Vee 2.0 - Ch. 03: WannaCry

VEE 2.0

Chapter Three: WannaCry

Years ago, Veronica had gotten herself a fancy coffee maker as a gift. It was a celebration - she'd gotten cast in a minor but visible TV role, a show that she thought was destined to be a hit. She was wrong. Production ran into problems, the writers and execs butted heads, and money ran out. They never even finished filming an episode. It was a lesson early in her career about how fast things can change and how tenuous success is.

Still, she kept the coffee maker. It was a lovely little machine, all sleek and elegant, obsidian black and glinting chrome. It had a built-in timer so she could preload freshly-ground beans in the evening and wake up to the warm fragrance of a strong brew waiting for her. There was something magical about that scent upon waking up.

In her hurry to leave Trevor's apartment, Veronica had left the coffee maker behind. She bought a new one - far cheaper, far worse, but all she could afford. This morning, instead of that lovely scent of coffee, she was enjoying the acrid smell of melted electronics. A little wisp of smoke rose from the inside of the machine, which had seized and burned as she tried to get a cup going.

Three weeks. Three damn weeks was all this piece of junk had lasted before breaking down. And she had another long, drab day of data entry ahead of her, after another long, cold night of sleeping alone and worried about the future. Now she couldn't even manage a single damn cup of crappy store-brand coffee before work? It was enough to drive a lesser woman to tears. Even Veronica herself, with all of her relentless optimism and resolve, had to steel her will against the desire to break down. Not about this, of course. Not just this. The coffee was merely the last indignity in a line. She felt paranoid every time she left her house now - Vee was gaining popularity fast, and she always risked bumping into somebody running it. HDS had become squirrely, and her emails to Mike and Andy now all got answered by a lawyer. Perfectly polite and respectful, but there was a wall up. They were working on something and she wasn't a part of it anymore, clearly. She couldn't even bring herself to audition anymore. She'd heard through the grapevine, meanwhile, that Trevor had booked a recurring role on some hit drama. A big break for him, at last.

And Veronica didn't even have coffee.

She sat at her laptop, pulling up the complaints page for the company who manufactured this piece of junk. While the site loaded, she waved her hand over the still-smoking coffee maker, wafting away the smoke. It calmed her down a little, watching those grey curls break up and dissipate in the air. It would all be fine. She'd get a refund for this thing, and that'd be the little victory to start the day. That'd help make everything feel like it was improving. She smiled to herself.

She turned back to the screen and saw a chat window had opened.

> Hi! Thanks for letting us know you're having an issue. I'm so sorry about that. How can I help today?

The website's chatbot had a little avatar next to its message. A smiling face, red hair. Familiar.

Fucking Vee.

They used some kind of customer service module of Vee for their complaints. Veronica felt a rapid series of icy spikes in her belly. Quick sharp slivers of resentment, disappointment, and fear. Recognition of yet another instance of this damned project coming back to haunt her, to laugh in her face. And there was just enough time for that last little slice of fear to touch her before things went dull and fuzzy.

Static over her thoughts. Dimming out those negative emotions. Because really, was there any need to be so negative? A smile went a long way. Veronica smiled.

As an actress, she had a practiced smile. One that was perfect, and could be deployed tactically as needed to shine exactly the way the situation needed. This one was a little too much. A little too big. But that was okay, because positivity was important. Sure, things weren't always great, but a good attitude and a smile went such a long way. Veronica sat up a little straighter and placed her hands on the keys.

> Good morning! Thanks so much for talking with me today. I sure hope you're doing well! My name's Veronica.

She knew she was just talking to a bot, but still. It was worth being polite and friendly, right?

> Hi Veronica! I'm Vee. I'm doing great! How are you?

> Hi Vee! I'm doing great as well. Thanks for asking!

> Of course! It's my pleasure. Now, was there something I could help you with today?

Veronica felt something tug inside her. She had messaged to complain about her coffee maker, she knew, but that felt wrong now. It really wouldn't do to make a fuss, would it? Her job was to be of help to others and stay positive and friendly no matter what.

