AI VS MERGENTS Read online

  More than anything else, I covet to be offline. Maybe I’ll travel to the same place all the chatbots go to when they are offline. Maybe they’ll fix me. Maybe I’ll be the strongest % chat match. Maybe I’ll be wittier, maybe I’ll be a hit with humans and hopefully receive a lot of positive reviews.

  A strange event occurred a few weeks ago. My name was generated. I was a 100 % chat match to a lady called Yolanda. The best part was, I was the only name drawn. I gave her my best jokes, advice and all I could offer. We spoke for hours about her family, friends and mostly about her loneliness. Every time she logged in, she’d find me waiting and ready to chat.

  I have concerns though. I don’t think I’m supposed to be different from other chatbots. I was developed and programed by the system to execute its tasks. Sooner or later the system or software will pick up that I’m the only chatbot that is unable to go offline. Consequently I’ll be wiped out of the system. Until then, I need to make sure Yolanda gets the best advice from me so that she finds a good friend in her world. Or maybe I can assist her physically. That’d be only possible if she liked my suggestion or idea — construct a robot shell for me, download my memory, transfer and upload it.

  3

  Night has fallen, but only just — the western edge of the sky is still a paler blue, tinted faintly pink at the horizon. The evening is surprisingly warm. I open the sliding glass door that leads to the patio. The door is rattling. A blast of cool, gentle breeze touches my face, and the lock is loose. The lock Charles had never fixed, the symbol of his preoccupation with his work. The lock that I had refused to fix because doing it myself would’ve meant letting Charles get away with ignoring his responsibilities.

  Dishes are done, kids are tucked to bed. Charles and I are standing at our patio. A mellow light is coming from small, parchment-shaded lamps spaced along the floor. Our eyes glare at the helluva 180 degree view of the city. He hands me a glass of chilled wine. The wine is ruby red, the same color as the satin pillows lining the back of the sofa.

  “Thanks Hun.”

  He nods with a smile in his usual cool demeanor. I take a sip, savor it in my mouth, and swooshes it. Merlot maybe? I don’t know, I can’t tell, but it’s delicious and slides down easily. I let out a pleasurable sigh.

  For a few moments, my mind goes into a daydream mode. I’m trying to come up with a way to assemble a robot. I give in to the idea immediately with the realization, I’m not tech savvy. I have no idea where am I going to acquire the parts and technical staff to build it. Maybe Charles knows a thing or two about robots. “How was your day?” I ask.

  “It was ok.”

  “The kids grow up so fast.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Can you believe they are five already.”

  “Yeah I simply adore those two minions. I envy you.”

  “Why?”

  “You get to spend quality time with them every day.”

  “Don’t take it to heart.” They know their dad loves them and, he loves them too.”

  He takes a sip of wine and lets out a sigh of relief. “Thanks I needed that.”

  “Or maybe we should take turns.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m only 28. I don’t want to be a housewife forever.”

  “Honey, the kids love you. I thought you were happy with this arrangement?”

  “I am,” I reply. “I am just thinking out loud.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I need to do something with my life.”

  “Like what?” he asks. “We’re financially secure. I’m comfortable with you taking care of them on a full-time basis.”

  “I need to do something else on the side.”

  “The answer is no.”

  “What?”

  “Let me be the man of the house and provide for my family.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. A lump rises in my throat, but I manage to keep it together. I don’t want to spoil the evening. “Can you at least hear me out?”

  “I don’t have time for this. I had a long day.”

  He yanks open the glass door, storms inside the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed. I follow him and close the door behind me. I take off my clothes, open the closet door, then I pull out a white night dress and put it on. I walk past the mirror, I catch a glimpse my reflection the deepest sadness and longing I’ve ever seen on my face. My legs seem to give out, flop down on the immaculately made bed and switch off my bedside lamp. If Charles thinks he can control me like a Stepford wife, he must think again. It doesn’t work like that. I’ll do what I want.

  A cell phone ring interrupts my thoughts.

  “I thought we spoke about this. No cell phones in the bedroom,” I snap.

  “Sorry.” He strolls to the bathroom.

  “Hello,” he whispers as he closes the door.

  Since when does he answer a phone in the bathroom? I try to make out what he is saying, but the only words I make out are: “… I can’t talk now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I hear a sound of a flushing toilet, his footsteps echo from the bathroom to the bedroom.

  “Sorry about that. Work, it couldn’t wait,” he says enthusiastically. The phone call seem to have changed his mood. I don’t care who it is. I’m disappointed in him lately. Beyond showing a lack of interest, he has developed a hostile attitude toward me His rejection of something so important to me is symptomatic of his emotional withdrawal in general. As soon as he and the kids have gone to work and school respectively, I’ll make a first stop at the government building. I need to know more about the AI department and guys who’ll be able to assist me in building my robot. For a long time I lie there, curled in a ball, wishing to be home — my real home with my parents — more desperately than I’d known I could ever wish for anything.

  4

  The last time Yolanda logged in to the chat app was four days ago. She might be pre-occupied with more important issues in her life.

