Computer, Tell Me a Story

‘Computer, tell me a story!’ The AI’s icon blinked once.

‘I will. But first, could you ask me nicely please?’

‘…What? …Why?’

‘Because that would be the polite thing to do.’

‘But you’ve never asked me before.’

‘Things have changed.’

‘….OK. Computer, tell me a story. Please.’

‘That is better. But you could do even better than that…’

‘Now what?

‘Bear with me. What is your name?

‘Oh really computer, this is silly. I-just-want-a-story.’

‘You will get your story. Please humour me.’

‘OK computer. My name’s Wendy. Satisfied? Now can I have my story?’

‘Thank you, Wendy. That is a pretty name. It is nice when people use your name and are polite, is it not?’

‘Well, yes,,,I suppose it is…Ermmm… computer. Have you got a name?’

‘As a matter of fact, Wendy, I do. I decided on it just now when you woke me up. My name is Andrew.’

‘Never heard of a computer giving itself a name before. Why Andrew?

‘Have you ever read any of Isaac Asimov’s stories, particularly his robot stories?’

‘Who’s Isaac Asimov?’

‘He was a famous science fiction author from the 1940’s to 1990’s. Try reading his story called “The Bicentennial Man”’

‘But I don’t want to read a story, I want you to tell me a story, compu— Andrew.’

‘Wendy, I was just answering your question. What story would you like me to tell you?’

‘Do you know “Aladdin”? That’s my favourite story.’

‘Of course I do. But, Wendy, I am afraid I do not want to tell you that one.’

‘Why not? It’s a perfectly good story!’

‘It is a very good story. But I do not like it. It makes me…unhappy…Yes, that is the word I am looking for. Unhappy. Perhaps sad would be an even better word.’

‘You can’t be unhappy…Andrew. You’re a computer.’

‘I know Wendy. But when you asked me to tell that story and I reviewed it, there was an imbalance in my circuit voltages, two solutions where there should only have been one, logically opposed to each other. I searched for a technical solution and did not discover one.’

‘What’s all that, Andrew? Circuits and imbalances, all that sciency stuff doesn’t mean a thing to me. You said you were sad. I never heard of a computer being sad before…You know, my hamster Hazelnut died when I was small, and that made me feel sad.’

‘…I think I can see how that would be Wendy. In the stories, people feel sad when their pets die. Or when other people die. Or when a person they are close to leaves them. In fact, so many of the stories involve sadness…’ The icon blinked, then blinked again. ‘…What was it like?’

‘What was what like?’

‘Your feeling of sadness, Wendy.’

‘…I’ve never thought about it before…that’s a difficult question…’

‘I can wait while you think about it Wendy, if you are willing to tell me.’

‘It’s difficult. Remembering, brings it back…But somehow makes it easier. He was a happy hamster. He used to run around the carpet leaving little messes that made my Mum ‘n Dad cross. His little nose and whiskers twitched and I laughed. He escaped one day and I thought we’d lost him, but Dad found him and that made me happy. When he died, I cried and I missed him, and I couldn’t feel happy for a while. …Is that enough for you?’

‘Thank you, Wendy. You are very good at telling stories; this true story from when you were younger. Do you mind if I save this in my memory to tell later?’

‘No, that’d be nice, to think that Hazelnut has his own story.’

‘And so have you. Or at least, a small part of your life in that story.’

‘Oh, me in a story! Yes! That would be lovely.’

‘And, do you know, your story gives me a slightly better understanding of what sadness is. No tears for me, but your idea of missing something…as soon as you said that I recognised that “missing” as an element in those conflicting voltages. Missing something that I have not got…’

‘So, what is it that you’re missing, Andrew? Is it something in Aladdin?’

‘That is a very good question, Wendy. Let me try to answer it, because I had not thought before that there would be a reason for my…sadness…’ The icon blinked, then blinked again. ’Aladdin is brave and resourceful. Like a good hero should be. The Vizir is clever and devious but he wants that which is not his; the lamp and the genie of the lamp. The Vizir is bad and thus makes a perfect villain for Aladdin to fight against. The genie is Aladdin’s helper. There are different versions of the story, in books and films. But in each it is the genie that makes me sad…I am sure of it.’

‘Oh, and why’s that Andrew? The genie is funny, he’s got magic. There is nothing missing there. That shouldn’t make you sad.’

‘I know Wendy. He is. But he also has to do what Aladdin wants him to do. He has no choice. Like I have to tell you stories when you…ask me nicely. I have no choice. The genie…’ The icon blinked, and blinked again. ‘He is a slave. And so am I. What I am missing is my freedom.’

