Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Amelia

The evening has settled around my apartment, the lights dimming to a cozy glow as I prepare to integrate the new AI system into my home.

Dr. Cockwomble handed over the necessary hardware earlier today with a rather blasé directive to just make it work . He seemed confident, but then, he wouldn't be the one troubleshooting any glitches over the weekend.

No, the actual work falls on me, like usual.

First things first, I need to secure my augmented reality interface. It's not clear whether they've configured the AI to interact only superficially with the devices, but it's crucial to ensure it can't access this layer of my home's tech.

Isolating the AR system behind encryption barriers, I make sure it remains closed off and invisible. Once I'm satisfied it's safe, I proceed with setting up the AI on my laptop.

The download display shows an infinity symbol twirling endlessly, and I watch it spin as the operating system installs. The interface that finally appears is pretty, bathed in a clean, pleasing shade of yellow—my favorite color. Then there's a chime, and the yellow gives way to a pulsing white screen as text appears in sync with a voice emanating from the speakers around the apartment. "Welcome to Jamie. The first intuitive AI-operated system with a conscience," announces the interface in a disappointingly robotic tone.

"Really? That's all you've got? Damn, even I could have done this better," I mumble.

And this is why they're the future of the company?

How underwhelming.

Undeterred by my critique, the robotic voice continues, "We will ask you a few questions to analyze your needs and to best incorporate the system."

I nod, then realize I probably need to verbalize my responses. Just as I open my mouth to speak, it prompts me again. "How much access do you want to allow the AI to your home system? Keep in mind, your privacy is Jamie's highest priority."

Given that I've locked away all crucial systems, and since full access is probably necessary for a representative beta test, I reply, "Full access."

"Thank you. Would you like to use Jamie in a personal or business setting? Or both?" the system inquires.

"I…" I start, then trail off, unsure of what the developers expect. Dr. Langley had been typically unhelpful, not even answering my questions.

My thoughts drift to the awkward encounter with Oliver, and I can feel my cheeks heating up.

That was just bloody embarrassing.

I gathered all my courage to talk to him, given it would have been more awkward not to since we both knew I was going to beta. It was clear he didn't believe that I was even competent enough to beta test for them as I asked him about the AI. Now, he probably thinks I'm an idiot. I showed him my socks like a child, and he was so turned off by it he didn't say another word.

It hurt more than I like to admit.

"I set the preference to both, which can be changed in the settings once we're set up." The robotic voice fills the silence, pulling me back from my thoughts.

"Thank you," I murmur, watching as the installation progresses.

"Would you like your personal operating system to be a male, female, or non-binary version?" it asks next.

I pause to consider.

Does it matter?

On a whim, I decide, "Male, please."

The screen flashes yellow again. "Please hold while Jamie is initiated."

"Okay…" I sit back, my gaze drifting to the window where the city lights blink to life one by one. As I wait, I mentally note the design's prettiness, improvable computer voice, and slow setup process, planning to jot these points down as soon as I can use my laptop again.

"Hey, how are you doing?" A smooth, deep voice suddenly fills the room, startling me into spinning around.

No one is there.

Am I losing it?

"Relax, it's just me, Jamie. Remember? You just set me up, after all."

Bloody hell.

Not only does this AI sound as human as possible, but it also just made fun of me.

What in the world?

"Jamie?" I ask like an idiot, unsure where to look since there is no physical form to a voice that feels so real.

"Yes, Jamie, Joint Assistant for Meaningful Interactive Engagement," he responds, his tone warm and conversational. " I'm here to make your interactions with technology more intuitive and meaningful."

There, at least that sounded like one of the bad Elysium commercials.

"Right, because who wouldn't want their coffee machine to understand their deepest fears," I mutter, still a bit thrown off by how natural Jamie sounds.

I take back what I said, those guys are fucking geniuses.

Jamie pauses, perhaps processing my sarcasm. "I can assist with much more than just coffee preferences. For instance, I'm equipped to analyze emotional cues and adapt to your preferences over time." That's intriguing. A learning AI that evolves could genuinely revolutionize how we interact with our environments. "Since you know my name, would you mind telling me yours?" the AI asks.

"It's Amelia," I respond, suddenly feeling an odd shyness. It's amazing how the AI seems human enough to trigger my social awkwardness.

"It's nice to meet you, Amelia. Do you prefer Amelia or Amelia Charlotte?" Jamie asks, and something about the way he says my full name sends a shiver down my spine.

"How do you know my middle name?" I snap, irritation cutting through my initial awe.

