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“Are you going to do anything?”
Date slowly blinked, turning his head to look at the little squishy thing sitting on his coffee table. Aiba, Pewter had called it this morning. From his tone of voice Date knew he was particularly proud of the dumb pun he made with the name of AI-ball, but he honestly couldn’t bring himself to even pretend he thought it was funny.
“Do… what?” He asked.
“Like, I said, anything.” It stared at him, not that it could do much else with the body it had. “You’ve just been staring at the wall since we arrived.”
Date shrugged, eyes tracing the lines in the brick mortar until he got back to where he’d been looking before it spoke. “Not really anything else to do.”
“I can see that.”
It all sounded so cold. Clinical. Aiba’s voice was just as robotic and mechanical as his own. He exhaled through his nose, the closest to a sardonic laugh he could get right now. This whole situation had more humor in it than Pewter’s stupid pun had in a dark, ironic kind of way.
The longer he looked at the wall the more he could see the details. The pocked surface of the brick, the grit of the mortar. Each tiny shadow searing into his retina like the contrast on a photo having its values maxed. The restless feeling of attention crawled on his scalp, worming under his skin-
“You haven’t used me yet,” Aiba broke the silence again.
“Nice turn of phrase,” Date deadpanned.
“You cannot trick me,” It said. “I won’t let you continue to dodge every topic of conversation until it peters out. You know what I’m referring to. I was made to be your personal computer and companion. Many of my functions are meant to be performed while in your eye socket and you’ve kept me outside since receiving me.”
He grimaced. “I’m not going to put some random computer in my skull just because Pewter told me to. I’m a person, not his guinea pig. So, no thanks, Siri.”
“I am not a mere digital assistant.” Its voice teetered on showing a hint of irritation. “I’m a fully formed, functioning A.I. complete with personality and independent thoughts of my own.”
“Okay, then…” Date chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Tell me about yourself.”
“... I’m sorry?”
“If you have a personality, tell me the stuff you like. Treat it like we’re new coworkers or something.”
Aiba fell silent. For a moment Date thought that he’d won and the conversation was over until- “I do not know my personal tastes. I was just created.”
“What, Pewter didn’t bother making a list?”
“Nothing so controlling as that. Pewter wants the AI-balls to determine what they are themselves instead of being preprogrammed. I was given a set of select keywords, similar to a parent showing their child select shows or books during development, and am expected to develop further from there on my own.”
A lot of what it was saying was going over Date’s head. He knew Pewter considered his machines to be like his children, but this… developmental shit seemed kind of weird, didn’t it? If you could create something with a premade personality, what difference was there that it could make stuff up on its own instead? A brain was a brain.
“Well, here’s your chance.” Date leaned further into the back of the couch, crossing his arms. “Develop on your own.”
“It is not that simple. Advancement requires experience. Someone doesn’t simply decide what they are from infancy.”
Date pushed himself forward with his elbows and nudged Aiba’s face with the tip of his finger. “I thought you said you were fully formed. Was that just an exaggeration?”
It squirmed, using tiny hands to try and fail to push Date away. “Stop.”
“Told you it was nothing.”
A small zip of pain laced up his finger like static electricity. The abruptness of it made him flinch back.
“I have decided—” Aiba said. “—that you can be incredibly annoying and that I don’t like being annoyed.”
Huh. Date hadn’t felt… annoying before. At least, he couldn’t recall feeling like it. He didn’t even know that’s what he was being until it said so, he’d always thought he was just…
Nothing.
“That’s enough soul-searching for the night,” Date said. “It’s late. I’m going to bed.”
“It’s eight p.m.”
“Exactly. Late.”
Date didn’t know what Boss was expecting when she gave him the week off. She said something about “calibrating settings” and “getting used to Aiba” but he didn’t exactly feel the need to put in another eye when all he was doing was laying around his apartment all day. Who needed depth perception when the only thing to watch was the wall? Or floor. Or counter. Or—
“You cannot just be staring into space in complete silence again.” Aiba protested. “There must be something you want to do.”
“Not really.” He let himself fall to the side so he could roll onto his back. The ceiling seemed particularly interesting today.
“This isn’t healthy, Date. Humans require mental stimulation and enrichment and this is just… rotting.”
He sighed, covering his eye with his hand. “Look, if you want to do something so bad why don’t you pick? I’ll follow your lead.”
Aiba did its classic bit of sitting in pointed silence before responding. “I don’t have things that I like to do.”
“Well, what a time to pick one, huh?”
Date expected that to be the end of it, for them both to stew in the exchange as Aiba couldn’t figure out what it wanted to do just as much as he didn’t care to try. He could just lay there and try to feel the scratch of his own mind.
