AI Sees All

The Smiles That Cost

The first day of the "positive energy" assessment hung over the office like a storm.

The room was unnaturally quiet. Everyone wore stiff, forced smiles, like a row of puppets on strings.

I tried to lift the corners of my mouth, but it was impossible.

My mother's condition had worsened again. The doctors said she needed surgery immediately, and I was over a hundred thousand short.

Just thinking about it felt like a boulder pressing down on my chest. How could I possibly smile?

"Beep! Employee Claire Sullivan—smile curvature standard, expression sincere. Award: 10 positive energy points."

"Beep! Employee Jack Steele—continuous smile for over one hour. Award: 20 positive energy points."

The AI's chimes kept ringing, turning the whole office into some absurd, grotesque contest.

And above my head, there was silence.

…

In the afternoon, Lucas appeared again in front of the giant screen to launch his daily commentary.

"Look, everyone, most of you have adapted very well! Our office atmosphere is buzzing with enthusiasm!"

His gaze swept the room, sharp and calculating, before zeroing in on me.

"But," he sneered, "there's always one or two bad apples, radiating negative energy, dragging the whole team down!"

On the screen, a red X appeared over my avatar. The numbers beside it were brutal.

Smile duration: 0 minutes.

Negative expressions (frown, downturned mouth): 183 minutes total.

Overall evaluation: Severely lacking workplace enthusiasm. Flagged for behavior improvement.

Lucas' voice dripped with contempt. "Nathan, according to the new positive energy guidelines, you will be fined 500 today, to be deducted directly from your base salary."

Blood rushed to my head.

Deducted from my base salary? That was my mother's surgery money.

I shot to my feet. The chair scraped sharply against the floor. Every eye in the office snapped to me.

"Mr. Reed," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady, "this rule is unreasonable."

Lucas crossed his arms and let out a cold laugh. "Unreasonable? Since when do you get to decide what's reasonable in this company?"

"I have an emergency at home. I—"

He cut me off. "Who doesn't have emergencies? You're here to get work done. If you don't like it, you can quit."

His eyes scanned me with pure disdain. "Nathan, don't flatter yourself. Your numbers? The company will move on just fine without you."

After Lucas left, my phone rang. It was the hospital.

"Mr. Gray, your mother's condition is worsening. You should come in today. Also, you need to prepare the surgery fee," the nurse said urgently.

I hung up, feeling as if all the strength had been drained from my body.

Then, Victor Hayes—Lucas' lapdog and perennial bottom performer—sidled up to my desk. As a sycophantic smile plastered on his face, he made a heart with his hands for the AI camera.

"Beep! Employee Victor Hayes—expressed love for the company, full of positive energy. Award: 50 points."