Artificial(ish) Intelligence

Chapter 15

Will panted heavily, bent at the waist. If that bright yellow ball in the sky wasn't enough shock to his system, all this hurried non-sitting had completely taken it out of him. It's not that he didn't know what running was -- he'd played enough first-person shooters to understand the different movement options -- but it was a different matter to feel as if your lungs were about to burst from your chest. Though this pain paled in comparison to the knives stabbing him in the ribs. On the plus side, he now knew first-hand the importance of stamina in an RPG character.

But it was all worth it. He'd made it!

...thirty metres from the front door of his own apartment building, eleven kilometres from House of Paschar.

"Turn-in-clockwise-fashion it," he said, and ordered a car.

The factory was florid, ostentatious, dominated by strong yellows and thick purples. I can't give you a more specific description due to a large shrub obscuring the view. Hopefully I can find a better angle next time.

Will used the slower version of not-sitting, which others might refer to as walking, and made his way inside, avoiding a few dilatory delinquent deliverybots. The foyer was just as ornate, just as garish, as the exterior, attempting to portray a sense of high fashion and class by featuring many of the same faux-gold fixtures as his own deluxe selfiebot. At least, the selfiebot he used to have. The faster he could get it back, the faster he could extract the needed information and go on to win the Epochs of Civilisation competition.

A human-looking digitally-created image of a woman appeared at one of the reception's holographic terminals.

"I need to un-return my selfiebot," said Will.

The artificial woman switched to her confused expression. "You'd like to return your selfiebot, is that correct?"

"No," said Will. "I returned it by mistake. It wasn't broken. I need it back."

"So you need it back," said the receptionist.

"That's correct," said Will.

"Great," said the receptionist. "And how may I help you?"

"Wha-- Uhh-- Bu-- Ech-- Wo-- Da--" said Will. Or some other string of confused monosyllabic sounds.

"Do you require language translation services? Bạn yêu cầu dịch vụ dịch thuật? Apakah Anda memerlukan layanan penerjemahan bahasa? Avez-vous besoin de services de--"

"No, I returned the selfiebot by mistake," repeated Will, naively optimistic.

"Ah, and now you'd like to return it." The digital woman added a pleasant, knowing smile.

He tried to formulate the words in a different way. But this is Will we're talking about.

On the screen next to him, two parents accompanied a little girl, her unpowered selfiebot, and a puppy.

"I wanna..." she said, looking up for help.

"Go on, dear," said her mother.

"I wanna weturn da selfiebutt," she said. "Oh oh, my name's Mawanda and it wouldn't wet me do photos of Jack."

"Jack's her puppy," said the mother.

The little dog almost seemed to raise a paw to confirm its presence.

"There are limited restrictions on photos and videos taken for illegal activities," said the receptionist.

"Yes," said the mother, "and as I told you on chat, taking a picture of a puppy isn't illegal."