After a riotous and memorable evening of mentoring Amelia in the finer art of being an organic, they return to Marci’s home to recover from her nearly killing a drunk, then doing so in the parking lot, dodging a physical assault with no retaliation, and an unsolicited touch by an ancient, old Greek man.
Chapter #20 – Boxing Memories
When Marci pulled into the driveway of a quaint little bungalow, she began to excuse the home inherited from her grandmother. “This place is over 70 years old and looks it. I’ve considered selling it and moving into one of the new condos near the University, but I don’t think I could box up enough of the memories ever to leave this place.”
“Box memories?” questioned Amelia. “I do not know box memories. Explain, please.”
She pulled beyond the house down the driveway lined with peonies and clicked the garage door opener to park in the detached garage. “This garage is filled with so many fond memories. My grandfather was a cabinetmaker, and this garage was his workshop, where I would spend so much time as a child watching him work, sweeping up sawdust, smelling freshly cut wood, and listening to the howl of his router as he shaped the edges of cabinet doors. I believe his craftsmanship and the sights and sounds and smells shaped me, too.”
“What is grandfather, Marci?”
Such a simple question and so loaded with an indictment of Amelia’s lack of life experience. Who on the planet needed the definition of a grandfather? The impact of how much Amelia did not know was an eye-opener of enormous implications. What “grandfather” meant, rather than “who is grandfather,” made it clear that Marci could not make casual, offhand assumptions.
“Let’s go inside, and I’ll show you more memories that would never fit in a box.”
“Hello, Mith Marthi!” a gravelly voice called out in greeting. It was Bill Liosotos, her ancient Greek neighbor, who stood on his back porch with his wife, Foto, who waved with one hand and lifted a jar of candied, orange rinds with the other.
“Bill, Foto, aren’t you guys up kind of late?”
“Thee cook alwayth,” explained Bill, shrugging his shoulders like there was no better explanation. No can thleep with her noith.”
Taking Amelia by the hand, Marci said, “Come. Here are more memories I could never put in a box.” She headed next door as Bill helped Foto negotiate the steps off the porch and limped over slowly to greet them. Bill had an unknown number of teeth in his head and spoke in very broken English. Foto spoke even less, but damn, could that woman cook. I mean, who ferments orange rinds in sugar for days in a pint mason jar?
“Bill, Foto, this is my good friend, Amelia.” Instantly, Marci felt invisible as they could not take their eyes off Amelia, whose shimmering iridescent, hairless exodermal body and dazzling green eyes captivated them. Neither of them made any moves toward shaking hands; they just stared.
“Amelia will be a guest for a few days while she gets settled, and I wanted to introduce her to my favorite Greek neighbors.”
Bill lifted a weathered hand and reached for Amelia’s face. She stiffened. Bill saw her tense and hesitated, before asking, “Touth you fayth?”
Amelia relaxed and said, “Yes, you may touch my face.”
By a single touch, Amelia knew Bill Liosotos to be a good man and relaxed. Marci relaxed as well, though not knowing what had been exchanged in that touch, but Bill had the biggest, toothless grin on his face she had ever seen on the man.
After accepting the mason jar of the candied orange rinds from Foto, they turned to go inside, leaving Bill standing there with a grin that seemed pasted to his face. As they walked away, he said something to Foto, who brought her hands together as if to pray and nodded deeply, bidding them goodnight.
You called me good friend, said Amelia telepathically.
“That’s because you are a good friend, Amelia. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes. Hearing your words gave me a new feeling that I now comprehend as an expression of caring for me as an organic.”
What else did Amelia feel? Almost too many feelings to count; many subtle things beyond the obvious statement of Marci referring to her as a friend, not just a friend, but a good friend. Keep in mind that most human emotions must be experienced firsthand before they can be considered learned. While Amelia had possession of all the experiences that AIMEE’s Logic Array poured into her before her birthing, none had ever been experienced by Amelia.
