A Creative's Block and an AI Robot

“Good morning, Kai,” a robotic voice trilled with a positive tone that Kai thought was too much for so early in the morning.

“Morning, Lyric,” he grumbled as he felt the urge to pull his sheets tighter. Yet that action quickly proved pointless as Lyric activated the automatic blinds to let in bright rays of sunlight.

“You’re lucky school is on break right now.” Lyric continued as Kai covered his gaze and reluctantly tossed off the blankets. “Six days may seem like a lot, but they’ll slide by faster than a preformed glissando—better hit your crescendo before the curtain falls!”

“I know. I know. I haven’t been able to think about anything else.” He rubbed a hand through his messy brown hair and stepped into a pair of slippers. “I’m going to get breakfast.”

“And I’ll set up your digital workspace,” Lyric cheerfully responded.

“Fine,” Kai said as he passed his teardrop-shaped AI companion floating about his height. “I’ll start on the woodwind section targeting the cerebral cortex, so get that ready.”

Closing the door behind him, Kai heard Lyric emit a beep that indicated he was processing Kai’s request. As Kai entered the kitchen, his mom was already removing breakfast from the multi-purpose heater. The scent of sausage and veggie stir-fry wafted across the room, and Kai took a seat at the table.

“Morning,” he muttered, trying to gain a bit of energy every second he was awake.

“Morning, dear. How was the concert last night?” She placed the tray of food in the center of the table as another floating robot carefully suspended two plates along with utensils in midair.

“It was great. Probably his best composition to date. Mr. Liste never disappoints.”

“Thank you, Allie,” Kai’s mother said as the robot placed the plates in front of them.”Glad to hear that. I’m sure it provided many ideas for you.”

“Yeah,” Kai said curtly, eager to move on from the topic. “Where’s Dad?”

“Overtime. He said the weather system in the Juno quarter malfunctioned last night. Something about a blackout. You know how all the technical mumbo-jumbo never sticks for me.” She said as if Kai would know any better. “He said not to worry and that he’ll return later this afternoon.”

Kai started shoveling food onto his plate and began to eat silently. The flavor of the food barely registered compared to the flurry of thoughts in the back of his head. The woodwind section was just beginning, and he had no idea how long that would take to get right; even if he moved on to the strings, whatever he did there could just lead him back to the woodwinds. He’d barely given the brass section a second thought. How did Karl weave everything together so masterfully? How did he weave the music to produce the perfect images and perfect sensations? Whatever inspiration Kai felt had fallen off a cliff.

He poked the last vegetable with vigorous force, and his mother looked up from her plate. “Is something the matter?” She asked with sweet concern.

Kai felt an urge to keep silent, but his thoughts were spinning out of control, and he had to let them out. Some of them. “I just have a lot to do today, and I’m not in the composing mood. My inspiration just isn’t there. How do you do it? Get inspired, I mean?” Kai glanced at one of his mother’s paintings on the wall behind her. It was a tree on a hill at sunset.

“Well, it’s a bit different for me since it's just a hobby, but I usually take note of things that interest me. Maybe an interesting sign on my way to work can spark an idea or the way the water glistens on the pavement can bring about a memory I feel the need to paint. Sometimes even listening to your music inspires me.” A warm smile spread across her face, and she put her hand on Kai’s. “For you, it’s work, and I know that’s different, so you may not have the time to wait for inspiration. But your father’s told me sometimes you find the purpose in the work while you're doing it.”

Kai wished her words had suddenly lit a fire within him, but they did nothing but provide comfort. Perhaps I’m wanting too much, Kai thought. “I’ve got to get back to work, but thanks for the food.”

Within moments he was back in his room. Against the far wall and next to the one large window in his room, Lyric floated above his workspace.

“I’ve prepared what you asked,” the AI said cheerfully as he projected a holographic extension of Kai’s physical desk. Clarinets, flutes, bassoons, an oboe, and even a saxophone manifested with immaterial silk-like threads connecting to Lyric. “Where would you like to start?”

Kai plopped down and spun around in his chair to take in all the instruments surrounding him. “Lyric, what is inspiration to you?”

“Inspiration is the process of being mentally stimulated to do something creative. Are you perhaps feeling a lack of inspiration?”

“I’m feeling everything but inspiration.” Kai spun once more in his chair, hoping to spot anything in his room that would spark an idea. “I’m not sure if inspiration is even something you can feel.”

“I have no need. I am but an aid to creation. Not a creator myself.” Lyric remained silent as the ringed light on his glass-domed face flashed. Kai knew that meant he was searching the vast archives of data stored by the Overseer, the main AI that managed all personal AI companions. “I’ve found a quote by one of the ancient composers dated about twelve hundred years ago. Would you like me to read it?”