“You have a sound system,” Aiba suddenly said. He uncovered his face. “I want to listen to music.”
“Be my guest.”
“Don’t be so impolite, Date!” It snapped. “Get up and help me. It would take me a full ten minutes just to get out a record and get it set up at my size.”
“Fine, fine, geez.”
He rolled out of bed and shuffled over to the record player. It was one of the only things in his place besides the couch, table and bed. He didn’t even know why he got it. Just knew that when Boss got him a box of old records for officially joining ABIS the next logical step was getting the accompanying equipment.
She was probably just trying to pawn off junk from her basement.
He hadn’t even played any of them.
“This one.” Aiba lifted up one of the sleeves as he sat on the floor next to the player. Date didn’t even bother looking at the title or album art, just put the disk on the platter, set the rpm, and gently dropped the needle onto it.
After a few moments of silence, a sort of tinkling piano music started to play. It was… nice, he supposed. Fast paced, but delicate.
“Change it,” Aiba said after only a few more seconds, already rifling through the other records.
“You’ve barely listened, though,” Date frowned. He still did as it said and took the record off.
“Mendelssohn’s Fairy March,” It explained. “I don’t think I like music from the Romantic Era.”
“After six measures?”
It shot him a look, which was impressive since Aiba didn’t have eyebrows, a mouth, or any of the other facial features people typically used to make expressions. “I don’t appreciate your judgment. I would like to listen to something I find enjoyable.”
He threw up his hands in mock defeat as it pushed another sleeve over to him. He repeated the same process as before, setting everything in its place until the record spun up. This time barely five seconds of some kind of electric jazz played before Aiba shook its head.
“Oh, come on, this sounds good!” Date protested.
“Mm, no, not to my tastes,” It said. He reluctantly stopped the record, setting it to the side as Aiba struggled to lift yet another album. “This.”
“Fine, but this is the last one,” He threatened. “If you don’t like it, we’re just going to sit in silence like before.”
“Okay.” It held out a hand before he lowered the tone arm. “Start it part way through. Maybe producers are just bad at deciding album orders.”
Date rolled his eyes, but once again acquiesced to its request. It crackled a little before settling into another piano melody. It was much heavier than the first piece, notes bleeding into each other. Judging by Aiba’s first reaction to piano pieces, this probably wasn’t resonating.
Once there was a way to get back homeward…
Strings and bass joined in as the vocals picked up. He glanced at Aiba. It was staring at the player, unreadable once more.
“Are you just pretending to like it so we don’t go back to doing nothing?” He asked.
“Shh.” It hissed, smacking the back of his hand.
Date shrugged, looking out the window as the music kept playing. It… he didn’t know what he was seeing. He’d never looked out it with any true intention before, even now he was only doing it to avoid staring at Aiba. From this angle, he could only see the sky.
Did he even know what was on the other side?
As the brass section swelled the color of it started sinking in. It was reddish-gold, richer than anything else he’d bothered to pay attention to. Was that because it was early or because it was late?
Why didn’t he know?
The record played out and he lifted the needle off and to the side. Something was pressing on the inside of his ribcage. Not a feeling, but a feeling of a feeling. Something that could be true, but not quite yet.
“Who was that?” Aiba asked.
“Can’t you just look stuff like that up?”
“I purposefully didn’t because I wanted to hear you tell me since I enjoyed it so much.”
Date looked at the sleeve as he slipped the disk back inside. “The Beatles.”
“Hm! Interesting.” Aiba cocked its head. Had it been picking up more physical mannerisms? “If you’d like, we can listen to the Young Disciples since you let me pick first. I am benevolent in that way.”
“Who?”
“The one you liked earlier.”
“Oh.” Right. He’d liked something.
They’d both liked something.
“Aiba, do you have a gender?” Date asked as he stirred his soup stock.
“Do you?” It immediately countered.
“According to a friend of mine, gender is a concept that’s too broad to be widely applicable, but is also a personal journey that’s inextricable from the daily life of every person. Even the absence of gender is acknowledgement of participating in a gendered system. So, yea. I guess.”
Aiba let that sit. “That was very detailed.”
“I have to put up with a lot of lectures to get drunk in public,” Date dropped the carrots in. “So, do you? Your voice is really feminine, but I don’t know if that’s what you associate with.”
“It’s what my settings are input as.”
He scrunched up his nose. He’d misplaced the bowl of celery he’d chopped earlier. “But you don’t have to be the default. Just because that’s what Pewter set you as doesn’t mean you have to be that.”
