By Catherine Evleshin
“Deliver by Friday, or forfeit your contract,” growls the CEO of Rent-a-Bot. “And don’t tell me again that the programs for the lead salsabots are ten times more complex than for the follow bots.”
“More like fifty.”
“By the end of the week, Jason.” His face disappears from the screen. Six months of work in jeopardy, and Rico, my research assistant, hasn’t seen a dime in weeks. From my inbox, I open a final eviction notice sent by Building Management and a message from my wife to call before we lose Internet service.