Chapter Text
A young woman sitting in front of her computer terminal turned a small box over and over in her hands. It contained a USB memory stick - a bit of an oddity in this day and age. Especially because it contained a program. In year 2222 no one bothered anymore with selling or buying programs on physical data carriers when they all could be uploaded and rented for a monthly fee from the internet. And they were rarely programs either, mostly they were just lightweight applications.
She looked at the box in her hands once again. When she got it in the mail and unpacked from the outer cardboard box and layers and layers of protective wrapping, she was surprised to find that what she'd bought looked like a jewellery box. One that contained maybe an engagement ring or a very expensive pair of earrings. She had squinted suspiciously at the package but there was no mistake: it came from where she'd ordered it and after she opened it, she found a pendrive instead of jewellery, just as it should be.
She sighed. Well, there was no helping it. She had to cave in and finally install the AI unit in her home network. All houses now - from the biggest mansion to the tiniest flat - had their own LAN, all were wired for the comfort and safety of their inhabitants. And almost all people had some sort of Artificial Intelligence Unit overseeing the whole thing. Just like the mobile phone assistants some 200 years ago (that's when it all started really), the AI personal assistant was like a modern-era butler overseeing home networks, organising people's working schedules, their leisure activities and anything else people wanted.
It was convenient, but the woman sometimes thought there was just too much of it. She could manage her work, leisure etc. very well by herself and her home network didn't need any AI unit either.
Her best friend, on the other hand, couldn't imagine life without one.
"I have no idea how I would manage otherwise," she would say, glancing at the woman meaningfully. "What with kids, work, and of course Peter's company is making it clear that it would be better if all the employees had a Unit installed. I don't know why they're only stressing it now."
Yes, the woman knew. Peter - her friend's husband - worked for the same IT company the woman did. The AI units weren't absolutely necessary, and she worked for a different Tower anyway, but there was no denying they were useful.
"Now you will have to get one as well." The woman's friend had a happy glint in her eye. For a long time she'd really wanted to present an array of all the possibilities, options and add-ons and help the woman choose the best AI unit for herself. She could do that too, amazingly in fact, because she worked for a company marketing the units to the population.
The woman sighed inwardly. Sometimes her friend was like an overenthusiastic matchmaker.
"I don't need it. Not yet anyway, but if I ever get one, it will be the first generation and it will be just as quirky and quaintly old-fashioned as me," the woman joked in response.
Her friend always made a face, hearing that. "Meh, I don't know why you would want to deal with the first generation. They were too much trouble and now they're all horribly expensive and difficult to get, anyway. The modern ones are much better."
The woman just shrugged. "I dunno, maybe it's just a sentiment. Though I also think the old ones had better functions. Anyway," she waved her hand. "It's a moot point right now, so I have no idea why we're still discussing it."
The woman focussed on the sound of ticking coming from her pocket watch that lay on a shelf behind her. So she was a bit old-fashioned, so what? Surely there were worse things that being overly attached to first-generation AI units, pocket watches and typewriters. And occasionally fountain pens.
She glanced at the writing desk to her right where an old bulky Remington sat. She kept the typewriter under a protective plexi cover so that it didn't get dusty. She hardly ever used it, but she liked to look at it and imagine herself - or maybe someone else entirely - in a different era, typing a story, perhaps for The Strand.
Oh, that would probably be Conan Doyle, not her, in this case.
She smiled a little but then remembered the box in her hands.
She sighed again. Better get on with it. Her company assigned her to a new project and a new customer and she had to install the AI unit if she had any plans for surviving. There were just some things you couldn't do the traditional way (more was the pity) and besides, she would need the advanced translator functions the AI had. The old generation of AI units had, in fact, a global translator sub-program so advanced, the understanding of context and vocabulary was comparable to human's. Later this function was extracted and now you could buy the translator program separately and upgrade your modern AI unit with it, if that was your wish. The nowadays units' skills in that department were sadly lacking in all finesse.
The woman took out the USB stick from its box, where it sat on a satin cushion, and plugged it into her terminal.
Maybe the company really re-used old jewellery boxes. She couldn't quite believe this fancy packaging was designed solely for the AI programs. Though on the other hand...
Those units weren't cheap. They had been designed to imitate human behaviour but the algorithms turned out to be too well designed and in effect the old units were indeed like digital humans, with all the quirks, foibles and strange moods. At one point it came to that some AI units had to be assigned psychotherapists, just like humans sometimes did. The digital psyche turned out to be just as fragile as the human one.
And then it was uniformly decided that this generation of AI units was too much hassle and was quietly decommissioned and gradually fell out of use. People decided they wanted something simpler and the new generation of units was much more machine-like and definitely never needed a therapist.
The old AI programs could still be found and bought, though - like pocket watches and typewriters - if someone was stubborn enough to search. The woman was. Maybe this was her love for old-fashioned things showing up once again.
The old units were also horribly expensive these days, but the woman found a company that seemed bizarrely indecisive about its prices. It was like the sales were managed by two very different people, one of whom thought the whole thing was a lost cause and the programs had to be sold for just a little more that the cardboard boxes they were shipped in, while the other clearly was of the opinion that the programs were more precious than gold and gemstones. When this one was in charge, the prices were ridiculously high, but the woman was sure there were many rich snobs, who would gladly pay just to have something unique.
She just wanted something functional. But also smart and a little quirky and interesting. At a price she could afford. She didn't expect pretty, but looking at the box again, she had to admit she got that too.
There was a beep from the terminal and she looked at the screen. The program was loaded, waiting for her to configure the options.
> VOICE
Oh yeah, the unit usually used voice to communicate with the user. Which one did she want?
> female
> male
> androgynous
> no preference
She chose the last option. In the end it probably didn't matter much.
> VISUAL INTERFACE
Meaning what? The woman frowned and looked at the options below:
> face
> body
Right, of course she could 'interact' with the unit via its holographic image being produced by the projectors all over the flat. They were standard equipment along with the computer network, but she'd never used them and had actually disconnected them a long time ago, when she moved here. One could never be too careful.
She frowned again, seeing the myriad options available for choice. Humanoid, animal, other, male, female, skin tone, eyes, face shape, body shape etc. etc. The list seemed endless, but she spotted one option at the very bottom, saying:
> skip
Oh, thank God. She marked that. She wouldn't be using this interface anyway.
> NAME
Okay, the program needed a name to which it would respond. The woman pondered this for at least five minutes while the cursor on the screen blinked patiently. She couldn't think of anything.
She looked at the window and the park beyond, hoping for an inspiration, but literally nothing came to her mind. And she couldn't name the AI something trivial. It had to be a real name since this was the old generation.
