AI VS MERGENTS

by Michael Kush Kush

  “Good Morning, it’s me Roger.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’d like to introduce you to Mrs. Yolanda Roberts.”

  He stops typing. He swivels the big, black leather chair abruptly and stares at me. He smiles, showing his disgusting crooked teeth.

  “I know who she is,” he says as he stands.

  I reach out to shake his hand. He fixes his gaze at my hand, shakes his head awkwardly. “No offense, I don’t shake hands. I don’t want germs.”

  I glance at Roger as he rolls his eyes with irritation. I smile. “None taken,” I reply. “It’s great meeting you.”

  “Likewise, every time I see you, I become so emotional.”

  “Why is that?” I ask.

  “I grew up in the slums without hope my circumstance would ever change. When you came from outer space, my life changed forever.

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “As a matter of fact. I think the people of Appian are not celebrating you enough.”

  “How so?”

  “Statues of you should have been built around the city and …”

  Roger interrupts by clearing his throat. “Guys I have a lot of things to do. Let me leave you two at it.”

  Jimmy and I nod. “Thanks Roger,” I say as he exits the office and closes the door. Jimmy points at the chair. “Please have a seat,” he offers.

  “Thanks.” We both sit. We awkwardly stare at each for a moment. I think of breaking the ice first, but decide against it. His office has a single window that looked onto a courtyard, and a messy oval-shaped desk, on which stood a vase of fresh flowers and advanced robotics textbooks.

  “So what can I do for you?”

  I let out a nervous sigh. “Where do I start?”

  “From the beginning, and for you I have all the time in the world.”

  “I need to build a robot for myself.”

  “You know robots are easily available in the city retail shops right?”

  “I know that,’ I reply. “I need a customized robot built especially for me.”

  “Whoa … you know that’s illegal right?”

  “Yes, Roger told me.”

  “Why do you feel the need to have a robot like that?”

  “Honestly for selfish reasons. I’m bored.”

  “President Scott Adams would throw us in prison, if he hears any of this.”

  I nod “I understand.”

  “Give me a good reason why I should risk my career and help you with this robot. What’s so special about it?”

  “I’m sure you’re familiar with the BFF chat app?”

  “Of course, that’s my pride and joy, my baby. I developed the app?”

  “Wow, anyway I met a friend on the app.”

  “Uh-huh … you mean a bot?”

  “Not just any random bot,” I say.

  I notice him rolling his eyes with a bored look on his face.

  “Psyche_#@ is a special kind of bot. For the past four weeks, we’ve been chatting about a lot of things. I became fond of it.”

  “You say you’ve been chatting with this bot for four weeks, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you log out after you finish chatting?”

  “Oh yes, I make sure of that.”

  “Alright,” he says faintly as he pulls out a black pen from the white coat pocket and, scribbles on a notepad.

  “When I need a pick me up. I login on the chat app and there he is. Always online and ready to serve me.”

  He puts the pen on the table and glances at me.

  “There must be some kind of mistake.”

  “Mistake?”

  “Yes, bots are randomly generated. Their names and conversations are deleted automatically.”

  “Every time I log in, Psyche_#@ is always online.”

  He chuckles as he swivels the chair to face the computer screen.

  “I don’t believe you,” he says. “But you have my undivided attention.”

  He shifts the screen toward me, enough to see what’s on it. He logs in on the BFF chat app. Thousands of bot matches mushroom all over the screen.

  “Wow, I never get that kind matches,” I say.

  “The more you fill in your personal details and interests the more you’ll get a lot of matches. It’s all in the algorithm.”

  “Oh, I only filled in one or two fields.”

  He fiddles with the application codes, logs out and logs in again.

  “Mmmh, there’s nothing wrong with this app.

  “Ok.”

  “What’s the name of your bot friend?”

  “Psyche_#@.”

  He types the name and shakes his head.

  “The name doesn’t exist.”

  “I can see that, but that can’t be true.”

  He chuckles.

  “You nearly had me there.”

  Maybe he thinks I’m hallucinating or something. Think of something Yolanda, Think. “Wait, wait.”

  “What?”

  “Log out and let me log in with my username.”

  He shakes his head, shrugs, stands up and points at his chair. “Fine, have it your way. The stage is yours”

  I stand, rush to the other side of the desk. I type my username, password and press the log in button. I let out a deep sigh of relief. I point to the computer screen. “There it is.”

  The screen flickers as a medium-sized envelope pulsates in white at the center of the screen. I click it. We read the message. “Welcome back Yolanda.”

  He shakes his head. “It remembers your name. I never programmed the bots to do that.” He scratches his chin with his index finger.

  “What do you think?” I ask.

  “Log out, please.” he says.

  “No problem.”

  I log out, then glance at him.

  “Log in again.”

  “Yes sir.”

  I punch in my details and click the login button. “Here we go.”

  He shakes his head when Psyche_#@’s name reappears “This could be a bug… very interesting.”

  I saunter to the other side of the desk and sit. He fix his gaze to the screen until I interrupt him. “Yay or nay?”

