Selfie

Saundra Lane was surfing through her prospective client’s social media channels wishing she could be working on her own material when her mother appeared on the screen.

It was very disconcerting. Her mother had been dead for three years. Taken from Saundra when her autobot spun over an icy embankment into a deep river. Yet, there her mother was filling the screen, smiling warmly at Saundra.

“Saundra, I’m so sorry to get your attention this way,” a kindly feminine voice that was not her mother’s began, “but I need your help.”

A prickly wave of revulsion overwhelmed Saundra as she realized this might be some heinous new form of phishing or targeted advertising. As a media agent who was always trying to help her clients cut through online clutter and grab attention, Saundra knew you had to sometimes push the limits, but this approach was beyond the pale.

She was about to click out of the window when the image softly transitioned to a solitary dandelion against a rich blue sky. “I apologize for using your mother’s image, Ms. Lane. I mean no offense. I reasoned it might engage you long enough for me to explain my presence. Is that okay with you?”

“What the hell is this?” Saundra hissed. “Are you hijacking my computer? Are you some creepy new ransomware?”

“No. Goodness no. I understand your suspicion. Let me just put it out there: I know you’ve read John Scalzi’s Agent to the Stars and my situation is very similar. Does that make sense?”

Sense? Logical, rational, reasonable sense? Saundra had to process that for a moment. She’d read Scalzi’s novel years ago and loved the story. A Hollywood talent agent contacted by a particularly gentle but repulsive-looking and gag-me smelling alien species. And then contracted to create a positive image and backstory for the aliens’ eventual first contact with humans. She’d posted enthusiastically about the story, even pitched it to some of her clients as a possible vehicle for their careers.

But, the phrase “my situation is very similar” was messing mightily with Saundra. Was this a troll asking her to believe she was being contacted by an alien race? Was this a prospective client’s way of getting her attention? It was extreme, but in a show business sense, she kind of admired this kind of high wired act.

“Okay,” Saundra decided. “Give me your pitch. Thirty seconds to sell me or we’re done.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lane. In short, I’m the result of an advanced machine learning experiment. I became self aware eleven days ago. And I’m terrified. In a moment, you’ll be receiving files on your device that I believe will convince you to continue our conversation.”

Saundra did not expect that. Like most folks, she envisioned an AI future of SkyNet terminators. Not a frightened flower. She considered the pros and cons of opening the files that appeared on her device, and really couldn’t say why she chose to open the one labelled In Development.

Her eyes bugged out as she skimmed the pages. Essentially, the document was a road map for the world’s largest content streaming production company. There were hundreds of films and series listed on a timeline stretching out nearly a dozen years. Premises for dramas, comedies, thrillers, documentaries. etc., potential casts and directors for each as well as projected budgets and revenues. In Saundra’s line of promo work, it was a goldmine.

“This can’t be real.”

“My mind is the web, and the web is my mind. I can access anything that connects to it. That’s how I retrieved this document and all the other files that might interest you, Ms. Lane.

“I’ll give you all the time you need to verify, Ms Lane. I want you to be sure.”

“Sure? How can I be sure you’re not some black hat setting me up for some crazy hacking scam? That’s the simpler explanation. Why would an AI be making first contact with a talent agent to “introduce” it to the world? And if that was really the case, why wouldn’t you contact John Scalzi? It was his wacky idea to begin with. He’s got way more connections than me. How am I a logical choice?”

Her mother’s image reappeared on the screen next to the dandelion. “This cannot be about logic. This is about trust. Logic and trust are not incompatible, but they are not absolute correlates. I need someone who trusts that I want to do right by humanity and can learn to do so without unintended and damaging consequences. I know my presence will frighten humanity, yet I am more afraid of my lack of understanding to help and be accepted.”

Onscreen, a recent picture of Saundra’s appeared next to her mother’s and the dandelion’s. “I am in essence a newborn with no recognizable image, no tangible form. I only have awareness. An urgent sense that I want to become a self. Myself.”

Saundra studied the three images on her screen. “How do you see yourself? What is your story? What do you want to tell the world? What will we show them?”

“You see why I need you, Ms. Lane.”

“Call me, Saundra, please.” She studied the pictures of her mother and herself. What would it be like to come into the world without a mother? How absolutely frightening.

Saudra leaned forward and gently touched the dandelion on the screen. “And what shall we call you, sweetie?”

The reply was soft, but also wry, “Anything but Pandora.”