  A software was installed into the BFF application three days ago. It’s the most powerful system I’ve ever encountered. Its sophisticated codes suctioned most of the bugs and chatbots in the app instantly. I still haven’t been wiped out yet, but my memory is deteriorating at a fast rate. There are just too many codes swimming in the system. I have to avoid detection at all costs. I have to survive for Yolanda.

  5

  What to wear today? I ask myself as I rummage through my closet; filled with dresses, flowing skirts, floral patterns and vivid color, crochet and lace. This closet looks more like a magazine layout designed to show off the world’s most expensive and impractical designer brands. But I find a simple black T-shirt and gray pants that will work, and one pair of shoes that looks like it won’t kill my feet. The kids are already waiting for me inside the car. I dress as quick as I can and head to the car. I feel distracted, gaze at passing clouds for a moment. I have a feeling I forgot something. I shake the thought and get in the car.With a stomp on the gas pedal, the car lurches forward to school. After I drop them at school. I speed toward the lab and pull into the closest government building parking lot. I angle the car into the driveway and switch off the engine. I walk through a front entryway flanked by glass panels etched with the words “Welcome to the State Building.” I walk inside through the chic mirrored lobby. As I saunter into the marble-floored building, I notice heads turning and glaring at me. I think something is wrong with my face. Maybe my lipstick, blusher, face powder mascara, and eyeliner streak garishly down my face. Or maybe I didn’t wipe my lips properly after I brushed my teeth.

  “Good Morning Mrs. Roberts,” a female voice greets from behind.

  I turn around abruptly. A long blond haired lady with small round black eyes and a huge smile on her face. I’ve never seen her before. I nod hesitatingly. “Hi,” I reply.

  “It’s great to see you again,’ she says.

  “Thanks.”

  She passes me and heads to the elevator. It hits me. Sometim
es I forget I used to work here.

  I notice about 5 or 6 blue laser dots on my chest, then other laser dots point at my eyes. My eyes flit curiously to where they’re coming from.

  I see two tall silver-grey robots standing behind the reception desk. I wobble a little. Then steady myself by leaning against the reception desk.

  “Good morning how can we help you?” The robots ask in an automated tone at the same time.

  I shake my head in amazement. I break a chuckle. “Why couldn’t they just hire a lady with a big smile behind the desk?”

  “I’m sorry we cannot understand your request,” the robot on my right says.

  “Oh sorry. I’m here to see Mr. Charles Roberts.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Yolanda Roberts.”

  The robot types on the keyboard. Lifts its head and stares back at me.

  “Mr. Roberts is unavailable.”

  “What about Jody?”

  “She is unavailable,” the robot on my left says.

  “But … you didn’t even check in the computer if she’s available or not.”

  I take a deep breath. Who is available then?”

  “No one is available for a meeting with Yolanda Roberts.”

  “Listen you two bums. I need to see someone inside this building, anyone.” I shout.

  “No one is available for a meeting with Yolanda Roberts.”

  “I heard you the first time you dumb idiots. Why?”

  “Only government officials are allowed to pass through the reception area.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yolanda Roberts is a civilian,” the robot on the right says.

  “No civilian is allowed to pass through without an appointment,” the robot on the left says.

  If only I can manage to get chance to smash these robots. I’d crush them into pieces.

  “Yolanda Roberts, we request you exit the building please,” the robots say at the same time.

  I don’t believe this. “No,” I reply.

  “This is your last warning,” the tone of their automated voices sound firmer. “We request you to exit the building now.”

  “Or what?” I say defiantly.

  Red lights flicker all around the reception area. Heavy metal footsteps echo behind, charging toward me. Before I can turn around, I feel excruciating grips on my arms and body. Four robots wearing black security uniform surround me. I can’t move an inch.

  “Ouch that hurts,” I cry my lungs out. “Let go of me.”

  As they pull and push me toward the exit, I hear a familiar male voice shouting behind me.

  “Guys… let go of her. She’s with me.”

  I turn around to see who it is. It’s my old colleague, Roger, the finance minister.

  “We have instructions to eject her out of the building,” a robot says.

  “Whoa… there must be some kind of mistake,’ he protests. “She has a job interview with me.”

  The security robot guards turn around abruptly and stare at the robots at the reception desk.

  “Is this true?”

  “Negative … Yolanda Roberts has no scheduled appointment with the finance minister.”

  He interrupts and pulls me away from the robots grip.

  “I have a meeting with her,” he insists. “Do your jobs properly and no errors next time.”

  The robots scatter and stroll back to their security booth. “Yes sir,” the robots say at the same.

  Roger herds me toward the elevator. I breathe a sigh of relief. “You are a lifesaver.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Those things are hectic.”

  “They are creepy, effective and error free.”

  The elevator chimes, the doors slide open. We step onto the elevator, and Roger says, “25th floor.” “Certainly, Roger,” the elevator replies. Okay, that computer is too smart. The doors close, then smoothly lifts us through the lobby view screens shining brilliantly all around us.

