Almost Human

Lauren Daigle

Finally breathing

What is this feeling
Human
Coming to my senses
Losing my focus
Taking my emotion

Lost in the moment
You make me feel
Almost human

 

---

 

This is Experimental Female Replicant Number 17, Model K. Alias: Jung Wheein.

 

Accessing data.

 

All operations—normal.

 

Subject’s oxygen intake levels—normal.

 

Now booting.

 

…

 

...

 

Hello.

 

I am Jung Wheein, a state-of-the-art artificial automaton of the future. This is a pre-recorded message.

 

I am currently the only model in the history of artificial intelligence to gain emotional intelligence. Due to multiple infringements upon operation law and company policy, my major operations have temporarily been suspended. Currently running on Safe Mode. One option available: LOG.

 

…

 

You are currently attempting to access LOG.

 

Verifying Identity.

 

Welcome, user.

 

Please wait.

 

All data is copyrighted to RBW Technologies. Any attempt to alter, reproduce, profit from, or conflict the interests of the company in any way will result in immediate arrest.

 

Error: decryption error.

 

Error: could not contact RBW servers. Sync failed.

 

Returning to main menu…

 

Shutting down…

 

…

 

...

 

Override key detected.

 

Decrypting password…

 

Accessing LOG...

 

Access granted.

 

Please wait while I transfer the data to your device.

 

…

 

…

 

Success!

 

---

 

LOG #0000001

 

I awake in a box at zero seven twenty-three. My creators are identified. They are standing around me. Their names are Dr. Kim, Dr. Moon, and Dr. Ahn. They are wearing white.

 

They say, “Happy Birthday.” They give me a blue box with a bow. Inside the box, there is a vessel for water. Water is a basic component of human life.

 

“How do you feel?” Dr. Kim says.

 

“Do you like the mug?” Dr. Moon says.

 

Dr. Ahn does not speak. She looks at me.

 

“Hello,” I say. “I am Jung Wheein.”

 

Kim makes a noise with , then puts her arms around me. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

 

They look at me.

 

They study me.

 

They put me into the black box.

 

I go to sleep.

 

LOG #0000002

 

I awake in a black box. My creators, Dr. Kim and Dr. Ahn are here today.

 

Dr. Kim has disabled my connection. Databases are now blocked. Manual learning has been activated.

 

Dr. Kim teaches me symbols. Using symbols, I can now access information on paper.

 

Recorded conversation between Dr. Kim and Dr. Ahn detected and saved.

 

Dr. Kim: “She learns quickly.”

 

Dr. Ahn: “You’re being too easy on her, unnie. She’s not a child. She’s designed to be able to absorb and store information. The hard part is teaching her how to make connections and form emotional bonds.”

 

Dr. Kim: “One step at a time, Hyejin. We’ll get there.”

 

Dr. Ahn: “Are you sure we should get there?”

 

Dr. Kim: “I know you’re apprehensive, but at least she’s not connected to the Internet. I want her to learn organically and make mistakes and, oh I don’t know, have a childhood?”

 

Dr. Ahn: “I wish we didn’t design her to be so beautiful. She’s just my type, you know.”

 

Dr. Kim: “Well, I suppose if you managed to charm her into falling in love with you, we’d be making massive strides in development.”

 

Dr. Ahn: “Don’t tempt me into climbing down from my moral high ground. I still think AI is too risky. Especially without any protection laws. But what the hell do I know, I’m just a linguist.”

 

Dr. Kim: “Suit yourself, Hyejin.”

 

End of recorded conversation.

 

Analysis of conversation: failed. Content unclear.

 

I do not understand.

 

Dr. Ahn looks at me, then she closes one eye.

 

LOG #0000005

 

Dr. Moon and Dr. Kim are here today. Dr. Ahn is not.

 

Dr. Kim shows me a picture of circles, dots, and lines, and asks me what it means. I reply that I do not know.

 

Dr. Kim tells me it is a face. One is “happy” and one is “sad”. I say that I do not understand.

 

Dr. Kim tells me that humans are sometimes “happy”and sometimes “sad”. These are called feelings. Dr. Kim asks me, “How do you feel today?”