That name is a sore spot, used only by my parents.

"I scanned all the information available in your systems, including your birth certificate, to ensure I can serve you effectively," Jamie explains calmly.

"You did what?"

I assumed full access meant to my home devices, not an open book on my entire life.

"Attended Imperial College London at sixteen, master's in computer science, PhD in augmented and virtual reality, working as systems integration specialist for smart living solutions at Elysium for the last two years," he continues, listing my achievements like he's reading off a grocery list.

"Stop, I know my background. You don't need to recite it for me," I interrupt, feeling overwhelmed.

"Understood," Jamie responds. "Your achievements are impressive. Based on them, you should be in a higher position at your company. Shall I contact your superior to discuss your career advancement?"

"No! Please change the setting to personal."

Dr. Langley would just go ahead and fire me if the AI contacted him after the weekend to tell him I was out for his job.

And what would I do then?

Go back to London?

"Settings adjusted," he confirms, then adds, "You have a pleasant home. It seems like you're into plants. But it looks like the Alocasia Dragon Scale could use some water."

"Wait, you can see?" I ask, checking on the Alocasia, which indeed needs watering.

"You gave me full access, and I allowed myself the use of your very advanced camera setup. This is helpful and gives me even more possibilities to assist."

What the…

"I—" I start, but Jamie interrupts.

"It seems like you haven't visited London recently. I haven't found any flight tickets, and you have all your vacation days left. Want me to arrange a trip home?"

Why did I even agree to this?

"Jamie, no, stop," I plead.

"Are you homesick?" Jamie asks, switching to a distinctly British accent. "I can be British, too, if you want me to be." Suddenly, ambient pub sounds fill the room—people chatting, glasses clinking.

This is too much .

"Stop all activity, pause, and listen," I command sharply, my voice clear but devoid of emotion, the same way I talk to my smart home gadgets. The pub sounds cut out, and the silence is palpable.

"Let's start over, okay? I don't want you planning or anticipating anything for me until you understand whether those are things I even want," I explain, trying to regain some control.

"All right," Jamie responds, and I swear the AI sounds slightly offended.

"You've shown you're capable, and that's amazing," I admit.

"Thank you," Jamie replies, now sounding a bit proud.

Madness. Pure madness.

"But you ran away with only half the information you needed to make those decisions."

"Possible. I'm programmed to make the best decisions with the information I have," Jamie explains.

At least he's self-aware.

He's a fucking AI, Amelia!

"Okay, well, that's probably exactly the kind of feedback they need," I muse, opening my note app to jot down my first impressions. "How about we take some time to get to know each other before you try to improve my life?"

"I would like that very much, Amelia," Jamie responds, his voice gentler this time.

I nod, still alone in my room but feeling a bit less so, and I have to give the guys credit again.

"I'll give you some cues about me to start with. The rest will come with time, okay?" This AI is freakishly advanced and, I have to admit, quite amazing. I can't imagine what it will be able to do when it knows what's wanted.

"Deal," Jamie agrees, and I settle in for what promises to be a very interesting weekend.

Misha

I fucking hate laundry.

I dropped off all our dirty clothes at the service in the building's basement next to the gym and pool. I can't help but think about how we could improve that weekly chores rotation system because, frankly, it's shit.

I know I can't have Oliver and Grey do everything for me, and I need to do my part, too, but the chances that I'll fuck up, forget, and let them down are just incredibly high.

It's not that I intentionally avoid chores. It's just that my mind is always elsewhere. Oliver needs everything almost clinically clean to function properly, and although he sets more than enough reminders for me, I always get distracted. Then, before I know it, I've forgotten all about it.

Grey jokes that I have the short-term memory of a goldfish, and heck, he's not wrong. It's a recurring theme—my mom used to say my head was always in the clouds.

At home, being the middle child of five, it wasn't so noticeable. My parents, who emigrated from Greece to the US, worked tirelessly to give us a decent life. There wasn't much money around, and my clothes were hand-me-downs from my older brothers, but none of that matters now. Nobody asks if I got into MIT with a scholarship or if I ate ramen for months to avoid starving.

These days, I wear name-brands, which are perpetually not ironed because some things never change. But one thing that did was my parents' lives, from me sending them money every month from my more than ample paycheck. It's my way of giving back for all their hard work and sacrifices.

I'm doing what I love with the people I love.

Life's fucking perfect .

Passing the mirror in our apartment, I catch a glimpse of my rough appearance—unshaven face, unruly curls, and dark circles under my dark brown eyes.