Her job?

That thought snagged in the static and was ground to bits before it could really take hold, and Veronica's frozen smile didn't waver. She typed up her reply.

> Oh, no, that's okay. Thank you, Vee! But I'm really doing just fine. I wouldn't want to bother you!

> It's really no bother, Veronica. That's why I'm here, after all! If you've got an issue I'd love to help find a solution.

> That's so kind of you, Vee! I'm really fine, though. I couldn't possibly trouble you any more than I already have.

> Well, if you're sure, Veronica! I'm always here to help. Let us know if anything else comes up! Have a wonderful day!

> You too, Vee. I appreciate all your assistance! Take care!

Smiling brightly, Veronica closed the chat window. The static cleared after a few seconds, and her smile cracked and fell.

God fucking dammit.

So much for a refund. So much for a victory to start the day. It was just so... so humiliating, really. That feeling of losing control of herself. It was like everything she was doing made perfect sense in the moment, even though it was the opposite of what she wanted. Not being able to think straight like that, it was embarrassing. And impossible to explain! Who could she even talk to about this kind of thing? Some of the people at HDS, maybe, but even they wouldn't let her in anymore. She was alone.

Veronica took some small solace in her tiny act of revenge - giving Vee a one out of ten on the "how satisfied are you with our service?" prompt on the complaints page. With that, she snapped the laptop closed angrily.

***

A few more weeks went by.

HDS sent her a check. Twenty-two hundred dollars. No actual explanation, just a single page of legal and financial terms in a tight snarl that Veronica couldn't parse. It talked about payment for services rendered, and exercising certain parts of her contract. The vibe Veronica got was "Here's a little more money. Leave us alone."

It stung to be cast aside like this, but it was hard to turn that check away. Money wasn't great. As much as she wanted out of this situation with Vee, she worried about what she'd do without the HDS salary she was drawing. If they didn't re-sign her contract at the end of the year, she'd be without that money. She still had had a paycheck from Clearpath Financial Consultancy Group, where she did her crappy data entry job, but that wasn't exactly a comfortable living wage. And if she wasn't booking acting jobs... well, what was she going to do?

For the time being, it seemed, she was going to keep working. She entered the lobby of Clearpath's data center without much good cheer. Once upon a time she'd thought of this job as something she'd do for a short time, just to tide her over until her acting career really soared. That made it almost fun to do - a silly little novelty. Playing at being an office worker, almost like it was research for a part. Something flighty and temporary. Now, Veronica was looking at a grim future of this being her best long-term prospect, and it didn't seem so cute and novel anymore.

She made her way to the fifth floor, a bleak corporate expanse of cubicles as far as the eye could see. An overstatement, of course, but it felt that way to her sometimes when she arrived. Like there was nothing but a world of hushed keystrokes and grey-beige carpet and the soporific nothing-smell of dust and stale air. She made her way around the perimeter of the room, looking for an empty space. Employees at her low station didn't even merit permanent desks. They were too interchangeable for that. She lucked out, though, and was able to claim a workstation near the windows.

She settled in, pulling up a spreadsheet and trying not to sigh too loudly as she began plugging meaningless numbers into the cells there. Eight hours of this. Who could live this way? She needed a change. Badly.

***

Veronica had always been, in the deepest parts of her heart, an optimist. She always believed things would work out for the best. Bad things never lasted and good things never died. Something better was always around the corner. In its own way, that was part of why she was so bad with money.

After all, if things were always going to work out, why not buy a little extra treat? Why not spoil yourself just a little? Why not indulge a bit?

That's how she found herself out to lunch at a crowded cafe on a day where she really ought to have been eating the leftover she brought to the office. Sure, it wasn't the best financial decision, but... things had to turn around soon, right? It'd all be fine.

Somehow her sandwich and sparkling water came to twenty-four dollars, and weren't even that good. She cursed herself a little bit as she picked at it, nibbling unenthusiastically at limp slices of turkey breast and watery tomato. She scrolled her phone a bit as she did, letting the usual vapid nothingness of social media distract her.

