Data Points

After driving past the batteries of anti-aircraft ordinance along the ridges into the city, and into the safely defended interior gate wall of the city, I approached the entrance to the underground garages, which split the traffic into the distinct lanes marked for private vehicles, private vehicles with three or more occupants, and commercial traffic. As I approached the tollbooth into the garage, I could see the arrays of surveillance cameras, likely using recognition to read license plates. I took the $5 coin out of my pocket, and throwing it into the funnel, it took a moment for the bar gate to lift.

I could already feel the creeping voyeurism of the city's internal log spooling up my plate number, along with the related images it took along the highway. Now, inside the parking garage, I was no doubt very visible trying to find parking. I descended down the spiral ramp to the second level, and unable to find parking to the third, fourth, and I was finally able to find parking at the very bottom of the storage garage. After grabbing my nylon duffel bag from the trunk, I headed over to the pickup point. Pressing the call button with the heel of my hand, the kiosk gave a vaguely pleasant chirp.

A few moments later I heard the hum of an electric engine approaching from my left, and soon, a white MetroCar arrived at the pickup point, its door opening with the whine of a pneumatic actuator. Stepping into the side closest to me, the passenger side, I threw my duffel bag into the empty driver's side bucket seat, though, without a steering wheel, was there really a driver's side?

An overly cheery voice blasted out of the speakers: "WHAT IS YOUR DESTINATION?" from the speaker on the dashboard.

"Uh, Mariott, Kent street."

"DID YOU MEAN MARIOTT, DOWNTOWN, SUITES AND MORE, 100 KENT STREET?"

"Yes."

"FINDING ROUTE MARIOTT, DOWNTOWN, SUITES AND MORE, 100 KENT STREET"

The MetroCar lurched forward and I buckled my seatbelt. driving towards a roller-door that was tucked into an unsuspecting corner, the MetroCar came to a sudden stop as the roller-door slowly opened. A MetroCar exited the car elevator, and I could see a woman arguing with what looked like a teenage daughter, their shouting muted by both of our enclosures, creating a silent film for the three second it takes them to pass into the parking area. My MetroCar entered the car elevator which rapidly ascended to the surface, sending me on my way.

"HEADING TO MARIOTT, DOWNTOWN, SUITES AND MORE, 100 KENT STREET," it said as though it were trying to be my best friend, "PLEASE ENJOY THE ADVERTISEMENTS ON SCREEN WHILE YOU WAIT!"

I started thinking about the MetroCar system, and city automation in general. The more I thought about it, I remember, the more it made sense. A controlled system like MetroCars allowed for traffic to flow automatically using the city's central traffic system, and removing humans from some free will, all for the sake of efficiency. As I thought about how traffic used to be before automation, my mind flashed back to Hamilton, and watching as the white minivan mounted a sidewalk. The militia members pouring out, disoriented but resolute, weapons in hand.

I think about the one whose tan plate carrier had a strap loose– his glove was too slick, and he fumbled, trying to pull the charge handle, as he caught a 5.57 round from civil defense, his body dropping as the one behind him threw a smoke canister, spraying out black clouds, billowing out. My mind flashes to the smell of that smoke, choking on its acrid vapor as I pulled pulled myself to my feet. Running. Screaming. The sting and blinding blood in my eyes from where the glass--

The hotel lobby doors slid open as my MetroCar sped off. I took a deep breath.

"Get a hold of yourself," I said out loud.

The first human face I saw in the city was Melissa Xi, the Senior Night Manager, who had started work at 6:00 PM that evening, right around the time I'd have stepped into the MetroCar.

"Good evening. Checking in?"

"Yeah," I say, and give her my reservation details. I seem to be composed. I take a look around and notice three dome cameras mounted on the ceiling.

She punches more information about me into her computer, and I pass her my ID.

"Okay Mr. Davis, we have you upstairs in 507 for one night. You have the option of the complementary continental breakfast over in Cafe Lounge 56," she gestures to the left, "or if you prefer, we have a Starbucks near the south door," she gestures to the right, "and we also serve breakfast upstairs at Bar Resto Terrasse on the 40th floor," she points up. "If you have any issues, please dial zero and we will be happy to assist. Enjoy your stay!"

She is somewhat cold but efficient, and I decline assistance with my bag as I used my newly acquired keycards to call the elevator. The LED screen flashed "5", and the elevator behind me opened, chiming, and showing the up arrow.

After arriving at my hotel room, I placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and locked it with the bolt and close-over lock.

I look towards the room.

"Hey Siri, turn on all lights."

Nothing happens.

"Alexa, turn on all lights."

Nothing happens, and I sigh.

"Hey Google, turn on all lights."

A woman's voice answered from the desk in the corner of the room, "Okay, turning on all lights."

After a beat, the overhead, bathroom, vanity, bedside, and desk lamps all turned on at once. I walked to the desk and flicked the switch on the base of the assistant.

"The mic's off," it replied.

"Good," I say back to it.

Once that was figured out, I started to unpack my pajamas, change of clothes, arm charger, travel toolkit, and the Ducky Zero, which I'd been sure to bring. I clicked the buttons until it said RF READ. I pushed the red button and the display showed a tiny duck with a pair of glasses. Holding the hotel keycard to the Ducky, it beeped, and asked me to enter a name.

Once that was done, I walked into the hallway, and used the Ducky to open the door.

"Huh," I said out loud, indicating that I was pleased.

Next, I unscrewed the faceplate from the AC outlet which had a few USB ports. Using my wire cutters, I cut the green data cables from the ports leaving them to only send and receive AC power. One can never be too careful in the big city, as they say.

Once that was all handled, I was finally able to relax. I disconnected my arm, placed it on the charging cradle, and watched through the window, as the peaks and valleys of downtown Ottawa turned orange in the sunset.