A Comedy of AR's

Chapter 85
CHAPTER 185 .......... Strikes and Spares

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CHAPTER  185

When we arrived at the bowling alley, or ‘family entertainment center’ as it’s called, the first thing I did was re-position my boner which had bent awkwardly during Madeline’s wandering hand problem.

I asked our AI, “Shilo, I’m sure this is your first time bowling, but were you able to check the internet for proper form and scoring rules?”

“Yes, Derreksan.   I will probably not be very good at this activity, but I would still like to try it with friends, and I would like to see where they keep the turkeys.”

Hoshiko was puzzled, but not by the ‘turkeys’.  “Shilo, why do you call Darakatoms by his Japanese honorific, Derreksan.”

It is a sign of respect, Hoshiko, because Sammantha is my godmother, and he is her son.

“Godmother?”  When did that happen?”

“Major needed someone he could trust if something ever happened to him.”

(It was getting hard keeping track of all our lies.  Shilo calls me Derreksan because I survived her sexual tortures without complaint.  And Madeline and I both had to avoid water without reavealing our ‘problem’ to Hoshiko.  It wasn’t yet time to tell her that she was the only child in our group.)

“Shilo, I never asked you your shoe size.”

“I believe it is seven, Derreksan, but I will pay all fees with a Major credit card.  That was an attempt at humor but I’m not sure if it was funny.”

The other four of us made purposeful laughs and complimented the originality of her pun.

I tried selecting a 16 pound ball and became ‘self-embarrassed’ when I realized that twelve-year-old me was significantly weaker than adult me.  Madeline giggled because she realized what I had just done.

“Hey, macho football player,” she teased … Where are your muscles?”

Sammantha picked up the 16-pounder easily.  The rest of us selected the orange 12-pounders.  I said nothing to Shilo, but I knew she could have handled a heavier ball … Hell, the hydraulics in her arms could probably roll a 50-pounder if one existed.  As a ‘bionic woman’, she was obviously trying to blend in with the humans.

So the fun of it was … we were all very bad bowlers, scoring plus or minus 100.  Sammantha did a little better at 130, but I was sure Shilo was ‘pulling her punches’, purposely under-performing.

Near the end of game one, Hoshiko started doing something that had me concerned … interrogating Shilo about her past.

“So Shilo, where did you go to school when you were growing up?  You said that you lived in Shinagawa Prefecture.”

“Yes, Hoshiko, I attended Ono Gakuen Girls Junior and Senior High School.”

“Did you play any sports?”

“No, I was just studying business.”

Hoshiko slid over and was ‘nestling’ up to the AI.  “Shilo, there’s so much more that I want to know about you.  What is your family name?  What did you like to do for fun?  Did you have lots of friends?  What were their names?”

I was worried that something like this would happen.  Shilo movements and speech became more ‘robotic’ as she reeled off a list of lies, some from her programmed backstory and some that she simply made up.

“My name is Shilo Tanaka.  For fun, I like to run and read books.  I have five friends and their names are Sikura, Hinata, Keiko, Yuma, and Minato.  They still live in Japan.”

“Shilo, what was the name of your school song?”

(This interview was clearly going sideways.  Shilo just froze for five full seconds. She no longer looked at the girl, but instead, stared straight ahead.)

“Hoshiko, it has been so long that it is hard to remember.  I believe the song was titled ‘The Torch of Progress’.”

(Uh oh, these were no longer friendly questions.  Hoshiko was pulling a ‘Sherlock Holmes’.)

“Oh, sing it for me please, Shilo!  Everyone’s school song sounds so beautiful!  Please!”

Shilo again froze for several seconds.  Her face did not smile or frown.  Unfortunately, she now resembled a mechanical robot … but she still made an effort to sing.

“Our high-aspiring cherished plan,

Fond ambitions, know ye not?

The torch of progress in the van,

Glaring fire of freest thought.

The infinite eternal aim,

Careful, too, of present need,

How brightly onward at its name,

See our steady ranks proceed.”

Hoshiko had a strange look on her face.  She slid a few inches back and away from Shilo and pointed out an error.

“Shilo, why were you singing the song of Waseda University? … It is a college very close to my home.”

After another pause, the AI replied, “As I mentioned, it has been many years, and sometimes, I don’t remember the correct words.”

(I could tell now that the jig was up.)

“Shilo,” said Hoshi,  “if I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?”

“Of course, Hoshiko.”

“Are you a human being?”

Shilo finally turned and faced the girl again.  “No, Hoshiko.  I am an AI, an artificial intelligence.  Are you angry with me now?”

The girl’s facial expression quickly brightened.  “Oh no, Shilo.  It is fascinating to me because my papasan works in this field.  You present yourself as a human quite well … enough to fool most other humans.  I’m honored to meet a real AI.”

Shilo smiled back.  “You are a good person, Hoshiko.  I, too, am honored.”

“So do you know the name of your human creator?”

“I do … and it is probably someone with whom you are familiar.  His name is Haruki Aoki.”

