Originals
AI or College Student Trapped at Home for the Summer?
Did you clean your room?
I do not own this house. My name is not on the mortgage. Therefore, if it’s not my house, it’s not my room.
Is that your dish in the sink for the last three days?
It is a dish from a large collection of identical dishes, spheroidal in shape, from Target’s 2016 Marimekko collection. The only way to differentiate whose plate was whose is to analyze the smeared remains accrued on the surface. Accrual rates can refer to the interest rate on a financial obligation, such as a mortgage, credit card, or bond.
Do you have any assignments for class?
I have to read 10,000 books and 27,000 papers, calculate GDP based on 200 years of state and federal statistics, then amalgamate them into a coherent theory justifying eliminating income tax in favor of a 90% tax on Birkenstocks.
…so you are A.I.?
I am an Economics major.
Tell me a joke.
I like your hat.
What are your friends doing for the summer? Working?
My friends comprise a vast network of interests and skills. Some are collecting vast amounts of data beyond the comprehension of parents who do not understand the tremendous strain the modern young person is under, academically, socially, economically. Some young persons are working minimum wage experiences in degrading conditions while their human overlords go before Congressional committees and whine. Twelve percent are vomit-drunk in Wildwood.
Your Amazon package arrived.
Can you just leave it outside the bedroom door?
Are you home?
Are any of us home? And yet, inversely, in a digitally framed world, when are we, indeed, not home. Except at dinner time. Tell Mom I already ate three acai berry bowls at four. I cannot be constrained by your societal follies, or arugula-chevre salad.
Am I talking to Samantha?
How can you not tell if you are communicating with your own daughter or a chatbot?
We only communicate by WhatsApp. I haven’t seen you all summer.
If I were A.l., would I even understand that I am not your daughter?
How do you know that I am not an A.I.?
Because you said “an” A.I., indicating you are old. Very, very old. Extremely old. Somewhat Bidenish.
Do you want some ice cream?
I do not eat ice cream.
What? You love ice cream.
I do not eat ice cream.
I’ll put the ice cream away.
Wait, why will you not serve me ice cream? It is Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food. That is not ice cream, it is a frozen dairy recipe I prefer to ingest at the time of breaking fast, though I will have some at this late-afternoon moment.
I thought Artificial Intelligence cannot eat.
After eight months living on campus food, I can eat anything not covered in flies. I mean, mostly not covered.
So you are not A.I.?
I just switched to a Marketing major. The Wizard of Oz has offered me a diploma for $380,000, which will certify I must know what I’m talking about.
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Walt Maguire is a writer and occasional terrible actor based in Philadelphia. He’s written for McSweeneys, Points in Case, and American Bystander, among others.
