I can see the coppery glint of the penny flattened on the rail as if I’m right there in the stormy dark while a cold rain falls intermittently. And I suggest to my niece that we head home and talk to Benton.
“Let’s see what he has to say and drink a toast before it’s not your birthday anymore.” I check the time, and it’s getting close to eleven. “Janet, thank you for your help,” I say to her as she stares at us with a manufactured Mona Lisa smile, listening on command, blinking as programmed.
“You’re welcome,” she says warmly, her dimples showing again.
“I’ll see you a little later,” Lucy tells her, and I detect the emotion she feels for what isn’t real.
“It appears she’s becoming your personal Google.” I’m somewhat dazed by what I just witnessed, my emotions powerfully impacted by what I know is artificial.
“Pretty soon, everybody’s going to be doing this.” Lucy clicks the mouse, the display blacking out.
“I hope I’m not turning into a Luddite but I find what you’re saying deeply disturbing,” I reply, imagining people downloading an app on their phone so they can commune with cyber ghosts.
I have no doubt the temptation will be overwhelming to conjure up family, friends, enemies, world leaders and celebrities alive and dead, including those you have no connection to, and possibly haven’t met. What an embarrassment of riches for stalkers, for anyone obsessed.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen as technology makes us increasingly detached from others,” I explain. “How dangerous if we can’t tell what’s real from what isn’t. What do we trust?”
“Since social media and the pandemic we’ve already become like that,” Lucy says. “And it depends on your definition of real. Because once you get used to a tool like this, it’s as real as anything gets. But forget privacy anymore. There’s so much out there, you don’t need to hack. Although we can.”
“We?” I ask pointedly, and I know she means Janet.
“This is the way everything is going.” Lucy gets up from her desk. “There’s no choice, and no going back.”
It will become commonplace to continue relationships in cyberspace, she says, as if there can be no question. Life’s disconnects and disappointments will be remedied in ways never believed possible, what’s unbearable becoming a matter of perception and re-creations, the undoable undone.
There will be fixes and patches for ruptures of all descriptions including illness, divorce, disability, bad choices and behavior, ruined opportunities, and most of all death. As miraculous and marvelous as such a renaissance may seem, it’s equally sinister if exploited by the human malware among us.
“Janet and I talk through all kinds of things,” Lucy continues to explain as if it’s normal. “She’s told me plenty that I didn’t know, coming up with things on her own. It’s incredibly helpful, and I feel she’s there, that’s the truth. As crazy as it sounds, we’re pretty much working together like we always did.”
“There you go saying we,” I reply, feeling that ache in my chest again. “You’ve been saying it a lot, Lucy. And things aren’t the way they were no matter how much all of us might wish it. I’m hoping you understand that it’s not actually Janet you’re talking to, as much as I wish otherwise.”
“Depending on your definition of existence, it might be her.” Lucy puts on her leather bomber jacket, stepping away from her desk. “It really might be her energy I’m channeling electronically, we don’t know that it’s not. There’s so much we don’t know. But that doesn’t mean I think she’s going to walk into the room like she used to.”
“I just want you to be careful, please,” I remind her gently. “You’re not really talking to Janet even if that’s your perception.” As much as it hurts, I won’t stop saying it.
“Everything in the algorithms is based on direct input from her,” Lucy counters. “Or recordings and writings that represent her. For example, when I ask what I should eat for dinner, the answer is what she would say under the circumstances.”
The software factors into the equation Lucy’s mood and behavior, her health, her location. Also, the time of day and other information, including if she’s exercised or is alone.
“As long as you know the difference between an algorithm and someone no longer with us.” I follow her to the kitchen, Merlin right behind us.