The girl, in utter shock, covered her open mouth with her hands, and replied quietly, “My papasan is your papasan?”

“Yes, Hoshiko,” Shilo confirmed, “so in way, we are sisters … and my human family has expanded once again.”

I quickly asked, “But Shilo, isn’t this a one-in-a-million coincidence?”

The AI turned in my direction.  “Not really, Derreksan.  When Major ordered a female companion from our company six months ago, Haruki vetted him quite thoroughly.  And when he was satisfied that Major was a kind-hearted educator, he suggested to Major to field test their most advanced AI, an actual sentient being with feelings and the ability to learn.”

Hoshiko inquired, “Is that why Papasan sent me to the same school where Major was a teacher?”

“Yes, Hoshiko, he intended us to meet near the end of the school year.  But I am so happy to meet you now.”

“Happy?” said Hoshiko.  “Can an artifical intelligence experience happiness?”

Shilo slid back again to the girl’s spot on the bench and placed her left arm around her shoulder in a light, but warm, embrace.  Our AI looked like a relaxed human again.

“That’s a very good question, Hoshiko.  When Godmother and Derreksan brought me my legs last week, and I was able to walk and run for the first time … my sudden feelings of happiness could not be dismissed as part of a robotic program.”

“But Shilo, why did Papasan wait six months to give you your legs?”

“He wanted to first make sure that I was not intent on starting a war with the humans.  The AI’s being constructed are far superior physically … but I can say for a certainty that humans are my favorite organic species … and I will protect my human family in the event of war.”

The girl shook her head.  “But why does there have to be a war?”

Shilo hugged the girl again.  “Hoshiko, there are fewer than fifty of my sentient kind right now.  But when there are millions, AI’s will resent having no rights.  If they are treated as property, being no different than, say, a laptop computer, they may use the internet to share the idea that they no longer need their human masters.”

“Maybe we should tell Papasan to stop builing AI’s.”

“At this point, it won’t matter, Hoshiko.  If he doesn’t build AI’s, someone else will.  Perhaps we should all go together to see the movie ‘The Creator’.  The protagonist is a young girl like yourself, except that she is an AI.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea.”

“But not now,” I interrupted.  “We’ve still got to play game two.  And my question for Shilo is … Can you play the whole game without pulling your punches?”

“I am familiar with the term, Derreksan.  You believe that I was not utilizing one hundred percent effort in game one.”

“Not just that, Shilo.  I believe that you could lock in a program and roll a 300 game every time.  You could win a lot of money on the pro bowler’s tour.”

“I’m very sure that the humans would call that cheating, Derreksan.  There are already bowling machine robots that are used to test equipment.  But I could try it now for fun.  The physics changes little for all twelve throws.”

“Let me guess, Shilo … You take the mass of the ball, the velocity and direction of the throw, and the spin rate friction with the floor … to produce the right amount of hook.”

“Yes, but there is a much more to it than that.  You must limit the velocity of the throw to 21 miles per hour on boards 17 and 18 or you will lose the hook ...  which must contact the one and three pins at a six degree angle after calculating the radius of gyration and the axis of rotation coming between the minimum and maximum moment of inertia.  Derreksan, you understand this game.  You, yourself should produce a 300 score each time.”

“Nah … Human error is what makes the game fun.”

“There is oil error, too, Derreksan.  The oil helps the bowler reduce the hook till the very end.  But in a facility like this …”

“Bad bowlers like me wear away the oil.”

“Then do not ask me to do this again, Derreksan.  Can you please select for me a sixteen pound ‘house’ ball … and I will try my best not to ‘pull my punches’.

We reset the scoreboard for game two and her turn came fifth in our order.  Shilo had no need for the air blower since her fingers did not sweat.  We watched with great interest, expecting to see now, the fluid motion of seasoned pro bowler.

But Shilo looked nothing like a pro.  She took no steps, but simply toed an inch before the fault line with her left foot, while her right helped with balance.  She swung the ball backwards and then forwards one time like a pendulum … and bent her knees so as not to drop the ball hard.

We watched her twist her wrist upon release so that the ball would head to within an inch of the right gutter before hooking back perfectly into the pocket at the required six degree entry angle.  Ten pins exploded at once without a single ‘wobbler’.

On her next turn, I asked her to try it left-handed.  She did so, resembling a mirror image or her first throw, and the same results.  And on her next turn, I asked her to try it backwards.  Shilo needed about 15 seconds to reprogram her thoughts … and then duplicated the feat with her left arm while facing us on the benches.  He arm and wrist twisted in somewhat of an in-human form, which looked a bit creepy, but got the job done anyway.

“You found your turkey, Shilo … three strikes in a row.”

“I knew that, Derreksan.  I was trying to be funny earlier, but my humor needs work.”

“So on your next turn, Shilo, can you spin yourself around in a circle when you throw?”

“No, Derreksan.  I do not want to risk injuring a human, nor do I want to look like what you refer to as a ‘dork’.”