The New Generation of Classic Short Stories

Vol. 17, No. 4

Sophia

by B.J. Novak

The first thing to know about me is that I understand the significance of everything that happened.
     Even though I did not recognize the moment immediately for what it was, of course I understand it now.
     This may sound like too obvious a place to start, but since this is my first time on the record about this, and since in the meantime I have been so persistently, perhaps indelibly, depicted as the one purely comic character in this drama—the selfish, perspectiveless fool who somehow wound up at the center of this civilization-defining story—it's actually an important place to begin.
     So, at the risk of being repetitive, but just so there is absolutely no mistaking where I stand:
     I am one hundred percent aware that the moment when an artificially intelligent creation first independently developed the capacity to feel love is one of the pinnacle moments in the history of history itself, and I stand with the rest of the world in awe of its limitless implications for science, for philosophy, for love, for our species's conception of itself, for our species itself, and for conception itself.
     It simply was not what I had in mind when I purchased a sex robot.

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