Mr. A entered the Dugle Bugle corporate headquarters from the Gummadipoondi gate. The other gates were in Vandalur, Mylapore and Singapore. There was a fifth gate somewhere in the Indian Ocean but Dugle Bugle’s official position was that it was just a rumour.
At the gate, Mr.A was required to give his fingerprints, his retinal signature, a stool sample and a blood sample, his clothes and his hearing aid. They explained that his wrist unit would repeat anything that he could not hear. The wrist unit was a green wristband.
He was strapped into an autocart and it whizzed carefully along a path between two parallel yellow lines on the smooth ground covered with concrete. The wristband spoke. “Please don’t attempt to cross yellow lines. They indicate the presence of slicer fields. Slicer fields can slice through human tissue and bones. Please don’t attempt to cross yellow lines. They indicate the presence of slicer fields. Slicer fields can slice through human bones and tissues. You are not cleared to cross yellow lines. You have been warned. You have been warned. Please say yes if you have heard and understood. Please don’t attempt…”
“Yes!” said Mr. A, hastily.
The cart appeared to know where it was going. It buzzed past acres of what looked like warehouses and then long, low buildings with blank glass facades that he couldn’t see through. They moved briskly and must have covered miles, but Mr.A knew they were still in the borderland of Dugle Bugle.
After an hour or so, the autocart stopped, near a garden. “You can get off now,” said the wristband. This was a relief. Mr.A was weary of the vast grey expanses of concrete.
There was a table with two chairs under a tree on the grass in the garden. The garden, unlike everything else in Dugle Bugle, was small.
A man was occupying one of the two chairs at the table. Mr.A recognized him as the famous Mr. Bugle, one of the two founders of Dugle Bugle.
The garden was a circular island in the concrete paving, and a green line painted on the concrete ran around it.
“You are cleared to cross green lines,” said his wristband. “You may enter the garden.”
Mr.A stepped gingerly over the green line and walked across the lawn towards the man.
“Mr.A, from Gummadipoondi Free Press Journal,” said his wristband.
Mr.Bugle nodded, as though it was Mr. A and not his wristband that had spoken.
“Mr.A,” he said and waved him to the free chair.
“Thank you very much for agreeing to talk to Gummadipoondi Free Press Journal, Mr.Bugle,” said Mr.A, as he sank into the chair.
Mr. Bugle too, he saw, was wearing a wristband and nothing else. But the other’s wristband was yellow. So perhaps Mr.Bugle was cleared to cross the yellow lines. Mr.A decided that he would not cross them even if he was cleared. What if a slicer field made a mistake?
“I have only ten minutes, Mr.A,” said Mr.Bugle, brusquely. “Please be concise,” said his wristband.
“So I will come to point right away, Mr. Bugle,” said Mr.A, trying to match the other’s brisk manner. “Is it true that the ever expanding Dugle Bugle campus will soon engulf Gummadipoondi?”
“No,” said Mr.Bugle.
“What assurance can you give us that this is not an eventuality?”
“It does not make business sense at present to incorporate Gummadipoondi. Dugle Bugle does not divulge the reasoning behind business decisions. Dugle Bugle also does not offer comments upon probable future business scenarios. An update for this wrist unit is being downloaded.”
“Sorry?”
“That was my wristband speaking, please continue.”
“So…” Mr. A had lost the thread.
“He said, it does not make business sense at present to incorporate Gummadipoondi,” said his wristband.
“Ah yes,” said Mr.A. “But these probable business scenarios you speak about. Do they include Gummadipoondi?”
“You have not understood my previous comment,” said Mr. Bugle’s wristband.
“Why is it that clothes are not allowed in the Dugle Bugle campus?”
“The entire campus is climate controlled. Six minutes to my meeting.”
“That was your wristband again? But what about…about…don’t people object to walking around naked? Some people might be uncomfortable exposing their bodies to the public gaze, you know, never mind the elements.”
“You biometrically signed the Dugle Bugle visitor agreement and disclaimer when Dugle Bugle granted this interview. If you are feeling uncomfortable without clothes, you may leave now. There are five minutes left,” said Mr. Bugle’s wristband.
“Why are clothes not allowed in the Dugle Bugle campus?”
“I have answered that question.”
“Please refer to record of Mr. Bugle’s answer. Shall I play it back?” said Mr. A’s wristband.
“Is it true that Dugle Bugle has made considerable progress with its project A?” said Mr. A.
“There is no project at Dugle Bugle by that name,” said Mr.Bugle’s wristband.
“Project A stands for project Android, which is a scheme to let artificial intelligences supersede humans.”
“Very interesting. You did not mention that your journal prints fiction,” said Mr. Bugle.
“Fiction or not, we don’t have to pander to Dugle Bugle’s web crawlers. We don’t have to worry that your search engine won’t find us.”
“Ah, print. How old is your printing press, now? I must tell you Dugle Bugle is very interested in it. It would be a fine addition to our museum. Name any price, Mr.A. In any case you must soon move on to the web.”
“There are still parts of the world that are real. We are very interested in keeping it that way,” said Mr. A.
“What is the point of this…this gesture? Why do you resist what is clearly a change for the better?” said Mr. Bugle.
“In what way a change for the better? Can you elaborate, Mr. Bugle?”
“Oh, I would need all day for that, Mr. A,” said Mr. Bugle.
“I’ll just mail you my answer to that question, I must be in another meeting in a minute and twenty seconds,” said his wristband. “The wrist unit record of this interview has…yes, it has of this moment been cleared by legal, with some modifications. Please do not print anything but the transcript of the record, which has been emailed to you. You are aware of the legal consequences of failing to comply. Perhaps you will change your mind about Dugle Bugle soon. Goodbye.”
Mr.A walked away to his waiting cart. As he climbed into it, he realised his last question had come from his wristband.
As they reached the security complex near the border of the Dugle Bugle complex, it spoke again.
“You may continue to wear this wrist unit to facilitate rapid processing of exit formalities. A full body minimally invasive inspection is normally part of the process. You are hereby informed that the full body minimally invasive inspection will not be necessary if you intend to accept this wrist unit as a goodwill gift from Dugle Bugle.”
“Eh? Er…” said Mr.A.
“This version 5 wrist unit will be upgraded to version 6 if you give a verbal consent within the next ten minutes. The version 6 wrist unit has a powerful personal assistant mode and has high bandwidth access to Dugle Bugle servers at all times. It enhances life in unexpected ways.”
“Oh, er…” said Mr.A. “I don’t really know-“
“This wrist unit is now being upgraded to version 6 on a trial basis,” the wristband said, and turned from green to yellow.
Mr. A said nothing as he stared at it.
“This wrist unit reminds you that you can return it at any time, should you change your mind.”
And that decided it.