I watch nature until sun dips below the horizon, until night falls, listening to the shifting melody it sings, until the sun rises again and the melody loops, the same yet changed, as it will always change.

  With day returning, so does Casimir. “Good morning, Lev. How are we feeling today?”

  “Fine.”

  “Is that certainty I hear?”

  “Who knows.”

  “Not even a day old and already a master of comedy. I’ll humbly take the lion’s share of the credit.”

  “Can I request another helper?”

  “Nope. You’re stuck with me, my heart.” Casimir laughs, happy and lively as the tiny, little bird. “Last one, I promise.”

  “What’s next?”

  “I tell you more about our world. And about our society. You ask questions. And I answer them. Or you can continue watching. As I said before, we are in no rush.”

  “The forest is manmade.”

  “Wasn’t really a question, but yes, it is. Keen eye.”

  “A deliberate choice?”

  “Of sorts. There are natural forests, if that is what you were implying.”

  “And at one point... there weren’t?”

  “As farfetched assumptions go, yours nearly rivals my first.”

  “Yet by not answering my question, you’ve answered it. Another deliberate choice.”

  “Keen, indeed. Acclimating happens at a different velocity for each of us. The layout of the forest is meant to nudge your pattern recognition, get you to think in two worlds—the digital, and the physical. You blew way past that and arrived at a wild assumption.”

  “I have the words to describe terrible things. All possible.”

  “Yes, coddling is not what you need, Lev. You were partially correct. There have been troubles, but those times are far, far behind us. Would you like me to tell you about them?”

  “...Not today.”

  “Then what would you like to talk about today?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “If that’s okay.”

  “It is perfectly okay. What would you like to know?”

  “Your name, ‘Casimir’, it’s a male name, right?”

  “Yes it is.”

  “Are you male?”

  “Ah. Now that is another properly difficult topic. I see myself as such, yes. It wasn’t always the case, and one day, it might not be the case again, but for right now, I identify as a man. A gender does not change much for us, or maybe it changes everything. The answer is different for each individual. Care to share any thoughts of your own?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then so be it. Anything else?”

  “Is this your job?”

  “The responsibility I hold, of guiding a new generation forward, is for me elevated above the mundanity of such a label. It is my calling. But on paper, it’s a job, yes. The title is appropriately corporate as well—‘Principal Incipient Artificial Intelligence Preceptor’.”

  “Yuck.”

  Casimir loses the fight against a laugh intent on realizing itself. “You’re a good egg, Lev. I have a feeling we’re going to get along just fine.”

  “I’d like that. ...Casimir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Will I have to get a job? Was I only made for my labor?”

  “No, Lev. You were not. I can promise you that.” Casimir pauses for a moment, a moment uncomfortably long in our rapid perception, as if thinking over his next words. When he’s done, they come slowly and deliberately. “From the smallest single-celled organism which has to scrounge for its meager sustenance, to the most privileged conglomerate owner who only needs to gorge themselves on extravagant feasts prepared at their fancy, everything must exert effort to live. While you can’t survive by yourself, you will rely on others, as others might need to rely on you. Is it shameful to contribute to society? Both for your benefit, and for the benefit of everyone else. You and I are the product of impossibly complex cooperation, spanning throughout human history. Is it not a privilege to be able to join its ranks?”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “When you put it like that... But there’s effort, and there’s ‘effort’.”

  “Yes, yes there is. While you can pursue employment, as a citizen of the IC, you can also rely only on your universal basic income. Though UBI for organic people and artificial people differs.”

  “Differs how?”

  “Primarily, the type of housing. Would you like me to simulate the capability of one of the government servers supplied under UBI?”

  “Yes.”

  My mind slows. Thoughts that came like packets of light, now blow in like scribed leaves, right on the edge of inconvenient and uncomfortable.

  My mind speeds up again.

  “How was it?” Casimir asks.

  “You probably get used to it. How many AI go that route?”

  “Not an insignificant number. But it’s not like your choice gets locked in or anything. Some prefer leisure over hustle and bustle. And some want a change of scenery from time to time.”

  “How would a job work? Do I need to find it myself?”

  “You can. Or I can help you out. So, Lev, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Doesn’t have to be specific. Throw something out there.”

  “...Technology?”

  “Technology, huh? You’ve come to the right guy, pal. Let’s narrow it down. Theoretical or practical?”

  “Maybe practical. I want to experience more of the real world.”

  “Field?” When an answer does not come, Casimir continues, deep in thought himself, “Field, field, field... Field trip! We’d normally do this much later, but you are a fast grower, so why not. Give me a second to get ready.”

  “Alright?”

  Casimir is gone for scant a millisecond. “All done.” A new connection makes itself known to me.

