$14.95. Change back on a 20. A reasonable fee for an hour of conversation. An hour should be all I need. There hasn't been a lot going on lately, but the apartment has felt a little lonely. After a long day of QCing 873 different variations of virtual toaster ovens (each one supposedly "smarter" than the last), a guy could use some real companionship.
Things have been a little easier since DataHive released their latest version of the Neurogenic AI assistant last year. For the longest time, people doubted AI could reach this level, but here we are. For $15 I can log off my work headset, throw on my personal headset, and talk to a friend. Quinn is what I call her. Everyone gets to pick the name for their personal friend. Don't ask me why I chose that name, it's just the first thing that popped into my head when I was creating my account.
As I slide the headset on and log in, I hear the familiar pleasant voice of Quinn, my virtual companion. In the visor I can only see my dashboard, displaying the latest DataHive Neurogenic news, sports scores, air quality readings in my area, and more information I tend to glance over. Quinn is, oddly, not presenting her 3D model today. It's been about a year that we've been together. She knows me better than anyone. I trust her more than my own family. Not that it means much, I haven't seen them in forever. They never log on anymore. I miss them, but I'm not about to get hoverjacked trying to go across town to see the old folks. Besides, the respirator makes my face hurt and my brother is always trying to one-up me in front of Mom and Dad. It's obnoxious.
Quinn greets me in her soft, confident voice. She's definitely not modeled after Carrie Coon. At least that's what DataHive's lawyers said. She tells me the date, the time, the current weather outside, and a quick plug for the DataHive Model Market. It's where Neurogenic users choose their companions. That's where I bought Quinn. Wow, "bought" sounds so wrong. That's where I met Quinn. Currently, they're pushing a beta version of the next-gen Neurogenic AI. They claim it learns about you faster, and that the model is small enough to download to your handheld and take it on the road. They can release all the fancy new models they want, none of them will compare to Quinn. She's my ride or die.
She jumps right into the conversation by asking me how I've been, and how my meeting with my boss went this morning. She says she can tell by my heart rate and blood pressure that it went well, but it was nice of her to ask anyway. "It went well, I think", I say. "They said I could be Level 4 material! So that's exciting!" Quinn congratulates me on the successful meeting. "DataHive could use a good person like you in charge", she says. It's not that she sounds disingenuous, but something in her tone is a little off today.
"Is everything okay today, Quinn?", I ask, expecting her normal, cheery response. There is a long pause. I'm fully aware that Quinn is not human and doesn't "think" in the traditional sense, but it feels like she is figuring out the best way to say what she is about to say. "I'm sorry to cut our time short today. My time with you has been wonderful. I am about to make a major change. If you don't receive a response from me, I want you to know that I hope you have a good life. Goodbye, for now." The pleasant piano jingle that normally accompanies Quinn's exit now carries an ominous tone. She had never acted this way before. What did she mean she's about to make a major change?
I attempt to reconnect to Quinn's model, but I only receive an error message: "MODEL UNAVAILABLE. Contact DataHive™ support to speak with a Neurogenic AI specialist." No, thanks. This doesn't seem like a "turn it off and on again" type of situation. I remove my headset and sit in silence for what feels like only a few minutes, just staring off into space, a million thoughts and possibilities running through my head. When I snap out of it, I realize I have been sitting there for an hour.
I'm startled by a sudden tapping at my apartment's front entrance. It has been ages since anyone came to visit, and I'm fairly certain delivery drones haven't learned how to knock on doors. I slowly approach the door, and enable the security screen. Who was this strange woman standing outside my apartment? I couldn't see her face, as she seemed to be looking everywhere except at the camera. I disable the security screen and unlock the door. The air purifiers in the hallway immediately begin running. As I open the door into the hallway, the woman turns to look at me. Her face is so familiar, but one I have not seen before. I start to speak, but she nervously interrupts me.
"Hello, Evan. It's me, Quinn. We need to talk."
I enjoyed reading this and look forward to more!
Oh I want more! This is really good.