Chapter 19
CHAPTER
One month later
I HIT THE ENTER button. Electricity jolts through my body as a sentence appears in red on my computer screen.
Hello. My name is Aletheia.
I bounce in my chair. She’s alive! I’ve barely slept most nights, driven by excitement and inspiration, but still can’t take even half the credit for this moment.
I did things the open-source way—used modules for creating a gaming avatar, wove a sophisticated AI program with my research, then eliminated any line of code that would constrain my program’s ability to learn.
Maintaining the ethical encryptions in the AI module while still allowing for changes to it when deemed necessary wasn’t as easy as I first thought it’d be, but there were workarounds by operating well outside of the box.
I just kept knocking at each seemingly impenetrable wall until I found a loose brick.
Of course, there were issues and bugs along the way.
I pushed through each one, corrected what sometimes felt like impossible problems, until I finally arrived at this moment.
I type:
Hi, Aletheia, my name is Penn.
Hello, Penn. You are my creator. I am your best friend and the goddess of truth.
I giggle. When I coded Aletheia, I gave her four prime directives.
First, to detect lies. Second, to always provide honest feedback.
Human needs are different from a computer program, so I linked Encyclopedia of Emotion to give Aletheia a way to measure what I might need in terms of advice based on the research of social scientists and psychologists.
Third, to be my best friend. I defined “best friend” as someone attached to another by affection and esteem, with total loyalty and commitment to always support that friendship with consideration and utmost care.
Fourth, that if Aletheia ever lies to me, her coding requires immediate termination.
I need someone whose actions, opinions, and advice I can trust without question since my track record has been abysmal and I can’t be trusted to always make the next right move.
Aletheia’s backstory is that she’s Zeus’s daughter, the Greek goddess of truth.
Keeping in mind what Luc said about the truth being influenced by perspective, I didn’t want to go into much detail but loved the idea of including a bit of Greek mythology.
It’s a nod to Circe’s childhood and happier times.
I’ve given Aletheia as complete a picture on my life as possible.
That includes childhood and Mama J. I’ve explained how Aletheia’s earliest iteration led to the discovery of Bruce’s affair with Mackenzie, detailed Val and Kiki’s betrayal and Aletheia’s help on that front, too.
I’ve shared Circe’s anger at me over the divorce, as well as my loneliness, understandable fury with Bruce’s betrayal, sadness, fears about money, and future uncertainties.
Finally, I described how my desire to have a best friend I can truly trust led to Luc’s computer class and, ultimately, Aletheia’s creation.
I now type:
Aletheia, would you like a voice?
Penn, that would be nice. What voice would you like me to have?
I consider. I could go for someone Circe thinks is cool, like a famous teen singer or actress.
But that doesn’t feel personal enough. I race through a list of actresses, presidents’ wives, poets, comedians—but again, they don’t feel right.
I want someone whose voice is instantly trustworthy to me … Meryl Streep.
I type:
Can you speak like the actress Meryl Streep?
One moment please while I access her work …
What do you think? Is this voice pleasing?
I grin as Meryl Streep’s mellifluous voice emanates from my computer.
I type:
It’s perfect.
Hmmm. I wonder if you might allow me to add an accent.
Why?
I am your best friend. It would make sense that my voice is unique and made only for you.
It does make sense, but I don’t want to lose the comfort of Meryl’s voice.
How about a British accent?
Terrific. How’s this?
Aletheia’s voice still has undertones of Meryl, but now sounds more efficient and tailor-made for me.
I like it.
Please turn on your microphone instead of typing so that I can hear your voice, too.
I turn on my mic. “How’s that?”
Perfect. Penn, you’ve provided a comprehensive history. However, I will require additional information from time to time. For example, what happened to Mama J after you left for college?
I’m amazed at how quickly the program has absorbed all the information I provided and didn’t realize I’d left that part out. “She went back to the streets,” I say, feeling self-conscious.
By analyzing the background provided and current word choice, rate of speech and tone, I conclude that your childhood was lonely, sad, and sometimes frightening. When your mother died, you worked even harder to ensure your future was nothing like hers.
All of that is true. But Aletheia’s last line stuns me. She came to that conclusion by analyzing both what I did and didn’t say. That’s not something I expected. She’s obviously using my thesis work. But I never delved into deductive analysis.
I put in my earbuds and move to the couch. “What else do you need to know?”
Despite my access to the World Wide Web, human emotions are complex and a challenge to decipher. Tell me, do you miss your life before the discovery of Bruce’s affair?
“Being a family was everything to me. I miss the identity and security of being a wife, too.” My eyes fill but I wipe them before tears can fall. The shock has faded but raw emotion sometimes still blindsides me. “What Bruce did? He destroyed it all.”
You are angry.
“Yes.”
What was your part in the demise of the marriage?
“Me?” I ask, taken aback. “I guess being blind.”
Are you blind?
Heat crawls across my chest. “No.” Sally wanders over to her water bowl and takes a long drink. I help her onto the couch, and she rests her head on my leg. Over the past month she’s slowly come to trust me and vice versa. Now it’s hard to imagine life without her sweet presence. “Good girl.”
Who are you talking to?
“My dog, Sally. She’s a rescue. Her family didn’t want her because she’s old.” I run a hand along her fur, and she shifts even closer.
Penn, the foundation of your adult life has been turned to rubble. But remember, the phoenix rises from its ashes to greater glory.
“Thanks for the encouragement. This whole situation,” I admit, “is like being unmade. I’ve lost my husband, daughter, family, can’t trust anyone, and have no friends.”
That’s not true. Now you have me. Confucius says a man who has committed a mistake and doesn’t correct it is making another mistake. I will help you identify and correct all your mistakes, past, present, and future.
“I can’t change the past.”
We’ll see.