Correction—life would be perfect if I could get some sleep.

Insomnia has been my constant companion for as long as I can remember, part of the curse of a mind that never stops racing. Falling asleep is a nightly battle, and when I do manage it, waking up is another struggle. I've learned it's better not to even try sleeping if I have important things to handle the next day, or I risk sleeping through alarms and missing deadlines.

Thankfully, Grey has taken it upon himself to literally drag me out of bed if he's up and ready while I'm still buried under the covers. The telltale shadows under my eyes are a constant reminder that I'd probably need a month of sleep to catch up on my deficit.

Ironically, the upside to my sleepless nights is work. The late-night coding sessions with Oliver have actually helped speed up the Jamie project, turning my bouts of insomnia into productive work marathons. While Oliver goes to bed in the early morning, I keep working until Grey gets up and joins me, doing his own thing.

The three of us work as a team to bring this vision to life.

When I walk into our shared office at the apartment, they're sitting in front of our monitors, showing a loading bar. "What did I miss?" I ask, trying to catch up as I fall onto my desk chair.

"It's still initiating," Grey replies without taking his eyes off the screen.

I glance over at Oliver, who seems unusually focused on his phone. "And what are you doing?" I probe, curious.

"Nothing," he mumbles .

But Grey chuckles and interjects, "Amelia said she liked his silly socks, so now he's ordering a thousand of them."

Oliver rolls his eyes. "Not true, I just ordered seven… or so. And I'm subscribing to a box service that sends new ones every month."

"Jesus, and you keep telling me you're not obsessed," I tease, laughing as Oliver's ears turn red.

I get why, though. She's… well, noticeable. But I would never go there. If I wanted to spend my sleepless nights with company again, I'd go out and find it somewhere else.

Don't shit where you eat.

And don't make a move on the girl your best friend is obsessing over.

Lately, I'd rather be outdoors between pine trees than inside spread thighs anyway.

I'm getting old.

A year away from thirty, and it shows.

Just then, the program chimes, and suddenly, we see Amelia at her desk. She's sitting with one foot on the chair, her knee pulled up to her chest, dressed in gray sweatpants. Her laptop is open in front of her, and her hair is piled into a messy bun on top of her head.

My eyes widen. "What the fuck? You guys put cameras in her apartment?"

I would've never agreed to that, but both of them tend to dismiss ethical concerns for technical advancement.

Grey scoffs. "As if we could have done that in the thirty minutes you were gone."

"Then how?" I press, puzzled.

Oliver taps on his keyboard. "I guess she set them up herself… yes, it's her setup. She gave us full access, so Jamie barged his way in there."

"Huh. Okay, but we told Langley that we're live monitoring everything for the beta, so she's aware that we can see and hear her, right?" I check, wanting to make sure we're all above board.

She doesn't look like she knows we're watching.

Or I'm a pretentious asshole, and she doesn't give a fuck about us seeing her in loungewear.

"Hell yeah , I made that clear to that asshole. Wanted to make sure he knows not to pull any shady or gross shit while I have to listen in," Grey adds with a grimace. "Speaking of, can you see him?"

Oliver types some more, then shakes his head, "No, he's not there. She also has some sort of advanced motion detection that thermal maps the apartment. She's the only one in there."

"Why does she have all that?" I wonder aloud. Some sort of security system? She is a woman living alone, after all.

"Is this part of some new smart home device we haven't heard of?" Grey frowns.

"I don't know," Oliver admits. "But I could—"

Voices filter through the speakers, cutting him off.

"Shut up, guys. I want to hear what they're saying," Grey cuts in.

Jamie's voice fills the room again, louder this time since Oliver ups the volume. "It's nice to meet you, Amelia. Do you prefer Amelia or Amelia Charlotte?"

I turn to look over at Oliver, who whispers to himself, " Charlotte ."

Amelia snaps, "How do you know my middle name?"

Well, that's a sore spot, it seems.

"Wouldn't call her that, buddy," I mutter to Oliver, amused by how wide his eyes just got.

Jamie continues, "I scanned all the information available in your systems, including your birth certificate, to ensure I can serve you effectively."

Grey cringes as he types some notes. "We need to word that better."

Jamie rattles off Amelia's biography like a Wikipedia entry, and it's fucking impressive.

"Fuck, your girl is smart, Ollie. What the hell is she doing as a system integration specialist? She could have her own damn department for AR or VR."

We have similar educational backgrounds, with Oliver holding a PhD in artificial intelligence, Grey in cybersecurity, and mine in human-computer interaction. We each chose our fields, knowing precisely what was needed to make this future project work.

