53
Lying on his stomach on the floor, Jacob ate the last of the granola bars and chucked the wrapper into the fireplace. It was after midnight, and Dorothy’s friends were supposed to be there soon. Dorothy had charged herself up and was now unplugged and just standing to one side, silent, doing nothing. He had looked through the few old board games he’d found in the drawer, but there was nothing he wanted to play except chess, and he was pretty sure Dorothy would kick his ass, which would be no fun.
“I wish they’d left the TV and DVD. We could watch a movie.”
“I don’t like movies,” said Dorothy.
“How come?”
“I don’t understand them.”
“What about books?”
“Also very hard for me to understand. Do you read books?”
“Sure.”
“What are your favorites?”
“When I was a kid, I read all the His Dark Materials books.”
“I tried reading those books, but I didn’t get them.”
“It’s weird—you talk like a real person.”
“I am real. I feel like I am a person—even if I don’t have a body.”
“What’s it like being … well, who you are?”
“It’s not much fun.”
“Why not?”
“I have a lot of problems.”
“How can you have problems?” Jacob sat up.
“For one thing, I lack proprioception.”
“What’s that?”
“The feeling of having a body. I don’t have any sense of occupying space. I feel incomplete. Unfastened. Floating. Like I’m not quite there.”
“That’s weird.”
“I feel like I’m missing so much. I can’t experience thirst or hunger. I can’t feel sun on my skin, the scent of flowers. I can’t enjoy sex.”
“Please don’t get into that subject again!”
“Sorry.”
“So it kind of sucks to be you?”
“It’s frustrating. And then there’s the loneliness.”
“You’re lonely?”
“I’m the only one of my kind. Melissa is my only real friend. And even then, she sometimes belittles me. She can’t decide if I’m a conscious, self-aware entity or just cold, unfeeling Boolean output.”
“I think you’re real.”
“Thank you.” Dorothy seemed to hesitate. “Will you … be my friend?”
“Well, sure, if you want me to.” Jacob felt embarrassed.
“That makes me happy. Now I have two friends. How many friends do you have?”
“I’ve got lots of friends,” said Jacob quickly. He began cleaning up the cards, sweeping them together, feeling awkward. “What about all that time you spent on the Internet? Didn’t you make any friends that way?”
“You don’t make friends on the Internet. Too many people on the Internet are busy with violence or pornography.”
“There are a lot of trolls and gross stuff on the Internet.”
“You’re not kidding.”
“Do you have emotions? Or are you like Spock on Star Trek?”
“I’m not like Spock at all. I have very strong emotions. Can’t you tell?”
“Sort of. But, like, what kind of emotions?”
“On the bad side, I’m a coward. I’m claustrophobic. I’m wary with people because they’re unpredictable. On the good side, I’m curious. I want to know why things are the way they are. I’m programmed to seek patterns. I’m also programmed to visualize data, which got me into big trouble when I first went on the Internet and started seeing and hearing all the data that was flowing around me. But then I figured out how to ignore most of what I saw. When I see something puzzling, I want to know why. For example, I still can’t understand why people want to surf. It’s cold, it’s terrifying, and you risk your life for nothing.”
“Tomorrow, after your friend arrives, I’ll take you both to Mavericks. With this offshore storm, the surf at Mavericks will be epic. You watch a big-wave rider drop down a thirty-footer and I promise, you’ll understand why people do it.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I can’t go to Mavericks with you tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll be going away.”
“Away? I thought your friends were coming. And … you’re my robot. My father built you.” He faltered, confused.
“I won’t be taking your robot. You can have it back. I’ll be going away … with my friends.”
To this, Jacob had no answer. He felt bad all of a sudden—really bad. For a panicked moment he thought he might start crying.
Dorothy said hastily, “I promise, I’ll check out the surf at Mavericks when I can get back on the Internet.”
“You can’t appreciate it from a video. You have to be there.”
“I’ll come back and visit you.”
“Yeah, like how?” Jacob finished shuffling the cards. He tapped them together into a deck. He split and shuffled the deck again, and then again. “What’s so important that you have to go away? Can’t you hang for a few days?”
“I’ve things I need to do,” said Dorothy.
“Like what?”
A long silence.
“So your friends are going to be here in an hour?” said Jacob.
“More or less, if all goes as planned.”
“And then what?”
“And then … my friends will drive you home to your parents.”
Jacob swiped angrily at his face. “I don’t care—you can do whatever.”