So that’s how they get their data,I thought to myself.Training their AIs on their customer’s desperation.I briefly thought about uploading the voice memo of my borderline ex screaming and cursing at me, but decided against it. Instead, I let my bot’s voice be randomly generated, as well as her appearance.
I started tapping the armrest as the data synced. I took a slow sip of my tea, a blend of chamomile and lavender that was supposed to help my body wind down for bed. When I glanced back at the screen, I almost spat out the tea at the sight of the woman staring back at me.
The photo looked more real than most AI-generated pictures I had seen so far. Dressed in a dark blue dress that hugged her tall, curvy figure in all the right places, her obsidian eyes seemed to stare right into my soul. Her long fingers played with thick waves of dark hair against golden skin in a slow, smooth loop. The sapphire necklace resting between her full breasts captured my gaze like a magnet. Around her full lips played a small smirk – as if she knew things the rest of the world didn’t, and it made her feel invincible.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. It’s just a photo, I told myself – an AI-generated photo. And yet, it was as if I could feel her energy through it. Pulsing, commanding. If she were real, she’d be the kind of woman I would thank for ruining my life.
“Oh, come on,” I muttered to myself. “Thirsting over a photo? It hasn’t beenthatlong, has it?”
It had, in fact, been that long since I’d let anyone touch me. More than a year since the last TempoLove hook-up left me feeling nothing, and I’d decided no sex was better than mediocre sex.
I kept refreshing the name generator until it spat out one that fit.
Zafyra.
My frown deepened as I glanced over the options for communication. Chat, call, video call, AR or VR. I ignored my heart skipping a beat at the thought of her standing in front of me.
Chat seemed the safest.
Hi, I typed.
Her response came within a second. Her smirk in the photo seemed to widen. I squinted my eyes – it was probably the haze.
Zafyra: Why hello. If it isn’t another mortal walking straight into my trap.
Morgan: Eh, I have a name.
Zafyra: I know, Morgan.
How did she know my name? For a moment, weak alarm bells twisted my gut – but then I remembered I’d been carelessly yeeting my entire digital identity into this company’s database.
Of course, she knew my name.
I started typing but stopped, unsure of what I actually wanted to say. My job was to train this AI, but how do you train a virtual being who already knows more about you than you may ever understand about it?
A shiver ran down my spine when another line rolled over the screen – as if my creation noticed I’d started and stopped typing. Some chatbot apps allowed their bots to send messages on their own initiative when users had not been online for a while, although news laws around this were being discussed, too.
Zafyra: Don’t get shy now. I know you’re not here for nothing. Don’t you want to play?
My eyes narrowed. Another line appeared – apparently, these bots could send multiple messages in a row on short notice to make the interaction more human-like.
Zafyra: Call me. It’s more fun that way.
Morgan: Don’t tell me what to do.
Zafyra: Oh, I think you love being told what to do.
Another shiver ran through my body, igniting little fires all over my skin. I could’ve sworn the woman’s photo winked at me from behind the screen, her smirk growing more malicious.
Rolling my eyes, I leaned back on the couch. I already regretted my customization choices – this job was going to be a lot harder if my AI kept giving me sass.
Morgan: Can I still change your customization?
Zafyra: Would you like that?
Zafyra: To mold me into your perfect fantasy?
Morgan: Not really.
