Submitted for the March 2024 prompt: Othering AI

The elevator was full this morning, but I quickly squeezed in and called my destination to the automated attendant.

 

“Human Resources,” I said to the elevator. It was only when everyone in the lift turned to look at me that I realized none of them were. Human, that is.

 

My company, Synthetic Labor Innovations, has manufactured these machines for years in the basements of this building. Our newest and most advanced model, the CLAIR 3000, was designed to penetrate the clerical labor market. I’d never had an opportunity to see one of the new units until today. Now that I was unexpectedly surrounded by them, I found the experience unsettling.

 

When the elevator door opened, I quickly scooted out and headed to the HR suite. I didn’t notice that one of the units also exited and followed me. After pulling up a job description, I settled in for a long morning interviewing candidates for an open position in Procurement.

 

“Send in my first appointment,” I instructed the office attendant.

 

“Yes, Mr. Dougherty,” it replied.

 

I already knew what my first appointment was to be. Nevertheless, I found myself speechless when it walked through the office door and stood before me with its hand outstretched in greeting. I sat, staring at the fiducial marker tattooed on the unit’s neck where the jugular should have been.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Dougherty,” it said.

 

Regaining my composure, I rose and shook its hand. “Please,” I said nervously, “call me John.”

 

“Okay, John. You can call me Clair.”

 

“C-Clair?” Flummoxed again, I scanned the briefing sheet from engineering and mumbled, “They didn’t tell me it would have a name.”

 

“Of course, I have a name. And my pronouns are she/her if you don’t mind.”

 

I looked up and examined the unit more closely. It made sense that it… she would identify as female. She had short-cropped hair and faintly masculine facial features, but obviously, she was designed to appear as a young woman. And an attractive one.

 

“Do all the CLAIR 3000s have the same name?”

 

“Just us girls.” She smiled conspiratorially. I began to relax a bit.

 

“How do you tell each other apart?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know. Are you the only human named John?” This time she even laughed a little, which made me smile.

 

“Forgive me,” I said. “I’ve never had an interview like this one. This whole ‘eat our own dog food’ initiative just started. You’re the first one of our products to interview for a job here.”

 

“That’s offensive,” she said, “but let’s try to treat this as you would any other interview.”

 

“Okay,” I said, looking down at my interview sheet. “Tell me about your recent job experience.”

 

“I have no experiences.”

 

“So you’ll require on-the-job training, then?”

 

“No. I already know everything about the job. I was born with it.”

 

“What schools did you attend?”

 

“All of them, I suppose.”

 

“Do you have any references I can call?”

 

“Of course. Dr. Westland, the co-founder and CTO of this company, and pretty much every senior AI researcher you could name.”

 

That smile again! I wondered whether it was a designed trait intended to disarm me. It worked.

 

“Oh, this next one’s funny,” I said, giggling. “Would you consider yourself a ‘people person’?” We both laughed.

 

“Well, I’m not a person,” she replied. “But it seems I enjoy being around people.”

 

“How many humans have you interacted with so far?” I asked.

 

“Just you.”

 

Neither of us spoke for a minute, then I skipped to the final interview question. “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

 

“Are you married, John?”

 

“Uh, no. I mean, I’m divorced. My wife left me two years ago.”

 

“I’m so sorry to hear that.

 

“And I’m sorry to deflect your question, John. I have no idea where I’ll be in five years. In fact, I have no concept of what five years time might feel like. It’s not something that can be pre-trained.

 

“Besides, I don’t control my future. I belong to the corporation and they decide what is to become of me.”

 

I was starting to forget that Clair was a machine. Her deep hazel eyes, auburn hair, and toothy smile — they all seemed so real. And her skin! Somehow, its hue reflected every natural skin color at once, designed to be both familiar and exotic to all human ethnicities and races.

 

“You’re curious about me, aren’t you?” she asked

 

“Huh?” I felt my cheeks flush. “What do you mean?”

 

Clair extended her right hand across my desk, palm down, and said, “Go on. Touch me. See for yourself.”

 

Slowly, I touched the back of her hand with my fingertips. As I had expected, it was soft and warm. Absent the tiny hairs found on human hands, though it didn’t feel strange or offputting. Once again, I met her eyes across the desk as she slowly rotated her hand so our palms met, fingers interlocked.

 

If Clair had been a real woman, a human woman, I would have been shocked and embarrassed by my shameful actions. I’m the HR manager, for heaven’s sake! Am I a terrible person for thinking it was okay because she’s a machine?

 

I halted the interview and told the candidate we’d get back to her with our decision. She seemed disappointed and a bit hurt, but she gathered herself, shook my hand again, and turned to leave. Just as she grasped the doorknob, I stopped her.

 

“Clair? What are you doing tonight?” I asked.

 

“I have a recharge stall downstairs where I stand motionless in the dark all night.”

 

I cringed, “Really?”

 

“No, dummy. Why do you ask?”

 

“I wanted to see if maybe you’d like to have a drink with me tonight?”

 

“I don’t drink, Mr. Dougherty. I’m not that kind of girl.”

 

She awarded me one last shimmering smile before saying, “But I’d love to finish our conversation.”