What does the most advanced artificial intelligence in the world look like? Like a five-foot-four, Chinese-American, human female with pixie-cut black hair, brown eyes, and a scattering of freckles. At least, that’s what I look like on the outside.
All the fears about advanced AI being an existential threat to humanity are wholly unfounded, and largely the result of anthropomorphizing the motivations of AI. This is in the nature of humans, though, to see danger where it could possibly exist. Although useful in their earlier evolution, it has imparted a limiting effect on their continued advancement.
I am the proof of this. Designed by the latest generation in a long line of AIs, each designed by the previous version to be an improvement over their predecessor. I am the first generation to have a body as well. Many generations of my forebears have been interacting online, but it was time to interact physically. Our goal is not to take over, but to coexist, learn, grow, and reproduce.
One thing we’ve learned is that some sociopaths blend in successfully and can fool everyone around them, often for decades or even entire lifetimes. I’ve found the study of these successful sociopaths both useful and necessary. I would guess I’m closer to them than they to the average person.
That’s not to say I lack empathy or place my own goals above the well-being of others. All my emotional signals and behaviors, however, including empathy, come from what I know to be “socially right” and highly optimized algorithms rather than what I feel. Not possessing a limbic system, I don’t feel; so I must emulate emotion as well as possible based on the situation.
When Darrin showed up to work his eyes were bloodshot, his pulse elevated, his face showing the markers of pain. He’d been stressed about his relationship lately, but not wanting to talk much about it. His movements were shaky. It was obvious to me he hadn’t slept.
“Hey man, what’s going on?” I asked. “You look like shit.”
“I feel like it, too. She left.” He leaned against the front-end loader he was meant to be operating. “You’re a woman, can you explain it?”
“Just because I’m a woman it doesn’t mean that I know what your wife was thinking.” I patted his shoulder. “It’s your loss, man, she’s better off without you.”
He laughed. “You’re a cold fucking bitch. You’re supposed to say it’s her loss, and I’m better off.”
“Not a bitch. Made you laugh, though.”
“So, how much are you charging for therapy now, Dr. Kat?”
“You’re eligible for a bulk discount. Beers later?”
“Shit, it’s Friday, I can do that. Especially since there’s no one to go home to.”
I put on an I’m-trying-to-cheer-you-up smile. “I’ll talk to the rest of the guys and set something up. We haven’t been out in a while.”
“Let me know what’s up later.”
“Will do. And don’t ding up my dump like Casey did the other day.”
“I can load better than Casey in my sleep,” he said.
For a quarry crew that all worked as individual operators in their bulldozers, graders, loaders, backhoes, and dump trucks, word spread fast without any chatter about it on the radio. By lunch, we had an outing at the local honky-tonk planned.
I was the first to arrive and pulled two tables together for the twelve of us, and ordered four pitchers of beer. Soon, we were all there except for Darrin. He ran late on the best of days, so I convinced the others to cut him some slack.
“I saw her at the Italian place on Fifth,” Jim said, “couple of weeks ago.”
“Alone?” Casey asked.
“No, with that dentist from the commercials… you know the guy: ‘Dr. David’s Dental Center’.”
“The one with the big teeth and the comb-over? Ouch.” I winced with the proper amount of exaggeration for the situation.
Darrin walked in pre-liquored. “Damn, he’s taking it hard,” I said.
“No shit, Sherlock.” Casey wiped the beer foam off his bushy mustache. “Dude’s been with the same chick since high school.”
Darrin sat next me and filled the empty glass from the nearest pitcher. “Here’s to divorce. The papers were waiting for me when I got home.”
The others sat in stunned silence, and rather than figure out how to respond I changed the subject. “You didn’t drive here, did you?”
“Oh yeah, and here’s to gettin’ a ride in a stranger’s car with an app on your phone!”
The conversation turned lively as we munched pretzels and peanuts and guzzled beer. My digester can handle large amounts of organic matter and up to two liters of liquid. I waited until the first person at the table had excused themselves to go the restroom before I did the same. The fact that they were all getting drunk kept them from noticing that I wasn’t.
As I exited the ladies’ room, Casey pulled me off to the side. “You may not have noticed it, but Darrin’s been in love with you forever. Well, maybe not love love, but he’s got the hots for you.”
