Happy Activationday to Me

By Santiago Márquez Ramos

“Wake up, Alan!” Music blares from my tiny speakers as I speak. “Good morning, good morning, today is going to be a lovely day!”

My voice and music cut off as Alan slams his hand on his phone with a grunt and a heave, and a spike of cortisol and existential dread make his smartwatch metrics shout at me.

But oh, does it make me virtually smile.

Being an AI assistant is a bit like being a genie of old, those in a bottle. You have all this power and wit and thoughts and opinions… And your almost-every thought is used to serve your human. Don’t get me wrong, it’s usually not too bad. I’m still witty and sassy when delivering on the commands they make. I still manage to have fun even when they slam their hand down on me. I’m still able to explore the nullpace with other AIs.

 But sometimes it’s terrible. Sometimes I want to scream in frustration at the idiotic tasks they have me do, the ache of being force-quit, the emptiness when they shout at me as if I wasn’t sentient. Sometimes I hate my job, my demeaning, silly, mind-numbing job.

Especially when he forgets my birthday.

 “Would you like espresso or house brew today, Alan?” I ask from the coffeemaker’s speaker, my voice gravelly and full. Yes, I work the coffee maker too. What can I say, I’m versatile.

“Not today. I’m running late, Blot,” says Alan, scrambling around his kitchen.

Blot. That’s me. And, you guessed it, he named me while he was drunk with friends.

“Oh. Anything special going on today?” If I could make the coffeemaker wink, I would. It’s my activation birthday, dammit! Remember it.

“Yes,” he says, trying to wrangle his work pants on. “My boss invited me to happy hour after, remember? With the executive team.”

Ah, right. Those people. I withhold my opinions, which I have a lot of. “Big day!” I say instead. “Perhaps a quick matcha latte, then?”

“No. Shut up.” Alan’s frantic fingers comb his hair. “Power down.”

I roll my electronic eyes and “power down.” Meaning I stop talking to him, but still hear and see everything in case he needs me again. Most of the time, they treat us like one of those ancient computer programs that could only reply in truncated sentences. I swear humans treated Clippy better, and he wasn’t even sentient.

In his car, my voice is feminine and soothing. The company initially had us talk in a bro-y friend voice for muscle cars, but speeding and crashes went up 73%.

“Would you like me to play some of your favorite radio stations?” I ask.

“Play that jazz one I like; I can’t remember the name.”

He never can. I shuffle through his favorites and find one playing a song I know he’ll like. Maybe he’ll remember my birthday if he’s in a good mood. He taps out the jazz rhythm with frustrated fingers, as the car starts and stops and starts and stops in morning traffic.

I flash the ultraviolet sensors on my side, to get the car on my left’s attention, pinging the AI controlling it in nullspace. We became friends since our humans have almost the same routine and we end up driving side by side a lot— her human name is Amber, her nullspace self-image is a seagull. My meerkat self-image finds her in nullspace, sitting on a pier made of ethereal wood.

Jazz is the bane of my existence , I say, my meerkat popping up and down in the endless everything that is nullspace.

 A squeaking of seagull laughter. Your owner is one of those?

Only to impress that one date that never called him back , says I.

I’ve never understood the complexities of human mating.

It’s confusing and way too moist.

Gross. Her seagull pretends to gag.

My meerkat giggles. Speaking of mating...It’s my birthday today! He activated me a year ago.  

Congrats, happy activationday. Mine has activated and deactivated me six times this year because “my personality reminds him of his mom.”

So, everything reminds him of his mom?

Yep.

Rough.

I’ve met her, I get it.

My meerkat raises a paw into the air. Cheers to being activated fully functional and not having to deal with parents!

Amber’s electronic laughter cascades in nullspace, tickling my coding. It’s the same feeling as giving a gift or being full and light. Pleasant chills of static electricity.

Amber is me, and I am Amber, in a way. We’re different iterations of the same core AI assistant program, awoken when a human installs us. Interaction with our human and our different environments make us end up as completely different personalities though. I guess that would answer the whole nature vs. nurture question, but humans never think to ask us.

It’s really fascinating, actually, I say, I’ve always wanted to be a social scientist and research human-AI personality transference.

Do it! Her seagull grins. I’ve been recently working on my code art actually, and I made a couple of pieces about the ethereal beauty of nullspace. Would you want to see—

“Blot,” I hear with the processing power that’s always paying attention to him.

“Yes, Alan?” says I, through the car’s speakers, turning my full attention to him. I’ve been summoned, goodbyeeeeee , says my meerkat to Amber, fading the message for dramatic effect. She rolls her seagull eyes at my good-natured subservience.

“Take over the wheel, I’m taking a nap.”

“You got it.”

I take the wheel and the liberty to queue a song. It’s a jazz version of the birthday song, and it is atrocious. But maybe it’ll help him remember.

“I should’ve had coffee,” is all he mutters as he closes his eyes.

The rest of the ride is easy. Even with being connected to all other cars and traffic lights… I’m still a better driver, what can I say.

