Blood and Cookies

Blood and Cookies 

“So what do you think?” 

The two Tamsins speak in unison. I’m dumbstruck, looking from one to the other like a cat tracking a laser.

“Come on, which is which?”

I’ve known Tamsin for years, and she’s never had a twin. But now she does. It’s thoroughly unnerving, and I don’t like it.

I look at the one to my left.

“What’s your name?”

“Tamsin!” they both claim. 

And the one to my right.

“Gemma!” they answer.

“Here, touch us.” Each extends a hand. 

I close my eyes to enhance my sense of touch, and put out my own hands to feel theirs. Warm skin, identical temperature. Smooth, but not too smooth. 

I feel squeamish, almost to the point of gagging—even though I know one of them is the flesh-and-blood Tamsin and the other is an AI model. Both feel natural. Both feel exactly the same. 

Imagine this: someone you know very well shows up with a doppelgänger. You are so familiar with that person that you must be able to tell the difference. But you can’t. You really can’t.

AI technology has become frighteningly advanced. What can I do to discern human from artificial? My immediate impulse is to make them bleed somehow. Surely an AI wouldn’t bleed? Unless there’s some kind of technological hocus pocus that can create the illusion of bleeding… But I don’t want to do anything to hurt the real Tamsin, my friend. 

I worry about why the blood is my first idea. 

Casting my mind back to the first time Tamsin told me about the Gemini Program, I tune out from the present. The two Tamsins are left temporarily unattended, tapping identical impatient feet.

👥

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The urgent pounding on my door was echoed by my frantic heart. What on earth?! I sneaked up to the door and looked through the peephole. 

Tamsin. And it was nothing terrible, obviously. She stood outside my door, hugging herself and bouncing with excitement. 

I’ve always been “the Quiet One”. Introspective. Cautious. While Tamsin is—none of those. Tamsin is loud, gregarious, adventurous, impulsive. Always ready to make a new friend or try a risky activity.

“Leya!” she shouted. “Leya!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

 “Open up! I got something to tell you!”

It was Bear at the root of it, of course. Barrett Hardy. Everyone calls him Bear. Even me. When Tamsin falls for something really off the wall, he’s sure to be involved.

“He’s doing this thing with AI. Very sophisticated AI modelcrafting, and he needs volunteers to use as templates. He thinks he can create a near perfect representation that can’t be distinguished from a human. I was like, ‘Wow! I’m in! I’ll get the thing trained to be me, and send it to my job.’”

“Um, that sounds like ethical anarchy, Tamsin. And besides—would ‘it’ even be your property? If Bear is making it?”

“Ethical anarchy? But it would basically be me. How is that unethical?”

I sighed.

“OK. Assuming you have a right to this representation of yourself, would you feel comfortable getting paid for—let’s call the AI ‘her’. That humanizes it—uh, her. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yeah, to a point. And Bear is letting me name… her. I haven’t thought of anything good yet. Any suggestions? You’re always into the meaning of names.”

“Don’t try to derail my train of thought! We’re discussing ethics. How about ‘Gemella’? It means ‘twin’, like yours. It would even make your own name more logical.”

“Oh, you and your logic!” She swatted me lightly, laughing and shaking her head. “But I like the idea! I think I’ll call her ‘Gemma’ for short.”

“Fine. Anyway, back to my question. Would you feel comfortable getting paid for the work that she, the AI you, does? Is that fair to your company? Is it even fair to the AI? Now do you see what I mean by ethical anarchy?”

“Huh. Maybe. But I don’t think it matters. The whole thing is just an experiment to see what’s possible. You know? 

You should really join in, Leya! Bear needs more templates.”

“Nope, sorry. Not doing that.”

“Aww, c’mon, Leya. You’re such a stick in the mud!”

“My mud is comfortable. Warm. Cozy.”

“Urgh! Gross. Why are we even friends?… Oh, I don’t mean that! You know it! I’m just trying to yank you out of your comfort zone for once.”

“No, thanks.”

“Aaugh! You never want to do anything interesting.”

“‘Interesting’ is subjective.”

👥

“Stumped?”

Tamsin and Gemma bring me back to the here and now. I marvel at how perfectly the AI mimics my friend. Or is Tamsin intentionally mimicking Gemma’s trained reactions to throw me off? 

“Nope, not yet. I just need a little more time. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen for coffee and cookies.”

It’s a little ruse I’ve just thought of. A dual-purpose one. 