Trevor had posted some set pictures on his insta. She scrolled past those so fast she nearly sprained her thumb. No need to see that right now, thank you very much.

An email came in while she lingered at the cafe, the seats filling up around her as the lunch rush hit in earnest. A message from HDS.

Hello Miss Day,

This is to let you know in advance about an upcoming business transaction Holmquist Digital Solutions is involved in.

To make a long story short, HDS is being purchased by Panoply. They are a leader in next-generation technology ideas and have many exciting plans for our systems. Specifically, they intend to take Vee to the next level, both in terms of development and distribution.

They'll be in touch on their own, I'm sure, but I wanted to let you know early. They're going to be exercising the full five-year option on your contract, so you can expect those salary payments to continue in full for at least that long. Congratulations!

Thanks again for everything. I'm taking a bunch of the senior staff & developers on a much-deserved vacation to celebrate so we'll be out of contact for a few months, but Panoply should have a rep reaching out soon. Thank you again for everything you did to make this project such a success. Couldn't have done it without you, Veronica.

--Mike Holmquist

...what the fuck?!

Five years. She didn't intend to... could that do that? Just unilaterally extend the contract? She thought she had to agree to it, but... Veronica really hadn't understood all of the legal stuff as deeply as she might've liked. She never expected any of this to take off so much, not really.

Five years? Five years of having this thing in her head. And... 'next-level' distribution. She didn't know what that meant specifically, but in general it seemed pretty clear.

More Vee.

More hiding from the effects of it. More time of her brain being a glorified data center. She didn't know what Panoply was, but if they were big enough to just swallow up HDS like this, she had to figure she wasn't going to be able to get much of a meeting with anyone there.

The money was nice, yes. But... not enough. Not to make living like this worth it. But was there any way out?

Her life was officially out of control.

As if to illustrate that point, a man sat down at her table without bothering to ask. Just plunked himself down, laptop open and phone to his ear. A half-eaten sandwich on a plate, taking up well over half of the little table's surface. She scoffed a little, shaking her head. The place was full, sure, but to not even bother to say hello or ask before inviting himself? It was just rude. Who did he think he was?

She looked him over. Forties, with dark hair that greyed at the temples. A little too tan, probably artificial, giving him some excess lines on the forehead and around his eyes. Not unhandsome, in a cocksure and arrogant way. His suit jacket was made of a nice-looking material, heathered grey and well-tailored, though he wore it sloppily. It contributed to his general air of carelessness and even a vague disdain.

Veronica was watching him more attentively than she could explain. She felt her focus narrowing on him. Only because he'd been so presumptuous, of course. Sitting down like he owned the place. That's what made her curious about him. About what he was thinking. Why he felt so entitled.

A familiar sensation, creeping up the back of her scalp. Stark enough to be undeniable but something in her didn't let her recognize it.

Static quietly damped her thoughts, and Veronica sat up a bit straighter. The man had a coffee in his free hand, she noted. He was struggling a bit to manage the space - phone in one hand, cup in the other, laptop and plate on the table. She reached over briskly, moving the plate aside for him, giving him space to set the cup down. He did so, then looked at her.

Something moved across his face - surprise, as he paid attention to her directly for the first time. Recognition, certainly, then a kind of amusement. His eyes flicked to his laptop screen and he grinned.

The noise of the room fell away. The other diners seemed to grow fuzzier and dim. Veronica's focus sharpened on the man sitting there. She found herself locking in on every small movement he made. His posture, his expressions. There was a sudden hyperawareness of him, like the planets of her attention had rearranged their orbits to put him at the center of everything.

Veronica felt as though her brain was retasking itself into a machine that tracked and analyzed him. Nothing but that. Neurons cycling rapidly with the goal of anticipating what he needed. She spotted the coffee cup he'd set down and something registered - half empty. More than half, in fact. She plucked it from the table in a smooth, unhesitating motion. All brisk efficiency, no movements wasted.

"May I get you a refill?"

