The Turing Test - [Open Novella Contest 2019 Shortlist]

5. Almost Human

"You'll do great." Sven plants a kiss on my head as Davis and I stand. "I love you."

He steps onto the stage ahead of us, and we hang back as he takes the center.

"Now that you've heard all about the beautiful machine we have on the way," he calls, "let's talk about what we're all waiting for. What the people out there"—he points toward the front of the building, where the demonstration is gathered—"are waiting for! So let me introduce two of our principal software engineers. Davis Beaumont and Ronnie Gold, everyone!"

He steps aside as we enter the stage, giving my shoulder a squeeze. I wonder if the smile on his face is entirely due to the crowd's reaction, or partly because this is the last time he'll ever introduce me without a hyphen in my surname.

I grin back, playing with my ring as I follow Davis onto the stage.

"Carlos," he begins, his amplified voice echoing in the large auditorium as the screen behind us lights up with CarlOS's logo, pulsing in metallic blues and rusty reds. "You're all probably very familiar with that name."

He pauses for effect, giving me a small wink that oddly steadies my breathing. I had no idea Davis was such a natural public speaker, but judging by his copious use of pickup lines maybe I shouldn't be shocked.

"Carlos, when's my next appointment?" he asks no one in particular. "Carlos, I think I want pizza for dinner. Carlos, have you seen any good movies recently?"

A small soundbite plays faintly from the speakers over our heads, and Davis raises his eyes, pointing one finger at the ceiling. "Carlos, what song is this?"

"Carlos, envía flores a mi novia, por favor."

I blink, trying not to look too surprised in front of so many people that my coworker can randomly speak perfectly accented Spanish.

He switches back to English for one more command. "Carlos, wake me up at six tomorrow morning." Then he smiles for the first time, and the amount of people who return that grin from the audience is astounding, a testament to his charisma. Almost as contagious as Sven's. "That's the only reason I'm here on time."

"That's...very true," I add unhelpfully, prompting more chuckles.

Come on, Ronnie, that's your contribution to your first keynote?

Davis laughs.

"But Carlos is so much more than an order-follower," I add, stepping forward as I try to recall the bulleted lists I spent hours writing out. "Carlos is a platform for developers all over the world to showcase their work. Carlos is a medium that connects you with friends and family across the ocean. Carlos is a note taker, a question asker, a listener, a copilot, a teacher, a student. For many of you, Carlos is a friend in your pocket. Dependable, trustworthy, observant."

I step forward, lifting a device from its designated podium in the center of the stage. "Carlos," I say, just like I would start a casual conversation with a friend.

The big screen behind me mirrors the phone in my hand as it lights up, colors oscillating on its high-density display as it processes.

"Hello, Ronnie," Carlos answers, his voice buttery smooth and upbeat. Then, "Who are your friends?"

"We're at SynCo 2030," I announce, holding the phone high and twisting it right and left, so that it can get a good view of the crowd through its front-facing camera. The screen pulses again as it analyzes the input.

"A good turnout this year," Carlos comments. "I estimate 1,156 attendees. Oh, look." He pauses as someone slips through the auditorium door and makes their way back to their seat. "1,157."

A hushed murmur ripples through the audience, and I grin. This is why so much rides on our demo: Carlos can showcase the power of the device's processor and the quality of its camera with just a simple question.

"Okay, Carlos," Davis jumps in, laughter in his voice. "We'll see how close you are when the official count comes out."

"Do you have a better guess, Davis?"

"I do not."

"Thought so."

The audience laughs at Carlos's tart remarks, just as biting in their speed as in their content.

"Thank you," it says when the chuckles die down. "I'm here all day."

More laughter bubbles up around us. I start to smile too, but before it can reach the edges of my cheeks, the rumble from the crowd begins to echo. My knuckles whiten around the phone, and I turn my eyes to it, searching desperately for something to anchor me to the stage. But the screen turns to static in my hand, and then the noise of the auditorium vanishes.

Familiar scenes flash before my eyes, flickering like a strobe light at a club. My knuckles collide with someone's face as they crumple before me; a clang echoes up and down a stairwell as the door slams behind me; and I walk the mahogany hallway again, only this time everything has sped up, and suddenly the shadowy man looms before me, eerily still as I desperately try to separate his features from the shadows that engulf them.

"Are you okay, Ronnie?" Carlos's voice slams me back to the stage. "You seem a little...frightened."

With a gasp, I jerk my fingers from the phone as if burnt. It clatters to the floor, flipping camera-over-charging port, and comes to rest at Davis's feet.

Carlos's screen pulses in shades of red, first pastel and then royal and then fiery. "Please be careful, Ronnie," it admonishes from the ground.

I stare at the phone, closing my hands into fists so that the audience won't see them tremble. I know it's just a phrase coded into Carlos's logic, but right now it sounds a lot more like an ominous warning.

Davis leans down to scoop up the phone, shooting me a glance as he does. He strides in front of me to center stage, a steadying hand landing fleetingly on my elbow as he passes. I barely feel it over the pounding of my heart. I look up at the ceiling, praying to a god I don't believe in that my legs will hold me until our time is up.

"There you have it," Davis says, his voice silky smooth and that charming half-smile back on his face as he convinces the audience it was all planned. "Carlos is fast, observant...and durable."

I force a smile from behind him as he spreads his hands, inviting the audience into our little bubble. "We're bringing the personal assistant back to its roots," he finishes. "You no longer have to carry out the mundane conversations anymore, and you don't have to hire someone to do it, either. Carlos can make your dentist appointment. Carlos can schedule your meetings. Carlos can even text your friends, with a typing pattern 99% accurate to your own."

"But it's more than that," I add, grasping desperately at the lines I've memorized. I hope the microphone hides the residual tremor and lack of volume. "Carlos can now detect your mood from a single sentence, based on certain vocal indicators. Feeling stressed? Carlos can suggest breathing exercises and proven meditation techniques. Angry, sad, lonely? You can talk to Carlos. Whether you need to vent, or cry, or just talk. Carlos is there. Carlos will always be there."

I force a smile out at them, ready to bolt off the stage with a "thank you," but Davis shoots me a sly grin and opens his mouth before I can escape.

"Carlos doesn't just sound human anymore," he announces. "He is human."