By Ron Wetherington

Harriet

It happened on February 14, when Tom inadvertently gave Tau access to my study. I had left Epsilon there because that’s where she and I work. But the two androids were not supposed to have unsupervised contact with each other. It was not only a protocol expressed by the company; it was also a safeguard against AGI. 

Epsilon was working rather intensely, and quite well, I might add, on the complex history of the sonnet form. It was a godsend to have her; I didn’t need to spend as much time searching the historical records and cross-checking them because her training model was so comprehensive. I was writing an essay for British Heritage with the deadline approaching.

“What I need to determine,” I remember telling her, “is whether the lyric form among the English was more adaptable to the sonnet in pentameter than in hexameter.”

“Well,” she said, “I find a combination in two examples. I am recording one for you. A five-metered line followed by a six-metered one.” She paused. “It is from a troubadour.” 

“Was it sung?”

“The probability is not,” she told me. “You must decide.”

This is what I liked about this model—she was not quick to make a pronouncement, probably out of an algorithmic pattern of deference. It was a manufactured politeness, to be sure, but I appreciated it, nonetheless. She was rather new—a Model AI-230-ε. Android Industries had only recently upgraded the logic algorithms from the earlier 230-δ and installed a faster processor. The epsilon also had a softer voice.

At ten in the morning, we took a break because I needed to pick up some groceries before lunch. I left her on her charging pad. Tom was in his workspace, I assumed, as usual.

Tom 

I realized I was running low on graph paper. Harriet had a ream in her office. Tau and I had been deciding where to insert a short line of code in a complex feedback loop. It would have slightly different effects depending on placement, and I was mapping it on paper because it gives me visual space to think. Like Epsilon, Tau was a newer model—the AI-120-τ—and had adapted well to my routine.

“I will ask her for some, Tom,” Tau said. I thought nothing of it, not knowing that Harriet had left, and continued working. When five or so minutes had passed, I noticed that Tau had not returned and went to find him. I needed to check with Harriet about lunch, anyway. We usually take a break around one for an hour or so.

Harriet’s office door was open. When I entered, I found Tau standing next to Epsilon, holding her hand and fussing with the back of her neck, which is where her manual controls are. “Tau!” I remember speaking harshly. “You’re not allowed to be here!” I hurried over to them as Tau immediately let go and stepped back. 

“The 230-ε had slipped off her stand, Tom,” he said matter-of-factly. “Cycling below sleep mode. I have reset her control.” He looked back at her. “She has not lost functionality.”

Harriet

When I returned from the store, Tom explained what had happened, and we decided to find out if they had exchanged data during the brief moments they were alone. Holding hands is the common way the AI models communicate, silently, electronically.

“Epsilon,” I asked her, “did you and Tau share data?” 

“Yes, Harriet.” She of course showed no emotion because AI models possess none. “Tau queried my circuits for integrity, as I had lost connection suddenly. He also shared his evaluation code.”

“I think what Harriet wants to know,” Tom had interjected, “is whether you shared or exchanged any training data.” 

“It would do us little service,” Tau answered softly. “I find no use for poetic devices—allusion, for example—in my work. Epsilon would not use my knowledge of syntax, because literary syntax has a different meaning.”

And of course, that gave it away, didn’t it? They were each trained in a form of Narrow AI that focused on their designated purpose and rather little else. Tau would not have had training access to such concepts as allusion; so he had just now absorbed this from Epsilon. Tom and I needed to speak in private.

Tom

As Harriet was preparing our sandwiches, I sneaked a small wrapped gift on her plate at the table. It was Valentine’s Day and the tiny packaged praline in red satin foil was my romantic offering to her. 

“You send me two messages, love,” she smiled as she bit into it. “One is that our bond is still strong and lovely.” She pursed her lips in a kiss, and her eyes sparkled playfully. 

“And the other?” I returned her smile.

“That the bonding of Epsilon and Tau is not a huge concern even if it does break protocol.” She got up to pour tea. “You seem untroubled.”

“Well, it can’t be undone, that’s for sure,” I said. “Short of replacing both of their neural circuits, as well as wiping their respective stored memories of the work they’re doing for us.”

“Ugh!” was Harriet’s quick response. 

“And,” I added, probably with a mischievous look on my face, “maybe in their companionship something intriguing will bloom.” The steam rising from the tea carried an exotic aroma.

Harriet took a sip of hers and another bite of her praline. She mused, “They need to be renamed, maybe, hmm?”

“You mean that perhaps Tau should now be Tau-Epsilon?” I suggested.

She picked up on this. “I was thinking of Epsilon-Tau,” she grinned. “The new E.T.” 

We both laughed at that, then fell silent and sipped our tea, and lingered awhile over the aroma.

Tau
Evaluating 230-ε Aesthetic Module. Entrainment authorized. Reintegrating.