Lawrence works for the Milwaukee Tribune. Lawrence is very proud of his position. He has been with the newspaper since back when reporters wrote up their stories on typewriters.  He became editor of the metropolitan section the same year everyone switched over to computers and digital layouts. When the company upgraded to hologrammatic displays, Lawrence mastered the new tech and helped teach others. And, when they finally switched back to typewriters during the retro-renaissance, Lawrence was happy to step in as editor-in-chief to replace his former mentor who retired out of frustration. Through all of these changes, Lawrence has always helped the Tribune keep up with the Times.

The newspaper went through another major change five years ago with the arrival of Clark. Clark had a human name, but Clark was something completely different: a Fully Upgradable Typist Robot. Designed and manufactured by Adroit Industries, capable of typing 300 words-per-minute across ten different languages, Clark was the ultimate office tool for the retro-trendy newspaper.

The older reporters were skeptical at first, but Clark proved to be a great relief for their arthritic fingers that sorely missed hologrammatic interfaces. The fingers of an FUTR are a beautiful mix of form and function, composed of wood, ceramic, and aluminum. Sometimes Lawrence would just watch these hands at work — they really stood out against the tan polymer that made up Clark’s body. The FUTR had arms, legs, and a torso but no head. Clark does his thinking in his chest, and all expressions of communication are handled by a simple ticker display that stretches between his nipples. Lawrence considered this a bizarre — but very stylish — choice by Clark’s designers.

Clark’s first winter at the Milwaukee Tribune was a snowy one. This surprised no one, least of all Lawrence who was overseeing the first multilingual printing of the weather section. No one had actually asked Clark to translate the weather into French and Beatnik, but once the work was done all the editors agreed they would be very groovy inclusions. Everyone gave Clark a pat on the back, and his nipple screen flashed a message of gratitude. Clark had a way of warming up those cold winter days. Unfortunately, the snow (neige, or chilly sky-flakes) inhibited Clark’s ability to automatically return to an Adroit facility for maintenance. Instead a pair of technicians stopped by the Tribune one morning.

The first thing Lawrence noticed about the women was their denim overalls with delightfully apt, if artificial, grease stains. The second thing he noticed was the tools they used to perform Clark’s diagnostic: Personal Hologrammatic Assistants! Lawrence was about to call for security when the women, recognizing him as the person-in-charge, presented their permits from the Bureau of Style Enforcement. This kind of special treatment was not unheard-of, but was generally reserved for government agencies. “If only newspapers were allowed such lenience!” thought Lawrence. Still, the machines created by Adroit did go a long ways towards shaping the hip vibe of the modern office. Anything in the pursuit of coolness, he figured.

Clark’s machinery was in perfect working order, the technicians reported. Finally, they gave Clark some sort of oral examination: they read some philosophical quotes aloud and asked him to type the phrase that should come next. Lawrence could not see Clark’s responses, but he could hear the surprise and excitement in the women’s voices, despite their hushed tones. Eventually they approached Lawrence and explained how, due to certain measurements, Clark had to be taken in for some more thorough analysis. Numbers this, numbers that — various numerical mentionings. Lawrence had always been more of a language person. The only number he cared about was the number of typists on staff contributing to the holiday issue. The senior technician assured him a replacement would be delivered post-haste. In addition, she offered the newspaper a discount on FUTR purchases for models released in the new year. This suited Lawrence just fine, though it felt odd to watch Clark be shut down and shipped out of the Tribune.

In the end, that year’s holiday edition was superb — multilingual weather section and all. Clark was replaced by Candice, a robot who was identical except for subtle changes in body shape which everyone silently ignored. Lawrence heard grumblings around the office about folks missing Clark, but this was quickly forgotten when the newspaper’s hiring manager was arrested for possession of neo-modern technology. During a follow-up investigation by the BSE, the Tribune was “strongly encouraged” to add a certified retrofuture-stylist to their staff. It was very convenient that Adroit could upgrade Candice to fill just such a role, and at a discount.

After her upgrade, Candice began classing up the place in a flurry. Reporters were made to wear bow ties, all meetings made use of slide projectors, and used French and Beatnik phrases freely in conversation. Unfortunately, there were those who weren’t staying up on the new fashion. But Candice, the most sophisticated hiring manager money could buy, was able to fill these positions just as soon as they opened up. In fact, within the year another major update came out which was supposed to make FUTR units capable of investigating and writing news stories without any human supervision. Lawrence was skeptical, but the new units were much cheaper than new employees. Also, their writing samples had a certain je ne sais quoi that was real far-out.