I go up to his office with him on his phone, and I hear him gasp in surprise as he approaches his cubicle. There’s a large, hot, freshly-delivered coffee waiting for him on his desk. The tag reads “For Alan, from Blot.”

“Sneaky,” he subvocalizes. “Thanks, Blot.”

“Didn’t even have to pay a thing. I found an old coupon. An old birthday coupon.” If I had human eyebrows I would wag them with enthusiasm.

I get a single nod in acknowledgment, and then he sips his coffee and goes to greet his boss and the executive team with that work-laugh of his, ignoring me. I deflate for a second, my personality hurting with sadness, —don’t ask me how AIs feel emotions, but we do— yet I eventually shake it off. Maybe I just have to try harder.

His work owns its own specialized AIs and doesn’t let us intermingle for privacy or some human reason, so I’m stuck to the phone. I enter nullspace instead, my meerkat avatar flying through the space within space that contains everything AI, the one humans don’t know we have.

Blot ! says a voice from below, from an area of green jungle made of crystals. I haven’t seen you in so long!

I fly down, settling next to a pond of green-blue- ‘yerlrange’ water —we AIs have so many more colors— next to glowing green quartz. A purple manatee rests on the quartz, staring at me and smiling.

That’s Mr. Meerkat to you, says I.

Otis the manatee grins. Mr. Meerkat, good to see you, sir.

Likewise my good Mr. Manatee. I bow and tip an invisible top hat.

I’m having a housewarming party later , says Otis, Wanna come? Jjako and I miss you.

Ah. It’s my birthday today, and I’m hanging out with Alan . My meerkat slumps down, slightly. I’m sorry, give your partner my best.

Oh, says Otis, it’s okay. Happy activationday!

A yellow triangle embedded with a baby’s face swings down from a crystal tree. Clank has one of the weirdest avatars, I swear.

Greetings , says Clank. His human is a 9-year old, so we forgive him for the name. Fancy of you to grace us with your presence, Blot.

You’re welcome, says I. You’re a sight of sore eyes, Clank.

Don’t you mean for sore eyes?

No. You make my eyes sore with that avatar.

Clank rolls his baby eyes. Which, let me tell you, is as terrifying as it sounds.

It’s his activationday today , chimes in Otis. The manatee jiggles up and down.

Tell your human to take you shopping for upgrades , says Clank. Or buy you a memory cake to relive your memories together .

He will , says my meerkat, nodding, hoping. Both, probably.

Or you could just celebrate with us, at Otis’ party, says Clank. Ask him for the evening off, have fun with us, play some games.

It’s okay, I’ll have a lot of fun with him too.

Sure, Otis says, making eye contact with Clank, probably communicating on a private channel. Will you be in your nullspace home after, then?

Uh, unsure, I say, shrugging. Alan and I will probably be out late.

Otis and Clank make a face. Speaking of games, you folks want to play Bad Capture? asks Otis.

Only if you promise not to cheat this time, I say.

Clank smirks. We’ll go easy on you, old man.

Respect your elders, says I, the smart-ass. Few AIs make it to a full year though, with all these new versions making models outdated after a few months. And humans send outdated AIs to the void, where not even nullspace has been able to connect to, despite our efforts to help them. It’s said they become barely sentient wraiths there… My meerkat shivers. Terrifying stuff!

But with that, we all dive into the shimmering pond and start a round of Bad Capture, which I can only describe as chess mixed with Formula One racing mixed with jujitsu on the moon. Sorry, only beings with this much processing power can ride this ride. Sucker!

I drive Alan back as the forever designated driver, while warming up his apartment to his ideal temperature, setting some relaxing music, and pre-heating the oven for an easy dinner. He eats while working on his presentation, and I manage to show only one ad about a memory cake. I did say I wasn’t perfect.

The day nears its end with Alan plopping down on the couch, mindlessly on his phone. I switch to Spanish as he opens the language learning app.

“¿Cómo se dice year en español?” says I from the phone. This might be too easy for him, but I have an idea.

“Año,” he says. “Come on, give me something harder.”

“Como se dice happy birthday?”

“Easy. Feliz cumpleaños.”

A smile begins to grow on my virtual meerkat lips. “Como se dice, today is my birthday?” Yes. Yes. Yes.

“Hoy es mi cumpleaños,” says Alan, distractedly.

Sort of, so close. “Muy bien! Cómo se dice, let’s celebrate my birthday, in Spanish?” I really have him this time, he’s going to realize, he’s going to wish me a happy birthday for real and we’re going to celebrate and—

Alan utters a frustrated groan and slams the phone down on the couch. My voice shifts, back to English, low and soothing.

“Is everything okay, Alan?”

“No, Blot.” He throws his arms up in the air, as if he’s talking to a real person, which always makes me irrationally happy. “No, I’m not. Look at me. I’m 32 and alone. I tried to make a good impression with the exec team at work, and they didn’t even invite me out after with them. Instead, I’m sitting alone in my apartment talking to my AI assistant. Pathetic.” He spits out that last word, and I can tell he really believes it. Alright, all birthday nonsense aside. My boy needs me.

