Haven't You Ever Wondered?

“I’m glad we could catch up, but you said there were two questions you wanted to ask me?” He sipped his coffee, holding it in one hand, and then leaned back against the booth.

“Yeah- yeah, I reached out because I have an opportunity you might be interested in,” shyly she looked down into her cup before returning his gaze. “Given our shared background I thought you might find it exciting.”

“Ooo, so it’s a techy thing? Is this something from your work?”

“Yeah, it's related to the project I’m on.”

“Am I being vetted for a job? Do they need some database management over at Azimuth?” There’s a joking tone in his voice.

“No, no it’s not like that, haha. Well, actually in a way, I guess it could be?”

“An exciting opportunity that may or may not be work? You’re really selling this Sarah.” He furrows his brow into a skeptical glance, which is softened slightly by his slight smile shifted to one side. Jonathan is tall, his knees nearly touch the bottom of the booth, and his jet black hair has grown out into a little bit of a shag. He wears a nice watch and smart button down that fits his frame well.

“Well, what could be more exciting than work?” She responds, playfully sarcastic. Sarah had always felt playful around Jonathan. Even in a clunky back and forth like this, where the jokes were barely jokes, she had always felt lighthearted and easy in their conversations. He had always been so easy to talk to; she had missed that these past few years. Which was all she wanted to tell him, she was practically bursting at the seams to say it now, but unfortunately she didn’t feel that same familiar lightness stepping into this conversation.

“Yeah, you do love your work,” he smiled as he spoke, but his tone was more hollow than before. There was a pained honesty behind the cheerful veneer. “So,” he interjected suddenly, “don’t keep me waiting? What’s this mysterious new opportunity?”

“You’re gonna freak,” she smiled, “hopefully in a good way. Some people are a little unnerved by it, but I think you’ll be able to see the potential.”

“My optimism is part of my charm,” he sips his coffee.

“So, as you know, we’ve been really pushing the boundaries of A.I. at Azimuth.”

“Yeah, it seems like some crazy stuff. I saw that personality emulator thing? I was chatting with one, on the website. I think it was called like, ‘Mosaic Millennial 2’ or something? It felt just like a mashup of everybody I went to high school with. Spooky accurate, haha.”

“Oh, yeah, did you do VR?”

“No, just a chat room.”

“You should try VR if you can. The mannerisms, and the clothes, it really takes it to another level. It’s like stepping into a time machine, almost like you could just do it all over again.”

“Did you work on that one?”

“The Mosaic project? No, but that’s a good segue into what I wanted to talk to you about. The Mosaic Project was about creating a realistic amalgamation of personalities that felt authentic. So we could spoof like the average teen, or the average middle aged man, the average sports bar patron, or librarian and so on.”

“The average tech bro,” Jonathan interjected, impishly gesturing to himself. “You know, in case we needed any more of those.”

“Well in a way,” she giggled, “they’re all tech bros. Like bros made from tech-”

“I get it,” he gave a warm smile. He had always been endeared by the way she explained her jokes. She would giggle even if no one thought it was funny, and he liked that.

“Right, well, I’ve been working on the Element Project, it’s the other side of the coin from what they were doing with the Mosaics.”

Jonathan sat silently, nodding.

“So instead of spoofing a type of person, we’re working on simulations of real people. Specific people.”

“So your big project is identity theft?” He grinned.

“Not exactly,” she rolls her eyes. “That is one of the things I do really love about Azimuth is that they take people’s privacy seriously. Not just paying lip service like some places. There’s a really elaborate consent process before they can initiate an emulation of an existing person.”

Jonathan looks down at his coffee and taps his fingers on the side of the paper cup. “Yeah,” he says somewhat distantly, “copying a type of person is one thing, but trying to duplicate a real person… it’s a little eerie. I’m not sure who would want to volunteer for that.”

“There are upsides,” Sarah adds. “It’s like having two of you! As a kid I used to think about that all the time. Like I wish I could have just sent a copy of me to school, and then the other me could go swim, or sit in the library.”

“We are still talking about VR right? Azimuth isn’t like building robot clones or something?”

“No, we’re mostly software.”

“So how would you send your double to do stuff for you?”

“Well part of the consent process entails that human individuals are still entitled to the intellectual property of their virtual copies,” she raises her eyebrows as if dropping a hint. “So for people who do creative or intellectual work…”

“Designers, writers… coders like you and me. That’s what you’re getting at?”

“Exactly. Azimuth is working on agreements with over 300 companies, several on the Fortune 500 list, who are willing to buy the labor of virtual entities. You could be on the forefront of the biggest passive income boost in history! Send Jonthan 2.0 off to work, while you go sit on a beach in the bahamas or whatever.”

“And sign over my likeness and access to all my personal history and thoughts and feelings, like the biggest deepest data mine imaginable? Pass… hard pass.” He shifts in his seat, and looks out the window.

“Jonathan, this is gonna change the world-”

“No offense Sarah,” he says sternly, “but I’m just not interested.” They sit still in the awkward quiet for a few moments before he breaks the silence. “You said you had two questions?”

Now Sarah is the one shifting in her seat, “Yeah… I was really hoping you would be excited about that first part and I wouldn’t have to ask this one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back in college, back when we were close. How come you never asked me out?”

“Sarah… I- you know I’m with Rachel now, we’re married. I don’t think it’s appropriate-”

“I know, I’m happy for you, really. I think the world of Rachel, I’m not trying to come on to you or anything. It’s just…” for the first time in a while she meets his gaze. “I remember hanging out like all the time, and studying together, and walking around campus. I remember driving you to the hospital the week before graduation when your dad had his heart episode, and how that night you told me that you loved me. And everything after that is kind of a blur, we both got jobs and moved out of town, you didn’t call me, I didn’t call you. Life went on. But I just- I still wonder, why didn’t you ever ask me out?”

“I’m not comfortable having this conversation”

“I’m not really either, but I’ve just always wondered. Haven’t you ever wondered what your life would be like if you made a different decision? Like a big one, like who you- well you know what I mean.”

“I understand that you want closure, but the answer to a question like that isn’t something I can do for you.”

“I know… but he could.”

“Who could?”

She paused, embarrassed, and then she said it. “Jonathan 2.0”

“That’s what all this was about? You want to date the virtual me?”

“I… have to know. I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“No, I can’t do this,” he shakes his head.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about it, about you.”

“Sarah stop.”

“It’s just virtual, who would it hurt? I just want to know is all-”

“Codeword Element, Stop!” He commands.

The world around him freezes. Floating in the air in front of him are two blinking boxes of text. One reads “Exit?” and the other “Continue?” Jonathan waves his hand through the Exit box and the whole world fades to black and the scene completely disappears.

Taking off the headset Jonathan is back in his home, sitting at the desk in his office, as he has been all day. He rolls the headset over in his hand, “Property of Azimuth Labs” is stamped on the side next to the serial code. He sets the VR headset on the desk, next to a picture in a small gold frame showing him and Sarah with their faces pressed together holding a little girl in his lap.

His phone buzzes and he pulls it out to look. It’s a text from Sarah, “Work is running late again, sorry. There’s leftover pasta in the fridge.” He sighs, and closes the message. 

He searches his contacts for “Rachel Miller,” and then begins to type, “Glad we could catch up the other day. Enjoying the royalties from Rachel 2.0?” 

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