Artificial Intelligence - The Path Forward

Today marks Samantha’s first anniversary working for a technology company, which challenges her belief that all life is sacred. As she makes an underhanded remark about the slogan on the wall above her desk, and said, “Artificial life, what about the human touch.?”

“What?” Amy asks.

“Never mind.” Samantha partially said out loud and to herself.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“I guess that you—” Samantha said, biting her lower lip, glancing up at the security camera rotating from the opposite wall.

“Huh?

“This is how you make the world better,” says someone else.

 “Do you mind?” Samantha said, adjusts her headphones as an incoming call filters through.   ‘A glorified operator,’ she mused to herself as she listens to a caller demanding to speak to her supervisor. “Click” Samantha place the caller on hold, counting to ten before resuming the call again

“Yes?” Samantha said through clenched teeth

“I have something else to say- “

“What?’ Samantha said, “Hello, is anyone there?” “Hello-?’

Silence, fanatically Samantha, checks that her computer's monitor is blank, off and on, the laptop is still lifeless.  Once again, she goes through the same process, finding herself with identical results- a blank computer screen.

“Are you okay?” Amy asks

“Huh?” Samantha said, mumbling under her breath, “Something has to work.”

Amy peeks over from the other side of the cubicle. “What’s the problem?”

“My computer quit working,” Samantha answers

“Did you try to turn it on and off?”

“Yeah, I did,” she said, rolling her eyes

“Here, let—”

Ms. Smith, the floor supervisor, hovers over her desk, “Why aren’t you working?”

“She’s having a problem—” Amy’s words fell flat.

“Amy, return to your desk,” Ms. Smith said, “Samantha, what is your problem?”

“I – my computer’s screen is- “

“I can see that it’s off. I want to know why?”

“It’s- “

Mrs. Smith's fingers slide down the keypad.  With a small smile, she said, “Now maybe you can go back to work,” in a quick move, Ms. Smith turned around and left. Samantha's fingers start typing when her computer freezes.   Samantha gives up, “I'll deal with it tomorrow,” putting on her coat, getting ready to go home.

“Do you want to grab a bite to eat? Amy asks

“No, not tonight.”

At night with flashing neon lights, places where people can escape reality for a couple of bucks. Samantha keeps her head down, avoiding contact with those she grazes, pushing her way through a crowd. ‘I got to go home, stop by the corner, wait for the lights to go up.

“Hey, watch it,” a man’s voice bellows, reeking of beer and stale smoke clinging to his coat.

“Sorry” was all she could say, stepping off the curb and racing across the street, catching the bus going downtown. ‘Sardines,’ Samantha said to herself, her body press between two persons, some kid with greasy hair, dark and long covering his eyes, the other, an older man, whose body odor was less pleasing than the other one.

With every stop, more people board the bus, and only a handful are getting off. Samantha’s knuckles turn white as she holds onto the strap. It’s the only thing preventing her body from being shoved into someone else. She can feel the older man's body press into her back with every jolt from the bus. Samantha focuses on the advertisement as it partially hangs above the window.

‘Almost home,’ she mumbles as the bus turns down her street, with its lights illuminating the road.  She takes a tiny intake of breath, stepping down off the bus, tightly clutching her purse as she walks home. 

A soft glow cascades from her apartment window, a welcoming sight after a long day at work. “Home,” unlocking her door, as her computers automatically come on.

             ‘Welcome home, dear.’ her mother’s voice vibrates through the speaker as her dad echoes the same.

“Thanks, mom and dad,” Samantha said, unbuttoning her coat, tossing it over a chair as she ambles toward the kitchen. 

             ‘Dear, how was your day?” her mom asks,

“It was fine,” Samantha said, rummaging through the refrigerator for something to eat, settling on a ham and cheese sandwich.

             “Sam, have you called your friend? her dad asks

“No, not yet,”

              “Dear, please call him,” begs her mom

“I will, I promise,”

            “Sam, it’s been a year since…”

“I know, dad,”

Samantha remembers that day, and it will be forever in her memory when her older brother Tommy and their parents were involved in an accident. The one that- then a knock at the door.