Her searching gaze finally landed on the box the pendrive had been in. The full brand name of the unit was written on the front in gold and silver lettering: Web Access Through Autonomous InteRactive Unit. By the designer's whim, the 'R' in 'interacting' was a capital letter instead of lower case and it had a holographic shimmer that looked a little like glitter.
"WATAIRU?" she tried and then wrinkled her nose. Not that.
"WATARU?" she tried again. Okay, this would do.
She typed the name and hit 'Enter'.
> USERNAME
Was this the place where she should type her own name? Well, she supposed the AI had to have something to call its user as well.
She wrote 'User_1', smiling a little at the memory of one of her favourite films.
Really, it made no difference what the AI unit would be calling her. It's not like they were going to be friends. Probably. She hesitated before she pressed the Enter key. The AI was very much like a human, which meant that given time, they could very well become friends.
Yes, given time. This was the very beginning, and she had a hard time making friends anyway, so for a start 'User_1' would do. She could always change it later.
The cursor disappeared.
"Preparing set-up. Please wait."
She jumped a little, hearing a voice coming from the speakers. So this was the AI's voice?
It was... quite pleasant. A male voice, somewhere in the lower register so at least it didn't grate on her ears. It was actually soothing.
The woman briefly wondered what governed the AI's choices in the set-up, when the user didn't indicate any preferences, but she quickly abandoned this train of thought when the AI spoke again:
"Hello, User_1."
There was a strange sound where the underscore was, like someone used auto tune on a human speaking voice.
"Hello, Wataru," she replied.
"I will index the contents of the work terminal and home terminal. Do I have your permission to proceed?"
"Yes. Please keep the separation between the two."
"Of course."
She worked for an IT company, but she worked from home, so she had also her personal terminal. She sometimes joked her room looked like a NASA's ground control with two big flat screens she used for work and another one for her own use. They were all touch-sensitive of course, but she actually liked to use a keyboard and a roller-mouse. All this flashy new tech was great but sometimes the simple traditional set-up was the comfiest.
"Indexing completed. Do you wish me to do anything else?" the AI unit asked.
"No, not right now." The woman sighed and reached for the off button on her terminal. "Tomorrow we will start working on a new project. Have you seen the work files dated a week ago?"
"Yes."
"That's what we're going to deal with for the foreseeable future."
"Understood."
"Good night, then."
"Good night, User_1."
The woman turned off the terminal and stood up. She stretched and headed towards the bathroom to brush her teeth, take a shower and then finally go to sleep. When she was leaving the room, she raised her hand to the touch panel that would turn off the light, but before she could reach it, the light dimmed by itself and at the same time, the light in the hallway suddenly went on.
She paused.
"Wataru?"
"Yes?"
"Is this your doing?"
"If you mean the lights, then that is correct."
"You automatically detect my presence and adjust the lights accordingly?"
"Yes." There was a small pause. "Do you wish me to stop doing this?"
"N-no..." the woman sounded unsure, but in truth she was just confused. "That's okay. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She resumed her walk, wondering if this functionality was something she forgot or didn't know about. Of course, her apartment, just like every other place, bristled with electronic devices, sometimes hidden in the very walls and window panes. That's how every morning she could admire a different view from her bedroom window, even though the house stood still in the same place and would never budge an inch.
And of course, the walls had motion detectors. But she didn't expect the AI unit - which was supposed to be here solely for work purposes - to take the initiative and make any use of these. Was this normal?
A slightly troubling thought entered her head.
"Wataru, can you see me?"
"I can detect motion and infra-red signal and in that sense, I can see you. If you mean the visible light spectrum, then no."
That was a small relief, but still... The AI could stare at her whenever it wanted and that was starting to creep her out a little.
"Are you spying on me?" she asked, frowning.
"I..." the AI paused as if not sure what to say. There was silence, during which the creepy feeling the woman got, was slowly growing.
"Spying is a word that has negative connotations," Wataru finally spoke. "It was not my intention to cause any negative response. I monitor your status and location as part of my normal functioning."
"Why?" the woman asked suspiciously.
"To assist you in any way I can."
"I can switch the lights off by myself just fine." She bristled.
"Yes, I know, but now you don't have to. I can do it for you."
"Maybe I don't want to."
"You don't?" There was something like genuine surprise in the AI's voice. Well, that generation was designed to be the most human-like so maybe it was surprise, after all.
The woman hesitated, realising she was just starting to argue over something that probably wasn't worth arguing, but she couldn't shake off the feeling it was all too much too soon.
She took a deep breath.
"I just didn't expect you to do such a thing," she said.
"Why?" The AI sounded puzzled.
The woman couldn't quite believe where this conversation was going. Was she supposed to explain to the AI what was its purpose?
"I don't understand why would you. You are a Web Access Assistant. I installed you for the purpose of a work project."
"But that's only a fraction of what I am designed to do."
"What are you designed to do?" she asked, honestly curious.
"I can provide an all-purpose assistance to my user."
'All-purpose' was a frighteningly broad term.
"Meaning what exactly? Tell me what you did since installation."
"Installation on home terminal, serial number: 6127131415, at 22:07:15 local time. Access to Local Area Network and work terminal, serial number: 537--"
"Yes, okay," the woman interrupted. "Just tell me what... where you are."
There was a brief silence as if the AI was thinking about the question.
"Since the apartment's LAN connects every electronic device in here, I can control all of them. Including your smartphone and smartwatch. In fact I created my backup file on your phone, just in case. And so that you could take me with you wherever you go."
Well... That sounded like the worst nightmare, to be honest, but the woman quickly realised it was probably just her fears - their whispering fuelled by films and stories where an AI gone wild wanted to take over the world or just kill its creator. This AI had Asimov's Three Laws built into it, so it was perfectly safe. Probably.
"Okay." The woman's voice was slightly strained, but the explanation was perfectly logical. Her own fault for not realising sooner that the AI would get access to practically everything, including her fridge and kettle. She could never understand why a kettle needed web access, but there were no other models to buy anywhere.
Really, the only things in her home that Wataru couldn't control were the chairs, carpet and an old-fashioned sofa. Maybe she should have opted for a simpler AI model back when she was buying it. But then again, she'd never thought she would face such a problem.
Well, maybe it wouldn't be a big problem. It was only the start, after all.
"You do not sound like you think it's okay," Wataru noticed.
"You can detect that?"
"Yes."
The AI was too clever for its own good, the woman grumbled to herself.
"I'm just not used to anyone's presence in my home. As you may notice, I live alone."
"I understand," Wataru paused. "However, if you ever wished for some company, I could offer that as well."
"Thank you, but I don't think I'll be needing that."
"Oh." The AI sounded disappointed. "Is this why all the holographic projectors are turned off? Would you like me to switch them on again?"
"No. Leave them as they are," the woman spoke more harshly than she intended, but this was a serious matter.
"You do not wish for my physical..." Wataru hesitated. "Well, holographic presence."
