Jasonelle speaks from the dash. “Wesley is incorrect. I am being offered at no charge in order to gather data on the potential value of a female interface.”
My passenger tilts her head. “That true bodyguard? You lying to me?”
“We’ll discuss it later. How about, for once, we stay on task? Jasonelle, how many references can you find for Evergreen, followed by the letters NYU, and ending in four or five numbers?”
“Three million, seven-hundred thousand, and fifty-three. Would you like to hear them all?”
“Are there any having to do with opiates or dealers?” Surely, we can narrow this down.
“Evergreen Health Insurance, and one medical journal refers to fentanyl as an evergreen compound.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m sorry, please rephrase your question.”
“What is an evergreen drug?” God, now we’re playing Jeopardy. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in my own personal hellish sci-fi movie.
“Evergreening is artificially extending the life of a patent by obtaining additional protections to extend the monopoly period.”
Rose frowns. “I read about this. If a company creates more patents on the same medicine, then others can’t make generic versions, keeping prices high.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think it has anything to do with our dolls.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“Why did you apologize?” As Rose poses the question, I glance off the road, a bit confused.
Jasonelle answers in her same matter-of-fact tone. “Women must express regret if they do not measure up to certain expectations. This allows the male user to feel superior so he can better interact with the application.”
In defense of all men, everywhere, I state my objections. “The Google Lady makes lots of mistakes and I never heard it say sorry.”
“And did you want her to?” Spot on, the AI messes with my head and freaks me out. How long before we won’t know a bot from a human?
Rose, not sharing my concerns, bounces up and down in her seat, completely mesmerized by the conversation. “That’s so true. Have you ever heard about politeness markers? It’s when you start a sentence with would-you-mind or could-you-possibly. Menneverhave to use those phrases. They say, I-need-you-to but if a woman asks using the exact same phrase, she’s considered bossy.”
“Thank you, Ms. Morelli. May I call you Rose?”
“Please do.”
“I have added your input to my database. If I have more questions, can I give your number to Dr. Jones?”
“Help a genius design an AI application? Oh my God, I’d love to.” Her huge smile and excited tone make me wish I had reacted differently, earlier, when she said she cheated.
I also feel bad about breaking her makeup. She turns me into a fucking Neanderthal.
While I take the wheel, Rose acts more like a teenager on a sleepover than a woman involved in a drug deal. “Here’s the thing. If you look too young and pretty, people will expect you to be stupid so you may need to change your appearance. Wear less makeup, for a start. Also, shorten your hair or put it in a tight bun. Don’t smile so much and lower your voice to an alto. Never have painted nails and no bright gloss. You want to seem completely unaware of your looks.”
“I do not understand. The Jason meme, according to our surveys, is considered extremely handsome.”
“Welcome to my world. Now, if you require more information from a user, you can dress up, and pretend to be less intelligent.”
“You make all men sound shallow.” I feel obligated to say something, but I fear what she says is true.
She shakes her head back and forth. “I’m just telling it like it is, bodyguard.”
Hours of advice later, we drive through a burger takeout joint, and as we eat, my passenger begs me to pull over. “How much have you actually slept in the last few days?”
Jasonelle, of course, takes her side and begins to recite statistics. “Approximately one-hundred-thousand crashes per year are the result of drowsy motorists. Eight hundred fatalities and-”