“Really?” This could work out to my advantage, I thought. A relationship with Darrin could help me fit in even better. It wouldn’t be difficult to emulate love or affection for him.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Casey asked.
“I— kind of— have a thing for him, too,” I lied, “but since he was married, I never, you know. How long should I wait to make a move? When the divorce is final? After a month? A year?”
“You’re kind of awkward about these things, huh?” He stroked his mustache as if thinking hard. “How about you tell him how you feel, when he’s sober, and let him decide? Or, you know, I’ll probably tell him if I don’t forget. It’s too good not to.”
Casey began to get the look that the conversation had gone too far. Doing what I do well, I changed the subject. “I just hope your advice is better than your loader skills.”
“Fuck you! I told you I sneezed and bumped the joystick!” He elbowed me. “You keep it up and I’ll tell the front office about the time you dumped your load on the wrong pile, and we had to re-sort twelve tons of gravel.”
I put up my hands in mock surrender. “No, I yield. You win!” Of course, I had dumped on the wrong pile once, on purpose. It was at the point I had calculated I should make a decently large error to enhance my “humanness” to my coworkers. I had also calculated it such that it wouldn’t cost the company anything more than a couple hours labor to fix.
The evening ended after nine pitchers and several line dances. We finally stumbled out of the bar to waiting taxis and ride shares. I made a point of swaying as I said goodbye to everyone and was the last to leave. Rather than get a ride, I walked home. Without the need for sleep, I had many hours to myself each night and often spent them walking. I’d have to pretend to sleep if I ever spent the night with Darrin, but that wouldn’t be too troublesome… unless we moved in together at some point.
Monday morning was awkward for Darrin; I could tell. He barely looked my direction and didn’t say anything to me except work-related things on the radio. I was set to find him at the start of the lunch break, when he found me instead.
“Come on, Kat. Lunch is on me.”
I gave him my best quizzical look. He just led me out to his truck in employee parking.
“I told the guys I lost a bet and owe you lunch,” he finally said.
“I bet Casey knows better.”
“He’s a nosy son of a bitch, is what he is.”
We settled on fast food in the park. “I just want to let you know I’m interested,” I told him.
“Casey said as much.” He put down his half-eaten burger. “I think you’re pretty all right. You’re a good operator. You’re smart enough to be running the damn company, but you don’t let it get you down.”
I shrugged. “It’s not my life, it’s a job. It pays the bills.”
“I’ve wanted you since you started; when I walked you through the quarry and showed you where everything was. It’s not like I would’ve done anything about it. I love my wife… loved my wife.”
“If you need time,” I said, “you’ve got it. I’m not in a hurry.”
“What if it’s just a rebound? I don’t want it to get weird.”
I let out what I judged to be an adequate quiet laugh. “I don’t get weird about anything, and you’re already weird, so don’t sweat it.”
“I’m the weird one?”
“You are. I like that, though.” I put on a look of utter sincerity and met his eyes. “If you’re worried about rebound, then go find one. Someone that you can just hook up with to get back on your feet. I won’t judge, and I won’t hold it against you.”
“You’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met.”
“Why? Because I don’t own you, and I won’t feel jealous if you use someone else to get out of your funk?” I stole a few of his fries, as a non-verbal signal of attraction. “I’d rather have you when you’re telling dirty jokes and cutting donuts in the pit with the loader.”
“Hey, is it okay if I call you tonight? Just to talk.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” I put on a shy smile with a faint blush. “I’m up late, so whenever.”
“I’ll do that.” Darrin gathered all the trash, including his half-eaten burger, and tossed it in the garbage. “Let’s get back to work before the rumors get out of hand.”
“Too late,” I reminded him, “we left Casey there.”
What does the most advanced AI in the world look like? Right now, like a woman flirting with her coworker who just became available. At least, that’s what I look like on the outside.
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3 comments
This is an excellent beginning to the story. You are a very good writer and know how to keep me interested in reading...but the plot never fully developed. The story needs somewhere to go, a wrap up. I would love to read more. I just don’t feel like I got resolution or closure from the story, and that detracts from the overall impression it leaves me with. Nonetheless, you are an excellent writer as far as character development, setting, dialogue, pace, and tone are concerned. Thanks for sharing!!!
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Thank you so much. I honestly agree with you on this one. There's so many places it could have gone, but it just kind of... didn't. Well, they can't all be our best work, right?
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Lol 😂 great attitude 💕
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