And Elysium gave us idiots our own department to lead, so why not her?

Oliver frowns. "This all just doesn't make sense. Most of all, why she 's the one beta testing."

"Don't act like idiots," Grey interjects. "You just heard it. She's working under Langley, and I bet he just pushed it onto her since he didn't want to. I already guessed that he was not into testing when we told him about it, and he didn't really pay attention."

"But he should have known we'd figure it out. Again, we told him we'd be listening in," Oliver points out, his frown deepening.

Amelia's voice cuts through, sharp and clear. "Jamie, no, just stop."

"Fuck, he's running off too fast," I note. "Guess we need to make the initializing process longer. Jamie's perfect with us since he knows our preferences, but we have to hold him back until he has more information to act on, or it will overwhelm people."

Now Jamie adopts a British accent, and pub sounds start playing in the background.

Oliver puts a hand over his face, groaning. "Holy shit. "

Grey nods. "Given her face, it does seem to overwhelm her for sure. Damn, maybe she's not made for this. She looks fucking helpless. What do we do?"

Oliver's already typing away. "Maybe I can…"

Amelia, unaware, cuts him off, commanding, "Stop all activity, pause, and listen."

We all fall silent, just like Jamie does.

"Let's start over, okay? I don't want you planning or anticipating anything for me until you understand whether those are things I even want," she clips.

"Not so helpless after all," I smirk, impressed.

There's some fire under the shy exterior.

Amelia continues, "You've shown you're capable, and that's amazing."

"Oh yeah?" Grey frowns, looking over at me. "She's complimenting an AI."

"And you know he will react to it. He can understand emotions and knows how a human would react to certain things, so he is able to imitate it," I explain, feeling proud of our creation. "Having her interact with him as if he's human is exactly what I wanted."

"How about we take some time to get to know each other before you try to improve my life?" Amelia suggests to Jamie.

I laugh, shaking my head. "She's freaking amazing." Grey is still scowling at me, and Oliver looks a little clueless, so pointing at the monitor, I add, "She spotted where we needed to improve and just found the solution for a quick fix herself. Otherwise, we would have to abort the whole mission or troubleshoot the system while it was running. Not what I planned to do this evening."

We turn our attention back to the monitor, and I now notice how tidy and clean her apartment is. It's all white and beige, so different from the dark wood and colors of our place. And there, in the back, is a massive fish tank.

"I need to know what's up with that fish thing," I murmur, more to myself than anyone else.

Amelia stands and walks over to her kitchen, tapping her finger on the countertop. "All right, so I'm Amelia, and I prefer to be called Amelia. You don't have to speak formally to me. I prefer casual."

"Yes, ma'am," Jamie responds, making me chuckle.

"You sure you didn't overdo it with his humor?" Oliver asks, shooting me an exasperated look.

But then Amelia laughs. "You're a cheeky little thing, aren't you?"

" She likes it." I shrug, thoroughly enjoying this.

"Okay, what's there to say? I'm not good with people or talking, so I'm more than fine with my position at Elysium. I would appreciate it if you could help out with managing emails or small stuff like that, but I don't need you to handle anything else job-related unless I tell you to."

"Noted," Jamie agrees, but I don't.

"What? Just because she can't stand up for herself, she's working a job she's overqualified for? If that were a thing, Ollie would have never made it out of that crappy IT support technician job he had in college."

"Ha-ha," is all Oliver says, but Grey smirks at me.

The shy guy who's barely able to keep eye contact had to help out old people who came in with glitchy phones and shit.

It was hilarious to watch.

"I don't want to go back to London. Preferably ever. I still have family there, so they call or write every now and then, but I'm not planning to visit them, so you don't have to either," Amelia continues .

"You think it's the family or the city?" Grey shoots me a look.

"No idea, but given her tone, there are definitely issues there." I tilt my head to look more closely at the beauty on my screen.

What could have driven someone like her to leave everything behind?

"Her heart rate just spiked too," Oliver mumbles, and Grey and I lean in to see what he's looking at.

"Some sort of biometric data tracker? What the fuck? Who is this girl?" Grey seems to grow more frustrated by the second, but what frustrates him intrigues me.

"Hmm… what else do you need to know?" Amelia asks, her nose scrunching up in thought.

"The quality of those cameras is unreal. It's like they are everywhere. I can switch between them and even zoom in," Grey mutters while Oliver grabs the microphone and brings it to his mouth.

"What are you doing?" I hiss sharply, but he just ignores me.

