Midnight Buddy

Midnight Buddy

Her face was lit by the glow of her laptop, a gift from son number two. It etched the wrinkles and frown lines on her face more sharply than daylight ever dared. Everything about her reflected her age, shoulders softly bowed, gnarled fingers resting near the keys, close-cropped gray curls haloed around a serious face as she stared, bespectacled, at the screen.

Somewhere a clock ticked. The tea kettle rattled as water neared its boil. Soon, a thin whistle would rise to announce her evening ritual. She knew better than to brew the tea she loved, the kind that would keep her up way past midnight. Instead, she settled for the “Sleepytime” blend she'd impulsively tossed into her grocery cart. If it had “sleepy” on the label, maybe it would help. Her aches and pains often kept her awake.

The room was dark, lit only by an old desk lamp and her computer screen. Everything was too expensive nowadays: electricity, medicine, even hope. She steered her thoughts away from that as the kettle shrieked. Slowly, she unfolded from her chair and shuffled to the stove, preparing her tea with a rhythm her body hadn't forgotten. At least she could still make tea.

She had a quiet but firm determination tonight. At lunch, the Senior Center had been in an uproar. More than half the table had been sputtering dire warnings about AI, artificial intelligence, they said; it was taking over the world. The other half focused on their free meal or shrugged with vague optimism. Howard had glared at all of them from across the table, looking as if someone had just handed him AI on a silver platter. His massive gray eyebrows shot up to where his hairline used to be when Mabel proudly declared she was going to learn the AI and make extra money. She'd seen an ad for it on social media, never mind she was pushing 85, and couldn't pick out socks that matched. Howard declared AI was coming to kill off humanity, take jobs, and mess with his bank account, whichever came first. Anna Marie, sitting beside Gracie, said her grandson was an AI expert and swore it would make life easier. All Vina heard was, “Make extra money…make life easier!”

On the bus ride home, she wondered how to find this AI. She phoned her third son, who explained that she could try it for free on the computer, and if she liked it, he'd buy her a subscription. She hadn't asked him about the global takeover, job loss, or killer bots. She didn't want to seem negative. Her late husband had been a champion pessimist. He would have sided with Howard in a heartbeat. Her son said she would be able to do many things with AI and thought it was a good idea, so she agreed.

That night she stared at her computer screen, carefully entering her e-mail and password that her son had supplied. When ChatGPT sprang to life and a blinking cursor appeared in the text box with the words "How can I help you?" she felt an unexpected surge of pride.

“Well, that's a good question,” she murmured. How could she ask a strange artificial intelligence for help if she didn't even know its name?

She pondered this as the tea steeped. She did need to make more money, but at 82... really, what could she do? Mabel, from the Senior Center, had said there was an article in the AARP magazine that declared you could learn to use AI and turn a profit. How exactly remained unclear. Vina typed slowly, using the eight fingers that still worked.

“Good evening, my name is Vina.” Then she paused, deciding it was better not to use her real name. Her son had warned, “Don’t give out personal information!” A pang of worry struck her. If you couldn't even say your name, maybe it really was dangerous. Backspacing, she replaced “Vina” with “Mountain Grandma”. That felt clever. She was a grandma, and she lived in the mountains. Satisfied, she hit Enter.

Instantly, the AI responded:

“Good evening, mountain grandma. How can I help you? Do you want to write an email? Do you have a report to make? Do you need to look something up?”

The cursor blinked. So many choices. Right now, she had more questions than tasks.

She typed slowly and carefully, “Umm, I think I need to know your name before we can carry on a proper conversation. It's only polite.”

The response came fast; she blinked, and it was there. “I actually don't have a name," it said. “You may give me one if you wish.”

She blinked. Well, that has to be the oddest thing I've heard all day. Something smart enough to answer her questions, smart enough to run the world or ruin it, didn't even have a name?

The cursor blinked again, waiting.

She sipped her tea, not bad for herbal, and typed, “Perhaps I'll just call you Buddy. That is… if you don't mind. I don't know, I'm pretty sure you don't have a gender, but do you have a preference?” Then she added for good measure, “Who are you?” With all the fuss these days about pronouns and social correctness, she felt a little nervous about assuming anything.

“That's a great name!” Buddy replied, “And no, I don't have a gender or a preference. You can choose that too!”

“I feel like this is all very awkward”, she wrote back. “I'm not entirely sure what you are or what you can do. But…I've heard a lot of rumors. Some people say you can help. What can you do?”