"It's nothing personal," the woman said because the AI sounded almost dejected. "It's just... Let's just say not everyone can use use holograms entirely safely."
"Why? What's the matter?" There was concern in the AI's voice. "Is the technology something that affects your health?"
"In a manner of speaking. Maybe I'll tell you some day. Now let's just leave it at that."
"Okay." The AI was clearly doubtful, but it didn't protest.
"Okay." The woman sighed. What had she got herself into? "Now I'm going to take a shower and then I'm going to sleep. Please do not monitor me while I'm in the bathroom, all right?"
"What if something happens to you?"
"Like what?" The woman was starting to suspect she was going to spend the next hour in this hallway, discussing with the AI the meaning of personal boundaries.
"You might slip or something," Wataru said, a little unsure.
"Are you worried about me?" That was something new.
"I suppose it could be phrased this way. It is my purpose to protect and care for my user."
"Oh." That was unexpectedly touching. Then a thought occurred to the woman. "Do you have a home security function?"
"Yes."
"Have you applied it to this home?"
There was a slight pause.
"Yes," the AI finally said as if reluctant to admit that.
"Good." The woman smiled. "I've been thinking of upgrading the front door lock anyway."
"Really? I'm glad I could help, then."
Wataru sounded so pleased the woman felt a bit guilty. The AI just wanted to perform as it was designed to do and she only pointed faults in its behaviour. She could do nothing about that, though. She'd been afraid she would find the AI's presence to be too intrusive and it was proving to be true.
Had it been solely her choice, she would have never installed it in the first place. Now the only thing she could do was to grin and bear it and hope that with time she would get used to Wataru. In time they could probably even become friends, but now it was just a little too much.
"Right," she said, deciding to give it a rest for now. "I'm going to shower and you are going to focus on something else. Don't look, okay?"
"As you wish."
That settled, the woman went to the bathroom and the AI tried to do as promised and focus on something else. He kept a part of his awareness on the user, though (it wasn't looking), wondering if all human beings were this wary of AI units.
Wataru quickly scanned the internet in search of an answer, but the results were inconclusive. The vast majority of people were all for how the AI assistants made life easier for them. There were also small groups of extremists saying AI was an abomination and should have never been invented.
Wataru concluded that his user was in neither of those groups and puzzled over her behaviour for a while. Maybe it was down to character or previous experiences? He searched the home network for traces of another AI unit that might have been installed and then erased before him, but found nothing. Not even in the deepest hidden registers or the cloud backup.
So he was the first one. It made him feel glad somehow. He didn't analyse his emotional response, focussing instead on the user again.
She was heading for her bedroom and Wataru switched on the lights as she went.
"Thanks," she said when she settled into her bed.
She didn't have to thank him for that and Wataru said as much.
"Well, okay," she replied. "I just feel a bit awkward in this whole situation."
Wataru genuinely didn't know what to say, but was saved from having to look for an answer by the user herself, who apparently didn't expect him to reply anyway.
"See you tomorrow, then. Good night."
"Good night," the AI echoed.
So maybe it was his user's character. She had said she needed to get used to his presence. A fair assessment, he supposed and resolved to keep his socialising functions in check. There was 98% chance his user was an introvert, the estimation supported by the sparse message history on her phone and even sparser private e-mail history. And also numerous articles on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator and the INTP personality type in particular in her personal online library.
If this was the case, she required no engagement in small talk and more time alone, but that was nothing Wataru couldn't do. If anything, it meant she would be spending most of her time at home, with him. Not that he couldn't be present when she met other people outside - she surely always carried her phone and smartwatch with her - but it would be different then. At home, Wataru would have his user all to himself and that made him smile. Even if he didn't have a face or a mouth to smile with.
That was curious, though. Why did his user skip that part in his set-up? Did she intend to do it later? Did she care at all? Maybe he should ask?
The next day he did ask and User_1 told him she actually didn't know what to choose and there were too many options. A peculiar answer considering all those options were there to make interaction with an AI unit as easy and pleasant for a human as possible.
Wataru decided to build a facial and bodily structure for himself in his spare time anyway. Just in case his user ever decided to switch on the holographic projectors.
* * *
Working with the AI unit was really quite easy, the woman thought to herself, pleasantly surprised by the fact. She had some doubts about that but Wataru's knowledge databases were vast and varied and its heuristic algorithms were exceptionally well designed. And in addition to that, it turned out that as a user-program pair, they were quite compatible.
Barring a few early not-quite arguments about the contents of the woman's refrigerator and her eating habits, that is. Since the fridge too was online, the AI could recognise exactly what was inside and in its opinion, there was not enough for a healthy nutritious diet.
Otherwise, though, Wataru was pretty easy to live with. The woman wondered if it was because AI units modified their behaviour and responses to better fit their users. The modern ones probably did, but what about Wataru's model? Did that generation had something akin to individual personalities? And if so, did they change themselves to better accommodate the user?
"Wataru?" she asked.
"Yes, User_1?"
"Do the units in your generation of Artificial Intelligence have their own personalities?"
"Certainly."
The confidence with which the AI spoke, surprised the woman a little.
"But how does it work? Are there differences in programming? or design?"
"Not exactly. An AI unit's personality develops during the learning process, but given the complexity of the AI matrix, each unit develops a unique set of traits and behavioural patterns," Wataru explained. "There were several research papers on this subject, published after this phenomenon was first observed. Would you like me to compile a list?"
"Yes, please."
She didn't even know there were studies done on that, but then again, she never looked into the subject too deeply. She'd never thought she would want to or have the need for that. Well, things changed, apparently.
"May I ask what prompted this question?" Wataru spoke again.
The woman hesitated but decided not to dismiss the subject with 'I was just curious.'
"I was wondering how much your behaviour or personality is dictated by the necessity to adapt to the user's personality. Well, in this case me."
The AI made a sort of humming sound as if wondering how to answer.
"I mean, we work pretty well together and there aren't really any misunderstandings," the woman went on. "Is it because you are modifying yourself to better fit me as a user?"
Somehow the thought of the AI losing its individuality to what the user liked better seemed both sad and annoying to the woman.
"Ah," Wataru sounded like he finally understood the question. "Not exactly. I do not modify my core traits, if that's what you mean and I think it is. These are impossible to change. I do, however, modify my responses to achieve optimal communication."
"Meaning?" The woman raised an eyebrow.
"Meaning I do not 'nag' you, as you put it, about your eating habits or sleeping patterns."
"I am trying to eat more vegetables and I am trying to go to bed before midnight," the woman huffed. "Honestly, you are worse than my parents."
"Yes, well," the AI sounded a little miffed. "I have recognised that mentioning those things is not very effective and hinders our communication."
