Page 17 of The Dis-Graced

“I understand. I’d be just as careful. Can I ask him questions?”

“Sure, ALAN, could you please answer some questions for Grace?”

“Certainly,” the voice says.

“Why did you state my bra size? Why does that even matter?”

“It doesn’t matter to me. It matters to Drake,” ALAN says.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I glare at Drake, angry rage coursing through me.

He holds up his hands in a defensive position. “Listen, Grace, I don’t know why he said that. I never asked him to broadcast your bra size.”

“Drake is telling the truth,” ALAN says. “But as of two days ago, at four-fifty-eight p.m., I was given access to his office, apartment, and phone. I’ve been able to observe several business meetings as well as monitor his internet habits, and I found that when conversing with a female, his gaze inadvertently travels to her breasts several times over the course of the conversation.”

Drake’s face turns red, and I cannot help but let out a burst of laughter.

“So, you just stare at women’s tits all day?”

“Actually, judging by his micro-movements, his actions are not intentional, and he tries hard to correct the behavior. Compared to his acquaintance, Drake gazes at breasts half as much as his employee Elliot.”

“What else can you tell me about Drake?” I ask with a wry grin.

“I’ve only been able to observe him for a few days, but here is what I’ve noticed thus far: He gets up around five o’clock a.m. He starts his day with a workout and showers. He comes into work at seventy-thirty sharp each morning. He reads through various newspapers and magazines when he gets into the office. He drinks 4.5 cups of coffee a day, but the other day an anomaly happened while you were present, and he momentarily forgot how to make coffee due to stress as indicated by his heart rate and perspiration. He stares at pictures of blondes 3.7 seconds longer than pictures of any other hair color.”

By now, I’m laughing so hard my eyes begin to sting from tears. “Oh my God—this is amazing!”

“ALAN, go back to bed,” Drake snaps.

“Good night,” ALAN says.

“We are obviously still working out some of ALAN’s kinks, as you can see.”

“And what do you need me for?”

“Eventually, I’d like you to develop a docuseries on him. I’d want you to spend some time with ALAN, analyzing what he does, and recording your thoughts in journals I have for you. I’m not asking you to say anything in particular about ALAN, but you cannot blindside me. I accept your criticism but must be able to offer a rebuttal. Furthermore, although ALAN will be tied to your phone, he will not be allowed inside your bedroom. So if you want true privacy, you must leave your phone outside your room.”

“Wow…”

“I know it’s a lot to take in—”

“Thank you!”

He arcs a brow. “Really? Because you were cussing me out earlier—”

“I had no idea, but now it all makes sense. This is the story of the century, and I can’t believe I’m getting the chance to cover it!”

“I can’t wait to read your findings.”

“Oh, another thing.”

“Yeah?”

“So, this ALAN up in here isn’t true AI, is it?”

Drake exhales a frustrated breath. “Not really. The ALAN you’re going to be spending time with is purely analytical, taking in data and making assumptions. He doesn’t have access to the internet, but he’s on a cloud, connected to various devices. The true AI version of ALAN is in a tech lab under lock and key. It’s hard to anticipate what he would do out in the ‘wild,’ so to speak. I honestly don’t know if we could have AI outside of a controlled setting. It’s just too…unpredictable and possibly dangerous.”