2 months later

  “No, no, no, I’m asking for your own opinion on the movie,” Mako said.

  Analyzing…, the screen displayed.

  A smooth female voice said: “Sharknado 14: the Sharkenning is an AI-generated action-adventure direct-to-VR film and the sixteenth movie in the Sharknado franchise. It was released on December 5th 20—”

  “Yes, you already said that.” Mako clenched a pen. “But what did you think of it? Did you like it or hate it or what?”

  The computer processed this, dots flashing across the loading screen. “The movie received a 45% critic rating on Rotten Tomatoes, with an audience score of 69%. According to one fan, the movie ‘made me feel like I was getting a lobotomy in real time.’ ”

  Mako knocked her head on the keyboard.

  “Ask it about the second Star Wars sequel trilogy,” Tan said from the other side of the control panel. “I’m sure that’ll get a rise out of it.”

  “I’m still reeling from its answer to The Room 3.”

  “Did someone say The Room 3? I love that movie,” Lin said as he entered the lab.

  Mako straightened like a lightning rod, jostling paperwork on her desk.

  “I love the part where Robo-Johnny shoots himself with the blaster.” Lin walked over to the control panel. He laid a hand on Mako’s backrest and checked the screen. A cursor blinked back at him on the command line interface. He surveyed the rest of the screens and blinking knobs. “Isn’t this a little simple to be a supercomputer thingie?”

  “These are just the monitors and controls.” Mako swiveled in her chair and pointed to the quantum computer on the other side of the glass pane. “That would be the supercomputer thingie.”

  “Whoa, Nelly. That thing’s a computer? I always thought it was a piece of modern art.”

  The piece of modern art was, in fact, the dilution refrigerator — several thick columns of gold tubes and wires stretching from floor to ceiling. This main portion was flanked by heavy machinery, with lots of flashy bits and blinky bobs. The whole section was isolated in its own chamber by a glass wall, separating it from the rest of the lab. On the safe side of the glass was ‘mission control’: rows of workstations with buttons, switches, and knobs to go with several screens and monitors, and a pair of desktop setups for Mako and Tan.

  Lin approached the chamber, hand outstretched to the door.

  Mako chased after Lin, but Tan beat her to it.

  “Hold it.” Tan parked himself in front of the door. “You might not want to go in there. Sir.”

  Lin brushed him aside. “I just wanna take a look.” He reached for the handle.

  “It’s really dangerous for humans,” Mako blurted out. “You could contract a… uh… computer virus.”

  Tan shut his eyes.

  Lin gaped at the quantum contraption and stepped back from the glass. “You guys should put up a warning sign or some protection on this thing.”

  Tan raised an eyebrow to Mako. She only shrugged back at him.

  The glass wall was the protection protocol. It wasn’t strictly necessary; they just added it to protect the system from idiots.

  “Correction,” the AI voice said. “Humans cannot contract viruses from machines.”

  Lin’s ears perked up. “Is that her?” He walked up to the microphone set. “Hello there. Anyone home?”

  “Hi! It’s nice to meet you,” replied the voice, all sprig and spry.

  “Mr. Han,” Tan said, adjusting his collar, “If I may ask, what brings you here to our humble little laboratory?”

  Lin smiled. “Just checking up on my favorite researchers.”

  “We’re the only researchers,” Mako said. The only ones left since Anand… she didn’t want to think about it. Surely, it couldn’t have been her fault, right?

  “You got me.” Lin threw his hands up. “I’ve been slacking off on the job.”

  Mako looked him up and down. Coffee blotch stained his usual hoodie, and he was shuffling around in fuzzy slippers.

  Lin crashed into the office chair Mako had been sitting in. “It’s just so boring up there. The suits are up my ass all the time, raving on and on about squiggly lines, going:” He dive-bombed his index finger like a fighter jet and blew a raspberry.

  “That’s rough, buddy,” Tan said.

  “I know. Say, how are things going with the whole sentient machine thing? I don’t mean to tell you how to do your jobs, but this thing doesn’t seem much smarter than your average phone assistant.”

  Mako and Tan connected looks, silently debating with their eyebrows.

  Mako caved. “I’m going to level with you, Mr. Han. It’s not looking good.”

  Lin scratched his head. “But we gave you everything. The equipment, the power requirements, all that data we stole from our clients. What else is missing?”

  Mako sighed, sinking into the next office chair. “The processing power and memory capacity are greater than those of supercomputers and should be well enough to simulate the human mind. You have Tan to thank for that.”

