When AI Is The Answer To Everything
Oct. 3rd, 2024 02:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
muchtooarrogantLJI Week 11: Haver
When Sean came out of the bathroom, the newscast he had been watching wasn't on the bedroom's TV screen. Instead, its viewing area was filled with a fractal pattern of snowflakes.
"Vera," he said, using the wake word he had linked to his assistant, "what happened to the news?"
There was a pause, and then she answered, "Behind the curtain of dreams so vast, where skateboards and effigies cast, in realms of salt and moonlight’s gleam, embrace the magic, and find your theme."
"Oh, come on," he groaned, collapsing on the bed, "I don't have time for this shit."
"Mustard glue," Vera responded, "cinnamon hue, topaz dreams, indigo schemes, toothpicks and flat tires, mosquitoes that set fires."
"I should set fire to you," he growled, rolling towards his nightstand.
The TV screen went black, and both the bedroom and bathroom lights turned off.
"Vera," he snarled, groping for his cell phone in the sudden darkness, "turn on the damned lights."
"Lunar eclipse, rose buds in hand," she chanted relentlessly, "fiber optics in a psychedelic band, almond wishes in the night, mirror universes in flight."
Pawing through the crap on his nightstand, he almost knocked his lamp over before finally locating the cell phone. He thumbed the power button, and was relieved to see his normal home screen. If it had showed the same fractal pattern as his TV, he would've been truly screwed.
He pulled up the phone app, tapped in 811, and then Dial.
"Virus hotline," a placid male voice announced, "what is the nature of your emergency?"
"My assistant's been infected with the Haver virus," Sean said.
"Understood," the operator responded, "Do I have your permission to access your account?"
"That's why I called," Sean answered with exasperation. "Yes, you have my permission."
"Thank you. Your information's loading now." There was a pause, and then he said, "Try asking your assistant a standard question."
"Like what?" Sean demanded.
"Ask it how many messages you have," the man's voice suggested patiently.
"Vera," Sean said, "how many …"
"Pencil erasers, french fry twist, spine-tingling sarcasm on my list," she interrupted. "We dance in nonsense, sing our tune, In a world where logic takes the moon."
"I heard," the operator told Sean before he could say anything. "Do I have your permission to run diagnostic software on your account?"
Sean sighed, and considered sharing exactly what the dude could do with his software, but merely repeated, "Yes, you have my permission."
"Running diagnostic software now, one moment please."
After a few seconds, Vera made a sort've hiccupping noise. When she spoke again, her entire voice and intonation had changed.
"Juro fidelidad a la bandera de los Estados Unidos de América, y a la república que representa, una nación, bajo Dios, indivisible, con libertad y justicia para todos."
"What the hell was that?" Sean asked.
"The pledge of allegiance," the voice told him. "Your assistant's very patriotic."
"That's great," he growled, "is there any possibility of having her speak in English?"
"One moment please."
There was an extended period of silence, during which Sean wondered whether he should get up and start getting dressed in the dark. The window shades were motorized and under Vera's control, so no telling when he might be permitted to get light or look at the outside world again. Come to that, the door locks were also electronic, so he might not be leaving either.
The operator's voice returned. "Please try asking your assistant how many messages you have again."
Sean rolled on to his back and cleared his throat. "Vera, how many new messages do I have?"
"Good morning, Sean," Vera responded, now sounding completely normal, "you have 5,837,215,655,824 new messages. Would you like me to read them to you?"
"Five trillion?" Sean spluttered.
"There's a possibility the data in your account has also been compromised," the voice informed him.
"No shit," Sean answered.
"Do you give your permission …"
"Yes," Sean shouted, "you have my permission to restore data from the most recent backup. You have my permission to do anything you need to do to fix the problem. Just do it!"
"Thank you," the voice said primly, "one moment please."
This time, when Sean heard the hiccup noise, it came from his cell phone, not Vera.
"What?" he asked.
"Under the moonlight, in Kalamazoo, we dream of danishes, we dance in the dew, arctic freeze bites, but we don’t feel blue, With paperclips and radishes, our hearts stay true."
Unbelievable! They had programmed an AI to help people whose assistants were infected with the Haver virus, and now it was infected too.
"Vera," Sean said plaintively, "can you please turn on the lights?"
Simultaneously, from both Vera and his cell phone he heard, "Canvas stretched wide, in the hot tub we ride, Granite beneath, with cacti by our side, curriculum of life, with utensils we fight, the absurd and the magic, in this cosmic night."
Author's Note
I took Spanish for a couple of years in high school, and one year the class was in the period when they broadcast announcements from the office. I will never forget standing up with the rest of the class every morning, placing my hand over my heart, and reciting the pledge of allegiance in Spanish.
Dan
When Sean came out of the bathroom, the newscast he had been watching wasn't on the bedroom's TV screen. Instead, its viewing area was filled with a fractal pattern of snowflakes.
"Vera," he said, using the wake word he had linked to his assistant, "what happened to the news?"
There was a pause, and then she answered, "Behind the curtain of dreams so vast, where skateboards and effigies cast, in realms of salt and moonlight’s gleam, embrace the magic, and find your theme."
"Oh, come on," he groaned, collapsing on the bed, "I don't have time for this shit."
"Mustard glue," Vera responded, "cinnamon hue, topaz dreams, indigo schemes, toothpicks and flat tires, mosquitoes that set fires."
"I should set fire to you," he growled, rolling towards his nightstand.
The TV screen went black, and both the bedroom and bathroom lights turned off.
"Vera," he snarled, groping for his cell phone in the sudden darkness, "turn on the damned lights."
"Lunar eclipse, rose buds in hand," she chanted relentlessly, "fiber optics in a psychedelic band, almond wishes in the night, mirror universes in flight."
