Goosebumps skittered across Roxi’s arms on hearing herself described as an Influencer. And while it would do no harm to be considered Jem’s friend, the extent of their relationship had involved Roxi commenting on a handful of Jem’s YouTube videos and Jem once posting a thumbs-up emoji in response. Roxi had no intention of correcting Esther.
‘A recent post by Roxi suggests that by expanding the use of AI in monitoring us all, we are more likely to think about our behaviour before we do or say something harmful. Roxi, can you tell us more about this?’
The film of sweat had developed into beads trickling down Roxi’s back as she cleared her throat. ‘I . . . I th-think the world is . . . um . . . is becoming a crueller place than it w-was, say . . . um . . . twenty or thirty years ago,’ she began. ‘And um . . . social media is to blame.’
Beneath the desk and away from the view of the lens, she pinched her thigh to keep her focused.
‘I . . . um . . . think my friend Jem’s suicide is proof of that. She was hounded to death because of it. We have seen how successful the Sanctity of Marriage Act is. Couples don’t . . . um . . . jump down each other’s throats now saying cruel stuff; they think about what they’re going to say if they disagree. They respect one another. I’d like to see that extended to other aspects of our lives.’
‘And the threat of being recorded will do that?’
Roxi nodded. ‘It’s a reminder, not a threat. And yes, I think it will.’
‘Howie Cosby,’ began Stuart James, turning to Roxi’s sparring partner, ‘you can’t deny that Jem Jones was bullied to death, and, by all accounts, much of it came from supporters of your organization.’
‘There is little evidence to back up your claim, Stuart, but then I don’t speak for every single person who believes in our cause. What I will say is that we don’t condone bullying in any way, shape or form. However, we shouldn’t indulge in kneejerk reactions to Jem’s death. Increasing the scope of AI usage in every single British home, regardless of whether we want it or not, is Orwellian. You will be punishing the majority for the crimes of a minority. Our watchful state already has one of the highest totals of mass surveillance of internet traffic in the world under the guise of “containing civil unrest”. To eavesdrop into all our conversations is another step towards the dissolution of freedom of opinion and expression. We should be able to speak our minds without retribution and censorship; otherwise it will mark the end of our open society.’ He looked to Roxi. ‘Are you a parent?’
She wasn’t expecting him to speak directly to her. ‘Y-yes,’ she replied, nodding.
‘Do you want your children to be free to speak their minds?’
Much of the time, she wished her daughter Darcy wasn’t. ‘Of course I do . . .’
‘Your child won’t be able to do that if your half-baked idea ever came to fruition. In the last two decades, nations all over the world – including Britain – have been logging and monitoring the communications of their people like never before. Our Government can already remotely hack into our devices, turn on our webcams or follow our keystrokes for mandatory data retention. And I haven’t even touched on the internet service providers who harvest our data to sell on. The internet isn’t the free space that it was originally supposed to be. The only thing we have left that can’t be exploited are our thoughts and now you want to police them too. Artificial Intelligence is growing exponentially: it’s out of control and we can’t trust it. We should be putting the brakes on it or using it to make us more social and better communicators, to highlight and promote diversity and inclusion. Instead, we are giving it new ways to control us.’
Roxi’s beads of sweat were now flowing like currents in the river Thames. She wanted to curl up into a ball under the desk. What she knew about AI you could fit on the face of a Smart watch. She had jumped into this appearance with no preparation or evidence to back up a statement she didn’t necessarily believe herself. All she had wanted was a shot at fame, but she was out of her depth.
In a flash, her closest friend Phoebe’s face jumped out at her. She was the most positive person Roxi knew, even when the odds were stacked against her. ‘When life gives you lemons, grab the vodka and caster sugar and make limoncello,’ she’d say. Roxi needed to be more like Phoebe.
‘Have you ever seen someone being murdered, Mr Cosby?’ she began with a sudden confidence.
‘Err, no . . .’
‘I have. My best friend FaceTimed me while her husband was attacking her and there was nothing I could do to stop it.’
Roxi looked Cosby straight in the eye as she recalled how Phoebe’s call had arrived in the early hours one morning. Her friend had locked herself in her bathroom following another altercation with Irvine. Roxi had repeatedly begged her to leave him or, at the very least, put his violence on record with the police. Each time, she’d refused, claiming their DNA Match meant they were made for one another, despite their differences.
Roxi had watched helplessly on the screen of her phone as a hysterical Phoebe had feared for her life when the yelling and door banging had escalated. Owen had called the police as Roxi had kept trying to reassure Phoebe that help would arrive soon. The last image Roxi saw of her friend were Irvine’s boots stamping on her face and sternum before the life had drained from Phoebe’s body and the police had appeared.
‘They hadn’t upgraded to a Smart Marriage,’ Roxi told the hushed studio. ‘I believe that, had there been the presence of a recording device, Phoebe’s husband may have thought twice about what he was doing. And even if it was too late for her, a recording could have secured a murder charge and not one for manslaughter and a pathetic four-year sentence.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Cosby began, ‘But—’
‘With respect, there are no buts,’ Roxi interrupted. ‘When it comes to the safety of vulnerable women, children and men, I don’t care about civil liberties. You might think a right to life is less important than freedom of speech, but I don’t.’
Cosby shook his head. ‘That’s not what I’m saying.’
‘If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. And if your viewers agree with me, I’m encouraging everyone to embrace the hashtag #IWillBeBetterWillYou? Because if we are all better, we are all safer.’
The debate came to an end soon after but there were no pleasantries between Howie and Roxi off-camera as they left the studio.
‘Be careful what you wish for,’ he muttered without a goodbye.
Roxi removed her phone from her handbag. Her inbox was already filling with messages. She squinted, scared to read them, hoping they weren’t all from viewers attacking her. But by the number of times she saw her hashtag, the majority were on her side. People were actually taking notice of her.
A voicemail appeared and she played it, expecting to hear Owen telling her how proud he was. Instead, it was an unfamiliar voice, synthetic in its delivery. A chatbot, she assumed.
‘Good morning, Roxi Sager,’ it began. ‘After careful consideration, Audite has decided your marriage has reached a stage where it needs assistance. As a result, Level One constant monitoring has now been automatically enabled. Please access your Smart Marriage Guide for further information.’