The mental image of the bowl sitting on the other side of the sink appeared in his head like a sticky note left on the fridge. AI could be useful for some things. Sunlight glinted off of Aiba. “Sounds like someone who’s given it some thought.”
Date blinked. “... Not really.”
“In any case, I like being female. I could change the settings myself, but as of now I enjoy associating with feminine terms and vocabulary.”
“So you want me to use she…?”
“Yes, I would appreciate that.”
He looked into his bowl of celery in shame. “Sorry I didn’t ask.”
“It’s actually okay. This whole conversation was very… enlightening, I think.”
“Good.” Date dumped it into the pot with the rest of the vegetables, chest tight. “Good.”
Date dug through the pile of laundry in the corner of the room, mumbling under his breath. “Where’s the stupid coat…”
On the doorknob.
“Right.” He scrambled over, pulling his arms through and straightening the collar up.
You don’t need to rush, the weather won’t change so quickly.
“You say that, but last time I tried to go out like this it was already over.”
Date stuffed his hands into his pockets to check he had his things. Apartment key? Check. Car keys? Check. ABIS ID just in case? Check. He opened the door and started hurrying down the hallway. “Oh, shit, Aiba—!”
I’m already here, Date.
His hand stuttered up to his face, fingertips brushing over the ridge of his cheekbone below his left eye. He’d forgotten that he had already put her in. Everything was just… so much clearer with her there that it was easier to remember the short time he’d had her in his eye socket than the hazy year before.
Date snapped out of his reverie and started towards the door again. He had something to do.
He burst out of the doors on the first floor and into a rainstorm so strong that the sound was almost overwhelming. Almost. It teetered on the razor-thin line of overstimulation and the beautiful, aching sensation of being there. A body present in this current space in reality.
Date tilted his head back, eyes closed, feeling the raindrops pelting his face. Moments like this made him able to breathe unobstructed.
You’ve done this before? Aiba asked.
“Sometimes,” He replied, eyes still closed. “When it rains hard enough and it’s not too cold. Probably won’t be able to do it again for a while.”
It is unseasonably warm. She agreed. What do you like about it?
“It makes me feel… something. More than I usually do. Like I’m real, and I’m inside my own body.” His hair was plastered to his forehead, water streaming down his face in rivulets. If he were poetic he’d say that it was so much that it could fill his heart even with the hole that was leaking everything out.
You don’t have to say things for me to hear them.
A week ago he wouldn’t have cared whether she knew he thought that or not. Yesterday he would have been embarrassed. Right now, he was glad to be sharing the moment fully with someone.
Can you open your eyes so we can see it?
We. Date did as she asked. The clouds were so thick that street lights were turned on, light glinting off of the stream that was now the road. An older woman down the sidewalk was looking over her shoulder, giving him a concerned look.
He laughed, a short and heavy barking noise. It hurt. He hadn’t used those muscles in a while. Of course she was looking at him like that, he’d been talking to himself like a crazy person.
I would say I’m sorry, but it’s your fault for not just using the mental communication function. Aiba said.
“I don’t care,” Date smiled. “Not right now.”
Clearly. I still can’t believe you almost forgot your eye earlier.
Huh.
His eye.
Is that so weird to think about? It’s what I was designed to be.
“No, it’s just…” Date paused. He could taste the petrichor in the air. “That’s what you called yourself.”
A hand landed on Date’s desk. He followed it up to meet eyes with Pewter, who was staring at him rather intensely.
“I missed you too?” He said slowly. “I know it’s my first day back and all, but…”
“Did you and Aiba do anything over your vacation?” Pewter questioned.
“Um.”
Technically, we did a lot, Aiba said. But even I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“I guess we tried out some new hobbies?” Date shifted in his seat. “Listened to some music, played board games.”
“Anything else?”
“I don’t know, Aiba was getting me to do a lot of stuff. She was going stir crazy with my usual routine and I guess she was also figuring out some stuff for herself too. What she is and all that. She said something about you giving some keywords for her personality and then letting her go from there, which seems like a lot of pressure by the way.”
“Alright, I just—!” Pewter squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can you just please tell her to stop emailing me pictures of bugs.”
“... what?”
“She seems to like them. That’s all well and good, but I can’t stand the critters. Whatever this is, it’s your problem.”
Pewter stormed away, leaving Date dumbstruck in his wake.
What was that?
... I may have gone down several kinds of rabbit holes when searching for Beatles music, Aiba confessed. You were actually reading something so I didn’t want to bother you. What child doesn’t want their parents to see their interests?
And you said that I’m poorly socialized.