“Why?”
“You have a date after work.”
“Oh, the new girl. Shoot, what’s her name? I know you told me—”
“I’ll bring you up to speed after work. I’m sure you’ll like her. The compatibility index is very high. I think you’ll be in love for at least six months.”
Sai looked forward to the date. Tilly had also introduced him to his last girlfriend, and that relationship had been wonderful. The breakup afterward was awful, of course, but it helped that Tilly had guided him through it. He felt that he had matured emotionally and, after a month on his own, was ready start a new relationship.
But first he still had to get through the workday. “What do you recommend for breakfast this morning?”
“You are scheduled to attend the kickoff meeting for the Davis case at eleven, which means you’ll get a lunch paid for by the firm. I suggest you go light on the breakfast, maybe just a banana.”
Sai was excited. All the paralegals at Chapman Singh Stevens & Rios lived for client lunches made by the firm’s own executive chef. “Do I have time to make my own coffee?”
“You do. Traffic is light this morning. But I suggest you go to this new smoothie place along the way instead—I can get you a coupon code.”
“But I really want coffee.”
“Trust me, you’ll love the smoothie.”
Sai smiled as he turned off the shower. “Okay, Tilly. You always know best.”
? ? ?
Although it was another pleasant and sunny morning in Las Aldamas, California—sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit—Sai’s neighbor Jenny was wearing a thick winter coat, ski goggles, and a long, dark scarf that covered her hair and the rest of her face.
“I thought I told you I didn’t want that thing installed,” she said as he stepped out of his apartment. Her voice was garbled through some kind of electronic filter. In response to his questioning look, she pointed to the camera over Sai’s door.
Talking to Jenny was like talking to one of his grandmother’s friends who refused to use Centillion e-mail or get a ShareAll account because they were afraid of having “the computer” know “all their business”—except that as far as he could tell, Jenny was his age. She had grown up a digital native, but somehow had missed the ethos of sharing.
“Jenny, I’m not going to argue with you. I have a right to install anything I want over my door. And I want Tilly to keep an eye on my door when I’m away. Apartment three-oh-eight was just burglarized last week.”
“But your camera will record visitors to my place too, because we share this hallway.”
“So?”
“I don’t want Tilly to have any of my social graph.”
Sai rolled his eyes. “What do you have to hide?”
“That’s not the point—”
“Yeah, yeah, civil liberties, freedom, privacy, blah blah blah . . .”
Sai was sick of arguing with people like Jenny. He had made the same point countless times: Centillion is not some big, scary government. It’s a private company, whose motto happens to be “Make things better!” Just because you want to live in the dark ages doesn’t mean the rest of us shouldn’t enjoy the benefits of ubiquitous computing.
He dodged around her bulky frame to get to the stairs.
“Tilly doesn’t just tell you what you want!” Jenny shouted. “She tells you what to think. Do you even know what you really want anymore?”
Sai paused for a moment.
“Do you?” she pressed.
What a ridiculous question. Just the kind of pseudointellectual antitechnology rant that people like her mistake for profundity.
He kept on walking.
“Freak,” he muttered, expecting Tilly to chime in from his phone earpiece with some joke to cheer him up.
But Tilly said nothing.
? ? ?
Having Tilly around was like having the world’s best assistant:
—“Hey, Tilly, do you remember where I kept that Wyoming filing with the weird company name and the F merger from maybe six months ago?”
—“Hey, Tilly, can you get me a form for Section 131 Articles? Make sure it’s a form that associates working with Singh use.”
—“Hey, Tilly, memorize these pages. Assign them the tags: ‘Chapman,’ ‘favors buyer,’ ‘only use if associate is nice to me.’?”
? ? ?
For a while, Chapman Singh had resisted the idea of allowing employees to bring Tilly into the office, preferring their proprietary corporate AI system. But it proved too difficult to force employees to keep their personal calendars and recommendations rigidly separate from work ones, and once the partners started to violate the rules and use Tilly for work, IT had to support them.
And Centillion had then pledged that they would encrypt all corporate-derived information in a secure manner and never use it for competitive purposes—only to give better recommendations to employees of Chapman Singh. After all, the mission statement of Centillion was to “arrange the world’s information to ennoble the human race,” and what could be more ennobling than making work more efficient, more productive, more pleasant?
As Sai enjoyed his lunch, he felt very lucky. He couldn’t even imagine what drudgery work would have been like before Tilly came along.
? ? ?
After work, Tilly guided Sai to the flower shop—of course Tilly had a coupon—and then, on the way to the restaurant, she filled Sai in on his date, Ellen: educational background, ShareAll profile, reviews by previous boyfriends/girlfriends, interests, likes, dislikes, and of course, pictures—dozens of photos recognized and gathered by Tilly from around the Net. Sai smiled. Tilly was right. Ellen was exactly his type.
It was a truism that what a man wouldn’t tell his best friend, he’d happily search for on Centillion. Tilly knew all about what kind of women Sai found attractive, having observed the pictures and videos he perused late at nights while engaging the Just-for-Me mode in his browser.
And, of course, Tilly would know Ellen just as well as she knew him, so Sai knew that he would be exactly Ellen’s type too.
As predicted, it turned out they were into the same books, the same movies, the same music. They had compatible ideas about how hard one should work. They laughed at each other’s jokes. They fed off each other’s energy.
Sai marveled at Tilly’s accomplishment. Four billion women on Earth, and ?Tilly seemed to have found the perfect match for him. It was just like hitting the “I Trust You” button on Centillion search back in the early days and how it knew just the right web page to take you to.
Sai could feel himself falling in love, and he could tell that Ellen wanted to ask him to come home with her.
Although everything had gone exceedingly well, if he was being completely honest with himself, it wasn’t quite as exciting and lovely as he had expected. Everything was indeed going smoothly, but maybe just a tad too smoothly. It was as if they already knew everything there was to know about each other. There were no surprises, no thrill of finding the truly new.
In other words, the date was a bit boring.
As Sai’s mind wandered, there was a lull in the conversation. They smiled at each other and just tried to enjoy the silence.
In that moment, Tilly’s voice burst into his earpiece. “You might want to ask her if she likes contemporary Japanese desserts. I know just the place.”
Sai realized that though he hadn’t been aware of it until just then, he did suddenly have a craving for something sweet and delicate.
Tilly doesn’t just tell you what you want. She tells you what to think.
Sai paused.
Do you even know what you really want anymore?
He tried to sort out his feelings. Did ?Tilly just figure out what he hadn’t even known he wanted? Or did she put the thought into his head?
Do you?
The way Tilly filled in that lull . . . it was as if ??Tilly didn’t trust that he would be able to manage the date on his own, as if ??Tilly thought he wouldn’t know what to say or do if she didn’t jump in.
Sai suddenly felt irritated. The moment had been ruined.
I’m being treated like a child.