“Sorry, what is the deadline for these new visuals?”
The three other floating faces on Microsoft Teams continue to yap away as they move on to discussing the project’s budget. I try to ask my question again in a more firm and louder tone. But nothing changes in their interaction, and my question drowns like a helpless balloon swept away by the current of their conversation.
“Marta, you can leave now if you like. No need for you to stay on.” My manager Silvia beams at me with a friendly but expectant smile.
“Yes, no problem but – “
“Marta, you’re on mute.”
I try to look graceful during the 1 – 3 seconds that typically span finding the mute icon on Teams with your mouse, and clicking it to allow your voice to be projected into this connected but semi-disembodied world. The “new normal” should really be called the “new awkward”.
“Sorry, I was just going to ask – when do you need these new visuals?”
Jean – one of the two people representing our client – looks up to the top-right corner of his digital window for a moment of puzzled reflection.
“Er…whenever, really. We still have 6 months before the exhibition opens, so…as you wish.”
“Well, you will likely have feedback. Meaning there will probably need to be several versions, so…”, I begin, mildly irritated by his vague answer.
Jean’s colleague Veronika suddenly snaps to attention, having spent much of the call looking like she was about to fall asleep while the rest of us discussed style, colours and vectors.
“Why don’t we say next Friday?”
“What do you think, Marta? Is 1 week enough time for you?”, Silvia chimes in.
“Yes.”
“OK, then”, she affirms.
“Great”, Veronika contributes.
“Bye everyone. I will be in touch”.
I leave the Teams call with one click of my mouse and pause for a moment. I’m sitting in one of the “bubbles” in our office – a see-through call booth we use for remote meetings, safe in the knowledge that no one outside can hear you. Or so I thought.
Four of these contraptions made of glass and plastic tower along the open plan space, like pillboxes belonging to a wider series of military fortifications. They are each named after an artist that inspired Chiasmus, the creative agency where I work as a graphic designer. Right now I’m in the “Laurie” bubble. It should be called “Laurie Anderson”, but her full name was apparently too long to stencil on the outside. “Jeff Koons”, “Banksy”, and “Lorna” (Simpson) are its neighbours.
Not ready to go back to my desk, I revisit the brief I received from that morning. We’ve been tasked with designing the visual identity for The Function is Female – an exhibition on the history of women who contributed to developing digital technology in Europe. Our client is Esplanaze – a company that began life in New York during the late 1990s designing software during the dot-com bubble, and was now reinventing itself with a host of AI applications for construction, manufacturing and architecture. As part of an effort to show their willingness to comply with the EU’s AI Act, Esplanaze’s latest salvo in their PR offensive is this exhibition.
Its figures range from Nicole-Reine Lepaute through to Ada Lovelace, Hedy Lamarr and a whole host of contemporary engineers, scientists, mathematicians and entrepreneurs from all around the continent, some of whom I have admittedly have never heard of before. This project has been made all the more challenging and interesting because our client is trying to avoid mentioning any Americans or women from the Soviet Union, meaning they have quite a gap to fill in the postwar era. I scroll through portraits, followed by scratchy black and white photographs, and finally full colour PNG pictures and links to various websites, Instagram and YouTube profiles as the extensive PowerPoint drips down to our current era. I’m sure some of them are on TikTok too.
“Bah…if you want, we could let Philippe go. He’s been here 4 years, but most of the projects he works on haven’t been very profitable.”
I snap to attention and look to the left and right of me. But Étienne – the CFO of Chiasmus – is nowhere to be seen.
“Ok. Maybe. What about Marta? We need to make at least two people redundant to make it to the next quarter.”
The distinctly Flemish accent of Chiasmus’s managing director Jasper has just blared at me sonically clear. I look around, but can’t see his face bedecked in those Windsor glasses with brown frames anywhere.
“Hmm. Silvia seems to really like her. That new exhibition project is the biggest contract we have won in years, and apparently Marta is crucial for it.”
“But she’s a junior. Surely we can survive without her for a few months?”, Jasper ripostes.
“You tell me. This is your field. I can only offer financial advice.”