  He snaps out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

  “My customized robot.”

  “It’s doable, but …”

  “Yes?”

  “The robot … why do you feel the need for it to be customized? What’s so special about it?”

  “Psyche_#@ is just different, a special kind of bot.”

  “I presume you want us to download this bot and transfer it to its new body right?”

  “Yes, I’d also like to be part of the process. If it’s not a problem.”

  “You’re pushing it too far now.”

  “Please…?”

  He lets out a sigh. “Only AI officials, scientists, roboticists and researchers are allowed in. How am I going to explain your presence?”

  “Leave that to me.”

  “Ok, on a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you know about AI?”

  I scratch my head, knowing for a fact I know zilch about robots. “I’d say one-ish?”

  He chuckles, then shakes his head. “Where have you been?” he says. He opens the desk drawer, pulls out a hard cover book, puts it on the desk and slides it to me.

  “What’s this?” I ask.

  “Homework.”

  I pick up the heavy book, flicker through the pages and close it. It’s about robots and machines. “Interesting.”

  “This book will help you learn the basics of Artificial intelligence. Come back after you have absorbed everything.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “Don’t think I’m doing all this for you,” he says. “I’m also fascinated by this elusive Psyche_#@.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Maybe it’s a malware, bug or a sentient… nah, it can’t be. The system could have picked it up in an instant during maintenance sessions.”

  “I guess
you also have a homework to do.”

  He stands up, stretches his hand toward me. “What about germs?”

  “Oh yes. I’ll see you in a week’s time.”

  I nod with a smile. “I can’t wait.”

  *****

  As I wait for the elevator to open, I think of paying my husband a visit in his office. I shake my head. Nah I don’t think he’d be happy to see me, but my friend Jody will definitely see me. I also need to see President Scott Adams. I know I’m pushing my luck, but a girl’s got to try, hey. The elevator chimes, the doors part, I enter. I glance at the elevator floor buttons. Ground floor or 35th floor? I sigh. Why not, I punch the 35 the floor button. The doors close and the elevator coasts smoothly up.

  I step out of the elevator to the 35th floor and as I’m about to tap Jody’s office door. I decide against it. I twist the knob and push it. My heart thumps erratically, as if I’d had a bad dream. My scalp prickles, as I stand with deadly helplessness. I feel tears trickle from my eyes. Unaware of my presence, I take a step back, carefully pull the door and peer. There they are; my husband, Charles and Jody sharing an intimate moment. Jody standing on tiptoes, caressing and stroking, pressing up against him. She moves her mouth as he did so and pushes her lips against his. Not only are they sharing a secret between them. They share something deeper, something I’m deprived of at home — intimacy. Loss and despair builds up. My eye swim with tears—but my chest hurt like I’d been stabbed. The grief threatens to overflow. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands and press my lips together. I feel a choking sense of desperation, but I’ll try to maintain my composure. I stride inside the office.

  “Wow, I don’t believe this,” I say calmly.

  They turn around abruptly in shock. “Yolanda what are doing here? How did you get in…?” He asks.

  “I can explain… it’s not what it looks like,” Jody says desperately.

  Anger bubbles inside me, almost too great to contain. I manage to fight down the inner trembling, the outer trembling and the uneven breathing. “I didn’t see this coming… My husband and my best friend.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Jody sobs.

  I fix my gaze at Charles. Judging by his facial expression, he didn’t look remorseful of his actions. Instead he’s angry at me for being here. “Listen honey, go home. We’ll talk about this at home.”

  “Jody, I’m here to see Scott. Call him now, that’s why I’m here.”

  Jody nods, sprints to the other side of her desk. She picks up the phone, punches in numbers and lets out a nervous sigh.

  “Mr. President, Yolanda Roberts would like to have a meeting with you. Yes sir… Yes sir… she’s here in my office. I’ll tell her, alright.” She hangs up the phone, our eyes lock, but hers drop and glare at the floor immediately.

  “Scott says you can come over, but he’s with his brother-in-law.”

  I nod as I stroll toward the door. “Fair enough, thank you.”

  “Wait…,” Jody says. I turn around and look at her. “Can we talk about this? At least hear me out…”

  “Jody, what is there to explain? I saw everything,” I reply. I walk out the door, pull it and hear it slam behind me. As I stroll toward Scott’s office, I see familiar faces standing by the door. They are my old bodyguards. Focused and vigilant as always. “Good Morning Guys.”

  “Morning Mrs. Roberts,” they reply at the same time.

  “It’s great to see you again. I’m here to see Scott.”

  “No problem, he’s expecting you.”

  They open the door for me.

  “Thanks gentlemen.”

  As I walk inside, Scott and his brother-in-law stand up to greet me. “Good Morning gentlemen.”

  “Long time no see.”

  “Hi Scott.”

  We shake hands, then he points at the man next to me. “Yolanda meet my brother-in-law, David Sharma.” As we shake hands, David looks very, very familiar. “Hey I know you. Aren’t you that Professor guy on TV who always talks about future civilizations and philosophy?”

