It was late morning when K. arrived. The entrance to the organisation lay under deep snow. There was no sign of a reception desk and concrete, glass and steel created a barrier that it was impossible to see through. K. stood a long time on the gravel road that led towards the organisation, gazing upward into the seeming emptiness.

Right, he thought, here goes, and started walking up to the structure. After a while he located double doors, camouflaged to look like the rest of the glassy façade. He walked up to them expecting them to open, but they stayed resolute and impenetrable. He halted his walk, just before crashing into the glass and walked back. Experimentally he adjusted the angle of approach and gingerly moved towards the doors again. Still no luck.

He stood back, looking at the doors and noticed a small black screen was embedded into the black glass of the doors. He poked it experimentally with his finger and it glowed into life. The word ‘USERNAME’ was displayed, and a virtual keyboard appeared. As this was his first visit to the organisation, he did not have a username to offer. He prodded the screen again and the opportunity to enter his username was hastily removed. A new screen was presented which offered several options including the opportunity to enter as a VISITOR. He pressed that and then was presented with a series of screens taking his name, address, shoe size and so on.

Eventually the doors slid open, and K walked in. He found himself in an anti-chamber the size of a small living room. Ahead of him was another glass double door, this time with a screen next to it and a keypad attached to the wall below. He walked up to the doors, but again they did not open on sensing his approach. This time however, his approach triggered the screen to come to life of its own accord.

A pleasing looking avatar of a professional woman appeared on the screen. ‘Hello’ she said in a comforting Scottish burr. ‘Welcome to the organisation. What can I do for you.’

‘Thank you’ K responded. ‘I’m here for a meeting with Peter Baron. He knows I’m coming, can I come through to see him?’

‘No problem. Can you just give me your name and address?’ K complied.

‘Now I need to ask you a security question. What is your shoe size?’

Visibly irritated K answered ‘Eight’.

‘No, that is not your shoe size. Would you like to try again?’

‘It is my shoe size. What do you mean?’

‘No, that is not your shoe size. Would you like to try again?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe I put it in wrong before. Is it seven or nine?’

‘No, that is not your shoe size. You have now used all your attempts. You will not be able to try again for another half an hour.’

The screen blinked off and K stormed forward and angrily jabbed a few of the buttons on the keyboard. The screen remained black. Anger overtook him and he took out his phone to call Peter Baron. The voice that answered had a familiar Scottish burr.

‘Welcome to the organisation. What can I do for you.’

K launched into an angry rant about the failings of the organisation’s technology and how he couldn’t and shouldn’t be treated like this. He was here for an important meeting. After getting it all off his chest, he paused.

‘I think that you are looking for IT support. Please press seven if you want IT support.’

He pressed seven. Music started on his phone. It was pleasing at first. He couldn’t quite place it, but it might be a rock interpretation of a classical tune. Every minute he was informed that the IT support department was unusually busy and that his call was important to them. They would get to him soon.

While he waited, he paced around the room, occasionally tapping the buttons on the keypad to see if he could get it to appear again.

Eventually the screen glowed into life once more and the Scottish woman reappeared and asked her question. At the same time someone in IT support answered the phone and the music stopped. K decided to go with IT and explained his problem.

‘Oh dear,’ said a friendly sounding man with a version of an American accent. ‘That sounds terrible. Don’t worry we will send a support technician to help.’ K thanked him and went over the corner of the room to sit down. The classical rock tune started up again, this time filling the entire room.

Another half an hour passed and a small door in the wall opened to allow a wheeled bot to roll through. Yellow letters on its side read ‘SUPPORT TECHNICIAN’. On its back was a strange device that looked like an enormous shoe.

The support technician had a friendly face drawn onto its front. It looked him in the eyes and said ‘Sorry you are having trouble. But if you follow a few simple steps we can get it sorted out.’ The support technician then unloaded the shoe device and asked K to use it to measure the size of his foot. K enjoyed the ridiculousness of the situation and did as he was asked. His shoe size was an eight, as he had thought.

The support technician then collected the foot measurer and trundled back through its door.

K began the process once again. Only to receive first, ‘No, that is not your shoe size. Would you like to try again?’ and ultimately ‘No, that is not your shoe size. You have now used all of your attempts. You will not be able to try again for another half an hour.’

This was ridiculous. He turned ready to leave, but the entrance would not open. He banged on the glass, which set a high-pitched alarm going which hurt his ears. Once this had subsided, the classical rock started up again. He decided to call Peter and was put through to IT again. When they offered the support technician, he lost his temper and shouted at them. He then received a message informing him that his phone had been blocked because of ‘abusive behaviour to organisation staff’.

He experimented with trying to break the windows, lever open the doors or smash the console. He even tried going through the whole rigmarole again, but nothing he did made any difference. The anti-chamber was impervious to his efforts. Meanwhile the classical rock played on. It must be on a loop, but it was difficult to isolate the beginning or the end of the sequence.

He sank down into the corner of the anti-chamber and fell into despondency. Was he going to spend the rest of his life in here. SPRING, SPRUNK, DIDDLE DEE, played the classical rock tune. Was that an electric guitar or a synthesiser? It was difficult to think straight while this noise played. Was it getting louder?

Time must be passing, but who knows how much. He felt hungry and thirsty and desperately needed to go to the toilet. Eventually he pissed into the corner of the room, feeling deeply ashamed at himself and angry at the systems that had led him here. Another small door opened and a cleaning bot scuttled out and mopped up his piss. It exited in a cloud of perfume that caught in the back of his throat.

Squatting in the corner of the room, hunger, thirst and the classical rock gradually overtook him and he drifted into a fugue state. He could still see the bright lights and hear the music, but he felt detached from his body and unsure if this situation or he was actually real. Darkness came when he drifted off, but the brightness of the room stopped him from fully sleeping.

…

Then there was a man standing over him. He was wearing a yellow boiler suit with the logo of the organisation on it. ‘Oh my God! What has happened. You must have been here all night.’ K sat up and wiped some drool from the side of his mouth. He recounted his adventures in the anti-chamber and explained that he was here to see Peter Baron.

‘That’s terrible’ something serious must have gone wrong. ‘But don’t worry. I can reboot the system and get you in.’ K thanked him and emphasised that it was really important that he saw Peter Baron.

The man in the yellow boiler suit went over to the keypad and attached another device to it. He ran some checks, turned it on and off again and then set it all going once more. K asked if he could just let him in.

‘Sorry, I can’t do that. We need to register new entrants to the building. This is the only way to do it I’m afraid. Its for security. And I don’t have the authorisation to bypass it. You’ll need to go back outside again and register, but it will all work fine this time. I’ll email you a link to apply for compensation. This really was a massive error.’

So, for the second day running K found himself standing on the gravel entering his shoe size into the system.

When he walked back through the doors, the yellow boiler suit man had gone. He turned to the screen and was greeted once more with.

‘Welcome to the organisation. What can I do for you.’