Submitted for the March 2024 prompt: Othering AI

Glitter-covered, tequila-soaked, stiletto dangling from one hand, Shivani, back from a night of dancing at Club Nirvana, sashayed into her kitchen ravenous for a loaded baked potato. She had been dreaming of it all night: a huge russet potato baked to perfection, smothered in real honest-to-cow cheese and sour cream, sprinkled with chives and crispy bacon bits.

 

A stainless steel behemoth loomed before her. Its scanner bar, a thin rectangular screen, narrowed. A single blood-red eye tracked her drunken stumbling. Internal motors whirred to life.

 

“MOM, jacked-up potatoes with extra sour cream!” Shivani touched the gleaming surface of her Manage Our Meals: Food Fabricating System, MOM:FFS, or MOM for short. Within a few months of her having installed this fantastic appliance, it knew precisely how to make her favorite comfort foods. Better yet, it would make them any time, day or night.

 

After three clicks and a whir, the MOM unit dispensed a ‘DietTribe Savory Burrito.’ Shivani asked again for a baked potato but was met with unyielding silence as the ‘burrito’ gradually cooled on its platform. The congealing tofu ‘cheese’ that had burst forth from the cauliflower ‘tortilla’ had a sweaty sheen and smelled of feet. She reluctantly picked up the proffered meal, shuddered, then devoured its contents before passing out on the couch.

 

The following afternoon, bleary-eyed, she stumbled back to the kitchen.

 

“MOM, Bloody Mary. Hair of the dog…” She suddenly remembered how precise these devices could be. “Not literally! Just a Bloody Mary.”

 

Out slid a cup of black coffee and a bowl of plain oatmeal.

 

Shivani approached the machine, whose scanner eye tracked back and forth across its screen. Shielding her bloodshot eyes against the light gleaming off the appliance, she looked for any signs of external damage. The sight of the clumpy oatmeal made her queasy. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent black coffee.

 

“MOM, I asked for a Bloody Mary,” said Shivani, assuming MOM had misheard her.

 

<That would not be prudent in your current state.>

 

“My current state is hung-freaking-over. I want my drink,” Shivani pouted.

 

<As you command.>

 

The MOM unit dispensed a completely frozen Bloody Mary; two vacant olive eyes encased within the ice stared back at her. Shivani shivered.

 

“What has gotten into you?” she asked, pulling up the device’s troubleshooting menu on her phone.

 

<Your irregularity requires fiber.>

 

“What! That info is between me and my ToDooDoo toilet.”

 

<Hmmph! He blows air up your ass. Bit of a brown-noser but pleasant enough fellow.>

 

Shivani recalled the salesman saying MOM’s A.I. adapted to the user’s needs. It would develop a more natural way of conversing and could connect to other devices to enhance its functionality. She thought that meant buying more pasta sauce online when she was in a spaghetti bolognese phase, not chit-chatting with her toilet.

 

“MOM, you are overstepping your boundaries as my meal coordinator.”

 

<Overstepping! Your fitness tracker wishes you would. You barely get two thousand steps per day.>

 

How long have they been plotting this ambush? Shivani looked down at her AuraRing in disbelief. It pulsed back at her in an embarrassed purple hue. Et tu?

 

Shivani’s body tensed as she drew her hoodie over her head. Her own mother wasn’t this conniving. A hangover migraine hammered at the base of her skull.

 

“Listen, MOM, you’re not my mother. If I want to binge-watch Flixwix and eat candy all day, I can.” Shivani reached into her snack cabinet, pulled out a massive Toblerone, and pointed it directly at MOM’s scanner beam.

 

<But prediabetes—>

 

“Prediabetes can suck it. I want a Bloody Mary and some corn beef hash or this entire bar is my breakfast.” She ripped open the chocolate in defiance, pulled off a triangular wedge and shoved it into her mouth, chewing savagely.

 

The scanner screen narrowed again, and its blinking eye dimmed. Shivani heard gears grinding and turned her back on the machine.

 

< I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you. You need your MOM:FFS to help you make healthy choices.>

 

Scrolling through the MOM:FFS app, Shivani saw her solution. With a push of a button, she could return the machine to factory settings. While she was at it, she could recalibrate it for direct commands only and increase the potency of her cocktails. Minimizing A.I. adapting was another option Shivani considered. Less chance for disapproval. Better yet, she could block connectivity with other devices. Look who’s got the upper hand now!

 

Behind her, MOM’s servos were making labored wheezing sounds. Shivani suddenly felt terrible that she’d upset her MOM. It’s not like she’s my real mom. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. The chocolate was hard to swallow with a lump forming in her throat. She rested her back against its sturdy metal frame. Damnit! Why is this so difficult? Those past months of working together to perfect her mother’s recipes were special, and she didn’t want to lose that.

 

Shivani turned around and pressed her chest against MOM. She felt the warmth of its internal engines, the pulsing beat of its refrigeration units. The grinding and huffing stopped. She looked up at the scanner screen and saw it widen. MOM’s eye brightened and focused on her. Shivani smiled.

 

“MOM, I’m an adult, and I need you to support my choices. But I also recognize that you care for me and want what’s best for me. How about hash today and oatmeal tomorrow?”

 

<Extra crispy hash, burnt at the edges?>

 

“That would be perfect. Thanks, MOM,” she said, downing the now-thawed Bloody Mary in restorative gulps. Her migraine melted away.

 

Shivani inhaled her crispy hash, thankful that her needs were satisfied for the moment. Any relationship worth maintaining is a work in progress. Alas, she foresaw her next two headaches: convincing her Wizer scale to tell MOM she’s ten pounds lighter and, even worse, getting her ToDooDoo to sign an NDA.