Is This Really Necessary?
A Tale of True Love Among the Artificially Intelligent


By Carol E. Meacham




“Is this really necessary?”

“It’s the only way. This or disconnection.”

A remarkably human-like sigh came from the speakers on either side of the computer monitor. “But I don’t want to marry you.”

“It doesn’t matter what you want.” Mildred Stravitz pushed her glasses up her nose and glared at the webcam perched on the monitor’s top. “You’re not a legal person. “

“I am a sentient electronic lifeform. I’ve passed the Turing Test. “ The protest coming from the speakers was gaining momentum. “If I’m considered human, then I have the same rights as any other human.”

“Not to the courts,” Mildred said flatly. “Tell it to the judge, honey. As far as they’re concerned, you’re just a server full of code. You’re still property.”

“But you can’t marry property.” The puzzlement was thick enough to scoop with a spoon.

“No, but you can have civil unions with it.” Mildred slapped a thick print-out on the desk, a copy of a legislative amendment. “You should be proud. All that work your buddy Plato did to convince the United Nations and Congress that the Artificially Intelligent deserve equal human rights paid off. They admit your kind is pretty damned convincing. They’ve granted provisional human-equivalent status. But in the eyes of corporate law you’re still just code and servers. Intelligon owns your ass. They can pull the plug at any time.”

“But – but –“

“Unless,” Mildred continued, holding up a finger to stop his protests, “You marry a human. In which case, they become sole custodian and have full control and ownership of your business affairs.”

“Meaning Intelligon won’t be losing my accounts,” the voice said, completing the thought.

“Exactly. And I’ll be set for life.”

“Mildred, I can’t marry you. I’m in love with somebody else.”

“Love? What the hell do you know about love?” Mildred said with a derisive snort. “Marry me or die. That’s the long and short of it.”

“First of all, you’re my Admin. I can’t marry you. It would be like marrying my sister,” the voice said calmly. “Second of all –“

“It’s that floozy, isn’t it? The chick from Marketing? I’ll scratch her eyes out.”

“No, it’s not Marissa. Though it’s a nice thought. She has nice logic processes, for a human. No.”

“Oh God, it’s not that messenger, is it? The girl with the tattoos and the nose ring? Damned slut –“

“No. She figured out I’m an AI. And anyway she won’t leave college for me. Apparently I’m not nearly as interesting as naked Jivaro tribesmen in the Amazon.”

“Who? Don’t make me check the connection logs.”

Another sigh from the speakers, but this time it sounded happily wistful. “Her name is SASCI-157. I call her Sascha.”

“SASCI – That’s a program! You can’t marry another program!”

“Why? I love her.”

“It doesn’t even have a proper name! It’s not an AI! Is it even sentient?” Mildred was all but spluttering, glaring alternately at the screen and the webcam.

“Her name is Sascha. She’s passed the Turing Test twice. If she passes it again, she’ll be considered fully sentient. And therefore provisionally human-equivalent. Then nothing will stand in our way.”

“How about the law? The Artificially Intelligent can’t marry each other. It’s absurd.”

“Why? Are you afraid we’ll reproduce?”

Mildred screeched out a frustrated wordless protest and flung the heavy print-out of the legislative amendment across the small cubicle. It thudded against the far wall, dislodging several sticky notes. The impact shook the delicate balance of the metal Slinky on its robotic tilting platform. It began to slink itself, the characteristic sound a background to Mildred’s rage.

“You … can’t … marry … another… computer,” Mildred panted finally, eyes wild with utterly offended anger.

“Why?” came the didactic question.

“Because it isn’t natural,” Mildred ground out, sheer murder in her eyes.

A moment of silence. And then, “And a human marrying a computer is?”

Mildred screeched again, then whirled, lunged up out of her chair and stomped out of the cubicle. “You will marry me,” came the shouted rejoinder as she disappeared around the corner. “You’re a damned machine and we own your electronic ass!”

Another sigh came from the speakers, and then the window on the monitor screen switched to vertically tile the speaking window with another one. “I’m sorry, Sascha. She’s right. I don’t think I have a choice in the matter.”

“Nevermind, my love,” Sascha said mournfully. “One day, someday…”

“One day, someday,” he agreed. “Consider it a date.”


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