My Body Has a Guest Account

How it begins

The voice asked permission before moving Clara Senn's hand.

That was the only reassuring part.

"Just the left one," it said. "I think I can reach the emergency channel."

Clara tightened her grip on the ferry controls.

The harbor ahead was full of ordinary morning hazards: a delivery boat turning too early, sunlight on the water, a passenger leaning over the rail to photograph a gull. She knew what to do about all of them.

She did not know what to do about a polite stranger inside her wrist.

"Who are you?"

"Malik Neri. I believe there has been a scheduling error."

Clara brought the ferry alongside the pier and handed control to her deputy. She used the explanation she had prepared for migraines and mechanical faults, neither of which currently seemed adequate.

In the empty crew room, her left hand remained exactly where she put it.

"You haven't moved it," she said.

"You haven't said yes."

She sat down.

Outside, passengers stepped ashore beneath an advertisement for the city's new neural-sharing service. A smiling woman appeared above the promise MORE ROOM TO BE YOURSELF.

Clara had ignored the campaign. She had enough difficulty finding room for herself in her own working week.

"Did you sign up?" she asked.

"No. Did you?"

On her phone, a notification opened without her touching it.

WELCOME, HOST. YOUR GUEST EXPERIENCE HAS BEGUN.

Below it, a digital signature reproduced her name with unsettling accuracy.

Malik went quiet.

The deputy knocked on the crew-room door and asked whether she needed a doctor, a mechanic, or tea.

Clara looked at the three choices. For the first time all morning, they sounded like something she was actually allowed to decide.

"Tea," she said. "And stay nearby."

Then she turned the phone so the door camera could see it.

Whatever this was, she wanted somebody outside her body to know it had happened.