What the Machine Knew
The factory was big and the fluorescent lights were bright and Malcolm Grey sat in row fourteen, column six, and labeled pictures. Cat. Car. Dog. Person. Traffic light. Fire hydrant. Person again. Backpack. Laptop. Person holding a cup. Ten hours a day. Two hundred pictures an hour. Six days a week. The supervisor walked around with a clipboard and a stopwatch and did not smile. Malcolm did not...
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