Jane! What are you doing here?”
“I come here after work sometimes.”
“I’m here most evenings,” Maggin said. “I ride from the office, do some work, then ride home. It’s a nice airlock.”
“Same. How long have you been coming here?”
“Not long. The place I used to go closed.”
An awkward pause, then Maggin (well coached by Trix) gestured at the paperwork. “I need to dig back in…”
Lackowski nodded, then asked, “Is that your Audi bike out there?”
“Birthday present to myself. Stung a little. You?”
“The Colnago. Ouch.”
“Nice.”
Lackowski turned away, then turned back. “Saturdays, I go for a long ride.”
“How long?”
“50, 60 miles,” Lackowski said. “You want to come?”
“Might not be able to keep up,” Maggin replied.
“Want to find out?” Lackowski asked.
Maggin shrugged. “Why not?”
Watching via the drones, Trix grinned.
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* Image Prompt: “Create a photorealistic image where the point of view is floating in the air behind a helicopter drone. The drone is trying to catch a woman riding quickly away on an expensive street bicycle. The environment is a downtown cityscape in early evening.” I iterated the prompt a couple of times. Note that the LLM did not understand what I was asking about the point of view.
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