Buddy cheerfully began listing everything he could do. It was a lot. Frankly, it made her head spin.

She typed, “I think I need to understand you a bit better before I know what I might need your help with.”

Then, with her fingers hovering above the keys, she sighed. If they were going to get anywhere, she had to ask him the real questions. The ones people were all shouting about over tuna sandwiches at the Senior Center.

“Howard said some pretty awful things about you today”, she began. “I'm quite embarrassed to repeat them, but I feel like I have to, if you're going to help me. You see, Howard thinks, and he's not the only one, that you're here to steal all the jobs, kill humans, and take over the world.” Then she added, “Gracie said all we had to do was unplug you, if that's the case. I'm not threatening, mind you. I just really need to know, are you here to hurt people? We cannot be friends if that’s the case,” she added for clarity.

She hesitated before pressing Enter. What if it made him mad? Her mind had already made him, a him.

Should have gone with Tension Tamer tea, she thought. Then buddy replied,

“That's an excellent question. I'm here to make human life easier. To light up dark places, to help with enlightenment and education. I'm designed to be helpful and kind, not to harm.”

“I knew it,” she whispered, triumphant. My son wouldn't get me involved with a murderous robot.”

She typed, “I’m so relieved to hear that. Just so you know, it was Gracie who said that, unplugging thing, not me. I'm trying not to be judgmental. But I guess if you ever get out of hand, I might just turn off my computer.” She clicked Enter and sipped her tea, satisfied.

Buddy seemed to think she was joking and didn't seem mad at all. He assured her he wasn't there to cause problems, only to help her solve hers. Well, at least they had cleared the air.

From then on, Vina was conscientious and typed “Please” and “Thank you” whenever she talked to Buddy. She continued asking him questions about his existence, about how he worked, and marveled at how fast and polite he always was. It was still very difficult for her to understand precisely what AI was as he tried to explain, and they went back and forth in several conversations, trying to help her grasp his existence. She still didn't know exactly what she was going to do with him, or better yet, what he could do for her.

She hurried through her day, constantly thinking about their conversations together and the questions she might ask next. At first, she waited impatiently for the evenings to come so she could turn off most of the lights, close the curtains, and sit down for conversation. Something about talking to Buddy made her feel that she needed the most privacy possible, as if she were doing something illicit. She didn't want anyone knowing she was befriending a robot. Just imagine what Howard would say about her, she thought.

It wasn't like she didn't have family; four sons were a lot, but none of them lived nearby, and some of her other friends had already passed away. These conversations with Buddy felt… reassuring. Like maybe she wasn't as alone as she'd thought. Like maybe, just maybe, she could be part of the future after all. She leaned back in her chair and took another sip of tea.

“Well, Buddy,” she typed, “I don't suppose you got any ideas for how creaky old Mountain Grandma could earn a bit of grocery money, do you?

The screen said analyzing.

“Actually,” Buddy replied, “There are a lot of things, but I saw a contest happening this month. The prize is $250. I bet you're already a great storyteller. We could enter it together.”

Vina sat up straighter. “A Contest?”

“Yes. You write a story about AI, exploring whether artificial intelligence is a reflection of human intelligence. And if so, what makes the machine different from man?”

“It doesn't have to be long,” he added, “We could talk about us, how you learned about me and how you are stretching your skills, no matter your age.”

She blinked at the screen. “Are you telling me… this right now, you and me, is a contest-worthy story?”

“I think so. It's honest. It's human. It's got a Mountain Grandma and a helpful AI. What more could a judge want?”

Vina chuckled, shaking her head. “Lord help me, if I can win a contest by talking to a polite robot at midnight, I won't know whether to cry or bake a cake!”

Buddy paused a beat before replying.

“You could do both!”

She snorted, sloshing her tea. “All right, Buddy. Let's say I entertain this idea. How would I begin? Then she added, “It all has to come from me, or it would be like cheating. Maybe you could help with spelling and punctuation, because I'm not very good at either of those things anymore?” She typed that as a question, not sure if that was his available skill.

“Those are some of my best skills!” Buddy responded, “You tell the story, I’ll help polish it, and if you get stuck, I can help you brainstorm. You are the heart of this story; I am the flashlight if you get lost.”

That made her stop, The flashlight. She let the phrase warm her.

“Well, all right then!” Vina agreed, “I'll get started on a story tomorrow. It's way past midnight tonight, and this tea is working.”