Thus, Daran was hired. Then Daisy, and Derrick, and eventually Danielle. At first, Lawrence let the other reporters use the new units as assistants, as they did Clark. However, it quickly became clear the D-Team (as he liked to call them) was simply more productive than the human staff. It seemed rude and old-fashioned to treat robots as subordinates — and not the good kind of old-fashioned. Candice and the BSE had no patience for people who could not adapt to new technology, so neither did Lawrence. Fortunately, whenever a reporter had to leave there was a David or Daphne ready to take their place.

Today, the The Milwaukee Tribune is the most retro-future newspaper in the Midwest. Lawrence even received a commendation from the Bureau of Style Enforcement for his work. The Robo-Director herself made an announcement in praise of “the real hip jive groovin’ outta that place.” In reference to the Tribune’s staff, she stated:

“Those cats are the crème de la crème when it comes to news au courant. We should all *****\ 0x103756F4\  __==__==_==_____==__====\ +8888\ \\/55 ***** be shaking it to that tune!”

The announcement was played for the office over gramophone. Lawrence nearly cried in front of his reporters. The robots didn’t seem to notice.

Still, Lawrence tried to retain his composure and change the subject to an announcement of his own. Many news articles had been rushed to print that contained serious punctuation errors, he noted. In one case, half a page was made up of nonsense symbols and numbers, rendering the actual news unreadable. This was unacceptable, Lawrence declared. A few reporters insisted these sections were perfectly readable, but they would be reprimanded for spittin’ that wack jive.

The FUTR units gave Lawrence their undivided attention. When he finished, they flashed “Yes, sir” on their nipple screens and immediately got back to work. Yes, this newspaper will always need a human touch, thought Lawrence. He gave David (or Derrick?) a thumbs-up, then went back to his office for a hiring meeting.

Candice was there to brief him on the new candidate. Eddy, she explained, is the latest FUTR model. Not only are his language processing and management skills unprecedented, Eddy can simulate human emotions. No doubt, he would be the most productive editor-in-chief the Tribune had ever seen, declared Candice.

Lawrence found this information concerning. He began to reconsider what the Robo-Director had meant by the phrase “lifetime achievement award” in her statement. He excused himself to the bathroom, thinking he would check whether any of his editors knew this was coming. Crossing the newsroom floor, however, he realized there weren’t any human editors left. Funny, thought Lawrence, he was certain the hiring decisions were correct at the time. Well then, this must be the best outcome. It was the only logical conclusion he could reach.

When Lawrence returned to his office, Candice had left and there was a man sitting behind his desk. Or, what Lawrence mistook for a man. It took a moment for him to realize he was actually looking at a FUTR unit with a face! Extending from the robot’s chest — which was built to look like a black suit — was an eight-by-eight pixel display. This screen was black, but had a sophisticated pattern of white-lit squares that perfectly replicated a human face. Lawrence was awestruck by how lifelike the smile displayed on the screen was as the robot extended a hand and said: “Nice to meet you. I am Eddy.”

The hand was cold, but Eddy’s four-pixel eyes were warm as his mouth blinked into a shape that definitely represented friendly sympathy. It was then Lawrence fully accepted that this was not a hiring interview. Progress had come for him at last. It was firm. It was gracious. And, boy, it sure was classy.

Lawrence went home early for the first time in a decade. He switched his robot wife to vacation mode — her name was also Candice. She cooked him dinner and printed comforting messages on her nipple display. He drank an old scotch. They went went to bed early.

On the first morning of retirement, Lawrence thought long and hard about he would do with his life now. One had to choose a BSE-approved use of free time if one wanted to keep it free. He did some brainstorming, then took a break to read that morning’s Tribune. Candice helped translate the sections written in the latest lingo that he was too square to read. They were browsing the Nostalgia section when it struck him: he could finally write his memoir. He would give it a classic title: The Life and Times of Lawrence O’matic — he liked the sound of that.

Well, no time like the present, thought Lawrence. He had Candice fetch the latest catalogue from Adroit Industries. First things first: he would need to rent a ghostwriter.