“Battery almost empty. Would you like to stop at the nearest recharging station?” The synthetic voice shook Lucas back to reality. He had been surfing the net with his smartglasses, letting his Ampere do the driving. With a flick of his finger, he checked the car status app: Battery level at 7%. Two years until next inspection. Tire pressure nominal. Mileage 75 053 miles. Current driver: Lucas Beckett. Passenger(s): None. This and various other info flowed past his field of vision on the glass lenses. The battery level alert was flashing red.

“Good idea, you do that.” He sunk back to the virtual world, unmuting the stream he had been watching. As he watched a team of humans combat a team of AIs on the digital fields of a multiplayer first person shooter, the Ampere dutifully switched lanes and turned to the recharging station. It stopped next to a vacant recharging unit, out of which snaked an automated electricity cable which—thanks to its many joints and a targeting sensor on its head—easily found its way to the opened socket near the front bumper of the car. When this type of automated recharging station was still a novelty the tube worming its way to the car’s opened port had given rise to many tongue-in-cheek comparisons and Lucas, too, had used to joke if the car felt no shame for doing such a thing out in the open. At first the AI had reminded Lucas of its incapability of feeling but later it had ceased to deign him with an answer.

“Well, of course that’s not really what happened,” Lucas reconsidered, checking his thoughts as he raised his eyes to watch the recharging cable slowly sway in the air as it locked in place, “it’s not like it actually deemed me to be beneath its notice. Most likely it just learned not to answer questions meant to poke fun at it. I mean, isn’t that the whole point of the cloud?”

His train of though was interrupted by a blinking call request popping on the lenses in the middle of his field of vision. He saw it was from his friend and colleague Barry and accepted the call.

In the window opening before his eyes, he could see Barry’s unshaven face, brown curly hair pointing everywhere like he had been just electrocuted. He was at his home, facing a webcam.

“Dude, you’re stopping for a recharge now?” You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago. The pizzas have gotten cold already.”

Barry was following him through his social media account which displayed his live location data 24/7, collected from the various devices which had to be logged on to facilitate use. Lucas was all for this type of data hoarding: not only did he feel closer to his friends and acquaintances, but it also built the AI’s a profile for him, meaning he was recommended products, services and other interesting things before he even knew he needed them. Lucas checked the car status app again; the recharge would take about 15 minutes to complete.

“Just start without me,” Lucas said. “I’ll bring something to eat.” He linked Barry a feed of the status of the car so he could follow his progress.

“Fine. But I’m leaving the bug testing and fixing to you.” Barry closed the line.

Lucas and Barry were software engineers, most of the time working from home. Lately they had worked more and more together, visiting each other’s apartments. Their current employer was Ampere Inc. itself, but he hadn’t visited their offices in months. He felt he was living the dream; doing world-class research work on a subject that had captivated his mind since childhood for one of the most successful corporations in the world without being tied down by punching cards and stuck-up middle management. As long as the work progressed at a steady pace they could work where they wanted and when they wanted.

Lucas alighted, stretching his gangly legs and his chronically forward-craned neck, one of the side effects of having spent most of his free time hunched over a screen of one type or another.

“See you soon,” bid the car’s even voice as he closed the door. Out of the 18 charging spots which were situated in three hubs in a sixpack arrangement, only three others were taken. In an orange Ampere Lucas could see a young woman, tapping a smartpad on her lap. Her black hair obscured her face. The two other car’s windows were darkened so Lucas couldn’t tell whether they were manned or not. With the car doing the driving, you really didn’t even see outside, so why suffer the sun’s glare? He headed for the small five-and-dime, setting his store helper app to look for food and refreshments. The front of the mart was in reality quite drab, with cracked asphalt and no decoration of any kind. Lucas’s smartglasses however were at all times augmenting his reality, adding adverts and other spots of interest on the otherwise empty lot. He opened a social media page of one of his cousins’, whom he had never physically met. She was on a trip to Rome, and the glasses displayed all of her latest images and posts in a linear gallery of floating screens in two lines, between which he made his way to the sliding door of the mart, liking the posts as he passed them. She had captured her entire journey with her glasses, and an automated video editing tool had cut out all the moments considered too personal. The end result was now being sped through on a time lapse video which slowed down to normal speed to highlight the most impressive moments. He stopped in front of the door to take a closer look at the video. He watched as she viewed famous landmarks, relaxed in atmospheric and studied unequaled works of art. He was not impressed; with modern technology one could create artwork that dazzled the senses more than some paint on a canvas ever could. Lucas pursed his lips as she was approached by an Italian man in one of the cafes, after which the video notably skipped to the next day.