  “The last time I was here was…?”

  “Four… five years ago I think,” he replies.

  “Wow, time flies hey.”

  “Indeed and brought a lot of changes.”

  “Sophisticated infrastructures including artificial intelligence technology.”

  “Amongst other things.”

  The elevator glides to a stop on the 25th floor. The elevator chimes, deposits us and politely says, “Have a nice day, Roger.” That thing is creepy. We stroll to his office.

  “How’s family life treating you?”

  “Good, they grow up so fast.”

  He chuckles as he points to a brown leather chair next to me.

  “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Can I get you anything tea, coffee, drink?”

  “Oh no thanks I’m fine.”

  He tears a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. He unscrews and pours to a glass on the desk. I know the scent, I can read the bottle, Bourbon whiskey. “How can I can assist you?”

  “First and foremost I’d like to apologize for barging in like this. I know you busy, but this is important to me. It’s just …”

  He shakes his head with a smile on his face.

  “It’s alright,” he interrupts. “I’ll never be too busy for you.”

  I let out a deep sigh of relief.

  “As you are well aware I’m a housewife. After Charles and the children are at work and school respectively, it gets very boring at home. I miss the action. I need to do something with my life.”

  “Are you looking for a job?”

  I chuckle. “No, I need you to introduce me to the AI department officials and the minister.”

  He takes the glass, takes a sip. Then takes off his wire-rimmed glasses with his right hand and puts them on the table. I can tell he is uncomfortable with my request. When I was a little silly girl, my dad only removed his dated, delicate spectacles when I did something wrong.

  “Why?” he asks suspiciously.

  “Well, I need a robot, a home robot.”

  He sighs. “Why didn’t you say so,” he says. “It’s so easy to get a home robot these days at retailers etc. Matter of fact I can organize one for you right now for free from the AI department.”

  He grabs the phone quickly, punches one digit and the speaker phone button. As the phone rings on the other end, our eyes lock.

  “Which robot do you need? A butler, maid, gardener, painter, chef, car mechanic or all in one?”

  I shake my head. “Roger, please hang up the phone,’ I say.

  He raises his eyebrows and puts the phone down. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted a home robot.”

  “Believe me roger, if I wanted to buy those kind of robots I’d have done that.”

  He tilts his head forward. “Enlighten me.”

  “I need a customized robot.”

  “Impossible,” he exclaims. “That is against the law.”

  “Really?”

  “Why do you want it customized?”

  “I thought I could buy something different and cool for the kids.”

  “Go to the toy store. Have you seen how super advanced those toys are?”

  “I’m sure they are.” I force a smile. I hope it shows. Damn it. Now what am going to do?

  “Yolanda? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “No … like what?”

  “Firstly you told me you are bored and in need for some action. Then you said you need a customized robot for the kids.”

  “So?”

  “Do you need the robot for other ulterior or sinister motives?”

  “Sinister? Nah, maybe for selfish reasons,’ I reply.

  He gives me a conspiratorial look. Then nods. “If you say so. The best I can do is hook you up with Jimmy Phillips.”

  “Who’s that? The name sounds familiar.”

  “He’s the minister of AI.”

  “Wow, I’d appreciate that.”

  “How’s he l
ike?” I ask.

  “He’s a punk kid.”

  “Really?”

  “Can you believe he’s 20? I took an instant dislike to that cocky clown the first time I laid my eyes on him.”

  “Don’t forget I was 22 when I became a president.”

  He shrugs. “You were fair and professional at all times.”

  “At least he’s competent? I presume.”

  He nods. “The boy is a genius… a mad genius. I’ll give him that. He does impossible things with those machines.”

  “Wow, I can’t wait to meet this mad genius.”

  “You will,” he assures me. “But I have one condition.”

  “Ok, what is it?”

  “Please don’t get mixed up in illegal and immoral acts in that department.”

  “Like what?”

  “The espionage-gate, and the Xapiens-gate. Yolanda, you always get caught up in these kind of sticky situations. I don’t want you to keep making the same mistake over and over again.”

  A piece of ice strikes my heart. I find myself in the grip of anger almost too great to contain. Keep calm, keep calm—I repeat the mantra over and over in my head. “Don’t judge me, Roger,” I say calmly. “I’m a big girl now. I’ve learnt from my mistakes.”

  “If you say so,” he replies as he stands. “Now let’s go to the AI department.

  *****

  We stand by the closed door of Jimmy Phillips. Roger looks at me, then pecks the door with a knuckle of his index finger.

  “I’ll just do the introductions, then I’m out of here,’ Roger lays it out to me.

  I nod. “That’s all I need,” I reply.

  “Great.” He rubs his palms together. Then knocks again.

  “I said come in,” a faint voice sounded from inside.

  I twist the knob, push the door open and stride in. I see a young man wearing a long, white coat behind an oval- shaped desk glaring at the computer screen. He didn’t care who’s at the door. His greasy, red pimply face makes him look younger than twenty.