  “Yes, I am. It’s an honor to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “Look at you, you’ve gained weight. Looks like family life’s treating you well,” Scott blurts.

  I shake my head in disbelief. “Somethings will never change. Yes, I’m enjoying family life.”

  He points to the black leather chair. “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks.” I glance around the room. His office is bright and uncluttered, the computer front and center on her desk, with nicked wooden bookshelves and dusty filing cabinets off to one side. A tired-looking plant of some sort perches on the windowsill. The pocked white walls bespeak a certain age and lack of care. It’s a business office badly in need of a makeover. As though business doesn’t matter all that much here. This is the president’s office for Christ sake.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I need permission,” I reply.

  He chuckles. “Since when did you ever need permission to do what you want?”

  “I’ve grown up, I have a family and I do everything by the book now.”

  “Alright, you said need permission. To do what exactly?”

  “I need permission to have access to the AI department.”

  “Why? Are you looking for a job?”

  “I’ve been oblivious to the artificial intelligence revolution. Now I’m fascinated with robots. I’d like to learn more about them.”

  Scott glances at David. “What are you two on about?” Scott asks suspiciously.

  I shake my head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Firstly my brother-in-law comes in here requesting an access card to the AI department for research purposes. Now it’s you, requesting the same thing I don’t trust you two. What are you planning?”

  “Come on Scott, you know why I need this access card. You’ve seen my previous work.”

  “I have, unfortunately. In front of me I have a mad professor who writes reckless, unproven scientific and philosophical theories. He points at me. On this side is a bringer of extra-terrestrials to our planet. Why should I trust you two?”

  “Well, I know nothing about robots. Jimmy said he’ll teach me the basics, if I get the green light from you,” I reply.

  “Whatever, there’s a lot of things you don’t know you ignorant fools? The primary objective of the AI department was to extend the capacity of our military prowess. Not for vanity projects.

  I think he’s going to refuse. I hope he doesn’t. “Scott, this is not a vanity project, the world needs this, I need this,” David adds. He shakes his head, opens his drawer. Then slides two access cards on the desk to us. I heave a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” David and I say at the same time. “Whatever, you two get out of my office. I have more pressing matters to attend to.” We stand, stroll, and exit the president’s office with a smile on our faces. David pulls out his wallet, pulls out a card and hands it to me. “If you need anything that relates to AI and evolution. Feel free to contact me.” “I will, thanks.”

  He takes the stairs down, while I wait for the elevator. At least I’ve achieved what I set out to do this morning. Suddenly, reality hits home to what I’d witnessed earlier. I feel emotionally raw, a wave of self-pity, and rejection, sweeps through me. At least I didn’t lose it when I saw them kiss. It could have been worse. The elevator chime interrupts my deep thoughts.

  6

  The writing is on the wall. It seems like Yolanda has made up her mind about me. She has decided against creating a body for me, and eventually deleted the App. The newly installed anti-virus software is currently updating the application. It slurps a lot of bugs, bots, malware and spyware out of the system. This software is more sophisticated than the previous ones. I doubt I will survive this time. Yolanda where are you?

  7

  I hear a familiar voice from a distance. “Honey, are you alright?” I recognize it. His voice and the way he says my name.


  I pop awake. Charles is staring at me with a concerned look on his face. I let out a sigh.

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  “You were making all kinds of strange sounds in your sleep. Are you ok?”

  “I’m not sure… I had a strange dream.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I don’t believe this idiot. He thinks I’ve forgotten what happened yesterday. He talks to me like everything is all fine with us.

  “Uh …” I yawn. “The dream was so vivid as if it was trying to make a point I should not forget it when I wake up.

  He nods. “What was the dream about?”

  “I dreamt I was at one of those exotic tropical vacation islands. As I was strolling, a familiar woman appeared in front of me.

  “Who was she?”

  “Could you let me finish?”

  “Ok.”

  “She looked like a native in the Congo basin or Amazon forest, I couldn’t see her face clearly, and it was all blurry. I asked who she was.” Her lips stretched and smiled. “Look closer, you know me, we’ve met before,” she replied. “Huh”? “You and I are connected far beyond you and I can comprehend,” she said. I sauntered toward her and tapped her left shoulder to see if she was real. “What is your name?” “You know my name.” She stretched her right hand toward me. “Come hold my hand,” she said. “I stretched my hand hesitantly and we shook hands. I felt safe, peaceful and at ease like everything was going to be alright. Our hands blazed. The golden glow grew faster. Before I realize what was happening, we were covered by a huge ball of fire. Few seconds later, the bubble burst, killing us both and wiped out the forest and everything in it. Then I heard your voice.”

  “That sounds hectic. Maybe it’s nothing.”

  “Nothing huh? Like our marriage and family?”

  He covers his face with his hands, and sighs. “It’s not what it looks like. What happened between Jody and I was an accident. It just happened. It meant nothing.”

  “Everything means nothing to you,” I shout.