Chancey sighed deeply and took another look around the empty room. It was definitely before his time, but he had heard about these famed writers’ rooms. Yes, writers, plural. As in more than one person participating. He wasn’t even sure why he was in this room. Wasn’t this the kind of thing he could do from home? Couldn’t he be comfortable in his pjs, sipping something tasty from his favorite mug, and working?
The windowless room felt suffocating. Even more so when Chancey felt stifled by Anora, his Chatbot Buddy. Connected almost at birth, Anora had been Chancey’s silent, sometimes not-so-silent, Buddy. During his infancy, and beyond, Anora had been there to interpret, predict, customize, and learn all about Chancey. Sometimes even before Chancey had time to discover for himself. All of which led to this job, in this cell of a room, designed for at least 8 people, but now with one. Or rather, one plus, if Chancey was being fair to give Anora some credit. After all, it was the fun, quirky, relationship between Chancey and Anora that landed “them” Chancey’s dream job of being a scene writer.
At least Chancey thought it was his dream job. Anora tailored so many things to Chancey’s every whim, sometimes it was hard for him to tell what should be something permanent versus a fleeting thought. Anyways, here they were. Chancey racking his brain for good ideas. Transmitting them to Anora and waiting for the good stuff to come back. Or at least something workable to mold into a decent scene.
Having a Buddy was wonderful and strange. Chancey often mused how his parents ever got anything accomplished, or even figured out where to order dinner without having a Buddy. How did they even function before Feeds and Buddies? Chancey shook his head in wonder. Then shook his head again, stroked the feed in his forearm and concentrated. A moment later a familiar twang jolted Chancey’s body.
“Anora, tell me a story about two people living before Feeds and Buddies, but with some technology. They have those clever phones, but they need to drive their own cars, and search for their own information.”
Chancey sighed again. He stood to stretch his legs. Then sat down, grabbed the plain, boring mug on the long table and took a sip. Anora was ready to begin and so was Chancey.