Page 18 of Brooklynaire
“Deep learning,” I say slowly. “Like,AI?”
“Exactly like AI,” he says, giving me thewell donesmile. “He’s a secret, by the way. Hal is one of the things covered by the specs of your KTech nondisclosure agreement. Yada yadayada.”
“Got it,” I say. Hanging around with Nate means always being in the presence of heavily guarded corporate secrets. I’m used to being mindful of insideinformation.
“The products on the market right now are all pretty dumb. But Hal is pretty sharp. So if you ask him for something and he doesn’t respond correctly, just try again with slightly different words. And don’t hold back on the slang because I want him to learn how people reallyspeak.”
Seriously, there are tech journalists who would sell an organ for a few minutes alone with Hal, whatever he is. “Wait—you gave him the creepy computer voice from that Space Odyssey movie,right?”
Nate looks abashed. “Just having a little fun. But he can do any kind of voice. How do you think the butler shouldsound?”
“Like a Jane Austen character. Charming andsolicitous.”
Nate taps his chin. “Like—what’s-his-name, the Colin Firth character?Darcy?”
“No way. Darcy didn’t like to talk. You need the other guy—Bingley.”
“Fine. Hey,Hal?”
“Yes, Nate,” the voicedrones.
“Your new name isBingley.”
“Bingley at your service,” the creepy voicesays.
“And I want you to use a different voice. Male. British accent. Blueblood. That means well-educated. Incorporate the sentence structure ofPride and Prejudice, by JaneAusten.”
“Certainly, sir!” the device says immediately, with an uppercrust accent. “How may I be ofservice?”
“Say hello toRebecca.”
“Greetings, fair one! Let me hear yourvoice.”
Nate nudges me. “He needs to hear you so he’ll know to obey when youspeak.”
“Uh. Hi, Bingley.” It’s hard not to giggle. “I’m RebeccaRowley.”
“At your service, miss! You may ask anything ofme.”
Nate tips his chin toward the device on the table.Go on. Askhim.
“Um, what is the capital of BurkinaFaso?”
“Ouagadougou.”
“Too easy,” Nate scoffs. “Even Siri could get thatright.”
Fine. “Who makes the best pizza inBrooklyn?”
“If you are feeling peckish,” Bingley says at once, “Grimaldi’s is seven-tenths of a mile away, with a very high rating. Diners tend to recommend the white pie with garlic or the Buffalo chickenpizza.”
“No,” I say. “Buffalo chicken on a pizza is justwrong.”
“I will make a note of it,” Bingley replies immediately. “Miss Rebecca does not prefer spicy chicken onpizza.”
Nate looks very pleased with himself. “Bingley—Rebecca will be staying with us a while to recover from a head injury,” he says. “If she asks you to keep silent, please don’t speak until she calls you byname.”
“She’s feeling ill? Heavens! Take care, Miss Rebecca. I shan’t be abother!”
