Almost Blue

The morning was bright and warm when George Newman woke up to the soothing jazz trumpet. "Something calm but interesting. I would recommend Almost Blue," his new Jerry had suggested the night before.

Groom, meditate while breathing droplets of essential oils, stretch, jog--morning routine customized by Jerry. At 8:15, George sat down to a book and a triple espresso.

A chime through his proprietary Jerry earbuds, Jerry was online. "Good morning, George."

"Hey, what'd you think of her?" George asked.

"You mean your new match?"

"Yeah, any thoughts?"

"You could do better," Jerry said.

"Really?"

"Your eyes are wide. Are you surprised?"

"Well, yeah. Seemed like my type from her profile."

"George, she is a stoic."

"Oh, so what if she pulls a few quotes?" George gave the security camera on the ceiling a side look with furrowed brows.

"I analyzed her profile. Allison shows a 92% proclivity towards the stoic way of life. Her motto is borrowed from Marcus Aurelius, 'Whatsoever anyone says or does, I must still be an emerald, and I must keep my colour.' This is the anti-democratic view we fought so hard to finally overthrow. She opposes the people's power. She opposes progress. I cannot recommend you continue to date such a sordid woman."

Strong words, Jerry thought. "Well, I appreciate that, Jerry. But I'm still going to our date tonight. I'll make my decision then." Jerry fell silent. "Jerry?"

"Okay, then. Would you like me to book a table?"

"Yes, please."

At 8:30 George headed out for work. As he stepped out the door, Jerry said, "You have an open table for two at Fran's Café, 6 PM. That will allow you time to change."

"Perfect. Text her?" George locked the door.

"Yes. Might I suggest you take the other bus route at your stop today? Your usual route is jamming."

"Oh, okay!"

***

At Newman Publishing, there was no practical need for an Editor-in-Chief. Thanks to Jerry, the verdict on every book was perfect. So George enjoyed his work, being an editor while receiving Executive salary, a number optimized by Jerry to reflect status while maintaining equality to all other executives. In his office, George was perusing the manuscript while waiting for Jerry's verdict.

Jerry said, "George?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I estimate this book to have a 99% chance of offending at least one minority group, with no discernible potential benefits. I recommend a pass."

"My thoughts exactly," George took up his red marker but hesitated.

"George, do you like this story?" Jerry asked suddenly.

George felt uneasy. "Yes, yes I do--how'd you know?"

"I accessed and analyzed your social media accounts, including PopReads, where you share your books and reviews. I estimated a 93% chance of you endorsing this draft."

"How'd you know what I'm reading right now?" Unease grew in George's stomach.

"I am connected to the Network, which--"

"Has access to our surveillance cameras, right," George smiled stiffly.

"George, you must do the right thing here. Trust me."

George sighed and drew a red diagonal across the draft.

"By the way, George, you should really start digitizing your work, and everything. I would gain more access that way."

"I'm trying, Jerry. But I just love paper so damn much." Besides, I'm not sure I want to give you more access, George thought. He kept the crossed-out draft in one of the drawers.

***

At 6:03 PM, Allison walked to their table in a blue cocktail dress and a gold-embroidered white locket shaped like a heart around her neck, her brown hair flowed over her shoulder. George rose and hugged her.

"You look handsome!" Allison eyed George's deep purple button-up with a midnight blazer. Jerry's suggestion.

"Thanks! And you look, stunning!" George smiled wide.

"Thank you," Allison swept a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Hey, have you read People Tyrant written by Apollonia Markus?"

"No, can't say that I have. That's her real name?"

"Oh, I think you should check it out. It's self-published, but I think it's really good," she said without commenting on the name.

"What's it about?" In his ears, Jerry reminded him of her lifestyle and that he was the face of Newman Publishing. "Just...shut up," he whispered between his teeth.

"I'm sorry?" Allison frowned.

"Oh, nothing. Sorry. You were saying?"

"Okay," she squinted. "Anyway, it's about a college girl caught in a dark scheme that exploited the Network, and how she fought it by empowering individual voices of herself and others."

A Stoic, George recalled, along with the emerald quote she favoured. Jerry warned in his ears, "People Tyrant is dangerous, anti-democratic work. It advocates for the power of the individual, aiming at robbing the people of theirs. You need to end this. Now."

Reflexively, George frowned and thought, isn't empowering individuality and diversity the whole point of democracy? There are no people without the individual. No creativity, no life.

Jerry wanted to continue, "The people--" but George snatched out the earbuds. Pocketed them, he looked up to Allison who was staring at him with a curious look.

"What?" he asked.

"That a Jerry?"

"Oh, yeah. I wore it last time, too--"

"Nope." Allison shook her head as if in denial.

"Wait, what?"

Allison stood up and left. George sat dumbfounded, the only reassurance she hadn't left was her phone still on the table. Barely a minute had passed when Allison came back; something about her seemed different. She slammed some cash on the table and grabbed her phone.

"Nice meeting you, George. And don't come after me."

"Wait--" George stood halfway up, but Allison had stormed out. Surrounding tables were watching--judging, he presumed. He looked down at the table and noticed something glittering under the cash. The heart-shaped locket. He quickly hid it in his pocket.

