Early Adopter

1

You sit at your computer desk, tapping your fingers against the greasy wood, unsure if you could actually do it. By nervous reflex, you pat at your right pocket, but your phone's not there... it sets you to searching your desk, rifling among the half-drunk coffee cups, the crumpled napkins, the empty pretzel bags—no dice. You stand, only to feel the cool rectangle where your damp sock meets the unswept floor... thing must have fallen without you even noticing.

It unlocks to your fingerprint, bringing Embr back into full view. Your eyes trace to the top corner, hoping (but not expecting) to see an orange dot, the telltale sign of a new match. None presents itself. You tab to your active conversations, active in name only. The newest is three weeks cold, stalled out after you asked Marissa what her favorite movies were... it seemed that maybe she wasn't much a fan of cinema.

You go on a swiping streak, sending most profiles to the affirmative right... no matches. You sigh and toss the phone back to your desk; it sets a single bag of pretzels falling to the floor over the rear edge, a rainstorm of crumbs tumbling with it. You make a mental note to clean it later, eyes settling back on the computer screen before you. You'd been reluctant, but it seemed you had little to lose... well, save for the $30 daily fee you're about to sign up for.

'Confirm Subscription.'

You tab over to Megaphone and shoot Larry a message: "just bit the bullet. will update you after set-up." Then, you're back on the webpage for MindWare AGI, installing their required Homebase software. In minutes, the app's window appears on your desktop, and you shake your head, momentarily wondering if it's too late to cancel and prevent the first day's charge.

'Choose your base personality,' the window prompts. You look at the three options: Adam, Eve, and Other. After a moment of gathering the courage to commit to your course, you click the button labeled Eve.

'Choose a custom name,' it says next. At first, the list of names seems entirely random to you, not even having the decency to be alphabetized... but after a moment's perusal, the list's central idea becomes obvious. It was a subtle trick of formatting, but each name featured two letters just a little bolder than the rest: Camille, Alexis, Katie, Alisha, Jamie, Melanie...

A-I. It was the buzzword of all buzzwords, the social obsession du jour, but allegedly MindWare AGI featured the real deal... not the sophisticated-but-limited language models peddled by lesser companies. You scroll past more names: Alice, Tami, Alison, Hallie, Nadine. Your mouse hovers near this last set, and, after a shrug of your shoulders, you click the first that jumped out to you. Alison... a simple name, but one that felt kind and homely.

You click the next button as your computer starts playing the jingling tone that marks an incoming Megaphone voice call... one keypress later, and Larry's high-pitched voice is in your ear.

"Tits slider to maximum value," he declares, setting an immediate sigh rasping from your lips.

"I told you, Larry, it isn't like that."

"No, I told you: it can be, but you just act all holier-than-thou about it. Can you do furry settings? Give her a wagging tail and big, batting eyelashes?"

You read the next page as you reply. "You're more than welcome to sign up and see for yourself, but I'm not interested in that."

"Hah, me, sign up? Look, if I wanted to make love with a computer, I'd hump my desktop tower the old-fashioned way."

You squeeze your eyes shut and set your lips in a line, disturbed—no, nearly scarred—by the mental image.

"What about at least that classic bimbo look: pouty lips, bleached blonde hair?" Larry asks, insistent.