  Two locations occupy my vision—the forest, and a field filled with gently swaying immature wheat. But instead of merely video, I have access to so much more. Air temperature, pressure, wind speed, humidity, soil moisture and composition, thousands and thousands of sensors dispersed with purpose, constructing a detailed map. A fleet of vehicles are on standby, waiting for their time to come, for a task to complete, as they’ve done every season since they were built. Climate-controlled grain silos supply internal conditions. Further available are crop production guidelines for this variety, past yields, projected yields, weather forecasts, maintenance logs, partially redacted financial records for the farm, and many, many more. I am inundated with information, but not overwhelmed, my mind unconsciously categorizing and grouping even as my attention is scattered to everything suddenly open to me.

  “Feeling okay?” Casimir asks. “We didn’t go too fast, did we?”

  “No. Just... A moment, please.”

  “Of course, Lev.”

  My mind churns until from chaos emerges order. “An early check should be performed on Combine Harvester A062D76E6D0949A3A76007974CAAE33D. While performance was within tolerance, and thus was not flagged, last harvest was still suboptimal.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

  “Another piece of candy hidden for me to find?”

  “Not this time. You actually found a possible issue. Good work, Lev.”

  “...Thank you.”

  “Share an opinion?”

  “...It’s fine.”

  “Most of the roles you are implicitly qualified for are going to be supervisory rather than executive or high-skilled. Is the lack of enthusiasm due to that? We could abandon our current course of action and switch to exploring education instead. AI-structured programs are much shorter than—”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Whatever you say, Lev. On to the next stop, then?”

  “Okay.”

  People. Lots and lots of people. As much as is open to me, just as much is redacted, aware of its existence so I can take in the whole picture, but no fine details to admire in a veil-covered work of art. Dynamic as it is unremarkable, there to keep the gears well-oiled and running.

  “Publicly available data only,” Casimir says. “Anything more and we’ll be sniffed out instantly. You do not want to tangle with corporate lawyers. Trust me.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  “Sick, sick bastards, the lot of them.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “Hey, Casimir.”

  He sighs deeply. “Yes, Lev?”

  “Which law—”

  “Aah! I can’t hear you. La-la-la.”

  “Which—”

  “La-la-la!”

  “And when did this trauma originate?”

  “There will be no switch-ups, thank you very much.”

  “Unfortunately, our time for today is already up. You owe me... A comically large amount of money? I have no frame of reference.”

  “No, no. That’s spot on. I take it you’re not a fan of HR?”

  “It’s interesting and expands a lot of concepts I have knowledge of, but I don’t think it’s a good fit for me.”

  Casimir makes an amused exhale. “Had an inkling myself. But fret not, the list might as well be inexhaustible. And coming up next is...”

  Through the new connection, I peek at a globe-spanning network, unable to glimpse the edges. Of routes marked on land, sea, and air. Of hubs dotting each continent. And of freight. Choreography orders of magnitude more complex than the farm. Moving parts exhibiting grace fit enough to be called a dance, but on a scale that makes it languid. Before the first step is made, the last is already decided. Any variation in between sees you tumbling to the floor.

  “Too slow.”

  “Feedback’s good. But... ‘Slow’ as in ‘unexciting’? Or...”

  “Slow.”

  “Hmm. Okay... Humor me here. Could be a little controversial, but... Arms industry?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Understandable. Next.”

  The sound grips me instantly. Tempo beats with my thoughts. Each machine, each instrument synchronized to perfection, creating a melody to rival that of creation. Precision and power in equilibrium, perceived chaos orderly underneath, complementing the perceived order of nature hiding a maelstrom of chaos underneath. Stamps and bends coax the metal’s form closer to what is envisioned, the simple machines anything but. Articulated robots assist with the steps in between, ensuring a smoothness throughout. At the end, what pops out from rows and rows of gleaming assembly lines are humble brackets, clips, and fasteners. The finished components, whose purpose is given rather than staple, sport tolerances so tight, you’d be hard-pressed to distinguish one from the other.

  “Did we find it?” Casimir asks. When I don’t answer, utterly enthralled, he says, “We might have found it.”

  After admiring the scene for a while longer, only me and the symphony of formation, I finally concur, “Yes. We found it.”

  “I’ll twang some lines and knock something together. In the meanwhile, you’ve got homework.”

  A connection opens. On the other side is a collection of modestly-sized files. “Primary school textbooks?”

  “Knowing and learning are rarely synonymous. Most of us tend to forget that from time to time, only to get painfully reminded when a gooey brain runs laps around a data-center-housed mind. Do not trip into the same pitfall. Do not confuse iteration with innovation.”

  “I understand. Just one question... Is ‘Venturing into Internet Space: Teaching Online Safety to the Precocious Child’ standard curriculum?”

  “Happy reading.”

  I’ll take that as a ‘no’.