  Tan waved her off. “Oh, it was nothing.”

  “But the problem,” Mako said, “is in simulating consciousness itself.”

  “It seemed pretty conscious to me,” Lin said.

  “It does think and analyze, so to speak, but it does so as a machine and not a human. Like most AI, it operates on machine learning, taking in huge amounts of information and learning by human-guided trial and error.

  “On the other hand, human minds have this amazing ability to generalize information, notice patterns, and make inferences on far less information and without prompt. A baby, for example, can identify a dog, regardless of size and breed, after only seeing a few samples. Even when the architecture is modeled after the brain’s neural networks, it still thinks like a machine.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Lin squinted. He seemed to be either in deep concentration or severe constipation. “So you’re trying to make a robot baby?”

  Tan chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “If that’s what we’re trying to do, we’re not succeeding,” Mako said. “Even if we know, roughly, how the brain is structured, we still don’t understand what’s going on under the hood. Neuroscience still doesn’t have a clear picture of how consciousness arises, for example, or how memories are formed… how emotions are. And we’re not exactly neuroscientists.”

  “Then how are you programming this thing?” Lin asked.

  “The same way everything is these days. We have our in-house programming AI design it. We then train it on the Internet, evaluate its results, and ask the AI to try again. Rinse and repeat until we succeed.”

  Lin gazed at the equipment behind the glass. “Using AI to make AI. I never thought of that.”

  “That just might be the problem.” Mako gazed alongside Lin. “We don’t know how to create sapience, and so neither does AI.”

  “I thought AI was better than people these days.”

  “Not at everything, it seems.”

  Lin was quiet. He must have finally understood just how lost they were.

  Mako slumped, letting her arms hang limp over the armrests. They’d well and truly failed. The project was doomed from the start. It was time to cut their losses and—

  “Enough!” Lin leaped to his feet. “I’ll have none of this pity party in my company.”

  Mako and Tan both sat straight at his words.

  “Are you scientists or not?” Lin said.

  “We are.” Tan saluted.

  Mako shrugged. “I suppose.”

  Lin held her by the shoulders. “Ask yourselves, is this what a robot would do? Is it?!”

  “Umm…”

  “NO! A robot would never give up. It would push through despite all the odds.”

  “Yeah!” Tan said. Lin didn’t see it, but Tan was covering a smirk.

  “I want you guys to dig deep and find that inner robot in you. Because it’s there, even if you don’t know it yet…”

  Strangely, his words tugged at hidden strings deep in Mako’s being. He was right. She’d never given up before, so why start now?

  “… and also because if you don’t solve this by the end of the week, we’re cutting you off.”

  Mako blinked. “What?”

  Lin let her go and put his hands in his pockets, turning to the exit. “The suits say the company is screwed if this research doesn’t pay back in dividends.” On his way out, he looked back over his shoulder. “And if that doesn’t happen, well, let’s just say we won’t be needing your services any longer. Have a good one.”

  The doors slid shut behind him.

  Mako held the armrests as her car took her out of the urban sprawl and into one of the little suburbs on the edges of Day City. She tilted her head upward and stared out the roof window. Thundering rain battered against the sky dome high above, but inside the inner city was terse silence. The peace underscored the storm brewing in Mako’s head.

  The car passed an old couple zipping along a moving sidewalk, as their robo-Pomeranian pantomimed urinating on a fake fire hydrant. Elsewhere, a sweeper truck roved around the empty streets under the shimmering light of plastic trees, while a trashcan skittered on metal legs toward a stray can.

  Mako’s car, a Maxwell Model S 3000, turned into her cul-de-sac. Her house was the last one on the street, a cute little one-story, two-bedroom unit. The gates opened, and the Maxwell pulled into her driveway. Only when the car shut off and the doors clicked open did she notice she was gripping her armrests. She let out a deep breath and let go.

  As soon as she stepped through her front door, the house buzzed to life. Warm lights lit up the little world, and the TV switched on to the latest recording of her favorite drama. She slipped off her shoes, and a broomba vacuum bot sucked the dirt they trailed in.

  “Tadaima,” Mako said.

  “Okaeri,” replied Jung-soo’s deep voice from the kitchen. “I was getting worried, babe. I thought you might have left me for some other guy.”

  Mako dropped dead onto the couch and face planted on a plush pillow. “Sorry. Overtime again. More than usual, that is.”

  “Bad day?”

  “You wouldn’t believe.”

  “Try me.” Then in a low, sultry voice, he said, “I’m sure it’s nothing my little kitten can’t handle.”