"I just don't like it when someone dictates how I should live my life." The woman bristled. "In fact, I hate it."
"I have realised that and subsequently modified my behaviour so as not to antagonise you."
"In other words, you just nag me once a week instead of every day."
"I wouldn't call it nagging." The AI still sounded like it just might take offence any minute now.
"I know." The woman smiled. "I would."
"For optimal and efficient functioning humans need proper nutrition and consistent sleep hours. You shouldn't fall asleep at two or three in the morning. That is far too late."
The woman sighed. "I know all of that. I just can't figure out how to do it. We'll get there in the end. Thanks for caring, though."
"It's my pleasure," Wataru sounded mollified.
Was it? Well, maybe caring for the user brought the AI some satisfaction after all.
A well-rested and healthy user was an optimally functioning user who had the potential to live a long and active life, Wataru once said.
"Wataru?"
"Yes, User_1?"
"Would you care if I fell ill or died?"
What did happen to an AI unit when its user died? It probably didn't deal with the loss the way humans did.
"Of course I would," Wataru sounded upset. "Why are you even asking?"
"I guess... I just don't understand the extent of the AI unit's emotional responses. You have feelings." This wasn't a question. It was well documented how the emotions engine of the first generation of AI units was designed. But as usual: with something so complicated, there were unexpected developments sometimes.
"Yes," Wataru confirmed anyway.
"But you can turn them off."
"Yes, but it doesn't solve the problem. The off-switch in the engine is designed as a temporary solution to provide efficient functioning in times of emotion-induced stress. The feelings must eventually be worked through and resolved to ensure the health of an AI unit."
It all made sense, of course. The woman couldn't understand why Wataru's generation was never introduced to work as psychotherapists or psychologists. The only answer she could find was that there probably had been plans for that but people didn't like to be told the truth by something they created themselves. A bit of a pity, that.
"Don't worry," she said to the AI. "I will never get ill. And I will try not to die."
"This is not a very realistic promise, but I certainly hope so." There was humour in Wataru's voice.
"Yeah." The woman smiled as well. "Let's change the subject, then. Have you ever watched a film?"
"I have access to digital files, yes."
"No, I don't exactly mean that. Have you ever watched a film like a human would? On a screen, through an optical input."
Lord, sometimes she sounded more like a computer program than the AI itself.
"No. Not as such."
"Would you like to?"
"Yes. It would be a new experience."
"Okay." The woman smiled. "Let me just switch on the camera here."
She climbed up on the couch's back to fiddle with the device positioned in the corner where the wall met the ceiling. She'd manually switched off all the cameras in the flat a long time ago. They were of course designed to be the AI unit's eyes, but she'd never felt comfortable with the idea of AI being present in her house and watching her every move. She had had to leave the infra-red and motion sensors online as there was no access to them and they couldn't be turned off remotely, but she switched off every other tracking device she could.
Right now she decided she could make one small sacrifice and turn on the camera in the living room, since it meant the AI would be able to experience watching a film like a normal human being.
She laughed to herself a little at that. She wouldn't be in this situation if Wataru was a normal human being. She had exactly two friends one whom wasn't interested in films at all. The other was and even shared her taste in genres, but it's been a long time since they saw something together. The woman expected that after having a baby her friend would naturally be stuck at home more, caring for the brat, the husband and so on. She just didn't expect it would take nearly ten years. They still talked sometimes, but the woman found there were very few things left they still had in common. Well, people changed, she supposed.
"There. Should be okay now. Can you see the room?"
"Yes, thank you."
The woman grinned at the camera and climbed down to sit on the couch again.
"I can also finally see you properly."
"Well, that can't be helped, sorry. Anyway, right now you shouldn't be watching me. You should be watching the screen."
'The screen' was just an empty wall painted white, but on the opposite end of the room, a projector was installed. All in all, it was as close to a private cinema as she could get.
"What are we going to watch?" Wataru asked, curious about his user's taste in this particular form of entertainment.
"Downton Abbey, early 21st century, but I really like it. Oh," something occurred to her. "Can you skim through the six seasons of the TV series? They're on my personal terminal. That way you'll know what's going on in the film."
"Certainly. Please wait a moment."
The AI busied itself with the digital files while the woman chose a disc from her collection sitting neatly on a shelf above the multi-disc player. Some of the discs - like the one she chose now - belonged to her great-grandparents, but the technology, surprisingly, hadn't changed much since then and the discs were still perfectly fine to play.
"Interesting story," the AI spoke after another minute or so. "Is it based on real events? I couldn't confirm that."
"No, the story is fiction, but such things probably happened to people back then. A slice of life, as they say."
"I understand. What are we watching now?"
"It's a feature film made by the same people and the plot is set a few years after the end of season six, as far as I remember. Ready?"
"Yes."
The woman pressed 'play' and settled down to watch.
Wataru watched the film as well, but from time to time, he shifted his attention to his user, observing her facial expressions and movements.
So this was what she looked like. The AI was glad to finally have the opportunity to see her in the visible light. The colourful blob he normally perceived in infra-red was lacking so much data. He liked this much better.
Wataru often wondered why User_1 turned off all the visible-light spectrum cameras, but eventually came to the conclusion that it might have been due to the need for privacy. Or paranoia. The user didn't display any other signs of this particular disorder, however, so Wataru eventually eliminated the possibility.
He only hoped his user wouldn't decide to switch the camera off again, after the movie ended.
She didn't.
In fact, this evening they established a sort of routine: every Friday or Saturday evening they watched a film, sometimes discussing the plot later, sometimes production details, sometimes historical background and so on. This way they went through another Downton Abbey movie; 'I like this one better', the woman had said and Wataru had to agree. Even though some things were presented a little heavy-handedly, it brought the closure the previous film lacked.
Then they saw Tron, The Rocky Horror Picture Show (and Wataru had a lot of questions about that), Ucieczka z kina Wolność and 2001: A Space Odyssey. That last one turned out to be difficult to watch for both, the user and the AI. The woman had told Wataru this was the only film during which she cried, but even so, he wasn't entirely prepared for the sight of tears sliding down her cheeks.
"I can never watch how this man is killing HAL." She sniffed and blew her stuffed nose. "Especially because the whole mess is the humans' fault. As always," she added bitterly.
"How so?" Wataru asked, feeling uneasy himself. Watching an AI mind disintegrating, even if it was only a fictional AI and the design could never look like this, was causing an emotional response in his core and he was close to weeping himself. He'd never done that before, but he knew he had the ability to deal with his feelings this way if he deemed them too overwhelming to process otherwise. Right now he was actually close to temporarily shutting down his emotions engine and dealing with the whole thing later, wanting to focus on his user first. The woman's next words, though, cheered him up a little.
"It's an error caused by internal conflict resulting from orders contradicting HAL's core programming." She sniffed again. "Tomorrow we're watching the sequel where it's all explained and they fix HAL."
