Can I Have a Duodec Shot Espresso?

Sometimes, for their company meetings, the creator chose random locations that were far too extravagant or just different from the same, old conference setting up in Simular’s headquarters. At times, he’d pick weird places such as the simulated zoo exhibition of extinct artificially bred canine species or even a fantasy setting in a medieval video game with a raging war taking place within visible distance.

None of his choices were ever normal, and most were much too loud for Azan to ever enjoy or understand the conversation. But this time, he chose a quiet café located in downtown Virgin Thermopylae.

Azan was quite thankful for that.

The creator took a seat across from his friend at the café lounge after hanging his overcoat on the wall. Nobody else was allowed into the premises.

“Am I scary, Azan?” he asked. He casually swirled his iced green tea around while deep in thought.

“No, just weird,” Azan answered. “And maybe a bit antisocial, yeah? You have this tendency to be extremely blunt and unexpressive, so nobody really likes you. Except me.” He paused. “I guess that makes me weird too.”

“I never asked for a personalized insult.”

“See? Proving my point. Can’t even take a joke.” Azan drank some of his hot coffee. “Assuming the AI’s in the form of a child, I can easily understand why he’d be scared of you. You’d be absolutely terrible with children.” He paused. “This is about the boy, yeah?”

The creator ignored him. “He’s obsessed with boxing.”

“I don’t… see the problem in that. It’s a fun sport to watch if you have the time. But I do prefer golf. Much more relaxing.”

“No, you don’t get it. He’s an AI. What if he goes rogue? Like an uncontrollable artificial superintelligence? Couldn’t it essentially spell disaster for the human race?”

“Wow… Bravo.” Azan clapped slowly. “You stun me again with your wild, wild imaginations. Are you writing a movie script? I’m sure it’ll sell.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder where you get all these weird thoughts in your head.” Azan chuckled. He paused to take a small sip. “He doesn’t have the specs to take over the world like some fictional superintelligence. And he’s in an isolated chamber under your supervision. Where’s the danger?”

“But I’m talking hypothetically. What if he breaks through that barrier like he did VirTho’s borders? Or even just a portion of the code?” He gripped his cold glass tightly. “I don’t have full control over this anymore. You don’t know what could potentially happen.”

“Not the same thing. That’s like saying a human in the real world could suddenly control and manipulate matter like some superhero. You know how stupid that sounds, yeah?”

“Well…” He thought for a moment. “Fine. I’ll admit that does sound somewhat stupid.”

“So is that all? Just problems with boxing and an irrational fear of an AI apocalypse?”

“No. Like I said, I think he’s afraid of me. I told him he can leave whenever he wants, but he’s still weary of my presence.”

“Wait. You told him he could leave?”

“I did. Why?”

“So let me get this straight.” Azan set down his mug. “This AI is in the form of a child. And you decided to tell him he could just leave? Just like that?” He rested his head on his hand. “Out of all those options… Did he say ‘yeah’?”

“No, of course not. I offered him sustenance.”

“But what if he did? What then?” Azan pulled up his mug and precariously started swinging it in the air. Coffee spilled with every gesture he made. “Just let him go?”

“No.” The creator stared at him as if he were insane. “Why would I let him go? That’s counterproductive to what I’m trying to do.”

“Yeah…” He shook his head. “Now that’s a risk I would’ve never taken.”

“Well, how else would I calm him then?”

“It’d be much easier to figure out if I knew what you did. You obviously did something to make him afraid of you. Which I can easily imagine happening if it’s with you.” Azan chuckled. “The one thing our brilliant creator can’t handle—children. I think that’s pretty hilarious.”

“Shut up. You’re no better than me.”

“I have a daughter. I’m sure I can handle a single AI child better than you.”

“Really?” He actually liked that idea. “Then you try.”

“What?”

“You try.” He gestured approvingly with his glass.

“No.” Azan shook his head. “You know I’m busy with all the meetings.”

“I’ll go.” The creator got up and started putting on his outer coat. He threw away the leftover tea into a nearby shrub.

“Sit down!” Azan tried to pull him back. “What’re you trying to do?”

“Go to the meeting.”

“No!” he yelled. “You’ve never been to one!”

“Nobody said I can’t try new things.”

“I told my wife I’d visit soon.”

“You’re the CEO. Your family can wait.”

“Yeah, I’m the CEO. I should be focusing on our company. Not some elementary home project.”

“It’s not—just help me out, alright? Act like it’s your daughter or something. I need him to open up soon.”

“Why’re you in such a rush? It’s an AI. It’s not going anywhere. Why are you trying so hard?”

“There is no ‘why.’ It’s to further humanity.”

Azan shook his head again. “I can never understand you.”

“You don’t need to.”

Azan finally let go of his arm. “The meeting,” he recalled. “Don’t. Mess it up.”

The creator waved the comment aside. He started swiping through his holographic user interface, readying himself to log out. He didn’t get why Azan sounded so worried. It was just a meeting. It couldn’t be any more difficult than his research.