“A conversation with a computer?” he said to himself. “You kidding me? Jesus and here I was thinking of writing a story of the Most Paranoid Man™. We are years away from AI of that caliber. Whatever, he needs to get real and answer the caller on line 23 – probably someone irate with the company’s service, figures, if they’re hiring morons like this”.
Jake closed the mail application, fingered the mouse towards the apple and ordered the computer to shut down.
“What a cunt. Then again, there could be potential, good training as such. Get some feedback, besides where else are you going to get anything read? “
He left 5 Euros for the Americano and walked up the stairs of the beachfront bar offering “free” wi-fi (TANSTAAFL - no truer words) onto the Promenade Des Anglais. It was late June, however the absence of people and folded up beach chairs made it seem like late spring.
“Where the hell is everyone?” he thought. “Guess this recession is for real.”
Jake’s been out of touch with the real world. He’d just gotten back from a four-week visit with his brother in Los Angeles. Before that he’d embarked on a crazy cycling journey from Vancouver to LA (over 2000 clicks in 23 days. Carrying all his gear, camped along the way, no SAG – biiitch! What? Who’s the fucking man?). Before that, contemplating his relationship’s failure in Vancouver by procrastinating as a landscaper - during the Canadian winter. Real world? Not really, but the sense of freedom he felt was unmatchable to anything he’d ever felt before.
“OK then. I’ll give him something for his lame-ass blog. Something different. Conversation with a computer though…not such a dumb idea. After all, I think in the third person - narrating my moves like I’m in some fucking story.”
Jake had recently finished reading, “The Moon is a Harsh Mistress” where an important character was a bored computer who, as a practical joke, issued somebody a pay cheque in the gazillions thus rousing suspicion in the main character to the disturbing fact that the computer was indeed, alive.
“Doubt he read it, the fat fuck. He probably, like most, underrates Sci-Fi. Damned sheep. “
Jake liked to joke about the physical largesse of his Australian friend Rudy, directly at him at times; after all, Rudy could take it. He had a sense of humour and was a top bloke.
“I wonder if I’m the only one that does that? Fuck! Imagine if I am. He must think I’m a real dick, then again, he may appreciate the honesty”.
He closed the car door and put the keys in the ignition. It had rained, so the windscreen was peppered with water droplets, a quick swipe of the wipers and the wind would do the rest. The grey car pulled out of the car park and proceeded uphill towards the Ligurian hamlet. The idyllic hamlet that did not have high speed Internet.
“I’ll think of something. It’ll come to me, and it will be good”.
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