
The train journey to Brussels that morning was particularly fruitful. None of George’s occasional, more garrulous, travel companions had joined him in the secluded first-class section. The quiet moment allowed George the chance to mull over his previous night’s trauma.
But how could he square his daytime confidence that AI was just a load of souped-up spinning jennies, with his dreamed perception that the very same machines were about do all the work of the ERA themselves?
George dropped his brief case on his desk and turned round immediately to look for some colleagues to invite to coffee. George was delighted to see Lucija was at her workstation. He was even more pleased that she was ready to take him up on her offer of coffee.
“Sure thing!” she replied gayfully. “I’ll just finish this email, if I may. Meet you downstairs.”
On his way down the corridor, George picked up Konrad, who was unusually early in the office that day. The queue for coffee passed quickly with its customary small talk and they were soon at a table with Lucija’s cappuccino waiting for her.
“There was a sequel to our AI discoveries of yesterday,” George announced, as his main conversation opener.
“Oh, really,” answered Konrad. “Had some further thoughts?” he asked, playing to George’s natural inclination to supply an answer to a question.
“Not so much thoughts, as impressions,” continued George.





