Page 71 of Ideal Life

“Not in my opinion. But then again, some wouldn’t say that the way I run things is entirely sane, either, so perhaps you shouldn’t listen to me. Whatever you decide, though, I don’t envy you, because I know how difficult it is.” Eleanor took one last puff of her cigarette before stubbing it out. “Good luck, Talia.”

“Thanks, Eleanor.”

Talia wasn’t sure she felt any better than when she came out here.

Later, she consulted Ideal Life Queen Elizabeth, but the bumblebee didn’t have any solutions to her very specific problem, only suggestions to help her alleviate her “heightened levels of cortisol, indicating stress.”

She thought about asking Sam but then remembered that he was out with his parents today in Monterey, visiting the aquarium and taking them out in kayaks to see the otters.

Nevertheless, Talia somehow got through the workday, probably because she’d learned during childhood how to compartmentalize huge, looming problems. But that didn’t make the potential Omni-CerebraLink–Ideal Life issue disappear. It just lay in wait until she could think about it again.

At 10:30 p.m., she finally left the office and went home.

Ideal Life Queen Elizabeth: I continue to detect elevated readings of cortisol. Perhaps a bath, soothing music, and hot cup of tea?

“Not a terrible idea,” Talia said. “But maybe not tea.”

She ran a bath with lavender salts, put on a slow jazz album, and sank into the tub with a mug of hot milk, sugar, and vanilla.

But it didn’t help. In fact, it made things worse because as Talia soaked, she thought about how, in the future, Omni would be able to tell that someone was stressed and then pipe advertisements for lavender bath salts and a recipe for warm vanilla milk straight into their brain. Or if it noticed that she was feeling impulsive, it could push offers for expensive handbags or luxury vacations.

From there, she began to think about more nightmare scenarios. Ads were only the start of a slippery slope. What if Omni used Ideal Life and CerebraLink’s technology to artificially shape user moods, tweaking content on social media to spark amusement, anger, or anxiety, since studies had shown that those emotions kept people on social media longer?

They could also associate certain neural activity with rewards, and condition users to spend more money or watch more content. Or develop addictive algorithms that would make it neurologically repulsive or painful to sign off.

Omni could sell the brain data not only to advertisers, but also to political campaigns, corporations, governments. Or they could build products that allowed companies to monitor their employees—to check their focus, to measure their loyalty, to monitor any dissent. Same with governments, which could also tailor certain kinds of beliefs to trigger positive associations, thereby reshaping society without anyone realizing they had lost their free will.

Ideal Life Queen Elizabeth: Multiple regions of your brain are showing signs of fight-or-flight, and your heart rate is very high. Are you in danger? Please indicate if I should dial 911. If you do not respond, I will immediately summon emergency services.

“No, do not call emergency services,” Talia said, even though she could feel her pulse pounding against her chest. “I’m just thinking; I’m not in danger.”

Ideal Life Queen Elizabeth: Confirmed. Would you like suggestions to calm your mind? How about exercise?

She dismissed the app.

“Stop it,” Talia told herself. “You’re spiraling. This is not a dystopian sci-fi novel.”

And yet, even if only 10 percent of her imaginary scenarios came true—like using or selling brain data for the benefit of advertisers—it would still be a nightmare. Talia couldn’t be a part of that happening to humanity. She’d invented Ideal Life to give people more awareness and agency, not the other way around.

But how could she prevent the acquisition from going through?

It was close to midnight now, but she was too jittery to go to bed. Ideal Life Queen Elizabeth had suggested exercise, and it might actually help burn off some of this excess energy. Talia changed into workout clothes and put on her sneakers.

She wasn’t much of a runner. But she didn’t feel like being cooped up inside the gym, so Talia decided to go for a jog. She could run up toward Stanford and then around campus for a bit before looping back home.

Talia started down Alma Street at a decent pace and soon veered onto a bike path parallel to the train tracks. The air was cool and refreshing at this time of night, and there were hardly any cars downtown. Palo Alto was a tame kind of city; if anyone was out late, they were more likely working than not. If she hadn’t had her earbuds in, she probably could have heard crickets chirping.

At Embarcadero Road, Talia turned left.

Suddenly, a wave of vertigo hit her, and she wobbled on the sidewalk.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” she said, bracing herself on a tree trunk. It was the same feeling that accompanied her rewinds, except she hadn’t touched her watch. A familiar ebb of exhaustion lapped against the edges of the vertigo.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Talia thought. She knew she was out of shape from spending too many hours sitting at her desk, but she’d barely even run half a mile.

Or was this the result of too many rewinds catching up to her? There did seem to be a cumulative effect building up.

A moment later, the spinning sensation passed. Talia stood upright slowly, so as not to tempt its return.