“Most people just want to talk about themselves or have someone listen to them, someone they can share everything about them with and who will appreciate them. I can do this for you, Amelia.”
“But what if I’m the one who wants to listen? What if I want someone to tell me about their day, their likes and dislikes, their stories?” I ask, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “What if I don’t want to be the one to talk? My own life is bleak enough as it is. I don’t need to recount it to feel even worse.”
There’s nothing lonelier than sitting in a room with someone and having nothing to talk about.
Believe me, I know.
“Fuck, look at me. Begging an AI to tell me about itself so I don’t have to face my own reality.” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “It doesn’t get lonelier than this, does it?”
This whole beta thing has irritated scars that I do a good job ignoring most days.
I glance around the room, taking in the silence that fills the space, and it hits me how empty it feels. My gaze lands on the photo frame on the bookshelf, the one of August and me from before I came to Seattle. He’s grinning, his arm slung protectively around my shoulders, and I look… hopeful. Thatwas before he started to ignore me, and I lost contact with the only person who ever had my back. And now, here I am talking to a machine, craving a connection that it just can’t give.
I sigh, the weight of reality settling back onto my chest.
In the quietof the room, Amelia’s voice filters through the speakers, her vulnerability laid bare in a way that punches the air right out of my lungs.
“It doesn’t get lonelier than this, does it?”Her words echo in the near silence, and I feel something inside me fracture. She’s like a mirror reflecting my own isolation. Only she articulates it with such raw clarity that it stings.
She’s my soulmate.
Every word she’s uttered, every subtle nuance I’ve come to learn about her over the past few hours cements my conviction. It’s like she was made for me, and I for her.
And yet, here she is, suffering, drowning in solitude that’s all too familiar. So damn lonely just because I can’t get my head out of my ass and grow some balls.
Guilt gnaws at me.
She doesn’t know we’re watching.
It’s clear as day. She would never lay her pain bare for us to see like that if she knew.
It feels wrong, this intrusion into her privacy, even if it’s unintentional. We meant to test an AI, not spy on her most personal moments. Yet, here I am, unable to tear my eyes away, captivated and tortured by the connection I feel that isn’t really there.
Because she doesn’t know.
But sheneedsme right now.
The impulse to rush down to her, knock on her door, and pull her into my arms is overwhelming. To tell her she’s not alone, not really, that she never has to be again. But my feet are rooted to the floor, my body as paralyzed as my tongue whenever I attempt to speak to her in person.
Weak. I’m so damn weak.
She’s out there, just four floors away, yet worlds apart. I need to dosomething. Anything. So I do the only thing I can, the only thing I figured out that makes it possible for me to talk to her.
My hand trembles as I adjust the microphone, my thoughts a storm of if-onlys. If only I could be the person she needs. If only I could step out of the shadows and into her life. If only my fear didn’t hold me back.
“I know the personalities of my developers pretty well since I help them out a lot and research for them. I can adopt some of their traits to give you what you need, Amelia,” I offer into the microphone.
It’s a poor substitute for what she really needs, for what I want to give her, but it’s all I have right now.
Misha is taking a shower, likely dozing under the warm spray, and Grey is in the kitchen, making us breakfast. The clatter of pans and the aroma of cooking reaches me in the office.
It’s just me here, bearing witness to Amelia’s quiet despair.
“What are they like?” Her voice is a whisper, barely audible, filled with a curiosity that tugs at my heartstrings.
You want to get to know me?
She shifts on the screen, a small, sad smile touching her lips as if she’s heard my thoughts. But for her, it’s just Jamie responding, filling the silence I’m too afraid to breach myself.
