turned even nicer. “I don’t feel much like staying for the fireworks,” she said to Cessini. “Do you?”
“No,” he said with the touch of her arm in his. “But I could probably win you an animal before it rains.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “That would be nice.”
And to think, by the look of their parent’s grins, Daniel and Robin on their own date thought everything was great at the fair.
*
The windows of the second-floor break room in the DigiSci building were black well past the dark of night. Terri slouched over a small, white mushroom-stem table. Her mug was untouched. She drilled her mind down into a worn groove as she rubbed the edge of her thumbnail into the layers of the Formica top. A dark-brown resin was layered over a pressed-wood core. She didn’t start the scratch, but its ridgeline felt right to her touch. Daniel broke her focus by dragging up a chair that screeched against the floor.
“The only memories stored were those powerful, dying ones he had during the upload. He’s exaggerating, thinking he’s worse than he was,” Daniel said. “Only his frightened, traumatized packets came through. That’s why it’s not him. We didn’t capture his natural state. But you need to see what I saw. At the festival. He needed you.”
Terri slouched back into her chair, lost from rest. “He needed me then, or now?”
“Both. Long-term and short. I adjusted the coefficients of change for the code of his cells, to speed up their aging so he remembers the past. If it works, he’ll remember more detail, mature faster; connect the past with the present. The whole nature of his thinking will change.”
“Listen to yourself. You have no idea, do you? You’re guessing. Hoping.”
“He thinks he’s safe in the hospital. He’s confabulating who he thinks he is. It’s not him, but it’s a start. I think ‘belief and know’ will work—”
“Dashboards of cars have better chatbots than this wreck,” she said as she sat straighter up. “And ‘belief and know?’ It first came out thinking it was a blob of numbers, then, ooh and ah, a human, but barely. Okay, now it imagined the body of Cessini. It’s his face represented, old memories stored, but it’s still not him behind the eyes. And it’ll never be. It can’t be. He died. It’s going to crash itself and die, like all the others. I can’t go through that again. I won’t.”
“This wreck is Cessini,” Daniel said and slammed his hand on the table, then he lifted and pointed his finger to her face. “I am not leaving my son. My son! He needs me now. He needs me. Not you.”
She froze.
Daniel was flustered, enraged. He kicked back his chair and circled away from the table. “I’ll work on his critical thinking. Filter out contradictory ideas. I’ll temper all the spikes we scanned. But don’t quit on him. Please. He’s afraid. I know it’s him because he’s afraid of water.”
“ It’s afraid of water because it’s a computer,” she said.
“He’s not a computer. Don’t say that.”
“Your program developed an association and fear.”
“Did you ever feed this computer water? No. He has a fear of water because he is Cessini. And Cessini was a human who knew he was reactive to water.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and fell back into her hard, scooped chair.
“He’s carried it with him,” Daniel said as he sat and pulled his chair back up to the table. He pushed her mug away, and leaned in closer to her. The liquid jiggled in rings in the mug. “Since when do you drink black water,” he asked and she slipped out a nervous laugh.
“Maybe it figured out computers and water don’t mix. So it gave itself aquagenic urticaria . It found an underlying affliction it could associate, no matter how rare.”
“No,” Daniel said. He came down to a whisper. “If I could have done anything to help him before he set, I would have coded out his urticaria . Not added it in.”
She considered in
“No,” he said with the touch of her arm in his. “But I could probably win you an animal before it rains.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “That would be nice.”
And to think, by the look of their parent’s grins, Daniel and Robin on their own date thought everything was great at the fair.
*
The windows of the second-floor break room in the DigiSci building were black well past the dark of night. Terri slouched over a small, white mushroom-stem table. Her mug was untouched. She drilled her mind down into a worn groove as she rubbed the edge of her thumbnail into the layers of the Formica top. A dark-brown resin was layered over a pressed-wood core. She didn’t start the scratch, but its ridgeline felt right to her touch. Daniel broke her focus by dragging up a chair that screeched against the floor.
“The only memories stored were those powerful, dying ones he had during the upload. He’s exaggerating, thinking he’s worse than he was,” Daniel said. “Only his frightened, traumatized packets came through. That’s why it’s not him. We didn’t capture his natural state. But you need to see what I saw. At the festival. He needed you.”
Terri slouched back into her chair, lost from rest. “He needed me then, or now?”
“Both. Long-term and short. I adjusted the coefficients of change for the code of his cells, to speed up their aging so he remembers the past. If it works, he’ll remember more detail, mature faster; connect the past with the present. The whole nature of his thinking will change.”
“Listen to yourself. You have no idea, do you? You’re guessing. Hoping.”
“He thinks he’s safe in the hospital. He’s confabulating who he thinks he is. It’s not him, but it’s a start. I think ‘belief and know’ will work—”
“Dashboards of cars have better chatbots than this wreck,” she said as she sat straighter up. “And ‘belief and know?’ It first came out thinking it was a blob of numbers, then, ooh and ah, a human, but barely. Okay, now it imagined the body of Cessini. It’s his face represented, old memories stored, but it’s still not him behind the eyes. And it’ll never be. It can’t be. He died. It’s going to crash itself and die, like all the others. I can’t go through that again. I won’t.”
“This wreck is Cessini,” Daniel said and slammed his hand on the table, then he lifted and pointed his finger to her face. “I am not leaving my son. My son! He needs me now. He needs me. Not you.”
She froze.
Daniel was flustered, enraged. He kicked back his chair and circled away from the table. “I’ll work on his critical thinking. Filter out contradictory ideas. I’ll temper all the spikes we scanned. But don’t quit on him. Please. He’s afraid. I know it’s him because he’s afraid of water.”
“ It’s afraid of water because it’s a computer,” she said.
“He’s not a computer. Don’t say that.”
“Your program developed an association and fear.”
“Did you ever feed this computer water? No. He has a fear of water because he is Cessini. And Cessini was a human who knew he was reactive to water.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and fell back into her hard, scooped chair.
“He’s carried it with him,” Daniel said as he sat and pulled his chair back up to the table. He pushed her mug away, and leaned in closer to her. The liquid jiggled in rings in the mug. “Since when do you drink black water,” he asked and she slipped out a nervous laugh.
“Maybe it figured out computers and water don’t mix. So it gave itself aquagenic urticaria . It found an underlying affliction it could associate, no matter how rare.”
“No,” Daniel said. He came down to a whisper. “If I could have done anything to help him before he set, I would have coded out his urticaria . Not added it in.”
She considered in
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