[ WP ] It 's the future , and the autocorrect feature on your smartphone has become so sophisticated that it can now autocorrect your life decisions as you go .

`` Did you mean: coffee creamer?'' 
 
 Farrah blearily looked down at her hands. Apparently she'd been pouring salt instead of salted caramel into her coffee. She grunted out a `` yeah'' and her coffee corrected itself. 
 
 `` Thanks, Al,'' she offered, plopping herself onto her couch. Al, her personal A.I. assistant/rematerializer/banker/butler/basically whatever humanity needed it for said nothing back, instead focusing on getting her clothes ready for the day. 
 
 Slowly, the coffee entered her system, and she could finally think straight again. `` Hey Al, look up and save the location of Franks. Ella's headin' there tonight and I wan na catch up with her.'' 
 
 `` Ella is n't good for you.'' The admonishment hung in the silent apartment as Farrah tried to work out what just happened. Al had it's quirks - every A.I. did - but it'd never tried to mother her. 
 
 `` Excuse me? I did n't ask for an opinion,'' Farrah said, finishing the last sip of warm coffee and heading to her wardrobe. `` Ella and I've known each other for a long time. Longer than I've known you.'' 
 
 Her clothes dropped down from above, and with some assistance ( Farrah never quite got the hang of fancy buttons ) she was ready for her workday. `` You cried for two hours after your last date.'' 
 
 Farrah stopped putting on her bracelets and eyed the ceiling. `` And?'' 
 
 ``... your train leaves in 20 minutes, Farrah.'' 
 
 `` Damn straight.'' Farrah adjusted her hair, and made sure her accessories were arranged just so. She wished Al had come with some sort of ring or controller in times like this, but Al was fully integrated into her system. Farrah was n't the only one, though - if she'd been bothered enough, she'd have noticed that humanity almost fully depended on their personal A.I.'s. 
 
 Farrah was n't the analytical type, though. She just wanted a girl and a dog and maybe an upgraded house. Money was needed for that, though, so she dashed out the door and made it to the train just in time. 
 
 Work itself was fine, if dull. No new contracts had come in, and all interplanet lines were working just fine. There had n't been a death in years, and there would probably never be another one. Some of the more basement-dwelling types whispered about conspiracies and missing ships, but Farrah ignored them, as always. Who on earth would down a ship on purpose, anyway? And why had n't any families come forward about it? 
 
 Finally her day ended, and Farrah made her way to the train with a spring in her step. `` How long until we get to Franks, Al?'' she asked, digging through her purse to see if she had any perfume. 
 
 `` The estimated travel time back home is about 20 minutes, Farrah.'' 
 
 `` Al, I do n't want to go home, I'm going to Franks.'' Farrah scrunched her nose. `` You are n't malfunctioning, are you?'' 
 
 `` All systems functional.'' 
 
 `` Good. Then fix your shit, map out Franks and get me there. We're almost to the transfer station.'' 
 
 She did n't hear anything from her assistant for a few minutes, but she did feel really, really lightheaded. Dizzy, too. When the train pulled into the station, another passenger helped her to a bench to rest a bit. Farrah was so out of it that she did n't hear Al softly say, `` Correction in progress.'' 
 
 Farrah stayed on that bench, face buried in her hands, for a good half hour before groaning and stretching. `` God, Al, what happened?'' she groaned. 
 
 `` Low blood pressure, Farrah. Would you like to continue towards your destination?'' 
 
 `` Yeah.'' Farrah stood, dusted off her clothes, and looked around for the train home. 
 
 

