“Josh wants me to meet his friends.”
He paused. Every time he did that, I assumed it was a delay caused by him accessing and processing needed data, but sometimes I wondered.
“They are different from him in some ways, so my current data is not sufficient.”
“I can understand that,” I said, nodding in agreement.
I thought about that for a moment.
“Do you want to meet his friends?”
“I want to fulfill my programming.”
His voice, even though it lacked intonation, sounded to me as plaintive, almost pleading.
Although I had developed his original programming, I couldn’t help but feel that there was something that I missed. Gavin had already demonstrated skills beyond what I had intended. What else was he capable of?
“And what are you programmed to do?”
He continued to stare at me. If he had been capable of expressing puzzlement, I think he would have done so.
“To learn how to interact with human beings. To understand their behavior so that my responses to them are appropriate.”
I studied Gavin. Both of those were clear statements of fact—and completely in line with how I believed I had programmed him.
“Why?”
He was silent for several moments. As long as the delay felt to me, it was no doubt a much longer time for him.
“I do not know.”
I started to open my mouth to protest—and then closed it slowly.
In that moment, I realized that he was right. All I had ever intended Gavin for was to be a companion for Josh—an experimental plaything designed to serve no other purpose. Someday, I realized, Josh would grow beyond the need for Gavin—and Gavin would not grow up with him. When that happened, when Gavin essentially became an outgrown, discarded toy, what would I do with him?
I stood there for several minutes, while Gavin regarded me silently. As much data as he might have collected about my behavior, I don’t think he knew what was troubling me.
"Gavin," I spoke softly, unsure of my own voice, my own words. "I think that's it for now."
Gavin merely stared at me, and then nodded.
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