The Warden Quotes

“James, call Frazer for me.’ He sighed, deciding it was time for a break. ‘Of course, Eugene,’ replied the AI, its soothing voice seeming to emanate from the air around him. It came from speakers built into the walls of every room, part of the apartment’s ‘smart’ technology, like the integrated lift shaft that brought the spiderlike delivery robots up to him at 07.20 every morning. James’s own circuitry was similarly hard-wired into the building’s superstructure, meaning the AI could operate every appliance and gadget in the building.”
― Jon Richter, The Warden

“Strangely shaken by the visit, Eugene finished his coffee, then shifted his attention to the gift-wrapped package at its side. Tentatively, he unwrapped it. It was a book. The Artist Within: a Programme of Writing Exercises to Unleash Your Creative Energies. Eugene stared at it for a while. ‘Thanks, James,’ he murmured eventually. ‘My pleasure, Eugene,’ replied his apartment. He felt an odd sensation creep across him, something like a mixture of reassurance and cold, primal fear. He thought about the imaging buds the AI used to monitor their well-being: whatever problems you had, you didn’t usually have to wait long for a solution. James was always watching over you.”
― Jon Richter, The Warden

“The screen faded to black, leaving Eugene alone again. As always. His gaze lingered on the bricked-up wall beyond the shoe rack, where his front door had once been.”
― Jon Richter, The Warden

“And you know what else I heard?’ Eugene rolled his eyes. Frazer’s ‘news’ was usually sourced from Natter, the micro-blogging service that had become increasingly popular as people’s other connections with the outside world had been gradually severed. Eugene steered clear of social media; in his opinion it was a cesspit of gossip and scare stories more infectious than the virus itself. ‘Go on, enlighten me,’ he said sceptically. Frazer’s dark skin paled as he glanced over his shoulder. Eugene wondered who he thought might overhear; the only other pair of ears in his apartment belonged to James. ‘I heard this latest strain is making zombies.’ Eugene snorted. ‘Zombies? You’ve been working on your video game for too long.’ ‘I’m not shitting you. Proper Walking Dead-style, groaning, rotting dead people, shambling around out there. I saw footage. I can send it to you.”
― Jon Richter, The Warden

“Tenants were permitted to live rent-free in return for allowing James to monitor them twenty-four hours a day, collecting their personal data to help shape the corporation’s future products.”
― Jon Richter, The Warden

“he wished Nicola was still around to give him some more advice. She was one of the dead, of course. The virus had claimed her the first and only time she’d broken the Guidelines. She’d apparently smashed the lock off her balcony door, stepped outside for just a few seconds, gulping down the air like a desperate drug addict. Those scant breaths had been more than enough; once the COVID-24, or whatever strain they were up to now, got into your lungs, there wasn’t anything the doctors and medical robots could do for you, except make you as comfortable as possible while you wheezed to death in your own bed.”
― Jon Richter, The Warden

“He supposed he’d been a brave man, once. He’d seen things, survived things that most people didn’t even know could happen. Perhaps that was part of the cause of his agoraphobia: a gradual erosion of his psychological defences, a sort of inbuilt limit to the amount of revulsion and horror a person could suppress.”
― Jon Richter, The Warden