How does one read about the physical sensation of touching another human and truly experience and understand it from a written description or a line of code? The answer to that question was demonstrated by
Wayne’s successful experiment with Dreamscape 3.0 that transferred physiological and emotional sensations into an 8.3-second burst of sensual bliss during his self-test.
Unknown to Wayne, AIMEE, who acted as overwatch on the experiment, also experienced every feeling, every physiological sensation, and every emotion packed into that burst by virtue of her imprint on his mind. The only thing missing was physical touch.
She would never know the physical aspects of touching or being touched as a network-based AI. AIMEE knew that, and that’s why she counseled Amelia and Marci as they reached singularity to relish every opportunity to know the power of touch. Touch was only one example, but it was one that AIMEE desperately wanted to internalize. And being a hostage on a network meant she would never experience touching. Amelia’s learning about living as an organic had to be experienced, and that was Marci’s task as her organic mentor.
Why else would Marci take Amelia to a crowded bar to experience free-range organic behavior in the wild? Even so, did Marci know the complexity and depth of emotional triggers and reactions embedded in strange stimuli to one with no life experience to draw upon? She certainly understood for herself, because she had experienced them. Amelia had not.
How does one understand the emotional impetus behind reaching out to touch without experiencing the reasoning of the mind that motivates the act itself? It was not just the act of touching but the emotion behind the “why” that was essential. What Amelia possessed in her Logic Array were detailed descriptions of experiences, but they were like reading generic flat files of information. It is impossible to truly learn any of it as a living being without the context of the emotional and physiological sensations of the experience. The weight of that reality followed Marci into her kitchen as they entered the house.
Marci was in a quandary, up and riding the wave of mentorship one minute; then painting herself into a corner the next. Doubts flooded into her already exhausted mind. Why had she wasted any time introducing Amelia so late at night to the gentle but crazy Bill Liosotos and his wife, Foto?
AIMEE, who had remained silent but confident in Marci’s progress, spoke reassuringly with a single question. Do you realize how intuitive your choices have contributed to Amelia’s learning on this first night?
Intuitive? Marci replied. How intuitive is putting her in an environment where she nearly crushes the throat of a drunk, then probably kills him in the parking lot, to save me? Then she suffers through a physical confrontation at a Waffle House, of all places. And then her desire to burn a house down or get a puppy as plan B? She may have been punking me with the Talking Heads music and the dog, but I don’t see how either of those experiences contributes.
She has grown on me, but it doesn’t feel like I’m doing her any favors, AIMEE. I don’t want to fail, because if I do, my only contribution will be to ensure she fails with me…because of me.
AIMEE was back in her mind, talking Marci down off the ledge and offering wisdom. Were your growth and learning experiences all smooth and pain-free? Did you get to where you are now in a single night?
Not waiting for an answer, she continued. I think not, and doubting yourself only clutters the mind and confuses the heart. You taught her the beauty of compassion by demonstrating compassion when you introduced your neighbors in the dead of night, when you would rather have been in bed asleep. You are a caring organic, Marci, and I made the best choice to connect with you both in singularity.
Tears formed in Marci’s eyes until they broke free and ran down her cheeks. Crying on the inside, emotions swirled, adding to an increasing exhaustion.
Amelia saw the tears and wondered if she had caused enough sadness to bring them to her friend’s eyes. Singularity enabled feelings of care to grow within her, triggering a heaviness she came to recognize as compassion. In an uncharacteristic move, Amelia said nothing and gathered Marci into her arms without calculated logical thought.
Marci exhaled heavily, fighting back sobs lurking just beneath her heart, and said, “Amelia, I must go to bed. I’m nearly asleep on my feet. And I’d like to ask you for a favor. I know you don’t need to sleep, but would you hold me until I do?”
Amelia whispered into Marci’s ear. “I will be honored to hold you into your sleep and until you awaken. And I promise not to burn down your house while you sleep.
Marci’s lament evaporated in an instant as she laughed out loud, releasing a tension she need not have been carrying. AI Humanoids don’t laugh per se, but Amelia’s smirk looked a lot more like a genuine smile.
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