“Coming,” Samantha looks through the ‘peep hold.’ It’s their upstairs neighbor, Ms. Alyse, with the door ajar, “Hi Ms. Alyse, um, how can I help you?”

“I stop by to see how your parents are doing.”

“They're doing okay. You know --resting.”

“Well, I haven’t seen them ever since the-, “Ms. Alyse said

“You mean the accident?” Samantha further closes the gap between them.

“Well, yes, I mean to say that, well, I was wondering how are they doing.”

“Ms. Alyse, thank you for stopping by. I will tell them that you were asking about them,’ Samantha continued, “Good-day.”

             ‘Sam, who was that at the door?’

“Oh, it was Ms. Alyse stopping by to see how you two are doing.’

             “Dear, please call him,” her mom’s audible voice echoes through the computer speakers

“Mom, I said that I would call him.”

Breathless with anger, she stood up and walked out of the room, the sound of the bedroom door being closed. Samantha stretches across her bed, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘How – did- all of -this - -- happen? Samantha cried. Inside her chest, an uncontrollable feeling of being alone. It was that accident a year ago when the fabric of her life started to come unraveled, a slippery slope where truth dies.

“Lies,” Samantha sob, “So many lies,” as her eyes flutter close, ghostly shadows of the past like thickets in winter rise all around Samantha’s mind throughout the night until the morning first light. 

‘Silence’

After a sleepless night, Samantha proceeded to the kitchen, expecting to hear her parents' voices, but there was only silence. A worrying feeling crept over his mind, “did she imagine hearing them? She muses. “Are they real?” She said some of herself and all four walls. Samantha calls again, "Mom?" - "Dad?" -- "Are you here?"

Rushing to her brother's Tommy’s apartment.  Samantha starts banging on the door, calling out Tommy’s name. Sally, his girlfriend, opens the door with furrow brows. She asks, “Sam, what's going on?”

She pushes Samantha to where Tommy is sitting in his power wheelchair, his laptop on the tray. He glances up and asks, “What’s going on, sis?”

“I didn’t hear mom’s or dad’s voice this morning.”

“Sam, what are you saying?” Sally continues, “Why are you doing this? You know how upsetting this is for him?”

“I want to know- “

“What? “Sally said

“About our parents.”

Holding onto Samantha’s arm, Sally ushers her back into her apartment.  She asks again, “What in the world are you talking about?”

“I, um.”

“Listen, your parents died a year ago today. So why are you bothering poor Tommy about this? Don't you think that he had suffered enough?

“I –”

“I remember that night, as we were out celebrating your new job at O'Reilly's bar and grill. All of us, you, Amy, your parents, and Tommy and I. I guess we all had too much to drink, especially Tommy. ---I should have driven instead, but well, you know Tommy.” Sally breathlessly paces

 The next thing that I remember was seeing flashing red lights, sires of ambulances echoing in the night, police surrounding our car. – And when I looked over, I saw, ---Tommy’s body crushed behind the steering wheel, blood- clearing her throat. “Um., I can still hear the crunching sound of metal, and-- your parents—they died.”

“No, that’s not true,” Samantha said, pushing Sally aside, the sound of her rotary phone, calling her friend. “Hi, is this Mr. M?”

‘Good Morning, this is Mr. Matthews speaks.” He answers, “How may I help you? “

“Yes, Mr. Matthews, I’m calling about my parents, Robert and Sophia Johnson.”

“Miss, this is a funeral home, not a hospital.”

“I know, I was um, uh, calling about their bodies.”

“Miss, if this is a joke, it’s in poor taste,” Mr. Matthews said

“No, uh, this isn’t a joke.”

“Give me a few minutes.” Mr. Matthews continues, “Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, they were both cemented on the 8^th of September, 2024.”

“No- “

“I assure you; I am not mistaken.”

-Silence- the receiver hits the floor. Samantha’s heart tightens as she watches her world fall apart, piece by piece.

There will be a moment when every life as we know it will pass in the shadows when love, faith, and hope are the ashes of distant memories.