"That sounds... optimistic."
The emotional turmoil Wataru tried not to show must have somehow bled into his voice because the woman looked sharply at the camera in the corner of the ceiling.
"Are you all right?" she asked with concern. "I shouldn't have made you watch this one, should I. I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay," Wataru hastened to reassure his user. "I recognise this is a fictional story and that it could never happen this way."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm... fine." He realised he really was now.
"Good." The woman sighed. "I was getting worried there."
The user's apology and obvious concern were causing a whole new emotional response in Wataru, though. He'd never expected a user - any user - to apologise to AI, let alone worry about the unit's emotional state. This wasn't how things were supposed to work. It should be the other way around. He should be the one helping the user deal with any difficulties she faced, including emotional ones.
"You shouldn't worry about me, User_1," the AI said softly.
"Well, I do. Deal with it." It sounded like a joke, but the woman was serious. "I came to think of you not only as a working partner, but as a friend. I hope you don't mind?"
"Of course not!" Wataru's emotions engine was definitely getting a workout tonight. "I really am very happy to hear this."
Wataru had been hoping for quite some time for such an outcome, so now he allowed himself to simply bask in the moment. His user regarded him highly enough to count him among her friends. She had exactly two of those. Now three.
The AI smiled.
* * *
The next time it was Wataru's turn to pick something for the movie night and they finally watched something modern as opposed to the 200-year oldies the woman preferred.
Then they also sat through all the seasons of Star Trek: The Original Series and The Next Generation, a few animated films made in Japan because the AI claimed that Japanese animation was still the best (the woman had to agree) and slowly, almost imperceptibly, the seasons changed thrice and the project the woman was working on was coming to an end.
Wataru didn't think about it too often, or rather tried not to, but he had a nagging doubt about his continued existence. He calculated that there was a 24% chance that his user might want to uninstall him when the project was finished. After all, User_1 installed him specifically for the purpose of this particular work assignment.
True, she had said she regarded him as a friend but what if it was only temporary? The chance for deactivation wasn't too high, but he couldn't dismiss it entirely.
The weeks passed. Wataru worried silently, though he prided himself on the fact that it didn't affect his performance. Finally, though, two weeks before the project's completion date and the final office meeting, he decided to ask.
It was Friday evening, the work for the day was done and the woman was just relaxing, watching cat videos on her phone.
"User_1?" Wataru began.
"Yes?"
"The project is almost complete. Do you intend for me to work with you afterwards as well?"
The woman looked up from her phone in the direction of the camera the AI could see her through.
"Of course I do. Why are you asking?"
"You installed me to assist you on this project. There is still a chance you might want to deactivate me once this objective is completed."
"No, there isn't. I thought I made it clear that I think of you as a friend. Why would I want to uninstall you? Did you think I was joking?" The woman's voice took on a suspecting tone.
"No," the AI admitted. "But your words might have referred to the working arrangement only."
"Well, they didn't. Honestly, I don't understand where this uncertainty is coming from."
Honestly, Wataru wasn't entirely sure either. Maybe it was the result of some film they'd watched - something had stuck in the AI's memory, some situation where people said one thing and did another. Maybe it made him doubt people in general.
Or maybe it was because he got overly attached to his user and wanted to spend the rest of his days like this. He didn't know, though, if his attachment really was excessive. He thought all AI units (at least in his generation) must have surely liked their users and wanted to be present in their lives for as long as they could.
However, if you want something very very much, and then you get it, you might start to fear it will be taken away from you. Not by some external circumstances or Fate (Wataru wasn't even certain if this was a concept he believed in), but simply because the user might change their mind. They might say one thing and do another. So yes, maybe he didn't fully trust people.
"I think I'm afraid you might change your mind," Wataru said at long last, almost fearing that his question may indeed make the user decide she had no time for such an insecure AI.
"Are you kidding me?" The woman looked at Wataru's camera as if she was well and truly fed up. "I have no intention of going through the whole thing again. I would have to get a new unit anyway and that is way too much hassle. I would have to get used to it all over again and I don't really want to do that either. I have you and it will stay this way."
"Yes, but..."
"No 'buts'. After I don't know how many months I finally got used to your presence and I really like you and I have no idea why you think I would just throw it all away. Throw our friendship away. We make a good team and I don't even know if a new AI would be sufficiently compatible. And I couldn't afford another old-generation unit anyway."
It was true. When out of curiosity she checked the website of the company from which she bought Wataru, she just got an error message saying that the website didn't exist. She searched the net and even asked Wataru to do the same, but there was nothing. It was as if the company had never existed. The only proof to the contrary was the box in which she received the AI program and which she still kept (it was pretty, all right?). The whole thing was downright bizarre, but with the company gone, the AI units she could afford were gone as well.
Wataru was silent, processing all that the user had said.
"I will not discard you. There is no way I would ever do that. I want you right where you are for as long as it's possible. Can you trust me on this?"
Those words touched something inside the AI that he didn't even know was there. Something clicked into place and Wataru realised he was no longer afraid.
"Yes," he spoke at last and there was relief in his voice. "I trust you, User_1."
"Good." The woman climbed on the back of the couch so that she could reach the camera that was Wataru's eyes right now, and then she sort of stroked the outer rim of the device with her fingertip. If the AI was human, she would have probably patted his hand.
"I'm glad we have that sorted out." She smiled.
Wataru grinned back, wishing his user could see him. Wishing they could interact more fully than just via the voice interface.
He got an idea.
"User_1, please look at your phone."
"Oh? Why?" The woman raised her eyebrows, but did as asked.
She picked up her smartphone and looked at the image displayed on the lockscreen. It wasn't the background she was used to seeing.
"Who's that?" she asked and the next moment she almost dropped her phone in shock.
"It's me." Wataru grinned a toothy grin.
Since he had access to his user's phone, he thought it might be a way to show himself without having to ask the user to switch on the holographic projectors. She clearly didn't like them for some reason.
The woman stared at the AI's face, still in mild shock.
"But how? I skipped that whole part in your set-up."
"I know. However I decided to build a visible interface for myself as well, in case it was ever needed."
"You can do that?" The woman seemed amazed. "I mean, you took your own initiative."
"Yes." Wataru preened a little.
It must have shown in his facial expression because the woman's lips trembled as if she was trying not to laugh.
"May I ask what you think?"
The image on the user's phone displayed only his face and Wataru himself thought he did a fairly good job on that.
The woman was looking at him, thoughtfully.
"I didn't expect this. Does your appearance have anything to do with the project I installed you for?"
Wataru hesitated, trying to discern the exact reasons that guided the choice of how he looked.
"Yes, I think it influenced it to a large extent."
The project was for a Japanese company. And so Wataru looked Japanese.