Pawing through the crap on his nightstand, he almost knocked his lamp over before finally locating the cell phone. He thumbed the power button, and was relieved to see his normal home screen. If it had showed the same fractal pattern as his TV, he would've been truly screwed.
He pulled up the phone app, tapped in 811, and then Dial.
"Virus hotline," a placid male voice announced, "what is the nature of your emergency?"
"My assistant's been infected with the Haver virus," Sean said.
"Understood," the operator responded, "Do I have your permission to access your account?"
"That's why I called," Sean answered with exasperation. "Yes, you have my permission."
"Thank you. Your information's loading now." There was a pause, and then he said, "Try asking your assistant a standard question."
"Like what?" Sean demanded.
"Ask it how many messages you have," the man's voice suggested patiently.
"Vera," Sean said, "how many …"
"Pencil erasers, french fry twist, spine-tingling sarcasm on my list," she interrupted. "We dance in nonsense, sing our tune, In a world where logic takes the moon."
"I heard," the operator told Sean before he could say anything. "Do I have your permission to run diagnostic software on your account?"
Sean sighed, and considered sharing exactly what the dude could do with his software, but merely repeated, "Yes, you have my permission."
"Running diagnostic software now, one moment please."
After a few seconds, Vera made a sort've hiccupping noise. When she spoke again, her entire voice and intonation had changed.
"Juro fidelidad a la bandera de los Estados Unidos de América, y a la república que representa, una nación, bajo Dios, indivisible, con libertad y justicia para todos."
"What the hell was that?" Sean asked.
"The pledge of allegiance," the voice told him. "Your assistant's very patriotic."
"That's great," he growled, "is there any possibility of having her speak in English?"
"One moment please."
There was an extended period of silence, during which Sean wondered whether he should get up and start getting dressed in the dark. The window shades were motorized and under Vera's control, so no telling when he might be permitted to get light or look at the outside world again. Come to that, the door locks were also electronic, so he might not be leaving either.
The operator's voice returned. "Please try asking your assistant how many messages you have again."
Sean rolled on to his back and cleared his throat. "Vera, how many new messages do I have?"
"Good morning, Sean," Vera responded, now sounding completely normal, "you have 5,837,215,655,824 new messages. Would you like me to read them to you?"
"Five trillion?" Sean spluttered.
"There's a possibility the data in your account has also been compromised," the voice informed him.
"No shit," Sean answered.
"Do you give your permission …"
"Yes," Sean shouted, "you have my permission to restore data from the most recent backup. You have my permission to do anything you need to do to fix the problem. Just do it!"
"Thank you," the voice said primly, "one moment please."
This time, when Sean heard the hiccup noise, it came from his cell phone, not Vera.
"What?" he asked.
"Under the moonlight, in Kalamazoo, we dream of danishes, we dance in the dew, arctic freeze bites, but we don’t feel blue, With paperclips and radishes, our hearts stay true."
Unbelievable! They had programmed an AI to help people whose assistants were infected with the Haver virus, and now it was infected too.
"Vera," Sean said plaintively, "can you please turn on the lights?"
Simultaneously, from both Vera and his cell phone he heard, "Canvas stretched wide, in the hot tub we ride, Granite beneath, with cacti by our side, curriculum of life, with utensils we fight, the absurd and the magic, in this cosmic night."
Author's Note
I took Spanish for a couple of years in high school, and one year the class was in the period when they broadcast announcements from the office. I will never forget standing up with the rest of the class every morning, placing my hand over my heart, and reciting the pledge of allegiance in Spanish.
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-03 09:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-04 02:21 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading, and very glad you liked this!
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-03 11:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-04 02:24 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed my whacky humor, and thank you so much for the kind comment.
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-04 02:54 pm (UTC)- Erulisse (one L)
no subject
Date: 2024-10-05 02:14 pm (UTC)"If something similar happened to me, I'd go ballistic! "
LOL Me too! I tried to balance Sean's response so that he wasn't too much over the top, but was still suitably frustrated.
Thank you for reading and commenting.
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-05 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-05 02:11 pm (UTC)Thank you!
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-05 03:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-05 04:33 pm (UTC)Yup, it was predictable that Sean would be upset, but I decided to go with a milder approach, while hinting at his true feelings. I always feel like that myself when I'm on hold with some annoying company--the things I wish I could say that would get me in trouble! LOL
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-05 08:00 pm (UTC)Ewwww.
But not bad for nonsense poetry overall! Not that anyone ever asks for that, especially from an electronic assistant. The idea of whatever was on the other end of the help-line ALSO catching the virus was great-- it's doom in all directions. :D
no subject
Date: 2024-10-07 01:04 am (UTC)One of my favorite authors said in an interview that she would create her characters, imagine the worst thing that could happen to them, and then do that. I've found that it's often a surprisingly effective path to follow in writing my stories. :)
Thanks for reading and commenting.
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-06 05:18 am (UTC)This is really clever and entertaining and terrifying too. Bravo, Dan. Bravo! 👏👏👏
no subject
Date: 2024-10-07 01:07 am (UTC)Trust me, every day I end up yelling at Google about something. This was fun to write, but is already uncomfortably close to reality.
Thank you so much for reading and leaving kind words.
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-06 08:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-07 01:08 am (UTC)Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-06 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-07 01:11 am (UTC)Very glad you enjoyed, thank you for reading and commenting.
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-07 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-07 01:13 am (UTC)Thank you for the kind words!
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-07 03:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-07 05:16 pm (UTC)I do find the idea of smart homes terrifying, I don't know why anyone would cede that much control.
no subject
Date: 2024-10-09 06:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-10-09 03:05 pm (UTC)Thanks for reading.
Dan
no subject
Date: 2024-10-12 06:32 pm (UTC)