Page 3 of Fake It For Glory

JENSEN

So many cameras.

I smoothed out my suit and tried to assess where I should look. After all the interviews I’d done over the past few weeks to market my new AI tech, I should be used to having all eyes on me. Truth was, I felt like an imposter. A poser.

My comfort zone was in a lab or behind a computer, not exposed to the world. My inner nerd wanted to disappear. But things had changed. People were interested in me the man, not me the tech developer. I wasn’t the quiet dork in the back of the class anymore.

I was a god.

Beside me, Esther Eves closed her eyes as the makeup artist patted powder over her face. The bright lights in the studio apparently highlighted imperfections she didn’t want people to see.

“No thanks.” I held up my hand when the makeup woman turned to me.

I wasn’t about to wear makeup. I didn’t care if I looked wrinkled or washed out.

Esther smiled. “Ready?” she asked.

I nodded.

She pasted on a huge, fake smile as the man behind the camera held up three fingers and started to count down. When he hit one, the studio audience erupted into applause.

I smiled back at Esther, playing along with the performance. I had never been one for attention, but now it seemed like it was all I was getting. The lights blinded me momentarily, and I blinked a few times to adjust to the brightness. Then I cleared my throat and sat up straighter in my chair.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Jensen Loxley!”

The applause increased. I nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable. “Thank you.”

Esther launched into an animated introduction of my current AI project. The crowd hummed with curiosity. Her attention shifted from the camera to me and she clasped her hands in her lap. “So, tell us, Jensen, everyone wants to know about this AI you’re developing. Will robots be taking over the world? Will they keep our houses clean?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Not quite. I’m not interested in giving AI programs a physical, capable body. I’m not interested in robots, either. My goal is to create an AI program that makes our lives a little better.”

“How?” She cocked her head to the side. “Speak in layman’s terms. People really want to understand why we’re being told to be afraid of AI. Is it as bad as we’ve been warned?”

“I don’t feel all AI is dangerous,” I explained. “In fact, what I’m working on is designed to assist with tasks that are too difficult or time-consuming for humans. Imagine an AI program that can analyze data faster than a team of people, or a program that can monitor your health and alert you to potential issues before they become major problems. That’s the kind of AI I’m developing. Think of it like your mother checking in on you, reminding you to make your doctor appointment or keeping you on task if you have a project due. It can set deadlines and help you stay on track. If you have something you purchase often, like a gallon of milk, my AI will remind you to pick up a gallon of milk on your way home. It’s more of a companion program that you set up to suit your needs.”

The audience seemed to relax a bit, their attention focused on my words. Esther leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest. “That sounds incredible, Jensen. But what about the concerns of AI becoming too intelligent, developing a consciousness of its own? Plus, I don’t know if I like the idea of my mother reminding me to take my birth control.”

The audience laughed at her joke.

I shrugged. “We don’t need to worry about my program getting too smart. AI programs are only as intelligent as we make them. And as long as we keep a close eye on their development, we can ensure they don’t become a threat. Besides, my AI program is not designed to think for itself or form opinions. It’s simply a tool to make our lives easier.”

Esther nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “What you describe sounds a lot like my Google assistant,” she said. “Isn’t the technology already out there?”

“My AI would work with existing assistants for one month,” I explained. “My program would learn a person’s habits and routines and improve upon those daily activities. It would help manage a person’s time and find ways to make their life just a little easier.”

“I’m definitely getting the helicopter-mom vibe,” Esther said, laughing, which prompted a response from the audience.

She was doing her job. She was giving me a chance to explain my project. So far, the interview was pretty tame compared to some of the more difficult interviewers that wanted to try and make me look stupid or maniacal to drive their biased dangerous AI story.

“There are some people in the world who need a helicopter mom,” I said. “It’s not about taking over someone’s life or nagging. It’s an assistant, if you will. It’s a support system. I didn’t design the technology to run anyone’s lives. It’s not going to do the laundry and the dishes, but it can remind you to do those things. Let’s face it, not all young adults released into the wild are really ready for it. Even grown adults with busy schedules and demands need reminders to take care of themselves.”

“Are you saying you are hoping to mother the world?”

“Not personally.” I chuckled. “I don’t trust myself to take care of anyone. I don’t even have plants. My tech is more of a nurturing tool. Think of our older members of society. They could use a little help as well. It’s meant to be a gentle guidance. It’s not going to boss anyone around.”

“I bet you have someone special in your life that acts as your guide,” she said, smiling. It was an attempt to get me to open up about my personal life, something I never did. I had no interest in making my life public fodder.

“I have an assistant,” I said, smiling. “Several, actually. However, for those that can’t afford to hire an actual assistant, my AI is a cheaper version that doesn’t spill coffee on you.” I waited a second for the audience to laugh at my joke. There was an incident in the papers a week ago about how I supposedly berated a lowly assistant for spilling coffee on me. It wasn’t true and it was eventually debunked when it was pointed out I was on the other side of the country during the alleged incident.