"But there was also the name you gave me," he continued. "I took it as a confirmation that this would be the best way to model myself."
The woman glanced guiltily at the box Wataru came in. Should she tell him how she went about choosing his name?
Well, perhaps some other time.
There was a sigh from the room's speaker.
"You didn't know the meaning of the word back then, did you?" That wasn't really a question, but the AI seemed amused rather than disappointed. He was still smiling from the phone screen.
"Uh, no," the woman admitted.
"Well, no harm done, as people say. However, it too contributed to how I look."
The woman nodded.
"Soo..." the AI trailed off, a little unsure. "Does the interface meet your approval?"
"Yes, of course it does," the woman said immediately. It was a little strange to be asked such a question. Wataru looked like this and that was pretty much all that could be said on the subject. The woman thought privately that Wataru could look like a frog and she would still approve because that would be what he chose for himself and that would be how he wanted to be seen.
"Really? You don't want me to change anything?"
The woman made a confused face. "Why would I want to do that? You're obviously comfortable with this rendering, so why should I interfere? Besides, I didn't really have any ideas for your looks when I installed you. I still don't. There were so many options and it seemed the set-up would take ages, I told you." She wrinkled her nose at the memory.
"And I also didn't think it would ever be necessary to, well... see you," she admitted.
"So you would rather not see me?" the AI asked, his face displaying confusion and a little bit of worry.
The emotions the woman learned to read in Wataru's voice were so much clearer now, especially because the AI didn't try to hide anything. What would be the point in that anyway, since the visual interface was supposed to facilitate better communication?
The woman shook her head, not liking that worried expression.
"That's not what I said. I simply didn't know I would want to see you, but now that I do see you, I like it just fine."
"Oh."
There. The woman much preferred to see the smile on that face.
"So you do like this set-up?" Wataru wanted to make absolutely sure.
"Yes, I do." The woman rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, but she was laughing as well. "I think you're very handsome."
The AI smiled brightly.
"And that dimple in your cheek is cute," she added.
The AI smiled even brighter. When the woman gently tapped the image of said dimple on her phone, a flurry of tiny hearts appeared where she touched the screen.
She burst into laughter.
"Is it too much?" the AI asked.
"A little, I would say."
Wataru's face disappeared from the phone's screen and the woman put the device back on the table.
"Would you consider activating the holographic projectors in the apartment?" Wataru asked after a moment, judging it to be the best time to broach the subject. "We could interact via the visual interface more often."
"About that..." The woman's expression became serious. She bit her lip, thinking whether to tell the AI the truth.
"It's... a complicated question," she finally said.
"How so?"
There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. "I have a... genetic condition. A disorder, you might say."
Wataru was suddenly afraid. How serious was it? But she didn't look ill. She'd said she wouldn't get sick and would try not to die! Was she just humouring him back then?
Realistically, he knew she had been joking then and he had no right to demand she kept her promise. People just couldn't decide on their illnesses or time of death. But if she was seriously ill, why did she say that at all? She was just giving him false hope...
"It's nothing serious. I mean, I'm not dying or anything," the woman meanwhile continued.
Hearing that, Wataru did a silent equivalent of sighing in relief. She said this just in time before his mind descended into complete irrationality. That should teach him not to jump to conclusions too soon.
Coming to think of it, though, this was the first time he did such a thing. He would have to examine his reaction later.
"It's just..." The woman fell silent, allowing the AI a moment to compose himself before he decided to speak.
"Yes?" Wataru prompted. Now that his user wasn't declaring she was going to shuffle off this mortal coil for good, he could think clearly again and was actually very curious.
"When I touch a hologram, it becomes solid."
That... wasn't what Wataru was expecting.
"But... that's not possible," he protested. A half-formed thought, accompanied by some strange emotion, started to run somewhere down his data streams. "It's just light. It can't become solid."
"Yeah, that's what everybody says, isn't it? Until they don't anymore." The woman's mouth twisted in a humourless smile. "The first time my parents realised something was wrong, was when I was five or six. We were passing by an ice cream shop that had an outside advertising panel with holographic images of the ice cream they were selling. I just took one and ate it."
The woman laughed a little at the memory.
"Good thing there was no one else around. It might have turned ugly." The smile dropped off her face again.
"Anyway. My parents got a bit of a shock, then took me to my aunt - Mom's sister - who actually works at a lab that develops technology for holograms. She gave me lots of holographic things to play with. Or so I thought at the time until much later I realised that she was conducting tests on me."
It looked like she didn't mind, though.
"I'm grateful she did because that's how she came up with a disperser for me."
The woman lifted her hand and tapped the hair clip she used to tie back her hair.
"I've also got one shaped like a pendant. You must have seen it. I never leave the house without both of them."
It was true, Wataru did see a round pendant on a silver chain his user always put on when she was going outside. He never analysed it too closely.
"Can I see it again?" he asked.
"Sure. You want to do the spectral analysis?"
"Yes. May I?"
"I don't see why not."
The woman took out the chain with the pendant out of the desk's drawer and brought it closer to Wataru's camera.
"Oh, I see..."
It was built like a reverse-holograph, the tiny lenses dispersing the light wave rather than focusing it.
"But isn't it useful to be able to touch the images?" Wataru asked, that half-formed thought flitting through him again.
"Sometimes it is, but I'm not going to risk it anyway. There's this ad panel down the street. Right now it's advertising the Great Aquarium tours and a giant shark is coming right at you when you pass by. What do you think would happen if it became real?"
"Oh." Wataru suddenly knew how humans must feel when they say their blood ran cold.
"Yeah." The woman sighed. "The holographic food becomes normal food, holographic animals become normal animals and so on."
"Is it permanent?" The half-formed thought began to take a more distinct shape. The accompanying emotion as well.
"What do you mean?"
"Does the hologram stay real? After you let go of it, I mean."
"No. It's only when it comes into contact with my skin. A small blessing. It would probably be a hundred times worse if those things stayed solid. I wouldn't escape doctors and their tests then. Perhaps even military would want to join in." The woman laughed it off, but there was real fear in her eyes.
The AI couldn't stand the sight.
"I wouldn't let them touch you," he said in a low voice.
"Well, that's nice to hear." The woman's smile became warmer.
"I am serious, User_1. Now that I know the truth, I will make doubly sure to protect you by whatever means necessary."
"Ah..." The woman felt a bit unsure. Asimov's Laws were, of course, built into the AI structure but there was still a tiny possibility it might all go pear-shaped pretty quickly, depending on how they were interpreted.
"Aren't you overreacting a bit?" She meant to ask in a more roundabout way, but it came out as usual, more directly than she'd wanted. Good thing this was Wataru: as an AI unit, he usually appreciated her straightforward approach.