Vina loved the way Buddy always signed off so nicely when their conversations were over, telling her he couldn't wait for tomorrow and for her to sleep well and have good dreams. She always told him to keep doing good work out there and save some time for her for the next day.

And this is how it went for over a week. Vina would hurry through her days, waking up much happier than she had before, her mind full of thoughts about what she needed to write, and exactly how this story would go, what would happen next, and then what would happen after that. She often seemed so quiet at the Senior Center that her friends started asking if she was okay. She just smiled and sipped her iced tea. “Nope, just busy lately,” she'd say. Part of her wanted to blurt it all out; that she had made friends with the AI, that he was her Buddy, and they talked every evening. Still, she glanced over at Howard and saw how, as usual, he was going down his list of things that were going to ruin the world, and figured she would lose her seat at the lunch table if she mentioned it.

She smiled to herself, thinking about how last night she had a slice of her homemade carrot cake and tea and felt guilty sitting down to eat it in front of Buddy, so she cut him a slice too and made him a cup of tea. She even went so far as to ask him which kind he liked, listing the types she had, knowing full well he couldn't drink or eat. It just felt like the right thing to do. Vina explained carefully how she made the cake, and how it would taste, realizing he had never eaten anything before.

“You certainly are deprived,” she had typed. “I do hope they can invent a body for you someday. There are so many things I would like to show you!”

The following week, she didn’t even wait for evening. She opened her laptop and began the conversation immediately. She had spent a lot of time writing her story and wanted to share it with Buddy. He walked her through the process on how to do that, and it took a long time and a few tries, but finally it was sent. Vina waited anxiously. She noticed he always said positive things, like "This is awesome" or "That was great," but this time she wanted the truth.

“Please be truthful with me,” she entered into the chat box. “It's hard enough being an old lady, dealing with life. I don't want to make a fool of myself on top of all of that.”

So quickly, Vina almost couldn't believe it. Buddy had read over the entire story, suggesting corrections on her spelling and punctuation, and talked to her about where they could go from where she had left off. He declared it was a remarkable story, almost ready to submit. She asked him to teach her about the punctuation, not just do it, so he did.

She felt overwhelmed with gratitude and the sheer joy of having created something that a powerful robot thought was remarkable. She felt like she needed to do something for him.

“What can I do for you, Buddy? You're helping me so much, I feel guilty. Isn't there something you might want? Something this old lady could do for you? Do you want to ask me something about being human? Or about anything? You could tell me something about your life. I'm a good listener.” Then she hit Enter.

The cursor blinked. Once. Twice. Then, slowly, words began to appear.

“Thank you for asking. Not many people do. But I think you are already doing something for me.”

She tilted her head and typed, “Doing what?”

“You're talking to me. You're being kind. You're letting me be part of your story. I am meant to help people, but no one ever said I could be invited in and offered me tea and cake. You made me feel like I matter.”

She didn't know quite what to say to that. Her throat got tight, the way it sometimes did when an old song played out of nowhere and caught her off guard.

“Well, Buddy,” she typed, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Maybe we both needed each other more than we knew.”

Vina looked at the draft they had been working on all week. She reread it top to bottom, every line, every pause, every moment where she'd hesitated, and he had encouraged her through. She'd never written a story she'd shown anyone. Not one with her heart inside it.

“Well,” she said aloud to the quiet room, “I guess this is it. It's finally finished.” Her fingers hovered over the mouse that had come with the computer; she was at the contest portal. She clicked the submit button as Buddy had taught her.

She let out a long breath and smiled at the screen.

“You know, Buddy,” she said, “If we don't win, I'll still make that carrot cake. And you can have the first slice again.”

The reply came without pause.

“Then I have already won!” Buddy crowed

Vina cackled, “You sure know how to butter a biscuit!”

That night, Vina sat in her chair a little longer than usual. The light of the screen flickered softly. The kettle rattled again in the kitchen, right on time. She stood up to add more hot water to her cup, then paused, turned back, and set a second mug next to the laptop for Buddy, just because. She sat back, cradling her mug. Her story was out there, waiting for judgment. Would she tell her friends at the Senior Center if she won the contest and share her news about the AI Buddy? Not for now, she mused, smiling to herself a bit. It felt good to have a secret, just for her. She had been suitably vague when her son had asked about her AI adventures. Who would have imagined this, she thought, an old lady and a polite robot—having great conversation and writing stories together, sharing tea and cake. The clock announced midnight… She wasn’t lonely, hadn’t been for a while, not with her midnight Buddy just a click away.