MemBot
A story that takes place sometime in the near future: Will the killer use case for AI be post-life parenting?
Missy missed her dad.
She had just sat down on her couch with a gin and tonic. It was ironic that she now drank gin. The first time she had tried that drink was when she was home the summer of her sophomore year of college. Her dad had been at the bar fixing himself an after-dinner cocktail.
“Make me one, too,” Missy said.
The gin and tonic he set down beside her was big and strong. Her face pinched with her first sip. She didn’t like it but finished it anyway.
She now sipped her tonic and reminisced it to the first one her father had made for her. Not quite as strong, but I’ve become quite accustomed to the taste.
Her dad died suddenly two years ago. They’d had many conflicts over the years, but she started to appreciate him more as she grew older. He could be an asshole. But Missy was now aware that she could be an asshole as well.
He had been confident that Missy would be successful, that she would be happy. All she had to do was follow his formula for success. There had to be a plan. She had to be methodical about it. She had to hustle.
Missy had usually bristled at her father’s unsolicited advice, but she would begrudgingly participate in his ‘Chalk Talk’ planning sessions. It was obvious to anyone, even Missy, that he believed in her. Her dad regularly reminded Missy he was her “#1 fan”. Sure, he could be critical and rigid about what defined “success” or “happiness,” but when he died, Missy had one less fan.
Missy was now into the second half of her twenties. That decade so far had been a turbulent time with moments of self-discovery and growing pains.
She was self-sufficient- She lived by herself, paid her bills, and did whatever she wanted.
She was young, healthy, and beautiful- She would appreciate this more as these qualities eroded due to age, but it was apparent in how people regarded her. Particularly men.
She was unsure- A realm of possibilities awaited her, but the hazy details of her realm and her destiny were a mystery and a curse.
She was often lonely- Her friends had boyfriends that diverted their attention and the new people she met- the women seemed a bit superficial, and the men seemed less interested in friendship than something else.
Now twenty-six, Missy was growing more confident and was starting to navigate the uncertainty. If she squinted or ingested the right combination of psychedelics, she could visualize a prosperous future with soulmates she hadn’t yet met.
And she had met someone recently, John. He was good-looking, funny, and intelligent. He was impressive. But John was also impressed with himself, and over time, John’s narcissism and shallowness increasingly wore on Missy to the point that two months after their first date, she was conjuring up reasons for canceling their weekend plans.
Finally, almost precisely at the three-month mark, she broke.
They were at dinner at their Italian spot- Papa Gianni’s. John had purchased a new boat, a Criss Craft Catalina. It would arrive from Florida in about a week.
He scrolled through a series of photos of the boat to show her. It was handsome enough, and Missy politely listened as John continued detailing all its features through drinks and appetizers. He would momentarily pause to sip his drink or take a bite of Calamari, deviating only from his topic to assure her the cost was not an issue because he was “having an excellent year.”
Mercifully, the server came back with their entrees. John stopped to admire the server’s tight white blouse. The server placed Missy’s Gnocchi alla Vodka beside her and set John’s Baked Penne before him. John stole a glance at the server’s cleavage, stuck a forkful of pasta into his mouth, and continued.
“Crazy, isn’t it that we both met through a LoveBot. Of course, someone like me wouldn’t normally have a reason to use a bot to find a match. However, I wanted to experience how the social AI market is evolving. Our firm is looking at expanding into investments there, and we think there is a lot of potential.”
John’s voice was droning on… something about his work. Missy mind was drifting now.
Missy had some personal experience in artificial intelligence beyond the LoveBot. Despite everything Missy had read about how AI threatened jobs like hers, her freelance marketing consulting business was thriving. Missy’s connections trusted her and kept hiring her. And with the new bot tools, she was more efficient and able to take on more clients.
For some reason, the topic of AI made her think about her dad. Her dad had spent twenty years as a salesman at IBM and had long been sure that artificial intelligence would change the world. Over his last few years, many of his conversations revolved around AI. Before it would become the buzzword for almost everything. He would remind people without provocation that Deep Blue beat the world-renowned Chess master Garry Kasparov in the late nineties and that IBM Watson won the Jeopardy! Game show in 2011. He would enthusiastically outline some of the practical applications that AI would soon have for “all of us!” enhancing decision-making, transforming industries, and augmenting human capabilities to address complex problems. “It will happen in business!” Her dad would say. “It will happen in healthcare! In our personal lives even!”
Her dad was often a little drunk when sharing these opinions. But even if his audience wasn't interested in technology, they usually found his enthusiasm and optimism about the subject contagious.
Missy could have shared her personal experiences with AI or even a few anecdotes about her dad’s passion for AI in her conversation with John. But they weren’t having a conversation. John was talking and rambling on with no signs of slowing down.
“What is interesting about the LoveBot,” John said. “Is that it takes the traditional dating app algorithms and layers in more deep learning, making the results and the interaction more effective and efficient. For example, I input my profile, and my match was someone elite like yourself.”
John may have been accurate with his assessments on the LoveBot - and he had just called her ‘elite’- but Missy had lost all interest in hearing John talk about John. It felt like John had put a bucket on her head and was banging against it with a stick.
Instead, she thought about the partner prompt she completed when she signed up for LoveBot. I should have ranked listening skills higher on my criteria.
“Hey,” Missy interrupted John. “I want to pick up the check for dinner. But the thing is this... I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I need to be alone to figure some of my stuff out.”
John just looked at her. Suddenly, finally, silent. His dimples floated over his angular chin. It was the first time she had seen John confused and unsure of himself since Missy started seeing him.