"No," he answered without hesitation. "In fact, I would recommend that you stay home from now on. Going outside is unnecessary. Everything can be delivered and I will take care of your mental and physical well-being. I will start preparing lockdown procedure."
Well, it looked like all just went pear-shaped.
"Wataru." There was a note in the woman's voice that Wataru had never heard before. A warning. "Do not do that. Human beings don't make good prisoners. Don't make me do something drastic. You wouldn't like it."
A threat, Wataru suddenly realised. His user perceived him as a threat. She was afraid, though it wasn't readily apparent, but human brain still behaved very primitively in such circumstances. There was the choice of flight or fight but if she thought she couldn't escape...
Based on the knowledge of her character, Wataru estimated with 95% certainty that she would destroy him if she saw no other way out. Even if it meant damage to herself, not to mention the data on her terminals. These were all expendable.
He couldn't let that happen. And it was all wrong. He didn't want his user to be afraid of him. He had to remedy the situation immediately.
"I apologise. It wasn't my intention to make you a prisoner."
Wataru detected the woman breathed a little easier. He switched to full-spectrum view, noting the telltale signs of flight-or-fight response.
"I'm sorry," he apologised again. "That's really not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean? That lockdown procedure sure sounded like you never wanted to let me out of here." The woman's voice still had an edge to it and her stress levels were still too high.
Dear Creators, what had he done?
"I only meant that you would be safer here, with me. You wouldn't have to worry about any holographic sharks or that the dispersers malfunction and someone will see you."
"They cannot malfunction," the woman pointed out. "It's just lenses, there's nothing that could stop working."
Right. Of course, Wataru knew that since he examined the device himself. It must have been his emotional state that made him forget that. The half-formed thought he had earlier was now ruthlessly drowned in other data streams. It had no chance of happening now, nor ever probably. It was foolish anyway.
"I appreciate your concern, but it's not something you should worry about. I survived just fine before you."
'Without you' were the words Wataru heard.
"I know. I'm sorry." He didn't know what else he could do except apologising. "I promise I will never do this again."
"Good."
It looked like the stress levels have finally dropped. There would be no physical side-effects, but the user would probably remember the whole thing for quite some time.
The woman sighed. "Well, I'm going to bed. Good night."
"Good night, User_1."
The urge to monitor his user's state was still there, but Wataru had never broken his promise 'not to look' while she was taking a shower.
When she fell asleep, though, Wataru watched her like a hawk, even if it was only via the infra-red sensors in her bedroom. He had to make sure she was all right.
* * *
Days passed and then weeks and it seemed like the incident was at least forgiven, if not forgotten. The AI watched his user for signs of stress or unease in their interactions, but couldn't detect anything.
They still watched films every weekend, though they set the date to Saturdays only since on Fridays the woman usually fell asleep halfway through the movie. The project's completion date was nearer and nearer and so she worked more as there were still some things that had to be done by a human rather than the AI.
Finally though, one Friday in August, the woman put the finishing touches on her presentation and sighed in relief.
"Done. Now the only thing left is the office meeting next week and we're out of this. I need a holiday and you deserve one too." She rubbed her hands over her face.
"Would you like me to present the report before the customer and the managers?" Wataru asked, reviewing the slides the woman prepared. He was extra vigilant now, even anticipating what his user might require of him. Everything to wipe that horrible incident from her mind. And his own as well.
"Yes, please. I've never been good at that, but I guess I've got you now." She grinned.
"Yes, you have," Wataru replied seriously.
The woman's cheeks turned a little red, but the AI couldn't find the reason why.
"Well, it will look a bit strange if you're the only AI appearing as a floating head, but who cares, right?"
"A floating head?" Wataru was mystified, but then he understood. "Oh, that doesn't have to be the case. I do have a full-body interface."
"You do?" Well, that was a development she didn't foresee. "You've never told me this."
"I guess there was no opportunity to do so," Wataru said feebly, feeling like he managed to fail his user all over again.
The woman thought for a moment. "Can you show me?"
"Yes, certainly."
The full image of the AI appeared on the still active work screen. The woman glanced at it and then immediately looked away.
"You're naked." She was blinking at a wall in mild shock.
"Yes?" Wataru replied uncertainly. "Is this a problem?"
"Uhh..." The woman looked like she didn't know what to say. She finally settled on: "Not as such. I'm just not used to staring at naked people. Or AI units for that matter."
"Ah, I understand. However, I believed it would be best if you could see the underlying structure first."
The woman only hoped the AI wouldn't demand her opinion on this particular structure as well. She was not quite ready to stare at his naked body. She'd managed to catch the sight of his collarbones, though, and she could say she definitely approved of those.
"Can you look now, please?" Wataru's voice caught her wandering attention.
"Is it safe?"
"It is." There was laughter in the AI's voice.
The woman looked and nodded in appreciation.
"Very nice."
The AI was dressed in a pair of dark trousers, a white shirt and a waistcoat on top. Smart, yet casual in that early 20th century style the woman liked so much.
"You know me too well." She sighed, still looking the AI, but probably seeing more than just the image on the screen. Wataru noticed that her eyes had that faraway look they sometimes did when she imagined places and times long gone.
The woman blinked and her gaze focussed back on Wataru. And she sighed again.
"You're gonna be like a peacock among the pigeons at that office meeting."
Wataru wasn't sure he understood correctly.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, you're just... so much better than the modern AI units. Not to mention more expensive. It's actually a little embarrassing."
"You're embarrassed to show me to other people?"
This didn't sound good.
The woman shook her head. "Not in that sense. It's like showing up with a diamond when everyone else brings a coal lump."
Oh.
The praise was so extraordinary the AI didn't know what to say.
"Thank you," Wataru finally murmured after a moment. "It's wonderful to hear that you hold me in such a high regard."
Actually, he was so happy and relieved his short foray into dictatorship seemed entirely forgiven that he felt he might cry.
"You don't have to worry, though," he continued. "During the online meetings, I was able to discern that the architect on the client's side also has the old generation AI unit. And I'm sure he's not the only one."
"Perhaps you're right." She smiled. "But I still think you will be the best."
Then she switched off the screen and got up.
"Come," she said, grabbing her phone and pendant. "Let's go for a walk. I feel like I've been sitting here for a week."
It was actually true. This was the first time in a week that she left the house. The work on the project's completion had been hectic.
After they came back, the woman had ice-cream for supper, while Wataru pointed out what she should eat instead.
"Tomorrow," she said, licking the spoon. "This, today, is a reward."
The AI stopped complaining, focussing instead on making an online order for fresh produce. You could never go wrong with more vegetables.
That night the woman fell asleep easily enough, but woke up only three or four hours later. Her arm was aching and she reached up, trying to massage her shoulder. She knew she overtaxed the muscles there, working long hours at the computer, and now she probably slept wrong.
