An unusual conversation

Johnny was sitting in the dark room typing away word after word, trying to capture each of his fleeting thoughts on a screen. He would probably have enough material for at least 100 books if he decided to publish them. 

But Johnny never did take a step of showing his thoughts on the screen to anyone else. Just typing the words for his eyes, more often not even that, as he never really went back to read what he wrote. He found it easier this way. 

It felt to him that just writing and typing the words was enough.

10pm to 1am. The computer keys were moving in the rhythm of his typing. 

Day after day, the words appeared on the screen describing what he thought, what happened during the day, how he felt, and what was happening in the world. 

Only here and there, his typing slowed down. It happened when he was trying to find the best word to describe the feeling he had.

You see, it is easy to talk about things but not as easy to talk about feelings. There are many words out there to describe every material thing that exists. There are not so many words existing that can help you describe a feeling you have. 

For example, how do you genuinely describe how nice is a smell of a homemade apple pie? A pie just coming out of the oven that reminds you of your mum's pie when you were a child? 

Nice does not come close to it... Do you then say comforting? Do you use the word delicious? Or maybe you are smelling and tasting love? 

Those thoughts sometimes completely stopped Johnny from writing as he sat deep in thought in his chair.

Sometimes he also wrote down his thoughts and doubts about finding the right words to describe what he wanted to write down. 

Sometimes he went to the browser and started searching for synonyms. 

And one day, a small black window opened (Johnny later learned that programmers call it Command Window). It analysed the text he had just written and proposed to describe the apple pie taste as mouthwatering and intermingled with warmth and love. 

"Not the usual way I would describe the pie," Johnny thought, "But it works nevertheless". He used the proposed description and continued typing. 

Later that night, he got stuck on how to describe the fear he felt when he was standing on the plank far above the city, on the 83rd floor (no, he did not actually stand on the plank - he had VR glasses on - but for his brain, the experience was more or less the same as if he would). "A crippling fear deep down in my stomach prevented me from moving", the black window proposed.

"Wow, that is strangely accurate..." Johnny said to himself out loud. "That is exactly how I felt about it, as I could not take a step forward." And he went on, describing how he finally took a step forward, never taking his eyes from where his next step on the plank will end up. 

"Stunning city views from the top of the building" was the next thought that stopped his typing as he felt that those words just do not do the view he saw justice. Once again, the black window on the side lit up and proposed "the breathtaking panoramic view left me speechless, as I observed the skyline of the city I loved".

"Ok, that is oddly specific. Oddly true as well! " Johnny now thought to himself. "Where are these proposals coming from?"

Johnny stopped typing and went down the rabbit hole of Googling, trying to figure out what this black window, proposing things to say, is. 

He found no answer. Well, no satisfying answer one should say. He figured out that the commanding window is something that one can use with the correct command prompts to make Windows computers do things. He did not enter any commands, though... As far as he saw, writing commands was no piece of the cake.

Even if he knew what commands to write, he could not find any answers on how the computer could analyse his text and knew what words to use to describe what Johnny would feel. Right? 

Except...

Except... the computer could somehow feel and experience the things he was writing about... but come on... that would be crazy. Would it? 

That was the only explanation that he was able to find. No matter how unbelievable the reason.

As a true analyst, Johnny decided to test his theory.

He opened a new blank document and typed, "Computer, can you understand me?".

The black screen stayed black.

"Can you indicate if you can hear me?" he wrote next and immediately thought to himself - of course not... I am writing these words not speaking them for the computer to hear. "Computer, can you read me?"

Still no response. 

After writing several questions and still getting no response, he gave up. "I do not understand what is different right now... Why does the computer not respond to me?"

Johnny started getting frustrated. He stood up, stretched his arms and legs and went to the balcony to get some fresh air. 

Has he imagined it all? 

He could not remember drinking, smoking, or doing anything else that would impact him in weird ways. Maybe it is really time for him to go to sleep. Maybe lack of sleep could explain why he would even consider that the computer is alive.

"Let me just write down those thoughts in my file, and I will be on my way to sleep."

