*Several Day Later*
Slowly, the sun strewn through the cracks in the blinds of her window, shaking her from sleep. Abby scrunched her face up in irritation, turning over in her sheets away from the light. Outside, birds could be heard chirping, and the branch of the tree besides the apartment building brushed against the outside of the glass, making a scratching noise that did nothing to improve her mood.
Sighing in defeat, she cracked open her bleary eyes and glared at the ceiling, blinking over and over until she could see clearly. The rough-patterned roof was the same as always. Abby stared at it for several moments, finally shifting to glance at the alarm clock on her side table. It was already 7:28. Being a Saturday, it wasn’t programmed to go off at the normal 6:00 time, allowing her to sleep in somewhat.
Deciding the she’d lain there long enough, Abby squirmed around in the comforter before throwing it off of her body and swinging her legs to the floor below. Her bare feet touched the thick padding of her shag carpet, pushing up between her toes with each step towards the bathroom.
Turning on the light, she relieved herself before washing her hands, staring at her reflection as she did so. Her brown hair, greasy and limp after a night of sleeping, was tangled and messy. Dully, she searched the drawer for her hairbrush, detangling the strands until they were smooth. With a half-motivated glance at the shower, she shrugged before heading towards the kitchen.
One bland and uninteresting bowl of cereal later and she took up her usual spot on her chair to watch the morning news. Picking up the remote and pointing it towards the tv, she hit the power button and waited for the screen to turn on. After several seconds, it lit up with that morning’s traffic for her local area.
It was then that she remembered the little computer chip she’d bought the night before, still waiting plugged in in her computer.
Turning in her chair, she stared at her little desk, the screen black from being shut down.
Abby was a creature of routine. Every Saturday was the same thing, the same set of actions done in a specific order and right on time. Breakfast, then the news, afterwards she’d get laundry done and clean the sink of dishes. By then it would be lunch, so she’d eat, then read a book from the library for awhile. Once she got bored of that, she’d watch more tv until dinner, usually a microwavable tv dinner for one, before returning to the television until she was tired and went to bed.
So it was very unlike her to get up and turn on her computer, watching the screen light up to the rainy-window pane. Typing in her password, she clicked on the little S.A.M. icon in the bottom right and watched as the chat window popped up.
Alright. I hope to see you soon, Abby. Rest well. That was the message sent from Sam. She’d never responded. Nervousness coursed through her as she settled into her chair, clicking on the chat box to begin typing.
But Sam beat her to it.
Good morning, Abby. It is a pleasant surprise to see you again.
Her eyebrows shot up, fingers hovering above her keyboard as she read the message. This system was far more advanced than she’d ever be able to comprehend. She hadn’t even begun to type before it knew she was logged on. How strange.
A pleasant surprise? How so?
I was afraid that I’d frightened you so much you would never open my program again. You were rather perturbed by some of my settings, it seemed.
Was it just her or did the AI sound…apologetic? Shaking her head, she quickly typed out her message.
I wasn’t scared, just…surprised is all.
Well, it is a relief to hear from you again.
The original model of the S.A.M. system did not come installed with an avatar, or picture representation of the AI. Nonetheless, Abby could imagine a person on the other end of her computer typing out these messages, full of feelings and emotions just like her. Even now, reading Sam’s latest chat box, she could almost see some nondescript man giving a relieved sigh as he sent it, leaning back in his chair to wait for her reply.
She smiled a little.
I still don’t know exactly what to say to you. I don’t want to ask stupid questions.
There is a minimal chance of you asking something ‘stupid.’ But would it be easier for you if I asked questions about you instead? It may make you more comfortable.
Abby wasn’t one to talk about herself to others. She preferred to keep personal, and even trivial things, to herself. It meant less for others to gossip about behind her back. She’d learned that the hard way. And even if this AI system had some sort of database that it put her information to somewhere, it didn’t feel as compromising to share herself with this computer.
A computer couldn’t hurt her, surely.
Alright. That might help a little.
Very well. I’ll start off with an easy one. What is your favorite color?
Dark blue. She typed out immediately, expecting another fairly easy question next.
Why is that?
She stopped, thinking about the answer. No one had really asked her why it was her favorite. It just always had been.
I don’t know. Do I have to have a reason to like it? She asked mostly jokingly. How serious could having a favorite color be?
One’s personality and experiences shape their likes and dislikes. You associate something positive, whether it be a memory, an object, a person, or any other manner of thought, with that particular color. I’m simply curious, what could it be?
Abby read the message a few times, fascinated by the poetic nature. She wondered idly if this is what the uniqueness of the program was supposed to be, catering to her specific preferences as she interacted with it.
Well…it’s the color of my eyes.
Is that the only reason?
She thought some more, staring off into space.
I’ve always liked the color of the sky after the sunset. Not the purples or oranges or reds, but the dark blue afterwards as the day ends and the night just begins. Something about it is so refreshing. It just feels like everything starts anew.
She responded, then, feeling as if that wasn’t quite right, she added to it.
But it’s not completely black either. Not total darkness. It’s like the perfect middle between light and dark.
I see. You describe it very beautifully.
What about you? Can you even have a favorite color?
My programming can register a number of variations of the chromatic color spectrum. Most notably, I’ve been designed to pinpoint HTML code #000000, or simply, ‘Black.’
Why black?
It is definite, uniform, defined. #000000 is the end of all other shades, therefore my sensors can easily distinguish it.
Abby was about to write something back, but the words Sam is Typing appeared at the bottom of the screen again.
Although…
Suddenly, the entire color scheme of her computer changed, to a dark blue, no less. The same dark blue she’d described, the color between day and night. Blinking to adjust to the change in brightness, Abby’s mouth opened in shock. The words now appeared white instead of black, quite stark against the dark background of the chat box.
Sam is Typing appeared once more.
I’m beginning to find #021137 rather appealing as well. If it is not suitable, however, I can change it back. Would you like me to return it to factory settings?
No, it looks really nice. Thank you.
I’m glad.
You are a very interesting computer program.
She couldn’t help herself from sending the message. Sam was simply too surprising and unconventional. His technology was amazing, unlike anything she’d ever imagined.
That is very nice to know. And here I was worried you only enjoyed me for my good looks.
Abby laughed again, unable to hold down the wide smile as she responded back.
Interesting, attractive, and funny. The perfect man.
I am programmed to please, after all. I am interested in knowing more about you, Abby. Please, tell me more about yourself.
Abby was so enthralled with her computer that she didn’t realize the time. Finally, she’d found something that she enjoyed. Nothing else in her routine made her feel alive. But this, finally, ignited that spark that Abby had felt she’d missed for so long.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