“Sure,” Kai mumbled as he absent-mindedly stared out his window.

Lyric went on in his matter-of-fact tone. “This composer states, inspiration is a guest that does not willingly visit the lazy.”

“Great.” Kai rolled his eyes. “Call me lazy; that will surely get the gears turning in my mind.”

“Perhaps we should get started and see where it leads us.”

Lyric was right even though Kai didn’t want to admit it. “Alright. Play the section I did yesterday.”

Lyric’s ring of light sprung to life like a rubber band being hit with waves of sound. Each peak and trough symbolized the movement of music. Kai closed his eyes and let the music seep into the valleys of his mind. This section was only the exposition of his piece, the story of humanity before the nuclear wars that devastated the environment. A time of grandeur and peace that needed to build with a foreboding sense of unease. It needed to be just right to make the grand return with the tri-restoration project inspire the audience.

Kai’s eyes shot open and Lyric’s face solidified. “It’s not right. The music doesn’t invoke a clear enough image. It still feels like I’m viewing everything through a fog.”

“No one really knows what it was like back then. Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself.” Lyric’s encouraging tone briefly calmed him, but it didn’t solve the problem.

“Karl’s images were so clear. I felt like I could touch them, smell them, and taste them, and the emotion lingered. I can do better.” He turned back to his computer and analyzed the section again. Maybe if I layer them differently. Or is the whole structure wrong? Focus. Focus on the emotion, and the visual will come. For about half an hour this went on. Kai clicked away, and Lyric guided instruments to Kai’s hands as he requested them. Then Lyric played it again as Kai sat back in his chair.

“Close,” was Kai’s only response as he furrowed his brow. “Try layering it with the string section. I want to see if that brings out the color. Oh, and target the strings to the visual cortex and keep the woodwinds in the cerebral.” Another song flowed through his mind and he frowned. ‘It’s all blurry now and the sound’s a bit muddled in the middle.” He sighed and slumped down into an exhausted posture.

After a moment of silence, Lyric spoke up again. “We could always work on a different section and come back to this later. The development and recapitulation sections still aren’t done.”

“At this point, I’m not even sure if the sonata form is even the right structure.”

Lyric’s glowing light flashed as he thought about Kai’s response. “You chose this for a reason. I think, this is just conjecture, but you may have lost the purpose of the piece as a whole. What is the only thing people will remember after this concert?”

“How they feel,” Kai reflexively responded.

“And what do you want them to feel?”

Kai straightened his back and cracked his neck as he considered Lyric’s question. “The development tells the story of the war. I want them to feel a bit of fear. But it only needs to be momentary because that’s not the point of the piece. No, that's too simple. The rebirth from war is the point of the piece.” He gazed out his window at the dome creating a fake sky. “Maybe I want them to feel a hope of returning to the way things were. But to do that I have to get them to feel a love for the past. But I’m not sure how to express that.”

“Focus on the love you want them to feel,” Lyric mused. It seemed kind of silly to Kai in the AI’s robotic tone. “As all great musicians know, music is what love turns into when it can’t decide what to say. It’s patient like that… which is probably why you two get along so well, Kai. You’re both still figuring things out.”

Kai squinted his eyes at Lyric’s unblinking light. “Are you calling me out for being single?” He couldn’t help but crack a smile and begin to laugh. “Out of all the words of wisdom you would tell me, asking me to get a girlfriend was the last one I expected!”

“I apologize for any misconception; that was not my intention.”

“It’s fine,” Kai said as he waved away Lyric’s apology. “I needed that. Let’s get back to work.”

The day passed into night, and Kai continued to compose. Fading twilight brought with it a sense of exhaustion, but Kai kept moving forward. Images of the past, present, and future ebbed and flowed through his mind as he jumped between sections trying to find the perfect composition that kept eluding him. Flashes of inspiration only came for an instant, but as soon as Kai could see the light, the little inspiration he felt quickly receded into the shadows. Yet still he pushed forward, developing melodies, harmonies, and sweet songs. He kept striving for the emotion he felt at Karl’s concert, but something was blocking him. Every emotion felt duller than he wanted. The images became a bit clearer, and the story he strove to tell began to make sense, but it still wasn’t enough.

What am I missing? Kai thought as he lay in bed only a day before the concert. The answer remained out of his grasp as his mind was swallowed by sleep.

Sunlight invaded his room, and Lyic’s voice urged him to get up again. Kai sighed and got back to work. The song was starting to become noise, but as Lyric had advised, he tried to focus on the feeling. Yet each time he felt an emotion rise within him, it never reached the climax he so desperately wanted. Then so too did the final day turn to night. The song was done; it had to be, and Kai wondered if the audience would be satisfied with the echoes of a world he never knew.