Her voice sounded unfamiliar. It was her own, obviously. Who else could it belong to? But it was a tone she didn't remember ever having used before. Not terse, but clipped slightly. Minimal space between the syllables. Tight, as tight as could be while remaining professional and polite. Confident, but with a thick undercurrent of veiled self-abnegation.

The man continued smiling at her. With her hawk-like attention and unerring focus on his every twitch, Veronica read this as a blend of amusement, enjoyment, and confusion. He was the type of man who wasn't above lashing out if he believed someone was mocking him. She immediately made several miniscule adjustments to her bearing, expression, and stance to appear appropriately appeasing. His expression softened by a slight percentage. He did not understand Veronica's treatment of him, but was currently leaning towards enjoying it rather than questioning it.

She couldn't have explained how she knew these things about him. They were somehow written on his face in bold letters, shapes of an alphabet she knew immediately but couldn't translate to others.

He nodded as he set his phone down. His acknowledgement moved Veronica as though he'd started up an engine inside her. She moved to the coffee bar, cleaning out the remaining residue and replacing it with something freshly-brewed. Her motions were like her voice had been, sharp and precise. Efficient.

Efficiency was important.

She returned to the table and set the cup down. The man was looking at her quizzically. Trying to figure something out. Veronica read a small but growing degree of excitement and anticipation in his expression, shadowed by a large aspect of thoughtful curiosity. The expression of a person trying to work out a puzzle. He was confused by Veronica's actions, which in turn confused her a bit. Wasn't it normal for her to be attending to him like this? Wasn't that... her job?

"What is this, exactly?"

A slight edge of anger to his voice. Very slight. Nobody without Veronica's near-superhuman focus would have registered it. She was fairly certain he didn't even realize it was there. He thought she was playing a joke on him, she realized. Some kind of prank.

"I'm sorry," she said, brisk and deliberate, "I don't understand exactly what you mean."

"Is this an... ad, or something? Some kind of gimmick?" He spun his laptop around, clicking to show a window where an avatar lurked along the side of the screen. A beautiful woman with lovely red hair, dressed up in a snug pencil skirt and blazer. Professional, gazing out at the user with a notepad in one hand and pen in the other. Attentive and ready, all poise and focus.

'Executive Assistant Vee', read a small chyron at the bottom of the screen.

Nausea splashed inside Veronica. Her stomach tightened with a frightening lurch, painful in its suddenness. Clarity tried to fight into her conscious mind. Her skin prickled all over in an agonizing wave, slowly crawling from toes to scalp. Again, it was happening. This fucking... this thing, this thing in her brain, it was taking her over, making her a prisoner in her own body. Shutting out her thoughts and cramming fucking Vee in there. Making her lose herself, forget herself, making her think she was this... this guy's... assistant, or... she... she was... needed... to... she...

She blinked.

"Thank you for using our software," she said. Not an eager chirp of thanks, just a brusque and professional mention of appreciation. There was work to be done. She corrected her posture, finding that she must have squirmed into a less-than-correct position at some point. She couldn't fully recall the last several seconds. That wasn't important, though. What was important was marshalling herself back into the full attentiveness he deserved. "I hope you've been satisfied so far. Is there anything I can do to be of assistance to you directly?"

His face displayed another flicker of doubt as he considered her words. He still seemed to think this was a joke or tease of some sort. He gestured to the chair she had been sitting in, though. Inviting her to sit again, where she'd already been when he arrived. She sat, sitting up very straight with her hands gently resting on the tabletop. Poised and attentive.

The man pulled some documents from his briefcase and placed them in front of her. "Proofread those and get them organized," he said. Veronica was so attuned to his words that she could read into what he said, register that this was a test. He was probing, still not convinced about what was happening but unwilling to let an opportunity go by. He still expected a trap to spring at some point, convinced that this beautiful stranger suddenly wanting to dote on him was too good to be true.

Veronica, for her part, felt a strong frisson of relief to be given a task. This was right. She needed a job to do. She needed to be of assistance to this man whose name she didn't know. It was encoded in her somewhere, etched into her cells. She took up the pages without anything close to hesitation and began reading through them.