"FWLS56" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

"But you're an AI."

"One that's also a little cold," she said. "Hate this door,
it always sticks..."

She took her closed umbrella and rammed the point into the
door, making it fly open. I noticed a dozen similar umbrella-
point indentations near that spot in the split-second before the
ancient wooden door span on its hinges.

"Much better. This a-way... feel free to get comfortable
while I make the cocoa, just don't sit on the furniture until the
heater dries you out," Help said, wandering off to the kitchen.

This did not resemble an AI's home. No extra limbs, no
tools... nothing you'd see in movies. However, Wae Spat
Philosophy taught you not to believe movies, advertising or
lawyers (passage #466), so I dismissed the fact that I ever
considered that.

It was a nice house, really. The furniture was modern, the
kind you can buy for low prices from Norwegian kit-outlets. Some
photos were strewn about the place... photos of Help with groups
of kids. A strip of five holo-photos taken in a cheap five-
credit booth, of Help and some Ytt. A framed picture of Help
standing with someone wearing tasteless tropical clothing, waving
to the camera... was that a suction cup on his palm?

Next to that lurked a wooden cabinet full of cheap items
such as collector's plates and plastic mugs, each labelled with a
planet name. Souvenirs.

All of them were memories Help had been collecting. Did all
AIs have memories, or were these recent experiences? If they
treasured items like this, ate and slept, and even had trouble
opening doors, how were they different than humans?

I wanted to be human in the worst way. Being an AI wasn't
that bad, from what I could see, except for the problem with
people treating you funny, but people always treat fast food
warriors funny. However, if I were an AI, I wouldn't really be
my father's daughter. I wouldn't be the heir to his wisdom or
his love.

No; I had to be human. It was the only acceptable choice.

"Cocoa," Help said, passing me a warm mug. "It's an
imitation brand, I'd better warn you. Fake sugar, less fat, and
stuff like that. Still tastes good."