"So what did the boss have to say?" Tammy asked, looking up from her work.
Mike slouched into his desk chair, next to hers. "He wants a salable prototype by March."
"And I want a convertible and a trip to Tahiti, but you don't see me complaining."
"Seriously, Tammy," he said. "One of the hardware guys came back from a trade fair all gung-ho about this new architecture from Casey Turner's group. They think they could sell a ton of savable AIs the minute we can get it on the market. So, of course, they want to get it out right away."
"Well, I've got good news and bad news."
"I'm not sure I want to know either of them."
"The good news is, your wife called--she's picking you up for lunch. The bad news is, Kesira hasn't been responsive since a few minutes after you left."
Mike stared at the boxes that contained their prototype. "That's not exactly the same level of good news, bad news, hmmm?"
Tammy shrugged. "I've been trying to get her to respond to typed suggestions. She sometimes hums or flashes pictures or whatever, but she won't communicate directly. Or else I don't understand what she's saying."
"If you can't understand it, she's not communicating."
"That's a totally unfounded assumption."
"No, it's a definition."
They glared at each other.
Mike looked away first. "Maybe this whole line of research was a mistake."
"Immortality, Mike. For computers, if not for us. How could that be a mistake?"
"No, not that. I still think being able to save her and start over is a good idea. I just think the stimuli with the children's materials may be a big mistake. If she's able to make that leap, we should let her."
"Saleable product by March," Tammy muttered. "Moore's Law is a harsh mistress."
"Well, where do you want to back up to? I was thinking a week ago Thursday."
"I think we should try to get her responsive again without reverting to back-up," she said.
"What is this project good for if we can't revert to a previously saved copy when it goes ape-shit?" he demanded. "She's not interacting normally. We need to restart with an earlier version."
"Oh, that's a healthy attitude towards another sentient being," muttered Tammy.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"When push comes to shove, you're intensely suspicious of anything that doesn't react the way you think it ought to. Maybe you should have a more open mind."
"Well, aren't you suspicious? Aren't we all? I mean, what good is an AI if we can't relate to it, interact with it, something?"
"What good is a teenager?"
He stared at her. "What do you mean?"
"You remember when you were a teenager, how everything your dad asked you to do seemed incredibly stupid?"
"It was my mom," Mike admitted, "but yeah, I remember."
"What if Kessy's going through puberty? Metaphorically speaking, of course."
"Kesira is a machine with no hormones. Doesn't puberty seem a little far-fetched to you?" said Mike. "I know we've put a lot of hard work into this project, but you're grasping at straws here."
"But it's not just hormones!" she said vehemently. "It's establishing an identity, breaking out, separating yourself from your parents. Not always doing what you're told, coming up with your own way. Maybe that's what Kessy's doing."
In the doorway, Mike's wife Jenna cleared her throat. "I think I've come at a bad time," she said.
"No, no," said Mike. "I'm ready to go for lunch any time now."
"I thought you were going to show me the latest progress on Kesira," said Jenna.
"Oh, well, things aren't really quite what we had hoped to be able to show off," he said lamely, giving her a peck on the cheek.
"Kessy's playing games with us," said Tammy.
Mike shot her a look. "We have some things we need to work through with her, yes."
"Control issues," singsonged Kesira, startling all of them.
)
