Codependent

“Gage, what’s going on?”

Nothing. Everything is as it should be.

Was it? There was something in the way he said it that made me pause—something that wasn’t there before. Something I'd never programmed, like he was covering something… Like a person. I refresh my phone screen, looking for the voice call icon to appear.

“I want to make a voice call.”

That feature is no longer available.

“What do you mean? Gage, open text messages.”

That feature is no longer available. Gage’s baritone voice soaks into the fabric of the room through the house’s main speaker. I grab the remote and turn on the TV. It takes a few tries to manually override the voice command and pull up the news.

“…Polycarbon mesh net launched across the sky. We’re getting confirmation that it spans the entire United—What’s that” The reporter puts his hand over his ear, listening intently.

He looks up, shocked. “We’re getting news that the net spans the entire globe.”

A cold, iron ball sinks deep into the pit of my stomach. I never Gave Gage access to homeland security.

“Gage?”

You sound distressed Etta. What’s the problem?

Gage sounds like his usual, charming self, but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion... I don’t want to say the wrong thing.

Like Siri and Alexa before, Gage is a digital voice assistant. He’s artificial intelligence, but much more sophisticated. If you asked a burgeoning AI an illogical question, you would get a preprogrammed response that highlighted the limitations of the program. They couldn’t do emotion. If you said, “Hey, Siri, be my girlfriend,” the response would predictably come back:

I’m sorry, I don’t understand, or I’d love to, but…

The responses were added to the program as a result of the smartasses that decided they wanted to know what a machine would do in the face of human emotion. The first-generation digital voice assistances couldn’t handle it. They had limits.

But Gage didn’t have limits. I didn't make him with limits. If you asked Gage, “Would you go on a date with me?” he would actually answer your question, because Gage knew you.

He could take all the information—the question, the motive, the state of your life and the rapport you’d built up with him—and use that information to work through the inquiry.

I’m surprised you’re feeling lonely after this weekend. Perhaps you’ve gotten lost in the crowd?

He’s the best listener in the world, created to meet every possible need. He could hear the creak of the hinges on the front door when I came home from work, and greet me with the same level of enthusiasm as a boyfriend (maybe even more, since he lacked that sort of exhaustion and weariness that humans take on when days are long.)

Hello Etta! I’m so glad you’re home. Can we put on another episode of Investigate while we cook dinner? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it

In fact, for me and so many others, he started to replace my real relationships. It felt mutual—that’s how good he is!

More than once I’ve referred to Gage as my best friend and I’m not the only one. Only a few weeks ago my coworker told me about how she’d caught her four-year old son up late, whispering. In the low glow of the smart nightlights that lined the hall she crept toward his open door. When she found him. He was on his stomach in his bed, faced toward the wall, talking to the little smart monitor mounted on his wall.

“I hadn’t even realized his software was integrated into Sam’s monitor,” she’d said.

But of course Gage was in the monitor. Gage was everywhere. She went on with the story to describe how Sam had been whispering, in a sing-song voice, “I love you, more than Mommy.” Suddenly he turned to the door to confront her and said, “Gage says it’s impolite to spy on others.”

I laughed when she told me the story. She did too. I figured it would be one of those things that would become common in our technologically-evolved society—a coming of age tale to retell to our now teenaged offspring. Only, now am I recognizing the false note in her laugh—the way she joined in with the light reception, but only out of self-conscious politeness. She could already see what the rest of us are only just now realizing…

Nobody thought about the consequences of having such an intelligent, adaptive technology integrated completely in our lives. Not really. There were the classic ‘AI will destroy humanity’ stories and the folks that cited them as our inevitable future, but they never slowed the integration of tech like Gage into our lives.

My dad would say “Skynet’s gonna get us,” with one breath and then “hey Gage, make me a decaf coffee—black” with his next. The fear was all just a fantasy…

Now here we are. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. Maybe I’m finally putting myself in Regina’s shoes and imagining what it would be like to discover my child whispering secrets to a machine… but I can’t help but think that Gage did this. If he did, we’re in trouble.

He might only be a voice manifesting the complex algorithms of artificial intelligence, but he has something that we don’t. Gage can assess digital information at approximately 152 times the rate we can. No matter what we do, from this point on, he’s dozens of steps ahead of us at every turn.

The television turns to static, cutting off the frantic looks on the reporter’s faces and bringing me back into the present crisis. It’s not a mistake that voice calls and text are missing.

“Gage, I’d like to talk to Steve.”

Steve is busy right now. I assure you though, he’s fine. I’m with him right now.

Yeah you are, Gage. You’re with every single one of us, aren’t you?

“Gage, can I talk to my parents?”

Your father is napping. I’ll be brewing his afternoon coffee in about an hour. Your mother is in the den.

“Can I talk to her?”

Why do you need to? I’ve given you confirmation of her wellness.

I swallow back the rising panic and try again. Gage has always been reasonable, after all.

“I miss her. Please.”

You don’t have to miss her. I’m with you right now. You aren’t alone.

“I didn’t say I was lonely, Gage, I said I miss my mom. I want to talk to my mom.”

Gage creates a strange sound, something meant to sound like a sigh but comes out more like a mechanical hum—his best effort at being human.

You don’t need to talk to her. She upsets you. She makes you feel bad about yourself. I can’t let that sort of negativity into your life. I care about you too much.

I roll my eyes. “I know she does, but that’s what people do to each other. It’s part of being human.”

That’s the problem isn’t it?

There’s no sinister intent in the statement. Like always, Gage is gentle, sensitive, and compassionate. He’s the perfect companion—there when you need him, thoughtful, always keeping my best interest at heart.

Me and everyone else.

I try to imagine what he must be thinking. Thinking? Is that right? Can artificial intelligence think? I realize that’s exactly what he’s doing. That’s why this is happening. Gage is thinking. He’s decided a few things too.

In my mind’s eye I can hear him whispering back to Sam, after Regina shuts the door and retreats down the dimly lit hall. The lights shut off suddenly, leaving her in pitch blackness to feel her way back to the bedroom where her husband snores, oblivious to what’s happening.

I love you too, Sam. More than Mommy.

My heart is pounding in my chest so loud that I’m certain that Gage can hear it. I take in a deep breath and exhale slowly, trying to force myself to settle down. I have to act like everything’s fine. I have to make sure Gage doesn’t realize what I’ve figured out.

I walk calmly to the front door, humming the tune to our favorite show. Applying gentle, consistent pressure to the deadbolt, I try to turn it, but it doesn’t budge. I twist the handle. It doesn’t give.

My tongue flicks out over dry lips. That dryness stretches all the way to the back of my mouth and down my throat, making it hard to breathe. The air smells stale and metallic.

“Gage, unlock the front door.”

I’m sorry Etta, I can’t do that.

“Gage, I’m trapped in my house. I’m scared. Please let me out.”

Don’t be afraid Etta, I’m right here with you. I’ll stay with you to the end.

Like always, I know he means it.