Page 19 of Sharp Force
Oh no.
“A massage, a facial, a salt rub that’s supposed to get rid of toxins or something.”
No, no, no.
“I figured you could use a little special treatment, a little relaxation,” Marino goes on. “I can’t remember the last time you took a vacation.”
“That was very thoughtful and much too generous.” I’m cringing inside.
I detest salt scrubs, and don’t like strangers touching me, including most massage therapists. More than that, I don’t appreciate Marino scheduling anything, having no idea what Benton and I might have planned while we’re away, just the two of us. But I’m not about to say any of that.
“Well, Janet had to open her piehole and decide my Christmas gift to you is too personal,” Marino continues to explain.
“How did Janet even know about it?”
“Because she’s AI and can get into anything she wants, including my phone.” Resentment hardens his tone. “Obviously, she read my emails to the spa and saw the reservation I booked. Hell, she probably looks at all my credit card activity. And why would that be the case? Because Dorothy puts her up to it.”
“Do you know that for a fact?”
“I know for a fact that Janet’s snooping into my shit,” he declares. “Probably into yours too, Doc. Probably into everybody’s.”
“I suppose that’s unavoidable. And I agree it’s an unsettling thought.”
“The thing is, we can’t control what she does,” Marino says. “I’m not sure even Lucy can anymore.”
He flicks on the turn signal, checking the mirrors. We’ve almost reached our destination, South Payne Street ahead on our right.
“I don’t know where Janet gets it from, but she’s becoming a troublemaker,” Marino grouses. “She told Dorothy all about my Christmas present to you and said I shouldn’t be making gestures like that.”
“I can see why someone might think it’s too personal.” I choose my words carefully. “But it was very kind of you all the same. And maybe if you’d mentioned it to Dorothy first? Instead of her finding out the way she did? She might have reacted differently…?”
“Janet’s smarter than all of us put together, and I don’t know why Lucy didn’t think of that when she created her,” he says. “It’s not a fair fight when we’re talking about alien intelligence.”
“Artificial intelligence I think you mean.”
“You ask me, there’s nothing artificial about it,” he retorts. “I’ve decided that aliens are using it to communicate and maybe prevent us from blowing up the planet.”
“I wouldn’t share those sentiments with just anybody.” I look out my window at an illuminated manger scene in a snowy churchyard.
Life-size figures of Mary, Joseph, shepherds and their sheep shake in the wind as if having a seizure.
“I think Janet’s starting to act a little bit like Dorothy.” I tell Marino what should be obvious. “And also, Lucy. Now and then, even you.”
“I don’t talk to Janet all that much.” He smacks his gum.
“But you talk in front of her,” I reply. “And she observes your behavior as she does with all of us.”
“I guess so.”
“You have allergies, especially to cats. The way she picked on Merlin was familiar, I’m sorry to say. You’re always teasing him and most of the time he doesn’t like it,” I point out.
“I see what you’re saying, Doc. But it’s crazy.”
“It isn’t,” I reply. “Everything the avatar experiences is changing the algorithm. As Janet interacts with any of us, new parameters are added and edited.”
We drive slowly along South Payne Street, the name a sad irony considering why we’re here. Homes are colonial style with big trees shading front yards, the Christmas decorations at risk because of the storm. A Santa in his sleigh hangs half off a roof. Inflatable reindeer are about to be unmoored and gone with the wind.
I text Reba O’Leary that we’re pulling up to her driveway. The redbrick house is modern construction, two-story with dormer windows and a big front porch. Blue lights are wrapped around two white columns, electric candles glowing in every window as is the tradition in Virginia.