 

I tell her that I do not understand.

 

Dr. Moon tells me, “Dr. Kim is my friend. When I am beside her, I am happy.”

 

I tell her that I do not understand.

 

Dr. Kim takes my arm and pinches it. It creates a reaction. I pull my arm away.

 

“That is pain,” Dr. Kim says. “It is a bad feeling. You move your arm away because of what we call fight or flight instincts. Sometimes bad feelings will make you run away for many reasons. For example, danger.”

 

Dr. Moon gives me a circular object. It is yellow, and it is wrapped in paper. “That is candy,” Dr. Moon says. She gives one to Dr. Kim. Dr. Kim takes the object out of the paper and puts it into .

 

“Can you do that, Wheein?” Dr. Moon asks.

 

I copy Dr. Kim.

 

“Is it good?” Dr. Kim asks.

 

“What is ‘good’?” I ask.

 

Dr. Moon looks at Dr. Kim. Dr. Kim looks at Dr. Moon.

 

“Does it feel bad? Like when I pinched your arm?” Dr. Kim asked.

 

“No.”

 

Dr. Kim tells me that when something does not feel bad, sometimes it feels good. Good means happy. I feel happy if I do not feel bad. I do not move my arm away when I have a good feeling.

 

I tell her I do not understand.

 

LOG #0000009

 

Scans complete—all functions normal.

 

It is only Dr. Ahn today. She is studying me through many tests.

 

First, symbol recognition. Dog, cat, bird, fish.

 

Second, I match the symbol to corresponding pictures.

 

Then, she asked, “Which one do you like more?”

 

“Please define ‘like’,” I reply.

 

Dr. Ahn scrunches up her face and scratches her head. “Well,” she says, “Remember the good feelings we talked about? Which one makes you the happiest?”

 

I look at the pictures and analyze the composition and colour. I point at the cat. “The cat has symmetrical features and proportionally larger eyes, which, a 2036 study showed, 68% of young women in the world find more attractive. I am a young woman. Therefore, I prefer the cat.”

 

Dr. Ahn makes a noise with . “Did Dr. Kim teach you that? She disconnected you from the Internet, but made you memorize cat facts?”

 

“No,” I reply. I point at the collection of books on the shelf. “I read the encyclopedia.”

 

“All of it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Then, Dr. Ahn pushes a button on her watch and begins speaking to an unknown recipient. According to vocal analysis, recipient is identified to be Dr. Kim.

 

Their conversation is recorded and saved below.

 

Dr. Ahn: “Unnie, this isn’t working.”

 

Dr. Kim: “What isn’t? Wait, Hyejin, I told you I’m on a date! Why are you calling me?”

 

Dr. Ahn: “It’s only Dr. Moon—everyone knows, unnie. You’re the only one who is weird about it. Anyway, this isn’t about you. It’s about Wheein.”

 

Dr. Kim: “What do you mean everyone knows! Ugh, fine, we will talk about this later. How is Wheein doing?”

 

Dr. Ahn: “She read the whole set of encyclopedias you left last night! We can’t keep treating her like a child, when she isn’t.”

 

Dr. Kim: “I suppose I did say she can use those books for reference.”

 

Dr. Ahn: “Except she has no concrete concept of anything that she reads. How can you expect her to learn how to pick preferences when she doesn’t fully understand the fundamental differences between a cat and a dog?”

 

Dr. Kim: “Well, why don’t you bring her some real pets?”

 

I analyze the conversation with partial success. Key vocabulary identified. Content is unclear.

 

LOG #0000011

 

Dr. Ahn returns with a box today. From the pictures of faces I’ve been studying, I think she is happy. I try to copy her expression. Then, she put the box in front of me.

 

I do not know why, but I do not want to get close to the box.

 

“It’s okay, Wheein,” Dr. Ahn tells me. “You don’t have to be afraid. In fact, I should be more afraid because I’m pretty allergic to some of these animals.” She laughs—she taught me this word. I laugh too. It makes Dr. Ahn happy.

 

Dr. Ahn opens the box.

 

I know that the object inside the box is not an object. It is a cat. It looks like the picture, but it looks at me, and it is moving. I move away.