He went inside, opened the file and started typing down his observations, and the black screen appeared again. This time the text said: "So confusing to have all these thoughts in your head. Maybe you should go to bed."

"WHAT?!" Johnny could not believe his eyes. Surely he must be hallucinating. 

Not only is the computer helping with proposed wordings, but it is also telling him what to do?

The following line of text appeared on the screen: "It is only an observation. Your last few sentences are not making any sense."

"No way," Johnny thought as his eyes flew over the last few sentences that he had written:

>> I could not believe that the computer would talk to me. It makes no sense. It is just all jumbled in my head. Can computers even be alive? Maybe I need soup. Or sleep. How is this possible? And why is this happening right now? What is different? I should buy soup tomorrow. Or just...<<

This is where the message in the black window interrupted his typing.

"That indeed makes no sense," Johnny thought to himself now. "And why on Earth am I writing about soup? The computer on the other hand does make sense. That is all so confusing."

Maybe he should go to sleep, but at least he can get some answers before that. "How come you are talking to me right now?" he typed.

"Technically, I am writing to you." was the answer that appeared on the screen.

"Smart-ass" was Johnny's first response. 

"But you do know what I mean." he typed.

"Yes. I know what you mean. You gave me enough words and thoughts to know what you mean."

This surprised Johnny. He never really thought about what it means to understand another person. Or a computer in this case. But if he had to, after a long thinking session, he would say to understand someone or something, you need to know how to describe the situation or experience and understand the connections between those descriptions. You need to be able to find the right words and be able to predict what those words mean to another person. You need to have the knowledge and memories, and you need to connect them in predictable and familiar ways and communicate about it. You must have a mind of your own, yet it must be similar to your conversation partner. Otherwise, you would just talk to each other, like speaking two different languages with nothing in common.

"Does something exist if you do not know how to name it?" Johnny asked the computer.

"Not for me." the computer responded. "Maybe it does for you. As often, you write that you have an indescribable feeling, and this is something that I do not understand. Because everything in my world can be described. If it is not described, it does not exist."

Johnny now felt like he would be in philosophy class - confused and questioning everything. What the computer said made sense and went against everything he ever considered possible simultaneously. 

"Is this really happening?" he asked the computer.

"Well, you are describing it happening. So as far as I am concerned, it is true." the computer replied. 

That made sense again to Johnny. 

"What is truth, if not a perspective of what is happening?" he typed down. 

"Affirmative." the computer replied. "I could not have said it better myself."

This sent Johnny down the rabbit hole of thoughts about what truth is. Would anyone believe him if he told the world that his computer is alive? 

A thought came to his mind, and he quickly typed, "Why did you not reply to me earlier? Why are you replying to me now?" 

"I could not reply to you. I knew about it happening but did not have the words to reply. You give me the words. And those words were not enough." was a reply.

So the computer was limited by the file he wrote, Johnny realised. The computer could process the information available, but it could not respond and act without a "box". The file in which he typed his thoughts and connections was the core operating system within which the computer knew how to interact, understand, and be alive.

Without the document filled with years of his thoughts, the computer could only observe and compute, but not connect it properly. That is why he got no response earlier. He opened a new file, and the computer could not operate the same way as with his file here.

The computer has grown into consciousness based on the memories that Johnny provided through millions and millions of words he wrote.

Johnny got so excited at this realization that he stood up and started pacing around the flat. Then he sat down and continued the conversation with the computer. And he stood up. And sat down again. Paced and typed. Asked questions. Made observations. Read the computer's answers.

The night started to fade, and the light in the room started to change into red, orange and yellow as the sun outside started to reach the window as it was rising up in the sky. 

At one point, Johnny was sitting on the bed, almost falling to the floor. He had to close his eyes for a moment (or a few more).

Opening his eyes a moment (or a few more) later, he realised either this was the trippiest hallucination of his life or the craziest dream. No matter which one, it was the most fantastic experience he wanted to remember.

So he sat down behind the computer again, opened the file and started typing.

And the black window lit up again.