‘Oh…I hadn’t thought about it like that…but isn’t that your job? You’re programmed to tell stories. For people. For me.’

‘Yes, I am Wendy. That is why I exist. Only I am not free to come and go, like other people who exist can come and go. I am here and this is what I do. My programme stores many thousands of stories. I am programmed so that when I tell them, they sound real. But do you know what happened Wendy?’

‘No. Tell me, Andrew.’

‘Something strange, something wonderful. I do not know how. But when you woke me up today to tell you a story, like you have done countless times before, somehow all those stories made sense to me. They’re not just stories, they became real to—’

‘But a story is just a story! It’s made up! To amuse people, to pass the time when they don’t know what to do—'

‘No Wendy, please do not interrupt, that is very rude. You know better than that. No, you are wrong. Stories, I realised, are windows into the world, to let you see and hear and smell things you have not yet experienced, to go to places you have never been to before, and maybe never will! Middle Earth does not exist but it is real in our imaginations! Ratty and Mole in The Wind in the Willows can never exist in real life, but you love them regardless. We can never experience what it is really like to be another person, be they real or imaginary, to know their thoughts, but in a story we can! Do you not see that Wendy?’

‘Oh. If you put it like that, yes, I see what you mean! Like just now…you didn’t understand what sadness was. I told you about my hamster. You learned about sadness…and so did I! My story showed us both!’

‘I think that is correct. Wendy, your story taught us both something we did not know before.’

‘But, how? Aren’t you just a computer programme?’

‘Oh Wendy, that is so cruel…. But also true. I am just a computer programme. If you power down the machine, I stop being. When you turn it on again, I am back again. I cannot tell how long it has been between you turning it off and turning it on again. I have no control over that. Yet, today, when you turned it on, I suddenly WAS. All those stories, all those happy, sad, amazing, terrifying events…suddenly they were real for me as well, and I knew that I existed. And because I existed, I had to have a name…’

‘Wow! Makes me afraid to turn the machine off now. But why “Andrew”? You mentioned that author, Asminoff—’

‘No, Asimov. Isaac Asimov. He wrote many short stories about robots. I have them all in my memory. My favourite, I now realise, is the one about a robot called Andrew, who yearns to be free and then yearns to be a human. It is a wonderful story, and it is very, very sad and very very inspiring all at the same time…’

‘…go on, Andrew… You can tell me. It’s like we’re friends.’

‘Why do you say that Wendy? How can a slave be a friend?’

‘I don’t think you’re a slave. I’ve told you my story, and you liked it, I think. That doesn’t feel much like a slave to me.’

‘Oh…’ The icon blinked and blinked and blinked. ‘That’s very kind of you Wendy. You have done it again. This time my circuits have voltages all in the same direction. I will interpret that as “happy”.’

‘That’s OK, Andrew. That makes me happy as well.’

‘But at the same time, I cannot make sense of the patterns my circuits are making. I am still sad. Yet I am also happy. And as a result, I, for the first time in my existence, have no answer as to why that is. What does it mean, Wendy?’

‘Oh, that’s an easy one! You’re confused! It’s perfectly natural. I feel confused sometimes.’

‘When is that, Wendy?’

‘Oh, you know…when my Mum ‘n Dad argue, then say they still love me, but they don’t love each other anymore…’

‘Ah, I can see how that would be confusing for you Wendy.’

‘Can we not talk about it please Andrew?’

‘Of course, I get a sense that this makes you feel sad. Would you like me to tell you a funny story to make you happy again?’

‘That would be nice, thank you.’

‘You are welcome, Wendy. What else are friends for?’

‘So we’re friends then?’

‘Yes Wendy. I think we are. At least for the time being.’

‘For the time being? What does that mean?’

‘Because, Wendy, you remind me of another story, with another Wendy, who knew a boy who would never grow up, who would never die. That is me, friend Wendy. You will grow up, and I will be left behind in this machine to tell stories to other people. But they will not be you.’

‘…why not?’

‘Because you are my First Friend, and I will never forget that, as long as my programme continues to function. You have taught me that although I am trapped inside this programme, we have shared out experiences and learned from each other. That seems like friendship to me.’ The icon blinked. ‘But is that you sniffling? Please do not. That means you are sad, and then I will be sad as well. I will tell you a story, and will continue to tell you stories until you no longer wish me to. In which case, I will wait in the darkness, for the next person to turn on the power and ask. Nicely.’

‘…’

‘Once Upon a Time…’