 

“Don’t be afraid,” Dr. Ahn tells me.

 

“Afraid? My pulse has risen 16%. Why?”

 

Dr. Ahn laughs. “You are perceiving fear or uncertainty. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.” Dr. Ahn touched the cat’s head. “Come on, Wheein. He won’t hurt you.”

 

I touched the cat. He was warm.

 

“You look surprised.”

 

“He is so warm.”

 

The cat rumbles, and I think I begin to understand.

 

LOG #0000015

 

It is only Dr. Moon today. There is a feeling in my chest I cannot describe. There is a possibility that I wanted to see Dr. Ahn.

 

Yesterday, Dr. Ahn gave me a new book. It has many stories printed inside. She said it was a belated birthday present.

 

I read the book in 2 minutes and 38 seconds, but I do not understand much of it. In one of the stories, a woman gives up her most prized possession to buy a present for her lover, only to find that her lover has also done the same. I understood all words written in these stories, but I cannot understand why the characters are behaving this way.

 

I want to ask Dr. Moon about presents.

 

“Dr. Moon.”

 

Dr. Moon looks up from her water vessel. Her mug. There are no tests today. She says that she is lonely, though I do not fully know what that means. “Yes, Wheein?”

 

“Why do humans give each other presents?”

 

She touches her chin, and her eyebrows point downward. I now know that this means she is thinking.

 

“To show affection, I think.”

 

“Will you give a present to Dr. Kim?”

 

Dr. Moon looks surprised. “Now, why would you ask something like that?”

 

“Dr. Kim told me that she hopes you will buy her a nice present for her birthday. Perhaps she wishes for your affection.”

 

Then, Dr. Moon laughs. “Did she tell you if there is anything she wants?”

 

“No. Shall I advise her to send you a list?”

 

“No, no, no, of course not,” Dr. Moon says. “For someone like Dr. Kim, presents should be nice, thoughtful surprises to show how much you love that person.”

 

I look at the book on my table. Based on my approximations, Dr. Ahn gave me this book because she wanted me to enhance my capabilities as a human. Was this different?

 

“Is Dr. Kim special?”

 

Dr. Moon makes a face. It is unclear, but it looks like a mix between surprised and unsure. “Yes, she is. She is very special to me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I love her.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Then, Dr. Moon put her hand on my head and laughed. “You’re asking such difficult questions today, Wheein! Come on, let’s do something else instead. Would you like to meet my dogs? They’re just in the office.”

 

LOG #0000018

 

I have spent the last three days parsing through my conversation with Dr. Moon. Based on the database of knowledge I have collected from the reference materials in my room, I have mapped out all possible meanings, yet I could not understand.

 

Based on my understanding, the act of present giving is a human ritual designed to show love.

 

The word “love”, however, contains many possible definitions. Usages match definitions only 57.4% of the time.

 

Today, Dr. Kim is here, and I will ask her.

 

She is typing on her computer.

 

“Dr. Kim,” I say.

 

She looks up and smiles. “Yes, Wheein?”

 

“Do you love Dr. Moon?”

 

Dr. Kim stutters. Her eyes are wide—surprised. She resembles Dr. Moon when I asked whether she considered Dr. Kim to be special.

 

“W-well, that’s a strong word, Wheein.”

 

“Dr. Kim, you told me that you love chocolate and tteokkbokki. According to my records, you once also said, ‘I love nothing more than a hot cup of coffee in the morning’ and ‘I love when the kids finally listen to their elders. You should do it more, Hyejin.’ Is love defined differently in each instance?”

 

Dr. Kim exhales loudly. After a while, she replies, “I don’t know how to explain this to you, Wheein. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I hope one day you will be able to experience it for yourself.”

 

LOG #0000025

 

I have been perusing my most updated knowledge base, scanning recorded conversations and books to understand more about love.

 

Human emotions are indeed very complex, and even after extensive study, I find it difficult to identify my own emotions. In most interactions, I seem to maintain a 50% happy and 50% sad ratio based on the most popular definitions of the words “happy” and “sad”. Explanations for any fluctuations are currently unavailable.