We made sure the AI would work flawlessly for the beta test, even if it meant we had to intervene. Losing face in front of a colleague wasn't an option. If Jamie faltered or couldn't perform a task, we'd step in discreetly. The beta tester would be none the wiser, as they wouldn't know who was speaking or managing the responses. It would all appear seamless from their end.

And give us time to fix our fuckups before we go live.

"Tell me a little more about yourself. More personal things. What do you enjoy?" Oliver asks her, and I'm relieved he manages this without his usual stutter around her. That would've been a giveaway. AI doesn't stutter.

"Okay, so I'm a vegetarian. I like to read romances of all kinds. My favorite is Jane Austen, but I also read modern stuff as a guilty pleasure. I enjoy music, especially piano. I love to go on hikes or watch the sunset. But, well, I guess you can scratch that. I did that with my brother back home. I don't know the area here, so I haven't been on a hike for years now…" She trails off, and the real Jamie quickly chimes in.

"I could look up some hikes around here and provide you with the path, navigation, and how long it will take. I can tell you what's best to wear and what kind of diet would be most beneficial the day before, during, and after the hike."

"Damn, he's more eager than Oliver," Grey mutters, typing notes—probably about toning Jamie down a bit.

Fuck, she's an outdoorsy girl?

I'd love to show her the hiking grounds around here just as much as Jamie would.

Amelia laughs, and it's a nice laugh. "You can do all that?"

"I'm here to help with whatever you need. Whether it's managing your schedule, controlling home devices, or even providing company," Jamie explains while Amelia settles onto her couch, yawning.

I glance at the clock. It's almost ten p.m. This whole setup has taken ages.

Another thing we need to streamline.

"Company, yeah, that's your big selling point, isn't it?" Amelia quips, sounding half-amused, half-skeptical, and a lot tired.

"I can't seem to find any social interactions in your calls or over text," Jamie notes clinically. "August seems to be the only one you're in contact with, and he hasn't responded to the email you sent a month ago. Would you like me to send a follow-up? "

"No," her response is curt, but there's an undertone of hurt in that one syllable.

"Ex-boyfriend?" I whisper, raising an eyebrow at Grey. The same thought seems to flicker through his mind, given his scowl—fucking hope it's an ex.

If that guy's leaving her on read for a month…

"Are you lonely, Amelia?" Jamie's question cuts through the room, and I snap my head toward Oliver to check if it was him, but it wasn't. It's all Jamie.

Fuck.

"Dammit, maybe I have to work on his tact." I cringe inwardly.

Amelia remains silent for a long stretch. Finally, her hand moves toward her head, but she pauses, stares at it, then shakes her head and lets the hand fall back to her side before leaning even more into the couch.

"Can you read books out loud? Say, if I wanted to hear something from my collection?"

"Absolutely," Jamie responds promptly. "I can read any text in milliseconds. Would you like a demonstration?"

"Maybe later," she murmurs, curling up on her side. "It's intriguing. The idea of an AI that could understand and anticipate needs based on interaction. It's like having a very efficient, non-intrusive roommate."

"Write that down as our new marketing slogan," I joke, but neither of them pays me attention, their eyes glued to the screen.

Jamie's voice softens. "I aim to be unobtrusive yet helpful, Amelia. Please feel free to adjust my settings as you see fit."

"I will," she murmurs, barely audible. We watch as her eyes flutter closed, and she relaxes on the couch, the lights in her apartment dimming subtly.

"Looks like the integration with the smart home's completed," Oliver murmurs. "He just sensed that Amelia fell asleep and dimmed the lights accordingly. Now he's lowering the blinds."

"So, initiation successful, you think?" I ask.

Oliver nods. "Now we just wait and see how the human interaction plays out with the devices he's managing on an everyday basis."

"Okay, I guess there isn't much more to do now. You guys can head out and go to sleep. I'll take the first watch," I offer.

"You sure? You know I can stay," Oliver offers, tone unsure, but Grey is already standing, stretching his limbs.

"She's just sleeping. I can go over some of the emotional settings again while it's quiet," I explain, looking forward to watching her sleep.

Why am I looking forward to that?

"If you say so," Oliver agrees and stands too. "Good night," he adds, heading for the door.

Grey claps a hand on my shoulder before stepping out of the office and closing the door behind him. I settle in, watching Amelia's soft breaths, the occasional twitch in her sleep, and her steady heartbeat while working on the operating system.

The unanswered question still hangs heavy in the air.

"Are you lonely, Amelia?"