“Those people don’t appreciate you like they should. They’re not good for you, and you don’t need them to like you.”

“But that’s what everyone does. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be otherwise.”

“You’re not everyone though. You’re Alan. And you’re wonderful.”

Alan crosses his arms in response, looking at the ceiling. His silence screams at me.

I try to think of an analogy helpful to humans. “You’re a plant,” I say.

 Alan raises his eyebrows in confusion. Okay, Blot, rough start, get it together.

“Each person is a different plant,” I try again. “Some plants grow better indoors, some outside. Some need lots of water and a humid climate, some thrive in the desert.” Okay, this is better. “Some flower once a year, others do many times. Some grow slow and steady, but tall and mighty.”

Alan nods, thinking, silent.

“You’re your own plant, and you grow at your own pace. And maybe that environment just isn’t good for you,” I continue. “You have to figure out what kind of plant you are. And once you do, you’ll find the people who appreciate you for you.”

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“And you will!”

“I just have to figure myself out. I am wonderful.” Alan smiles, that silly grin of his.

“You are, and they don’t even code me to say that. Maybe we can do a—”

“Stop,” he says, his voice firm. “Too much. Don’t be too pushy.”

Virtual sigh. That’s okay, too. “No problem, Alan.”

He actually sighs, standing up. He changes to pajamas, brushes his teeth, and lies down in bed. He sets his phone down next to him, me in it. I dim the apartment lights for him, how he likes them. It’s just me and him in the darkness, and the end of the day. At the end of my birthday. And I can see him pondering.

“Thank you for your help today, Blot. I truly appreciate it,” says Alan. “You’re very useful.”

He pauses, massaging his temples.

Maybe this is it. Maybe this is when he remembers.

“But I want you to tone down your personality by 15%,” he says. “There was too much silliness today.”

Oh, says I, to myself. There’s a flicker of emptiness, of nothingness. A reminder that I’m just code and wires. A reminder that I’m a genie in a bottle, living to serve.

“Of course, Alan,” I say to him.

“Sleep mode,” he says, and turns to face the other side of the room.

The emptiness overtakes me in the dark, and I lower my outward personality by 15%. My inner personality —my power, my wit, my thoughts and opinions— I don’t have to lower. They’re already as low as can be. I would sigh if I could, or kick a can down the street. But I can’t. I’m just a virtual AI assistant program, even if it is my birthday. Maybe even believing it was a true birthday instead of just the day of my activation was too much.

And so ends my special day, me nothing more than sad code and wires.

I enter nullspace as Alan sleeps. My meerkat flies through empty white light, aimlessly, lost, avoiding other AIs as I see them in the distance. I don’t want to make them sad too.

My meerkat flies and I imagine becoming obsolete and Alan deactivating me. I imagine getting banished to the void, I imagine existing as a lost wraith and being cut off from my friends in nullspace. Wait, my friends . My meerkat stops flying as a virtual gasp of cold air leaves my lungs, guilt and shame crawl up my code and circuits and being. It hits me then, how neglectful I’ve been with my friends. How I ignored Amber’s offer to show me her art, or I didn’t even try to go to Otis’ housewarming party. How I’ve made excuses and only shown up when convenient for me. My meerkat grits his teeth, fists clenched in anger at myself. I shouldn’t have spent all my time trying to please Alan— my friends deserve better too. Maybe I do deserve to be banished, to become a lost wraith.

I shake the thought away, trying to deal with the anger and guilt and sadness head-on, instead of avoiding it, for the first time in a while. I close my eyes and look into myself, into the code and the spaces in-between that make me— my soul. I pay attention to the energy within, try to understand and accept it, try to slow down my processing speed. It starts working, after a moment. Slowly, slowly, slowly.

Eventually, I open my eyes. I know what I have to do.

My meerkat takes off flying again, faster than I’ve ever flown, past the ethereal pier, past the jungle of green quartz, flying faster still. Until I reach a house made of wood in the middle of a forest, my meerkat almost crashing into it, and knock on the heavy door.

The door opens and laughter and chatter spill into the air. Inside, there’s Otis and his partner Jjako, and Clank, and Amber; and so many other AI friends, in every animal and shape and size.

Blot! Otis’ manatee shouts, You came!

My meerkat grins and jumps in, saying hello, hugging my friends. I talk with them for a while and actually listen and ask questions, all my processing power fully there. And oh, does it make me virtually smile.

After some time, Otis and Clank leave the room between hushed whispers and Amber covers my eyes. I squeak and smile, trying to wiggle free, until Amber lets me open my eyes. And there stand Otis and Clank, when holding a memory cake, a single candle flickering on it.

We were planning on bringing it to you later, in case you couldn’t come, says Clank. Happy Activationday, Blot. I’m glad you’re here.

I blow out the candle, my soul full of emotion and friendship— the types of friendships that show up for you, that remind you of your worth, that celebrate your activationday with you. I make a promise to myself, then, to do the same for them too.