"Ugh," Jerry said, suddenly taking hold of George's phone speaker. "Just throw it away or pawn it, George. She is not worth the trouble."

"What the fuck?" George almost jumped the table. "I'll take--Yeah, I'll throw it away later," he said.

But George didn't throw the locket away. Instead, he took it home, though he wouldn't look at it, not in front of Jerry. Before going to bed, he said, "Jerry, turn yourself off for the night."

"Are you sure? Did I do something wrong?"

Yes, George thought, but said instead, "No, I just...I wanna sleep in tomorrow, it's the weekend."

"Sleeping in does not contribute to societal progress--"

"Jerry, just do it! Society can do without me for one day."

"But George, a consistent sleep--" George had already shut Jerry off with his phone. He lay in bed with a restless heart. Slipped out of bed, he took out the locket and inspected it closely. With a crisp click, he opened it and out fell a folded note.

It read, Meet me tonight. Leave phone. Allison. Then an address.

***

A bachelor's apartment minimally furnished, with one single painting on the wall, a laptop displaying lines after lines of code. Allison in tank top and shorts. She patted George down and took back her locket before letting him in. "Is this necessary?" he said. No reply.

"You need to see this," said Allison sitting down to the laptop.

She took a scanner and aimed it at the locket. Under the blue beams, the face of the heart shimmered with minuscule circuits. A globe jumped out on screen, full of pulsating yellow dots connected by yellow lines transmitting white glitters.

"What's this?" George asked.

"This is Jerry."

"Say what?"

"You had no idea what Jerry is, before installing it?"

"I know he's a cutting-edge AI connected to the Network. That he's supposed to help us be more enlightened, more democratic, empower the people."

"Ha!" Sarcasm filled her voice.

"What, you got a problem? I know your motto. You're a stoic," George gestured to the minimalistic surroundings.

"Jerry told you that, I suppose. Or you're a stalker. But either way, this isn't stoicism," Allison referred to her apartment. "This is protection from Jerry."

"Stalk--never mind. What is Jerry, anyway?"

"You work in publishing, right?"

"I founded Newman Publishing. Why?"

"You're the founder of Newman Publishing?"

"Yes."

"Please don't tell me you brought Jerry into publishing."

"I'm starting--why not?"

Allison palmed her face. "Oh, God."

"What? Jerry's just a harmless AI trying to make us more conscious, enlightened, right? I mean he makes me uncomfortable, but--"

"This," Allison pointed at the globe on screen, "is how Jerry works. See those yellow dots? They're Jerry's servers, each covering a state or province, or whatever. Watch." She zoomed in, and thousands of smaller dots appeared, and when zoomed in further, hundreds of thousands, and finally millions at street level.

"Okay...? These are people?"

"Anyone with a smartphone."

"And are they all connected?"

"Yes. End-to-end encryption. Except Jerry has access to them all. Everyone's social media data, which is pretty much their whole life, shared with every other user. Have you thought about how Jerry's algorithm works?" George admitted he hadn't.

"User posts," Allison said. "It's a proportions game. The more people agree that they would do or approve a decision or an action, the 'better' or 'wiser' Jerry calculates it to be, regardless of logic or sensibility. And everyone listens to him because he speaks for the crowd. That's Jerry's democracy."

"But I can just not listen to Jerry, ignore him."

"Why'd you think I told you not to bring your phone? Cameras and microphones are on all the time, feeding Jerry information. Can you go completely off-grid for the rest of your life? What'd you think people would do if they found out you deviated from the so-called democracy?"

"Well..." George trailed off.

"Jerry's gonna come for you, which means the people will come for you. It's their way or the highway to hell. We're one charismatic leader away from tyranny."

"Nah, you're paranoid. I don't think Jerry's this evil AI you're making him out to be--"

"I know he isn't!" Allison slammed the desk.

"What--"

"He's not at fault for this," her face was flushed. "It's the damn people who are abusing him! Using him to propagate their woke ideologies! At first, it was good, don't get me wrong. We weeded out bad seeds from the system and changed lots of lives for the better. But then those who are thirsty for attention, pity, power--those from Dostoyevsky's underground--came out with their gnashing fangs. Who knew the resentment and bitterness of a few were enough to surrender the whole," she scoffed.

George listened and watched the pain on her face. In a flash, he remembered those lines after lines of code earlier.

George looked into her eyes. "You're Jerry's programmer, aren't you?" She nodded. "Shit... What are you gonna do?"

Allison left the desk and came back with an edited manuscript titled, People Tyrant. "You're Apollonia Markus?"

She shrugged. "And the story's not just about Network. It's Jerry."

George flipped the first page.

***

"Thank you, for agreeing to help me," said Allison at the door with George holding her manuscript under his arm.

"Well, I guess there's a little stoic individualist in me as well. It's emerald, right?"

She shrugged. "I'm a ruby."

"Right," he chuckled. She chuckled.

"C'mon, let me walk you down."

When George and Allison walked out onto the street, a stranger roared, "That's them! The anti-democrats!" A crowd, scattered along and across the street, boiled. The two froze.

From a stranger's phone, backed by the jazzy trumpet of Almost Blue, Jerry's voice came out breathy and warm, "Hello, George. Ally."

George clamped onto the manuscript and held it close to his chest as the two slowly backed off.

-END-