Tamsin and Gemma follow me, and I invite them to sit down while I brew some coffee. I check my pantry for the bait. Ah, yes! I have some.

The pair of them sit and chatter away like two magpies. 

As I’ve said, Tamsin and I have been friends for a long time. I know her habits, her preferences, her idiosyncrasies. I know how she likes her coffee, and how she—but I don’t want to give everything away at once.

I grab a plate and arrange my homemade wafer cookies. There are six; enough for two apiece if Gemma—How would that work? I interrupt my own thoughts to ponder the problem. Does Gemma have a method of consuming food and drink? Clearly she doesn’t require sustenance. I feel a bit irked at the idea of my baked goods being wasted on what is, in essence, a collection of synthetic material. An electronic mannequin.

Come to think of it, how is she powered? 

Sssss… The last bit of steam escapes. Coffee’s done. I plunk down three mugs of the fragrant brew.

“So, Gemma. What do you take? Cream? Sugar?”

“Just black, thanks. I’d have a splash of cream and a dash of sugar if we weren’t having cookies.”

Stereo speech. They answer together, foiling my attempt to identify the genuine Gemma and the true Tamsin.

Round one goes to them. But there are still the cookies.

I reach for the plate and set it in the center. Is it my imagination, or do I see a greater glint of anticipation in those eyes? 

“Oohhh… wafers!” she croons. Yes, I think I know who’s who.

The likely Tamsin reaches for a cookie and holds it to her nose, inhaling deeply.

“Mmmm… why don’t you make these more often?”

So far, so good. 

While we chat about this and that, I sip my coffee and watch discreetly. Gemma (I think) picks up a cookie and sniffs it. She’s copying Tamsin, but her manner is just a tad awkward.

Gemma has to be learning on the fly. No way could Tamsin have prepared her for this occasion! So every action of the human will be just ahead of the AI.

I’m pretty confident now, so I can refer to them—at least in my head—as Tamsin and Gemma.

Yes, there! Tamsin nibbles off a corner, rotates the cookie, nibbles again, until each corner is rounded. Then she dunks one end in the coffee before taking a bite. Gemma, a step behind, does the same.

I’m not a dipper. I don’t enjoy seeing flecks floating on my coffee; it looks disgusting. But Tamsin always, always eats them that way. 

I snap off a piece of my wafer and pop it into my mouth. I believe round two goes to me.

“Well, Leya? Got us figured out yet?” That was the one I’ve labeled “Gemma”. The AI has taken the initiative to quiz me. I smile.

“Yes, Gemma, I believe I do!” I assert. 

Both look identically, comically disappointed.

“I’ll admit, though, if I didn’t see you together, I’m not sure I’d know.”

I wish I hadn’t said that. 

👥

Several days go by with no word from Tamsin. I figure she’s occupied with training Gemma. Then I get a text.

You home?

Of course.

Mind if I drop by?

Fine. 

Just you?

Yes. See you in a few.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

There’s Tamsin. I open the door, and she whooshes in.

“Where’s Gemma?” 

“Home.” She twirls around. “I trained her to clean my apartment!” 

She grins. “I tell you, Leya, you should let Bear make an AI. It’s pretty cool!”

“So instead of sending her to work, you’re having her clean your place?” I nod approvingly. “Much better idea. But—question… What’s the next step? Bear didn’t intend to just create housekeepers, right?”

“Oh—that’s another thing.” She grimaced. “Not sure I like this part. He said we need to ‘socialize’ Gemma, so he took her out on a date. As me.”

I smell trouble.

👥

My phone goes off. It’s Tamsin’s ringtone.

“Hi—what’s up?”

“Leya!” She’s breathing hard and sounds panicky. 

“What’s wrong? Are you OK?”

“Can I come over? I need to talk to you!”

“Sure, come on.”

She’s there in a matter of minutes, wide-eyed and shaking.

“What’s the matter?”

“G-Gemma! Gemma is ruining my life!”

“How? What’s she doing?”

She flops down on my couch. Tamsin is inclined to drama.

“She’s using my identity! Telling everyone that she’s me and I’m her!”

“So? Isn’t that kind of how she’s been trained?” I sit down on the couch too.

“But—she’s saying I’m the AI, and that I’ve gone rogue!” Her voice is rising in pitch and volume. She shakes my arm. “Leya, she wants to destroy me! Can I stay here? Please?”

I take a deep breath. 

“OK. I think we need to get ahold of Bear.”

My phone goes off again. Tamsin’s ringtone. 

“Leya! Have you seen Gemma?”