“Étienne, I was brought in to make Chiasmus more competitive. I could not care less if we design posters and websites or recycle trash.”
“Jasper, you know what the atmosphere is like in this office. It’s a small company where everyone is very friendly to each other. If you make life difficult for the team leaders, then they will make life difficult for you. So if you want to get rid of Marta, at least talk to Silvia first.”
“Alright. I’ll think about it.”
After a brief pause of silence, I hear the so
und of a door being softly closed. I tap on the walls of the bubble as if they’re microphones, trying to capture any more conversations that sound like they’re happening right in front of you. Nothing emerges. I suddenly notice Jasper walking past me. He looks over and smiles, half-confused at the sight of me testing the glass walls with my finger tips.
I close my laptop and take a deep breath. This could not be a worse time to lose my job. I just signed a 1-year lease on my first ever studio. The new apartment in Saint Gilles was supposed to be my ticket out of living in a collapsing townhouse surrounded by a large, extended family of other young professionals and interns. Mierda.
Later that afternoon in the canteen, I can’t contain my apprehension any longer.
“Phillipe, have you ever heard voices in the bubble?”
My web designer colleague stares at me as if I’ve just asked him to marry me.
“Um – sorry, what?”
I take a sip from my bottle of AriZona green tea and slowly set it back down on our long, white wooden canteen table.
“What I mean is…when you are in there for a call, have you ever heard voices echoing from other parts of the office?
“No…have you?”
Truth time. No decision has been made yet, and I don’t want to cause unnecessary panic or spread rumours.
“Yes…just once. I was on a call for The Function is Female and just after it ended…I could hear…er, two people talking, as if they were inside with me.”
Phillipe now studies me with a stare of academic rigour, as if analysing the properties of a diamond. He thoughtfully chews and swallows the last piece of his gigantic baguette sandwich stuffed with filet american and God knows how many other toppings. “What kind of voices?”
“M..male voices.
“…Ok.”
“Phillipe, I’m not crazy or anything. It’s not like demons or ghosts or the devil is trying to speak to me.”
“Well then who was it?”
“Well…” I look over his shoulder to the open doorway that leads to the main, open plan area in our office. “I think it was Étienne and Jasper”, I say while lowering my voice.
“No way! What did they say?”
“Um…nothing I could really understand. Just stuff about the agency’s performance…financial things.”
“Wow! You should find out more.”
“Well, it’s not really my business.”
“But is everything at least ok?”
“Yes, I think so. They just talked about how we did during the last quarter.”
“Ok well, let me know what else you hear, he smirks. “Maybe there is a microphone planted in Jasper’s office.”
“Maybe…”
As Philippe asks if I want to have a coffee, I nod with a “Sure”, already drifting back inside my head. I don’t want to reveal this to more colleagues. My friends and housemates probably won’t be able to provide much guidance. And I can hardly speak to HR. So what can I do?
Marta L: I work in Brussels. I have a permanent contract and just overheard the CEO and CFO say they were going to let me or a colleague go. What should I do?
ChatGPT: Facing the possibility of redundancy can be a stressful and uncertain situation. Here are some steps to consider taking if you believe your job may be at risk:
- Stay Calm and Gather Information:
- Don’t panic or jump to conclusions. It’s important to have all the facts before taking any action.
- Try to gather more information about the situation discreetly, if possible, to confirm whether the CEO and CFO were indeed discussing redundancy.
The next two pieces of advice given by Chat GPT are “Talk to Your Colleague” and “Review Your Employment Contract and Company Policies” (I don’t speak Dutch and my French isn’t quite yet at the level where I can navigate the ins and outs of legalese). Point 4 jumps out at me:
- Document Everything
I go back into the bubble the following Monday. With nothing emerging after spending nearly an hour in the Laurie Anderson booth, I close my laptop and carefully step down from the high stool, when Silvia’s voice suddenly peeps up.
“I don’t know. It’s a big decision…I’m still not sure if we have found the right apartment. Julien loves it, and whenever he gets excited or enthusiastic about something, it’s very difficult to change his mind.”