“She got lucky there, or maybe she edited that out herself.” The editing tool didn’t always recognize moments one would rather keep to oneself, filling the web with embarrassing and downright racy moments. Such clips had become a popular category of pornography. Lucas’s eyes glazed over as he recollected how he, this one time, had watched a video where a celebration of college football players and cheerleaders had devolved -or evolved, depending on how you looked at it – into a massive-

Lucas’s daydreaming was interrupted by a feminine clear of throat. He quickly spun around to face the person behind him. It was the black-haired woman from the orange Ampere.

“You’re blocking the door,” she stated in a neutral tone.

“Sorry,” was all Lucas could manage, stepping aside. She walked past the sliding doors, with Lucas following shortly in tow. They were the only two people inside, and Lucas headed immediately to the opposite side of the store. The store was part of a large chain that handled things in the usual fashion: products were placed behind plastic covers on which read a code you used to order the item, which was then retrieved in a locked storeroom by a robotic arm, which placed it on a conveyor belt bringing it to the cashier’s desk. After paying, a locked panel opened, allowing you to take your ordered items.

His heart was racing. As usual, being embarrassed in front of a stranger, a woman, had left him flustered.

“Why didn’t I toggle the video to stick to my position, it would have followed as I walked. Or maybe I should have said ‘After you’,” he thought, biting the inside of his cheek. “The least I could now do is to try and act naturally.” He raised his eyes from the packets noodles he had pretended to be interested in. He browsed the reviews the food of the place had received; apparently the pizza was lousy, but hotdogs were decent for the price. He placed on order for four and heard the automated machinery whirr into action behind the counter. The store helper app had located his favorite brand of soda and displayed AR signs to point him to its location. They resided on a shelf next to the woman. Lucas stopped to consider his options and concluded that this was his chance to save face in the eyes of this young woman. Swallowing, he straightened his pose and made sure to walk extra casually as he approached. The result was a needlessly slow stride with his shoulders moving to and fro in a slightly exaggerated fashion.

“Excuse me,” he said, speaking lower than he usually would, pointing at the self behind her as she turned her eyes towards him.

“Sure, sorry about that.” She sidestepped out of the way.

“What goes around comes around,” he imparted. She flashed a smile. Encouraged, Lucas continued.

“You come here often?”

“Sure, I live close by, and my apartment complex doesn’t have a recharging outlet, so this is my go-to station.” Her speech flowed fast. But faster still was the visual augmentation system projecting changes seamlessly to his field of vision. They edited the glasses from her face so he could see her eyes, or at least the eyes she wished to show others as anyone could shape the image of their face and body with the filters and effects Ampere’s system offered. Her brown eyes were almond-shaped, her face revealed clear Asian roots. He was the first to look away. In passing, he thought about catching a peek of her face without his glasses but quickly abandoned the idea as it was considered impolite. He realized his mind was wandering and refocused on her chatter. “Have you heard of the politician who was caught here?”

“No, I haven’t. How long ago was it?” He had glanced at the AR text screen reciting the headlines about the station as well as most popular customer comments but had seen nothing scandalous.

“Just a few years. Some local official was caught pants down with an underage girl in his car behind the station. A story like that really wouldn’t be displayed on the premises.”

“Right.” According to law, AR elements were treated like signs and billboards so on private property the owner dictated what kind of content could be erected on their grounds. You could still search for the content online, of course, but Lucas, like most other people rarely bothered. Why should he when hoards of data already plastered his view?

The conversation stalled as Lucas looked though her online profile, looking for a talking point.

“Well, bye then!” she said, paid wirelessly with her online account and grabbed the sweets she had bought from the conveyor belt bringing them from backstage. She smiled one final time as she left the store.

Lucas exhaled and let his poise slump. “At least it wasn’t a disaster,” he brooded. He placed an order for four bottles of soda and browsed the news as he waited. He attempted to cheer himself up by viewing reports on advances in technology and upcoming video games. Lucas’s newsfeed consisted of positive developments in his areas of interest, as he had unsubscribed from sources of negative tidings years ago after his preferred political and environmental movements had suffered heavy blowbacks, leaving him with feelings of impotent rage and helplessness which he had only managed to overcome after isolating himself in a bubble of favorable fluff. He still remembered that anger, a volcano with no opening, which he had no way to turn into action, so the pressure kept increasing, burning and damaging only himself. Trying to connect with women often left him with similar mood, since he never got very far, and the disappointments kept piling up.

His order arrived and he walked to his car carrying two paper bags, the hot dogs in one and the drinks in another.

“I didn’t even ask her name,” he realized, the sliding doors closing behind him. He had seen the name – Amber Liu – on her social media page, so it hadn’t occurred to him to ask. He thought, not for the first time, that his glasses with all their data just blinded him to things that were crystal clear to everybody else.

The car door opened as he approached. He placed his supplies on the front passenger seat and took his place behind the wheel.

“Shall we continue?” the car’s artificial voice asked.