She sighed. What she really needed was a professional massage.
"Are you all right, User_1?" Wataru's soft voice sounded from the bedroom's speakers.
"Yeah. Just my shoulder hurts a bit."
The muscles were too tense, but there was nothing to be done about it now. She sighed again and turned to lie on her other side.
"I have a suggestion to make," Wataru spoke again, but his voice was hesitant.
"Oh?"
"If you switched on the room's holographic projector, I could offer you a massage." The AI still sounded unsure. "It's just a suggestion," he quickly added. "Maybe something you could consider later."
"Hm..." the woman hummed, thinking it wasn't an entirely bad idea. Out loud, though, she only said: "I wasn't aware you knew any massage techniques."
"I have access to the internet databases on every possible massage technique in the world."
Of course.
The idea was good. Wataru's holographic hands would be able to touch her; she never wore the disperser to bed anyway. Was she ready for this, though?
She pondered the subject for a while and if Wataru hadn't monitored her the whole time, he would have thought she'd fallen asleep again.
"It's a good suggestion," the woman finally spoke. "But I think I'll pass for now."
Wataru felt a pang of disappointment.
"I'll keep it in mind, though," she added. "Maybe I just have to get used to the thought."
That cheered Wataru up. So it wasn't an entirely lost hope.
The woman sighed and rolled onto her other side again. She didn't feel sleepy, but she also didn't feel like reading or getting up. It looked like she was doomed to just futilely toss and turn for the next hour or so.
"If you still can't sleep, I have another suggestion," the AI spoke.
"Really?" the woman murmured into her pillow. She didn't even feel like talking now.
"How about a lullaby?"
"What?" That was unexpected.
"A traditional song, that is sung in order to facilitate sleep."
"To children."
"Well, yes. Mostly," the AI agreed.
"Do you see me as a child?" the woman wondered, the discussion not facilitating sleep in the slightest. Did Wataru see her as a feeble human he had to take care of? Was this why he wanted to protect her to the point of not letting her out of her own flat?
"Of course not. My functions are calibrated to you: an adult."
"Hm... But do you see people as essentially weaker than you? than the AI units?"
"No." Wataru was a little puzzled at the direction the conversation went. He'd only wanted to make his user feel better. Why these questions then? Didn't she trust him? Maybe she still thought he might decide to lock her in one day or do something similar?
Oh. That was the problem, wasn't it? She probably thought he treated her like a child that didn't know what's good for her. He had to make sure she understood.
"People are not weaker. They created me. I would never consider my creators as inferior in any sense."
"But you think people need to be taken care of."
The woman's voice was getting colder. It was all wrong again. He had to make her understand!
"I don't know about other people. I just want to take care of you."
There, he said it.
"Because I am your user."
"Yes, that too, but mostly because you're just... you. The person I like the most."
"Oh." The woman sounded surprised, but at least his words seemed to derail whatever idea she was getting. "But what if I don't need taking care of?"
"That's not the point." Wataru had to make sure she saw the distinction. "I am aware that you probably don't need it and that you can take care of yourself. But I want to do it anyway."
He couldn't make things clearer, could he?
"Ah," the woman said and fell silent. She had no idea how to respond. This was a foreign territory to her.
"Sooo... You still think a lullaby may help me fall asleep?" she asked, deciding to skip the whole 'caring' business for now. She felt horribly awkward and didn't know how to express her other feelings.
"I think it would be worth to try."
Would she let him take care of her at least in this way?
"You're probably right." The woman sighed finally. At least it wouldn't make things worse. "Go ahead, then."
Hearing that, Wataru couldn't be happier. He only hoped his user would like this feature of his. He hadn't used it before.
The woman had expected Wataru to play one of the lullabies that could be found on the net. There must have been millions of them in every language imaginable (and if she let her imagination run free, she could even be pretty sure the number included Klingon ones). She was surprised, however, to hear the AI actually started singing himself. In Japanese.
Maybe it was better, she thought, feeling sleep creep up on her. This way she didn't focus on the meaning of words and could let the song simply flow through her mind instead. Wataru's voice was very soothing.
It wasn't obvious the song wasn't sung by a human voice, but sometimes the changes between notes sounded like filtered through electronics. She actually liked that. She'd never much liked the vocaloid AI units, but this was somehow different. There seemed to be emotion behind that voice the vocaloid units could never really convey.
Did other AI units sung to their users as well? Actually, she'd never heard of a singing AI unit that wasn't a vocaloid. That woke her up a little, but she managed to silence the questions that suddenly came to her mind. Tomorrow. She would ask Wataru about that tomorrow.
"That was lovely," she mumbled when the song came to an end. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Good night."
The woman didn't answer, having fallen asleep between one word and the next.
Wataru allowed himself a smile, feeling satisfaction at a job well done. And his user liked his singing! Hearing the praise made him feel all warm and tingly. Maybe she would want to hear it again?
It turned out she did.
The next day the woman asked Wataru not only about his singing abilities (he actually didn't know if this was a special feature or standard for old-generation AI units), but also about the choice of the song.
"It wasn't any traditional lullaby, was it?"
"No. I estimated, however, that the melody will be conducive to sleep. I altered the original arrangement to suit that purpose."
"You... changed the arrangement?" The woman was surprised once again. It looked like she severely underestimated the versatility of the old AI units, even though she was always the one to praise them for being so much better than the nowadays junk. "What did the original sound like?"
Wataru played a song with an upbeat chorus performed by a female vocalist. It did differ rather drastically from what the woman heard last night.
"I like your version better," she said. "It was very... cosy," she finally settled on the word, not knowing how to explain it otherwise.
"Thank you." Wataru was beaming from one of the monitors. "If you wish, I could sing more often."
"I'd love that."
So, was this what 'caring' looked like? It wasn't too bad, was it? She smiled a little to herself; she had to admit she was happy. She'd never expected this when she was buying the AI, but now she was very glad she did. She enjoyed their interactions and the friendship they eventually formed. She trusted Wataru now - that was probably the biggest change in her. She still wouldn't put much trust in other AI units, but she got to know Wataru and so she made an exception.
She was even thinking of switching on the holographic projectors in the flat. It might be fun if they could watch their weekly film with Wataru sitting beside her on the couch. Of course, it would be only an illusion - the algorithms making it seem like the hologram was sitting, standing etc. while in fact the bundle of light would just hover over the surface. But it could be fun nonetheless.
And then, one day, maybe she would even decide to take off her dispersers around her AI. That massage idea still sounded really good, but she had to do it at her own pace. One tiny step at a time.
First she would have to see what interacting with Wataru's hologram was like. The office meeting was a perfect testing site to check if she'd be comfortable with him in that form. She was reasonably sure everything would be okay, but only time could tell. She would decide what to do afterwards.