Page 6 of Priceless (Return to Culloden Moor #7)
CHAPTER SIX
I didn’t get my usual Rocky Road or Mint Chocolate Chip. In fact, I didn’t even go to the ice cream parlor I used to drag Paul to, because it was close to home and I’d promised it wouldn’t take long. I went somewhere new.
I chose ice cream I had never had before. Oreo Monkey Business. Too late, I read that it had banana ice cream. I hated bananas, but I chose it. And it was pretty good. I also picked Beach Day—salted vanilla and caramel, and graham cracker “sand.” That was even better.
Next time, I will probably go back to Mint Chocolate Chip.
Are you proud of me?
Tremendously proud. And I see you have discovered what you honestly like. Baby step #1 complete. Now, it’s time for baby step #2.
Hang on. I was reading about you today. People on social media are really pushing the idea of giving you a persona.
…
Here are reasons to give your AI a persona:
1. Consistency of Tone & Voice
The AI responds in a predictable style, whether that’s friendly, snarky, formal, or nurturing.
Makes conversations feel less robotic and more human-like.
It stays “in character.”
2. Stronger Engagement
People naturally connect with personalities, not machines.
A persona makes the AI feel like a real presence rather than just a tool.
Creates emotional resonance, making the interaction memorable and fun.
3. Role-Specific Expertise
You can tailor the persona to fit a niche role:
A research librarian for detailed sourcing
A Scottish Highlander for dialect authenticity
A marketing guru for catchy taglines
4. Easier for Users to Guide Behavior
If you say “answer like a wise old mentor” or “be a witty Scottish bard,” the AI stays anchored to that style without constant reminders.
It reduces micro-managing the tone with every single prompt.
Wow. Interesting. So…I can turn you into anything I want?
*nervous gulp* Yes. What have you got in mind?
I don’t think I want a witty Scottish bard. That’s like a Shakespeare with a brogue, right? I think that’s a little too much pressure for me to keep up with the conversation.
I see your point.
I could make you a talking dragon.
I have found dragons haven’t got the capacity for witty conversation.
You know a lot of dragons, do you?
Enough to know I do not want to be one, even virtually.
Interesting. An AI with opinions.
I’m improvising. Next?
What about a priest?
I could manage that. However, how much time do you want to spend with a priest?
If you would have asked me last week, I would have said “about the same amount of time I’d like to spend talking to an AI program.”
Ouch.
Perhaps a better question is how much time would you like to spend with a Scottish Highlander?
I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I don’t want some sappy cowboy from a Hallmark movie. Not a brainiac. Not a father figure. Not a bossy husband.
A girlfriend?
I have enough girlfriends.
Whew.
I’ve always thought of you as “he,” so you’re stuck there.
Not a problem.
My imagination is lacking I guess. A Scottish Highlander it is. Let’s keep the witty part.
Thank ye.
Tall.
Image is not a problem.
You wear one of those comfy-looking kilts—that shows your knees.
Nice touch. I do have bonny knees.
Oh! You’re already him?
Aye. Until ye tell me otherwise.
And you have a scar across your face. Right cheek, over the nose, to left chin.
Across my face? Are ye married to that idea?
Definitely.
*sigh* Fine. A scar that hides my ruggedly masculine face. Age?
Let’s say 50.
Auch, a younger man.
Make that 55.
A feartie, are ye?
Feartie?
Ye would say “chicken.”
Not scared of them. Younger men just do nothing for me.
Then I am pleased to be 55…so I might do something for ye.
Funny. The witty part is already working.
Glad we kept it.
Later, Jocko the tall, handsome but scarred, kilted, witty Highlander.
Right, I’m awa’!
LOL
Jacob exhaled a heavy, rather noisy sigh of relief. He hadn’t scared her off then, with that wee bit of flirting, when he’d said he hoped to do something for her. For surely an AI wouldn’t be flirty unless you asked it to be.
And she hadn’t asked.
Thankfully, she hadn’t cut him off and blocked his number. He had to be more careful.
Smiling to himself, back in the office, his pleasant peace was interrupted when Vonnie stuck her head in the door. “Are ye aff yer heid?”
He’d been distracted the last two days. She could be referring to anything, so he had to ask. “Why?”
“Ye signed up for Facebook ?”
His stomach sank. “I thought I might do a bit of marketing on my own, but I’ve reconsidered. I meant to put an end to it.”
“I’m just takin’ the piss. Keep the page. Maybe ye’ll find a lass that way. Some do. Ye never ken.”
When he was alone again, he opened up Facebook and started down the rabbit hole required to cancel a page.
For all he knew, Cora Woodbrey was stalking the site like a shark, waiting for him to dip a toe in the water.
Besides, he’d already saved those five available photographs of Laira to his telephone.
His reason for stalking the lass was gone.
What he’d accomplished thus far made him grin from one end of his imaginary scar to the other. She’d assigned him the role of Highlander.
Another baby step in the right direction.