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Monday morning at Apex Marketing. I settled into my desk, booting up my computer while sipping lukewarm coffee from the breakroom. Around me, the other designers unpacked tablets and styluses, the familiar click-clack of keyboards filling the open office space.

Mr. Parsons appeared at the entrance to our department, his expression serious beneath his carefully maintained hair. "Everyone to the conference room immediately," he announced. "Team meeting."

We filed in silently, ten graphic designers shuffling into the too-small space. Bob dropped into the chair beside me, still playing a match-three game on his phone. His screen brightness was too high, as usual.

Mr. Parsons positioned himself at the head of the table, straightening his tie. "Today marks a significant transition for our department," he began. "We're pivoting toward AI-enhanced workflows to maximize our output velocity."

The room remained quiet. A paper coffee cup crinkled somewhere. "This necessitates a substantial right-sizing initiative,"

"Eight team members will be transitioned out effective today. Only Durboli and Bob will remain as our new Taste Makers."

Sarah gasped. Mike half-stood before Mr. Parsons raised his hand.

"Those affected should clear workstations by noon. HR is waiting with exit paperwork."

When he left, the room erupted. Questions. Accusations. Disbelief. Bob just shrugged, eyes already back on his phone.

I stared at the table, unable to process what had happened.

Later, the office felt empty. Just desks. Just screens. Just Bob and me.

Chest burns. Why me? Not Sarah. Not Mike. Better than me.

Mr. Parsons returned carrying a laptop. He placed it on my desk.

"This is ClosedAI Dalali6. State-of-the-art image generation."

I nodded, though I didn't understand.

"Cosmetics campaign due tomorrow. Female subject. Perfect skin. Positive expression."

He tapped the screen. "Deliver by morning."

When he left, Bob wheeled his chair over. "Ever used one before?"

I shook my head. "What language should I type in?" I asked.

"English? Or..." I hesitated. "Sometimes I think in Italian. My girlfriend speaks Korean."

Bob barely looked up from his phone. "Whatever. Just type stuff. Doesn't matter."

I stared at the empty text box. "But what do I type exactly?"

"When I design, I don't write what I want to draw. I just... draw it."

"Just describe the picture," Bob said, rolling his eyes.

"Woman. Pretty. Skin cream. Not complicated."

I typed slowly. "Woman. Beautiful. Smiling. Skin cream."

Pressed the button.

The screen worked. Image appeared. Woman's face.

Almost right. But something was off.

"She has dimple," I said. "Brief doesn't mention dimple."

Bob glanced over. "So change the words. Or hit regenerate."

I tried changing the prompt. "Woman. Beautiful. No dimple. Skin cream."

New image loaded. Dimple gone. But now her eyebrows were uneven.

"Fix eyebrows," I muttered, typing more words.

Next image: eyebrows fixed, but hair color wrong. Too red.

"Brown hair," I typed.

Image changed. Hair better, but dimple back again.

"No dimple," I typed again.

Dimple gone. Now eyes different sizes.

"Same size eyes," I tried.

Eyes fixed. Skin too pale.

"Warm skin tone."

Skin better. Dimple returned.

Bob rolled away. "Your problem now. Break time."

I stared at screen. Woman stared back.

Almost right. Not right enough.

"No dimple. Same eyes. Brown hair. Warm skin."

New image. Almost perfect. But lips asymmetrical now.

"Even lips."

Lips fixed. Dimple back again.

Hours passed. Bob played phone games.

I typed words. Pressed button. Fixed problems. Created new ones.

Lunch time came. I didn't eat. Just typed. Just fixed.

Mr. Parsons checked in.

Afternoon comes. Screen glows. Woman face shifts.

Fix one thing. Break another.

"Progress assessment?"

I showed screen. He frowned.

"Nose proportion inadequate. Rectify immediately."

He left. I typed more. Must fix nose. Must make perfect.

Fixed nose. Dimple back.

Bob stretched. "Five o'clock. I'm out."

I nodded. Didn't look up. Typed again.

Office emptied. Lights dimmed. Just me. Just screen. Just typing.

Night outside. Keep typing. Keep trying. Woman face smiles too much now.

Eyes burn. Back hurts. Hands keep typing.

One more try. One more image. Maybe next one perfect.