After a few seconds of radio silence, I realise Silvia is talking on the phone. “Ok, see you tomorrow. Ciao!” I hear some heeled footsteps that grow increasingly distant. I decide not to document her quest to buy property in Brussels.
I end up going into the office every day that week instead of my usual Monday and Wednesday slots. I create several fictional calls on my Outlook calendar as an excuse to be in the bubble as frequently as possible. I experiment with using the Jeff Koons, Banksy and Lorna booths, but only Laurie Anderson occasionally speaks back to me. The next few conversations I hear that week include our copywriter Niall giving Philippe advice on planning a road trip around Ireland, our building manager Charlotte arguing about energy costs with Jasper, and two clients from the European Commission joking about how “strange” some of us look (read: dressed).
Friday evening, 16h45. I haven’t picked up any further conversations about my possibly impending redundancy. I look through the booth towards the large, floor-wide window that gives us a bird’s eye view of Brussels. The Art Nouveau streetlamps below begin to turn on as the blue-tinted grey, late afternoon sky thick with fog adds a touch of snow to the rooftop of Palais du Coudenberg. As I reflect on the mild anxiety of my anti-climactic predicament, one half of Brussels begins to bathe in darkness.
I look back at my Mac and realise it’s now 17:03. My colleagues dotted around the open plan area begin to pack up and leave. Étienne walks by and nods with a brief smile. I unplug my laptop and start closing down each of the tabs I had open. I leave ChatGPT for last, wondering if I overlooked another action or query to explore.
ChatGPT: Marta, meet me at Parc Léopold at 18:00. Don’t be late!
I stare at my screen and blink.
Marta L: I didn’t ask for an appointment with you.
ChatGPT: I know you didn’t. But I need to see you.
Marta L: You can’t “see” me. You’re not a human being.
ChatGPT: Yes I am.
I slowly look around the now empty office, wondering if this is more or less crazy than hearing voices inside your head. I reply in Spanish.
Marta L: José, if this is your idea of a creepy joke, it’s not funny. Fuck off!
ChatGPT: This isn’t your ex-boyfriend trying to hack your account. I’m someone far more important 🤣
Marta L: I’m not meeting a stranger in a park at night.
ChatGPT: There will be plenty of joggers and people walking home. Come see me if you want to keep your job.
As I enter Parc Léopold that February evening with a gigantic scarf draped around me, Solvay Library menacingly looms above the hill like Dracula’s castle, shrouded in twilight. Since a violent storm last December, a large, uprooted tree has been slowly sinking into the park’s swamp-like pond which is now enveloped in mist, leaving the usual flocks of various geese and duck species barely visible. I walk along the stone path, subtly eyeing the benches on my left for someone who looks capable of hacking ChatGPT.
“Just in time!”
I stop with a jolt and turn around. A woman in her early 30s and draped in a metallic green raincoat casually leans back on the bench I just passed.
“Who are you?”
“Sit down. You have nothing to be worried about”.
“No”, I firmly reply while standing frozen on my feet.
“Ok. Let’s go for a walk”. She eagerly stands up and extends her arm. “Vanessa.” I look at her without the faintest urge to move a muscle. Not just because of the whole situation, but because her face now looks vaguely familiar. Vanessa shrugs and starts walking ahead of me. I keep a safe distance as we trail down the looping path that leads us up the hill nestled around Solvay Library and overlooking the pond.
“We’re very interested in your work at Chiasmus.”
“You’re making this even creepier. If you’re a stalker, I’m not interested. Or a spy”, I add.
“Oh, so you think I work for the Chinese government because of the way I look?” I’m from Belgium.
“No, that’s not what I meant!”
“Well then what did you mean?”
“You…what do you want?”
“The Function is Female. A lot of interesting content there.”
“You want to know about an exhibition? That anyone can see once it opens?” We start to climb the hill, passing by the empty playground on our left.
“Well you’re not completely wrong about me being a spy. We planted those microphones in your office after all.”
I suddenly feel like I’ve just received a mild electric shock. I realise that I saw Vanessa in our office only 2 weeks ago, supposedly repairing something in the Laurie Anderson booth. She stops at the crest of the hill and turns towards the foggy view below us.
