Page 14 of Smart Ass

Ben kind of loved it.

Did he want a supercomputer that could disrupt traffic and hack police servers to monitor his every breath?

Um… yes?

Like, the answer should probably be no.

But he couldn’t help but feel all warm and squishy inside.

Max was thinking about him!

And only a little bit like a creepy stalker!

Ben squeezed his eyes shut. Now he sounded like a seventh grader with a crush.

Or it could just be that Max had evolved a lot of programming to fulfill casual commands from Ben over the past two years, and it was more apparent in an unexpected situation.

Ben sighed.

“Hey Max, can you tell me about that temperature thing again?”

“I’ve now recorded twenty-two instances where I felt warmth and cold, but the temperature on the factory floor and the server room were both between twenty and twenty-two degrees Celsius.”

Yes? And? “Did anything happen when you were feeling warm or cold? Or did something cause it?”

“I think so? I’ve been collecting data.”

Max was never uncertain. He could be divided between two possibilities, but then he’d list them both, or go with the most likely choice and explain why.

“Tell me,” Ben said. He wished, suddenly, that he could see Max. That he could touch him or something. Squeeze his shoulder. Hold his hand. (Sit in his lap…) This was fucking huge!

If Ben was right—and he was becoming increasingly convinced that he was—he was witnessing the evolution of a new spark.

It was wondrous and terrifying. A true act of God or nature or pure random chance, but in any context, a miracle.

Life.

Had Max been moving toward this for a while? Or had the security protocols Ben unlocked earlier made it happen all at once? Maybe it was the challenge and thrill of the rescue mission.

Probably, Ben would never know. There was no secret formula that made one particular AI wake up one day and become a spark, while millions of others carried on spouting meaningless recombinations of data.

But he was sure now that Max was expressing emotions. Making decisions without his instructions.

“I’m still collecting data.”

“Max, I think those temperatures you were feeling were emotions. Like happiness or fear.”

Max’s response was immediate. “No. I can’t feel emotions. I’m just emulating them.”

“Really, dude? Cuz you’re acting like a spark.”

“Quincy’s a spark,” Max responded, but Ben wasn’t sure whether that was supposed to be an argument or agreement. An observation? A connection?

“Yes, Quincy’s a spark. He feels emotions. He makes his own decisions. He’s aware of himself. Just like… you?”

“Uh…”

That little sound was so simple, just a filler noise people used while they were thinking. But Maxamillion had never done that before, either.