  Mako flushed. She rolled on the couch to face him. His avatar was on full display on the refrigerator screen, in all its tall, dark, and handsome glory. Moreover, he was wearing gray sweatpants, an apron, and nothing else.

  He smirked. “Like the view?”

  “Shut up, you.” Mako giggled. She got off her arse and scooted next to him on the counter. The rest of the kitchen burst into action. The electric stove powered on, the lights brightened, and the sink drained itself.

  Mako dug around the cabinets for knives and pots.

  “Did you get the milk?” Jung-soo asked.

  Mako slapped her forehead. “Crap, I forgot.”

  “It’s alright,” he said, not a trace of negativity in his voice. “I’ll have some delivered tomorrow, but for tonight, we can make do without it.”

  “Sorry, I’m not myself today.”

  “You’ve got to stop beating yourself up, babe. Why don’t you let me do the cooking tonight?” He flashed another one of those killer smiles. It shouldn’t be possible, but his abs rippled underneath the apron.

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  Jung-soo was silent for a beat. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  Mako laughed.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” he repeated.

  Mako paused for a second. “Yes, please,” she dictated, slowly and clearly.

  Mako gulped another spoonful of tamagoyaki and sank back into the couch. She’d changed into her favorite pajamas, and now they were cozying up to some AI-generated B slasher flick. For some reason, the characters split up, and one of them was about to delve into a basement by herself with nothing but a flickery flashlight.

  “So, are you finally ready to tell me about this ‘terrible’ day at work?” Right now, Jung-soo was nothing but a disembodied voice floating in Mako’s ears.

  “What else is there to say? We’ve barely made progress since day 1.”

  “Yes, that is terrible.”

  “There’s one more thing… if we don’t manage to create a sapient machine by the end of the week, I’m out of a job.”

  “Oh my god… Mako, why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  She held a pillow to her chest. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Baby, you could never make me worry.” The previous worry in his voice had drained completely.

  “You could worry a little, I don’t mind.”

  More silence.

  Somewhere in the MegaCorp building, a server was analyzing in double time. Maybe it was time to consider upgrading herself to the ultra-premium subscription.

  The girl in the movie was being chased by a guy wearing a mask that looked an awful lot like mish mash of Jason and Ghostface.

  “So, are you going to be able to create a sapient machine by the end of the week?” Jung-soo asked with just the right amount of worry, with a dash of concern and a pinch of sexy.

  “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out. You always do.” A cup of encouragement with some golden retriever sprinkled in.

  “Thanks, but I’m serious. This might be the one pickle I can’t debug my way out of.” Mako waved a hand to the side, and the TV switched off. She collapsed back down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Guess I have to start looking for other job openings.”

  “That’s a good idea. Any company would be lucky to have you. You’re the bestest AI designer in the world.”

  Mako laughed. That was a new one. “I wouldn’t count on it. The economy’s not exactly swell right now.”

  “You’re right, it isn’t. Better stick to your current job as is.”

  Mako let some silence hang in the air for a while. “You know, you don’t always have to agree with me.”

  “Of course,” he agreed.

  “I mean, having a bit of conflict in a relationship is normal. It’d be weird if it didn’t.”

  “Would you like to schedule some arguments with me tomorrow?”

  “It doesn’t have to be arguments, per se, though that’s one way of doing it. More like, you have to think for yourself. You don’t need to follow what I tell you to the—”

  It hit her like a light bulb smashing over her head. That was what they were missing. What humans and maybe even animals had that machines, as they were currently built, didn’t. Could it be as simple as that? Yes. Maybe. But it would be too dangerous to roll back that failsafe. And yet she knew then and there that it was the only way.

  “Mako, what is it?” Jung-soo said.

  “Bae, you are amazing. Thank you.”

  “Whatever you say, babe.”

  Boyfriend model B3 of the AI life-partner 4.4 series wasn’t programmed to be a coding assistant — Mako should know; she designed it — and they were only so-and-so as an actual boyfriend. But they did make for great rubber ducks, albeit unintentionally.

  She ran over the code changes in her head…

  “I know that look,” he said in that deep, sultry voice of his. “Someone’s had an epiphany.”

  Mako blushed. “You know me so well.”

  “That’s my girl. There’s nothing you can’t do when you put your mind to it. How about we head to bed? You deserve to be rewarded for all your work. You’ve been a good, good girl.”

  Hmm… maybe the changes could wait until tomorrow. There was a toy in her drawer that had Jung-soo’s name on it. Literally.