The reply arrived sooner than I expected.
Not fast—BiOnyx wasn’t capable of real speed—but sooner than the “three-to-five business days” their auto-responder had threatened.
Jake was halfway through a bagel when my inbox pinged.
He froze. “Tell me that’s not them.”
I opened the message.
From: BiOnyx Municipal Support
Subject: Re: Clarification Request — BT4 Operational Messaging (Valeroso County)
I skimmed the first paragraph.
“It’s them,” I said.
Jake stuffed the remainder of the bagel into his mouth and rolled his chair over so fast he nearly took out the recycling bin.
“What did they say? Are they angry? Are they confused? Do they sound confused-angry?”
“It’s a corporate response,” I said. “They sound like someone translated ‘panic’ through a thesaurus.”
We appreciate your dedication to safe and accurate terminology…Your request contains a number of items requiring internal consultation…Definitions provided herein should be considered provisional…We are committed to supporting your municipality…
Jake made a face. “That sounds like ‘no’ wearing a necktie.”
I scrolled.
BiOnyx defined “routine” as:
“Any action the BT4 performs that aligns with its intended operational profile.”
Jake squinted. “What does that even mean?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Is that allowed?” he asked.
“It’s corporate language,” I said. “It’s encouraged.”
BiOnyx clarified that “public-facing” did not include:
Internal briefings
SOPs
Technician logs
But did include:
Any statements made by county employees
Even informally
“In the presence of members of the public or recording devices”
Jake blinked slowly. “So… talking?”
“Yes,” I said.
“They want to regulate talking?”
“It appears so.”
Jake rubbed his temples. “Howard, if I speak near a window, is that public-facing?”
“Depends,” I said. “Is the window open?”
He whimpered softly.
BiOnyx defined “misinterpretation” as:
“Any instance in which an observer incorrectly infers an unprogrammed intent or incorrect operational state.”
Jake leaned back. “That’s everything the Hoppers do.”
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“Yes,” I said.
“That’s literally every movement they make.”
“Yes,” I said again.
He stared at the monitor like it had insulted his ancestors.
BiOnyx avoided defining autonomy directly and instead offered:
“Any perception of intent arises exclusively from user misunderstanding.”
Jake pointed at the screen. “That’s not a definition. That’s blame.”
“Yes,” I said.
“So their definition of autonomy is ‘You’re wrong’?”
“It appears so.”
Their answer was several paragraphs long and clarified nothing.At one point, they used the phrase:
“contextual inference mitigation.”
Jake whispered, “That’s not a phrase.”
“It is now,” I said.
BiOnyx stated:
“‘Upright’ is acceptable if used descriptively and not interpretively.”
Jake stared. “What does interpretively upright mean?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“But it sounds like a yoga position.”
BiOnyx declined to provide examples of approved historical descriptors, citing “volume of archived material.”
Jake leaned in. “Howard… are they saying they don’t know what they’ve said before?”
“Yes,” I said.
“That feels… important.”
“It is.”
Their reply was three sentences long.
I read them twice.
Jake read them once, then walked in a small circle like someone trying to remember how breathing worked.
“They said no,” he whispered.
“They said,” I corrected, “‘This clarification applies only to BT4-series units and should not be interpreted as applicable to previous or future product lines.’”
“That means no,” Jake said.
“It means,” I said carefully, “they have separated BT4 terminology from the rest of their portfolio.”
“And that’s bad?” he asked.
“For them,” I said.
Jake paused. “Should I be scared?”
“Not yet,” I said.
Jake sat in silence for several long seconds, processing the email like it was a riddle written in invisible ink.
“So what do we do now?” he finally asked.
“Respond,” I said.
“Already?” Jake asked. “They barely answered half of what we asked.”
“That’s why we respond,” I said.
I began drafting the next email.
Jake leaned back. “Is this… the escalation step?”
“No,” I said. “This is the acknowledgement.”
I typed:
Thank you for your provisional definitions. In order to ensure accurate local application, we request further clarification on several points.
Jake mouthed the words as I typed them.
I continued:
1. Please provide examples distinguishing descriptive use of ‘upright’ from interpretive use.
Jake’s eyebrows rose.
2. Please outline the criteria used to determine when an observer inference constitutes ‘incorrect operational state’ versus ‘misinterpreted intent.’
His eyebrows climbed further.
3. Please confirm whether the non-applicability of these definitions to other BiOnyx platforms is due to functional differences or documentation status.
Jake put his hands on his head.
“Howard… that’s—”
“Standard,” I said.
He groaned into his palms. “You’re doing the thing again.”
“Which thing?”
“The calm thing. The knife-in-a-binder thing.”
I added the closing:
We appreciate your continued assistance as we navigate the expectations outlined in your directive.
I sent it.
Jake watched the screen like it might burst into flames.
“What happens now?” he asked.
“Now,” I said, “someone at BiOnyx re-reads their own email.”
“And then?”
“They will realize they contradicted themselves.”
Jake swallowed. “And then?”
“That depends,” I said. “On whether they notice item eight.”
He sank into his chair.
“I don’t want to know what item eight means,” he said.
“You don’t,” I agreed.
A knock on the door.
Risk Management Representative (RMR) leaned inside like she was approaching a crime scene.
“Did you send the clarification?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Did they respond?”
“Yes.”
She exhaled in a way that suggested she had been bracing for an explosion.
“Should I read it?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said again.
She made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a prayer, then walked away like someone preparing to carry a fragile heirloom across a crowded room.
Jake watched her leave.
“Howard,” he whispered, “is it normal for Risk Management to look scared?”
“No,” I said.
“Oh.”
He stared at the monitor a little longer.
Outside, in the yard feed, the BT4s sat frozen in their shutdown rows, patient and unmoving, the county’s silent audience.
Jake pulled his chair closer to mine.
“I think we’re past the boring part.”
I didn’t disagree.