I had no degree when I started at the company, one of the big five, and being suddenly surrounded by better educated and better spoken peers I felt a bit like an impostor. My English was far from perfect too, then as it is now, and that didn't do wonders for my confidence. Although I would like to say that things are all better now, in at least some ways they remain the same.

I had of course heard of the experiment before getting called in, although it was technically secret; my first reaction had been to think it sounded promising and exciting in a personal way. The potential impact was huge, and I loved Machine Learning. In a way the biggest dread I had going in was probably just fear that it could turn out not to work, or perhaps being disappointed with the shallowness of the results. Crazy ideas that didn't go anywhere were common back then.

My initial enthusiasm with the idea, built up on just the technical details, was boosted by the fact that this was also a great work opportunity for me. Being part of the experiment was something special. If people were right and the experiment caused unemployment, well... it also meant having a job. For longer.

"Thank you for coming in, Ms. Petrescu."

"Thank you for having me."

"Do you know how your participation in the experiment will work?"

"Yes, I've been reading the terms that I got last night."

"Would you mind quickly walking me through it? Just to make sure we're on the same page." He stressed "quickly".

"Sure thing," I said in my most upbeat tone, always eager to please, but already I felt slightly cheated. I suspected he was a repurposed manager, as he was already making me do the work.

The terms were clear in any case: I would be recorded at all times during my time in the office. I would surrender the possibility of interacting with my coworkers in any way outside of the designated office space or without the working tools I was provided with: my laptop and my work phone, and their linked corp accounts. And I would grant permission to the company to impersonate me whenever they wanted.

"Not whenever we want to -- just whenever it's necessary for the purpose of advancing the experiment."

I didn't see the difference. But I didn't tell him that; I just nodded.

"Your participation will last six months, at which point your performance will be evaluated and your participation terminated or extended for another period. For each period you will receive a hefty bonus -- you can find the actual sums in the payroll system," he said, with a gesture that said that he didn't want to go into such petty details at the time.

From what I'd heard, if my participation got extended for another six months, I could perhaps have enough to live off savings while I went back to school or retrained -- or coded for fun -- or, in the worst case, took on a hobby and an addiction.

"I have one question, though -- how will my performance be evaluated? The material wasn't clear on that point."

"Unfortunately I'm not at liberty to tell you. Telling you could bias your behaviour in ways that go against the success of the experiment."

I wondered if he was telling the truth, or he just didn't know.

The second extension and then the third came and went, and by then things just sort of seemed to get into a groove. I sometimes go to meetings and feel like I'm talking to a doppelgänger, and on bad days I sometimes feel like one myself. Usually it's better not to go at all, of course, but some meetings I have to attend for a variety of reasons. I tell myself I cannot risk not going and then having to put up with a decision I didn't make, or a consensus I wasn't part of.

I wonder if my doppelgänger goes to some meetings I attend as well, just for training purposes. Then at around 7pm packs and goes home. Has dinner with C., thinks of how much she loves her, then watches Netflix with her.

I can just imagine her stepping into the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. Grabbing a Choco Mountain -- sensible enough. Not usually my first choice, but not completely out of character either.

I sometimes also take detours on the way back to Caramel City.