A Green Giant Jamba Juice precariously jammed in the crook of her arm, her purse and keys in one hand, and her phone in the other, Jenny scrolled distractedly before she entered the elevator. The AI voice announced, “Doors are closing” and asked, “Where would you like to go?” The voice had a youthful, relaxed tone designed to put claustrophobics at ease.
“Nineteen,” Jenny said without thinking. Then corrected herself, “No, ignore that. Seventh floor.” She sighed. Once in the elevator, her phone signal disconnected so hadn’t anything to look at during the ride. She leaned against the wall, lost in thought for a moment and sighed again. When she lived on nineteenth floor with Charles she enjoyed a three-bedroom loft, beautiful views and a state-of-the-art kitchen. Since the split she moved to a studio on a lower floor advertised as “cozy, with courtyard views, perfect for nesting at the end of long day.” She noticed the elevator wasn’t moving. “Seventh floor,” she repeated, a bit louder than before.
“Where would you like to go?” the elevator asked again.
“Come on. Just work you piece of shit. Floor seven!”
A circle of red led dots spun round and round on the elevator’s screen, then turned yellow, and finally disappeared.
“Where would you like go?” It repeated.
Jenny pressed on the elevator’s screen and a smiley face appeared. “How can I help?” it chirped.
“Take me to the seventh floor! Please!” Jenny thought being a bit more polite might help.
The circle of red dots spun, turned yellow, and disappeared. “Where would you like to go?”
Out of reflex Jenny checked her phone, but no signal. She pressed on the elevator screen again, the smiley face returned. “How can I help?”
“Something is wrong with the elevator. It’s not working and I need to call someone to fix it. Can you do that?”
Red dots, then yellow, then “Where would you like to go?”
Jenny pounded on the screen and yelled, “Stupid fucking elevator! You’ve got one job! Just fucking work!” She took a sip of her smoothie, cool and bitter. She drank a bit more and finally sat on the floor, sipping and thinking.
“Elevator, can you hear me?” she asked.
“Yes, I can hear you. Where would you like to go?”
“Open doors, please.”
Dots spun. “Where would you like to go?”
Jenny thought for a long while then, “I’d like to go to the nineteenth floor.”
“Why would you like to go the nineteenth floor?”
Again, she thought a long while before answering. “To see Charles.”
“Why do you want to see Charles?”
“I miss him. And I miss our apartment.”
“Does Charles want to see you?”
Jenny replied quietly, “No.”
“Where would you like to go?”
Jenny paused a long time. Chewing on her straw as she thought. “I want to go back to being a kid. Before the adulting. Before I had a period, before I dated Mark Lowther in high school, before college, before my stupid job and before Charles.”
Dots spun on the screen. “I cannot take you back in time, but here is a photo I found. Does it help?”
The elevator found a childhood photo of Jenny as a child in cowboy boots, a belt with plastic pistols, fairy wings, and her ballet outfit complete with tiara. Jenny stared at it, drinking more of her Green Giant realizing it tasted horrible. Promised as a health and immunity booster it tasted of burnt ditch grass and pennies. She ran her finger over the screen for a long time.
“Elevator, take me home.”
“Where is that?”
“This cowgirl is going to the seventh floor to throw out this vomit-flavored slurpy and pull herself up by her bootstraps.”
The elevator began to move, counted the floors and dinged before opening the doors to the seventh floor.