After my skull implant and genochemical modification, I received this sublimail letter in my visual field.
To our new editor hire:
WELCOME TO CEREBRUM EDITING! Congratulations on joining our team of AI-assisted, brain-modified remote editors. Your surgery was successful and there should be no lingering symptoms or disability after your stitches are removed.
You can now offer the latest in biothink editing for fiction, essays and research papers for new clients. Those who become subscribers for a year or more will be able to purchase your services at a reduced rate.
Below find our payment rates, tech manual and style guide, a sample ad for attracting clients, and best practices for working with them.
Our payments are made quarterly upon receipt of your invoices, in your choice of credits for oxytocin infusion mist or direct stimulation of your pleasure centers.
I had just finished downloading the style manual when the ringing in my ears alerted me to my first client. After agreeing to my fee (a percentage of which went to Cerebrum), he uploaded his copy into my brain. It flashed before me, then hovered before my visual field in 12-point, misspelled type without punctuation.
Twinge! I blinked commas into place, then consulted my embedded dictionary, tilting my head back to scroll and locate the atrocious misspellings. My skin pinched sharply every time I located one, resulting in a welcome release as I corrected each.
To insert required Oxford commas, I executed a complex double-blink and eye-roll.
I snorted my queries into place through my nose, which made it irritated, but I couldn’t pause to apply nasal spray, as I was on deadline.
Then I formatted the document, wiggling my ears several times to paragraph and indent the run-on sentences.
There was questionable language I’d have to discuss with my client. I considered referral to a sensitivity reader, but that would cut into my fee, so I completed the edit without one.
Then I submitted the job with my invoice to Cerebrum for approval and waited for payment.
Suddenly, I heard a loud electric buzzing, then my visual field blurred. Stunned, I collapsed writhing on the floor, legs jerking, clutching my throbbing head.
When I came to, I saw the manuscript had been returned with a note from Cerebrum, which said:
Your submitted edit job #32987 was rejected by our overbots. Please note the offensive text highlighted in vibrating neon to avoid internal taser consequences in the future.
They hadn’t bothered to give me a trigger warning!
Lorraine Schein is a New York writer. Her work has appeared in VICE Terraform, Strange Horizons, Enchanted Conversation, Mermaids Monthly, and in the anthology Tragedy Queens: Stories Inspired by Lana del Rey & Sylvia Plath. The Futurist’s Mistress, her poetry book, is available from Mayapple Press: www.mayapplepress.com
Have a Kindle? Find out what you’ve been missing!
Buy the four latest issues with just one click!
(Or buy just one, if that’s what you’d really prefer.)
0 comments:
Post a Comment