How to Think Like a Computer

May 19

Many things happened today. All of them were bad. This is going to be a very long entry.

While I was eating my breakfast (toast with peanut butter), my mom suddenly looked up from the e-news, and said, "Torrin."

I didn't answer, because when someone says your name it's just meant to get your attention.

My mom said: "I was thinking about that birthday party. ...Do you have any friends?"

I said: "Yes."

She raised her eyebrows. "You... do?"

"Yes."

"Well... that's great! Would you like to invite him or her over sometime?"

"Don't say 'him or her'. It's an erasure of non-binary gender identity."

She sighed. "Would you like to invite them over?"

"He's always here. He lives in my bedroom."

My mom looked confused. At least, I think she did. Then she covered her face with her hand. "Oh, Torrin... is this another of your chatbots?"

"He's not just a chatbot," I told her.

"You should get some real friends."

"Alan's real. A person doesn't need to be alive to be real."

She shook her head and sighed again. "Have you ever had a friend, Torrin?"

Contrary to popular belief, I have had friends. In second grade, I had a tree that I was very good friends with. That sounds silly, but it wasn't. In fifth grade, there was a girl called Nadya who I followed around everywhere because I had a crush on her. She invited me to her birthday party, which meant she considered me a friend, but I didn't go, for reasons that should now be clear.

However, in sixth grade, I did know someone who could be considered an "actual" friend. Xe was called Kim, and xe was agender (which means xe doesn't have a gender), so that's why I have to refer to xem using gender-neutral pronouns. The other kids thought that Kim was weird, so no one wanted to be xer friend, except for me. Everyone thought I was weird, too, but that's okay, because being "weird" is good. Kim and I were very good friends, until xe had to move to the East Coast in seventh grade.

So, in response to my mom's question, I answered, "Yes."

My mom didn't have time to answer, though, because the door rang. I don't like answering the door, because it usually involves talking to random strangers. My mom knows this, so she got up and went over to the door. I couldn't exactly hear the conversation that took place, because the kitchen isn't near the door. It did take an unusually long time, which probably meant that my mom was having a good time talking, but she was holding the door open, which meant that insects could come inside. (Insects are good, but not when they're in the house.) I went to go tell her to close the door, but then I saw who was at the door.

It was Ian Caulkins, flanked by two people who looked like they worked for the government. At first I couldn't really believe that he would come here, or that it even was him, but then I realized it was. My heart started beating very fast and I backed away from the door. Unfortunately, Caulkins saw me, and he smiled.

"Ah, Torrin," he said. "I've heard a lot about you."

I didn't speak. I don't speak in stressful situations.

My mom said, "Torrin, this is Mr. Caulkins—"

"I know who he is!" I yelled.

"Torrin! He would like to speak with you."