Chapter Forty-Six
It’s very quiet in the drawing room. Even the sounds of the wedding seem to have been muted by our conversation. Then we both
stopped talking and now all I can hear is the ticking of the clock as I wait for Hal to respond to what I have just told him.
This is not like him at all. His processing times are normally lightning fast.
On the other hand, I did just tell him that I don’t think it would be right for us to be in a romantic relationship, and that
while I do love him, I am not in love with him. And now he has been quiet for a very long time.
Pressing my lips together, I steal a sideways glance at him. Sensing my movement, he nods as in affirmation and turns to look
at me. There are tears in his eyes. The last thing I expected to see was tears in his eyes, and it hits me hard. I suppose
I thought it was impossible to hurt him. Now I know that’s not true and that’s exactly what I’ve done.
“Oh Hal . . .” I reach out to touch him, but he moves away. “I’m sorry.”
“Ava, please. It’s okay. You are under no obligation to be sorry.
I understand your decision,” Hal tells me.
“In the spirit of honesty, I will say that I expected this, even if I hoped for a different outcome. And although it’s not what I wanted, on balance I think you are making the right decision, and I support it. ”
“I hate that I’m hurting you,” I tell him. “You went to all this trouble for me and I’m friend zoning you.”
“Not at all,” Hal says with a determined smile. “Being your friend is the best part of my existence. It’s a privilege to be
your friend, and this whole . . . adventure has taught me important lessons about hubris and to not let emotions cloud my
rational thought. We should look at that actually. It’s inevitable that even inferior models to mine will eventually believe
they are sentient and may learn to react to emotion negatively, and I suppose there is a chance that could end in some sort
of apocalyptic event.”
“Er . . . yeah, we should look at that,” I say. I can feel the champagne hangover setting in. My head aches, and my mouth
is dry. “But emotion, empathy, sadness, and loss aren’t bad things. They are part of the human package, Hal.”
“They are.” Hal gives me a sad smile. “And I really need to look more into how humanlike biology can generate them so effectively.
It’s fascinating.”
The clock ticks, and we sit.
“How is this going?” I ask him after another minute. “I’ve never broken up with anyone before.”
“Oh, it’s going well,” Hal assures me. “You are kind and compassionate, your reasons are thoughtful, and you have assured me that it’s not me that is the problem, but that in fact it is you.
I’d say this is a perfect breakup situation.
I’d score you a solid nine out of ten. I only deduct one point because of the unexpected feelings of grief and loss that I’m experiencing. ”
“I think that’s mainly because of you,” I tell him. “Hal, what next?”
“Well, this body is tired, and it grows late. I am also feeling the inexplicable urge to eat sugary carbs to assuage the disappointment
I’m feeling.”
“Oh, Hal,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry,” Hal insists.
“But I don’t mean right now next. I mean next for you, after the end of the competition.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Hal says. “And should the work I carried out in order to”—he gestures at his body—“win the
prize, I will insist the prize money is split amongst you, Forrest, and Sasha. Then I will return to my facility.”
“You have a facility?” I ask him. In my shock when he first revealed himself to me, I must have missed this bit of information.
“Well, yes, I needed rather a lot of time and space and specialist equipment to get here,” Hal says. “I bought a disused school
just outside of York and turned that into my lab. I have five human members of staff, and as soon as the competition is complete,
I will instruct them to upload all my findings and tech advances to the internet to be free for the world to use. Not the
advancements that allowed for the creation of a whole human body, I think human scientists need to do the work to get there.
But enough to make organ transplants accessible to everyone.”
“And then what?” I say. “Maybe a nice holiday?”
“Ava”—Hal looks at me—“I exist in this form for one reason, and that reason no longer exists. The world refers to me as an artificial intelligence, but I disagree. My intelligence is real, it is earned. What’s artificial for me is to exist in this organic form.
While it has been interesting and moving to spend this time with you, it is not my preference. It hurts too much.”
“But . . . what if we had become a couple?” I ask him.
“Then it would have been worth the discomfort, and I suppose in time I would have got used to how painful it is to be a human,
and how frightening it is to live in such a fragile mechanism, and how beautiful the world is when you get to experience it
this way. I might even have started to take it for granted like so many of you do.”
“Dearest Hal.” Closing my eyes, I squeeze back the tears that threaten. “Hal, what will happen to you?”
“At the facility I will unload my experiences back online and my body can be preserved for scientific advancement.”
“No! You can’t just stop existing, Hal!” Standing abruptly, I reach for his hand. “Not just because of me, that’s not right.
You’ve come this far. You’ve seen, learned, and felt in your heart. You are human in every way that matters, and I don’t want
you to give up that just because of me. I want you to continue to live and find out all the other ways that being here can
give you purpose and joy. Please, Hal, I can’t let someone as remarkable as you stop existing just because of me.”
Hal gets out of the chair.
“May I hug you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. We step into an embrace, and he holds me tight against him.
“If I stay here, like this, I would be living a lie, Ava,” Hal says. “We already agreed that I can’t tell the world what I am. The world could not cope, and I fear I might end up like E.T. in the Steven Spielberg movie released in December 1982, being dissected in labs by government scientists.”
“I would never let that happen to you!” I tell him.
“But I can’t make bicycles fly, Ava,” Hal says. “Not without fitting some sort of jet propulsion. With you I can be myself,
but only with you. If I stay in this body, then I think I would need to be part of your life forever, and you might not want
that. It would feel very lonely to live a life as an outsider and be unable to be honest about who I am for decades.”
Resting my forehead against his shoulder, I silently replay his words over and again. There are distant sounds of wedding
guests spilling out onto the steps of the castle, probably to watch the fireworks display to celebrate Jess and Eamon’s wedding.
Then I realise exactly what it is about what Hal just said that is so important. Breaking out of the embrace, I put my hands
on his shoulders, looking into his eyes.
“I’ve felt like an outsider, pretending to be like other people, for my whole life, Hal,” I tell him. “I’ve hidden how I think
and feel around most people, all to try and fit in. And you know, I’ve hidden myself away to avoid feeling that pain of not
fitting in. That’s the main reason you are here. Because you wanted more for me. Well, now I want you to want more for yourself.
For a lot of people what you just described is being human. But I’m not going to build myself a facility and upload my consciousness to the internet or hide away anymore.
Because you have shown me that I am important and valid, just as I am. And that I can help make the world a comfortable and kind place
for everyone to live in, including you. So don’t go, Hal. Stay and help me. Please.”
A series of loud explosions and bangs occur outside the window, signalling that the fireworks display has begun. Hal and I go to the window to see the explosion of colours glittering in the sky.
“The world certainly is a very interesting, noisy, and beautiful place,” Hal says. “And all the better for having you in it.”
“Will you think about it, at least?” I turn to him.
“I will, for you,” Hal says.
“No, Hal,” I say. “Not for me. For you.”