The Circle

was forwarded 322 times and there were 187 follow-up comments. They appeared
     on her second screen in an ever-lengthening thread. Mae didn’t have time to read them
     all, but she scrolled quickly through, and the validation felt good. At the end of
     the day, Mae’s score was 98. Congratulatory messages arrived from Jared and Dan and
     Annie. A series of zings followed, announcing and celebrating what Annie called
the highest score of any CE newb ever of all time suck it
.
    By her first Friday Mae had served 436 customers and had memorized the boilerplates.
     Nothing surprised her anymore, though the variation in customers and their businesses
     was dizzying. The Circle was everywhere, and though she’d known this for years, intuitively,hearing from these people, the businesses counting on the Circle to get the word out
     about their products, to track their digital impact, to know who was buying their
     wares and when—it became real on a very different level. Mae now had customer contacts
     in Clinton, Louisiana, and Putney, Vermont; in Marmaris, Turkey and Melbourne and
     Glasgow and Kyoto. Invariably they were polite in their queries—the legacy of TruYou—and
     gracious in their ratings.
    By midmorning that Friday, her aggregate for the week was at 97, and the affirmations
     were coming from everyone in the Circle. The work was demanding, and the flow did
     not stop, but it varied just enough, and the validation was frequent enough, that
     she settled into a comfortable rhythm.
    Just as she was about to take another request, a text came through her phone. It was
     Annie:
Eat with me, fool
.
    They sat on a low hill, two salads between them, the sun making intermittent appearances
     behind slow-moving clouds. Mae and Annie watched a trio of young men, pale and dressed
     like engineers, attempting to throw a football.
    “So you’re already a star. I feel like a proud mama.”
    Mae shook her head. “I’m not at all. I have a lot to learn.”
    “Of course you do. But a 97 so far? That’s insane. I didn’t get above 95 the first
     week. You’re a natural.”
    A pair of shadows darkened their lunch.
    “Can we meet the newbie?”
    Mae looked up, shielding her eyes.
    “Course,” Annie said.
    The shadows sat down. Annie jabbed her fork at them. “This is Sabine and Josef.”
    Mae shook their hands. Sabine was blond, sturdy, squinting. Josef was thin, pale,
     with comically bad teeth.
    “Already she’s looking at my teeth!” he wailed, pointing to Mae. “You Americans are
obsessed!
I feel like a horse at an auction.”
    “But your teeth
are
bad,” Annie said. “And we have such a good dental plan here.”
    Josef unwrapped a burrito. “I think my teeth provide a necessary respite from the
     eerie perfection of everyone else’s.”
    Annie tilted her head, studying him. “I’m sure you
should
fix them, if not for you for the sake of company morale. You give people nightmares.”
    Josef pouted theatrically, his mouth full of carne asada. Annie patted his arm.
    Sabine turned to Mae. “So you’re in Customer Experience?” Now Mae noticed the tattoo
     on Sabine’s arm, the symbol for infinity.
    “I am. First week.”
    “I saw you’re doing pretty well so far. I started there, too. Just about everyone
     did.”
    “And Sabine’s a biochemist,” Annie added.
    Mae was surprised. “You’re a biochemist?”
    “I am.”
    Mae hadn’t heard about biochemists working at the Circle. “Can I ask what you’re working
     on?”
    “Can you
ask?
” Sabine smiled. “Of course you can
ask
. But I don’t have to tell you anything.”
    Everyone sighed for a moment, but then Sabine stopped.
    “Seriously though, I can’t tell you. Not right now, anyway. GenerallyI work on stuff for the biometric side of things. You know, iris scanning and facial
     recognition. But right now I’m on something new. Even though I’d like to—”
    Annie gave Sabine an imploring, quieting look. Sabine filled her mouth with lettuce.
    “Anyway,” Annie said, “Josef here is in Educational Access. He’s trying to get tablets
     into schools that right now can’t afford them. He’s a do-gooder. He’s also friends
     with your new friend. Garbonzo.”
    “Garaventa,” Mae corrected.
    “Ah. You
do
remember. Have you seen him again?”
    “Not this week. It’s been too busy.”
    Now Josef’s mouth was open. Something had just dawned on him. “Are you Mae?”
    Annie winced. “We already said that. Of course this is