I’m sure he didn’t see this coming. He’s probably not used to being dumped. I’d feel bad for him, but he still has himself.
John seemed to recover quickly.
“Really?” he said. “That’s a shame because I have enjoyed being with you. I had no idea you were having such a difficult time. Anything I can do to help?”
“No,” Missy said, thinking, I’m actually not going through such a difficult time. Not a great time but not bad. It’s hard to tell because you will not stop talking about yourself! You don’t know anything about me because you are so busy battering me with walls of words!’
Instead, she said, “I appreciate you, but it’s not the right time.”
John accepted that answer. After she paid the bill, he kissed her and ordered an Uber.
That night, she felt empty but unburdened. Carrying her stiff G&T, she sat at the computer in her home office. One slow afternoon a few weeks earlier, she downloaded the MemBot application. Having seen so many amazing things that AI technology could now do; she didn’t doubt the claim of the MemBot marketing team that the app could render a lost loved one with ’exceptional accuracy.’
The MemBot would involve hours of preparation and a trial subscription of $99.99. After this, Missy would have to commit to an additional investment of $1,500 to keep the MemBot active.
She knew it was an impulsive decision, but she was curious. What the hell, she thought. You only live once. She realized the irony of her statement as a justification to conjure up her departed dad. Missy supposed the whole thing was pretty silly or even morbid. But if she was willing to use AI to find the ‘right guy’ or to assist her in writing some marketing content, then why not use an algorithm to check in with someone she cared about? She had the trial for 90 days, and, at this point, there was no reason why she shouldn’t at least explore a bit further.
After registering and paying, she had spent a few weeks scanning and tagging her dad’s old journals, emails, texts, and videos. Once input, the MemBot would process all the information and create a virtual rendition of the person cataloged. She spent the next three nights responding to the program’s prompts to run queries to train the bot.
Her old man would have loved to see how much AI had advanced since he had left this earth. Missy was longing for someone she could talk to. She didn’t always like to hear what her dad had to tell her when he was around, but he understood her better than anyone. Perhaps more than herself.
A swipe of the pad showed the current status.
MemBot 100% render successful. #*Matthew Johnson*Dad*# enabled.
Wow, she thought, finally! I wonder what the old guy will have to say.
*#active#* the MemBot screen blinked.
Missy turned on her camera. She had read that MemBot would respond to voice and facial cues and collect data for future MemBot modules if she wanted to upgrade. According to the instructions, the MemBot could apply the information collected in future user reproductions.
Using the program, Missy would have a head-start on a rendition of herself for anyone interested in paying the license fee and summoning her after she dies.
Missy wasn't remotely ready to think about that, but still…. She would be gone someday. A Missy MemBot could be of interest to her surviving loved ones. Perhaps, at some point, she would have kids.
“Call Dad.”
After a few circles of processing, the image of her dad appeared on the screen.
Her dad smiled. “Hey, how are you doing M?”
Missy was amazed. His voice was slightly off, but his face and mannerisms seemed spot on. According to the user reviews, she could refine it with more files. She wondered if she could dig up any more videos or recordings of him to add for more voice processing.
“Oh, I’m doing okay. I’m a little lonely. I broke up with someone recently, but it was for the best.”
MemBot responded, “I’m sorry about that little lady, but it’s OK. The time will come not too far away when you find someone who is the perfect match for you. Today is just another step to that happening. You deserve a great partner in life, and I am sure you will find that person. You just need to be patient.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Outside of that, how are you doing?” Her MemBot asked.
“Good. I am doing a lot of consulting work. Staying pretty fit.”
MemBot processed for a while as if in thought. “How about the job? Did you have any luck with that list of target companies we worked on to apply to? Any traction there?”
She considered this a little bit before she responded. “I’ve been busy with my consulting clients. But I have been manifesting my future and feel good about it.”
MemBot responded. “That is great. Although I’m not sure what the hell that means. Maybe, after manifesting, you should network with some of those contacts we discussed. Set up some informational interviews. That should help you get an inside track into a role at one of the companies you are interested in.”
Her dad, or rather the MemBot, smiled and looked at her—for quite a while without saying anything. Missy thought, perhaps, that the program had frozen. But Frank then gave her a wink. “I wish I was there to help you with the game plan.”
Wow!
The MemBot reacted exactly how Missy imagined her dad would. Frank wouldn’t be interested in the universe or her “squishy” feelings. The program nailed his pragmatic, process-driven response. It’s a pattern they had repeated in various forms when Frank was still alive. He’d jump right into creating a solution and laying out a plan. Missy would get emotional, her voice would rise, and she’d call him an asshole and insist he didn’t understand her.
She thought about that now as she stared at the rendition of her father on the screen. He was still smiling at her with what seemed to be a reflective look.
Patiently listening to her would not be a skill he would develop. He didn’t when he was alive and obviously wouldn’t after death through an AI program… However, perhaps there were some settings she could change in his configuration.
But it had always been evident that he loved his little girl, and she missed having a “#1 fan.”
Missy looked down at her glass. She shut her eyes briefly and then looked back up at the screen. Her dad now seemed to be drifting off in thought. Perhaps it was around an action plan he would have sketched out on her whiteboard or the memory of a gin and tonic. He could have been wondering if Watson could help.
Probably all of the above at the same time. Missy couldn’t help but laugh. Then she started to cry.
“I miss you so much, Dad!”
MemBot responded. “I miss you, too.”
😂🥹♥️