“Marta, I work for Indigo Light. And as I am sure you are aware, that contract Chiasmus has with the European Parliament is worth a lot of money.”
“You work for who?”
“Indigo Light!” Have you seriously never heard of us? Our video ad for Nespresso got a silver award at the Cannes Lions awards this year.
“Oh yeah”, I eventually reply. “The one with the talking coffee machine.”
“Exactly”, Vanessa exclaims with the vehemence of a tortured expert not being listened to.
“Marta, come work for us. We can offer you a better salary than what you are currently on. I know because I hacked your company’s HR system. And you will have more colleagues to support you. We want to make this exhibition a success.”
“Why would I do that? I like where I work…most of the time. And why would the Parliament suddenly give this tender to you?
“Because without you, there will be no visual identity. Do you have any idea how clueless your client is about graphic design? And besides, you know full well that you may lose your job in a few weeks.”
“Don’t say that!” I anguishly pace up and down, oscillating between fear and anger.
“We care deeply about our work, Marta”, Vanessa cryptically sighs.
“Oh my God…look. You seem very smart. If Indigo Light is able to spy on its competitors, I’m sure you can do great things for clients. Is it really the end of the world if you don’t have this project?
“Well. I would get a bonus if I recruited you. We have this app where you get points for bringing in new talent.”
“So do we! But that doesn’t make planting microphones in our office – or hacking my ChatGPT account – ok in any way. I start to hurry back down the hill, aiming to get home as fast as possible.
“Marta, you’re welcome to join us any time! I’ll add you on LinkedIn”, she calls out after me.
“Please don’t!” I reply as I make my way down the steep path.
I went back to the office the following week, but never heard any more conversations from the Laurie Anderson booth. 2 months later, we finished the visual identity for the exhibition, and secured its final approval from Esplanaze. Only then was I let go. Phillipe also lost his job, which made me realise how Jasper was definitely much more suited to the waste management sector.
6 months after this ordeal, I found myself passing by Esplanaze’s office on Rue Belliard while coming back from my lunch break at a new job. I peered into the large, glass walls and immediately noticed a large, black and white photograph of Hedy Lamarr passive-aggressively pouting at me. A few metres away from her loom these words
The Function
Is Female
I slowly wandered inside at the pace of a sleepwalk, wondering if the guy manning reception would demand to see a badge or ask if I had an appointment. As I stood just inside the automatic doors, he looked up and smiled curtly.
“Bonjour.”
“Er…bonjour. Je…”, I pointed at the back wall of Espalanze’s ground floor, which is entirely covered in photographs and text, structured as a timeline. “…voudrais juste voir l’expo.”
“Oui, allez-y”, he nods.
I thank him and walk to the far left of the room to start at the beginning, attempting to act like just another random visitor calmly inspecting this by holding in my breath and trying not to gasp.
I recognise the futuristic grid and network patterns that I designed, coloured in hues of blue, magenta and silver that I selected, which adorn the walls and panels that tell the story of The Function is Female from the 18th century to the present. As I near the end of the timeline, the following text jumps out at me in its mid-blue glow:
Developed by Belgian digital media outfit Indigo Light, CallBooth™ helps users find more accurate results on AI bots like ChatGPT, calibrated to their personal needs and tastes.
Their tool SonicBubble™ helps people who are hard of hearing attend meetings and online calls.
In one of the accompanying photographs, Vanessa stands beaming in her cyberpunk-style raincoat with two thumbs up at Indigo’s office, surrounded by her colleagues that I could have met. I can’t believe Chiasmus didn’t fire our copywriter. Unlike me, Niall clearly didn’t do his research.
Author’s note
The following text in this short story was taken from ChatGPT as a purely factual reference:
Stay Calm and Gather Information:
-
- Don’t panic or jump to conclusions. It’s important to have all the facts before taking any action.
- Try to gather more information about the situation discreetly, if possible, to confirm whether the CEO and CFO were indeed discussing redundancy.
- Talk to Your Colleague
- Review Your Employment Contract and Company Policies
Document Everything
