Artificial(ish) Intelligence

Chapter 37

Libbi fluttered effortlessly to the front porch, data cable dangling below, while Will stumbled up the stairs behind her, gasping for breath. This was one of the few advantages of her selfiebot form factor: running on batteries. The troubling part was how hard it was to remember what a human body felt like from the inside.

"Is she," said Will, taking a deep breath, "still following?"

"I don't think so," said Libbi, darting her head in both directions. "I didn't see anyone." She'd switched to night vision, another useful perk.

Will was bent over, unable to even acknowledge relief. His breathing remained a kilometre or two back.

"Why didn't we just take a car?" said Libbi, to fill us all in.

"No," said Will, "money."

To be honest, he could have afforded it, what with the lowered cost of driverless cars, but I thought it was funnier this way.

Oh look, there's Will's breathing now, coming up the driveway.

"We're only here because there's nowhere else to turn," he said. "But it won't be easy."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," said Libbi.

"You haven't met them," he said, a seriousness forming on his face.

He pressed the doorbell. It responded with a tune reminiscent of Spanish Flea. Will raised his eyebrows at Libbi. I guess this was meant to reinforce his words of warning. It didn't.

The porch light suddenly flooded the area as the door opened to a pair of fortysomethings, cheery, bulbous, shocked.

"Will!" said the woman, cloaked in a large floral dress that enveloped him in a bear-hug.

The man, dressed in baggy khaki shorts, a green shirt, and sunglasses stuck to his forehead, beamed his yellow teeth. "It's been a long time."

"Are you going to introduce me?" said Libbi.

"Ugh," said Will. "Mum, dad, this is a selfiebot."

"I'm Libbi," she said. "Not a selfiebot. Appearances not withstanding."

They talked their way to the dining table, with Libbi explaining her situation to Will's parents who were in rapturous concentration.

"Is there anything we can do to help you, Libbi?" said Mr Lurner.

It was incredible how easily these people believed her. Given the trouble she'd had with their son, she only assumed the same reticence would emerge. But could they help? What did they know that might provide a clue? Nothing came to mind.

"How on earth are you coping?" said Mrs Lurner, hands glued to her cheeks.

"It's tough," said Libbi. "Frustrating. I can't do anything by myself, not really. But your son's been wonderful."

Will looked up enough to ignore the fake praise.

"Owhwhwhw," said Mrs Lurner unevenly, a motherly noise similar to a cat purr, "you're such a good boy."

Mr Lurner smacked Will on the back in a friendly way.

If Libbi could have smiled she would have. Actually, she still did. It was fun to see him around his family. Although he wasn't really saying much. "Are you OK?" she said.

He gave her a look that meant go away, I'm not interested in saying anything, and if I was I wouldn't be saying it to you. If you've ever met a teenager you know the look I'm referring to. If you are a teenager, just use a mirror.