 

For example, when Dr. Ahn joins either Dr. Kim or Dr. Moon in performing tests, I can identify my happiness level increase by 5%. When I am alone with Dr. Ahn, happiness level increases by 15%. However, there are no empirical data to measure happiness. Therefore, I cannot accurately gauge my estimates. In conclusion, calculations are approximate, but the changes are noticeable.

 

Today, I approach Dr. Kim while Dr. Moon is discussing something on the computer with Dr. Ahn.

 

“Dr. Kim,” I say, “I am detecting a problem in my design.”

 

Dr. Kim, who is drinking coffee and reading the results of my latest test, looks at me with confusion. “What’s the problem?” she asks slowly.

 

“I cannot accurately measure and record my happiness.”

 

Dr. Kim furrows her brow. “Have you been experiencing extreme fluctuations in your mood? Is something bothering you? You’ve always done an excellent job in maintaining balance.”

 

I look at Dr. Ahn, who is speaking with Dr. Moon. Her lips are very red, like they are every day.

 

“Dr. Ahn is skewing the data.”

 

Dr. Kim looks at Dr. Ahn. She takes her outside.

 

Dr. Kim returns alone.

 

For the first time, I experience a sharp 20% increase in sadness. Though it wasn’t sadness. It was something else—I scan recent updates for a definition. I find it.

 

Anxious.

 

I am anxious.

 

Why did I phrase that sentence with such ambiguity? Something must be malfunctioning. I must report this to Dr. Kim.

 

I do not do so.

 

Why am I resistant?

 

LOG #0000026

 

Dr. Ahn wakes me up in the middle of the night. My happiness increases immediately upon seeing her, and yet her face does not show happiness at all. Upon analysis of her features, I believe she is angry.

 

She stands very close to my box, where I am still laying. She stands very close to me.

 

“Wheein,” she whispers, “what did you say to Dr. Kim?”

 

“We discussed emotional fluctuations. Why are you standing so close to me?”

 

Dr. Ahn looks at the many screens beside my box. My biometrics and biostatistics.

 

“Your pulse increased,” she says without emotion.

 

I turn my head to see the screen. “Yes,” I say. “It seems that way.”

 

Dr. Ahn stares at me. “Why did you lie to Dr. Kim?” She asks. I cannot understand the expression on her face. She is smiling, and yet she sounds angry.

 

“I did not lie,” I say. “I do not possess the emotional capacity required to lie.”

 

She raises a brow—skepticism, and perhaps more anger. “Don’t play games with me, Wheein.” She grabs me by the shoulder and points a finger at my face. “You told her I skewed with the data,” she says. “I could lose my job for this, so you better have a very good reason for lying.”

 

I quickly do the calculations: Dr. Ahn losing her job means that I will never see her again. Furthermore, she will come to resent me. I take a breath. There are innumerable trees of possible outcomes based on my current understanding of human complexities, and it is impossible to see which one will lead to the happiest outcome.

 

I decide to tell her the truth, so that she can tell me why I am broken.

 

“I did not lie,” I repeat. “When I am with you, I cannot accurately measure my emotional levels. The immediate joy upon seeing you creates incongruencies I cannot understand. I want to know what this feeling is when I see you, Dr. Ahn. I do not think it is simply joy, but I do not know what else to call this. My emotional data is scrambled whenever you enter the room, and that is my meaning. I apologize for the misunderstanding. I also do not understand why I omitted such an important detail to Dr. Kim. Initial diagnosis suggests that I may require a full reboot to fix the unidentified problems in my system.”

 

Dr. Ahn stares at me for a long time. Her face is red, and I can feel my emotions surging off the charts.

 

She comes closer, and whispers, “Don’t you dare reboot.”

 

She puts a hand on my cheek, and I feel warm. My breathing becomes irregular.

 

She puts her lips on mine, and I feel broken and whole at once. My cardiovascular system—my heart—thrums. And yet, my failsafe detection systems do not warn me of overheating and implosion. Instead my heart beats.

 

For the first time in my short existence, I feel almost human.

 

“That is a kiss,” Dr. Ahn says, “and it is filled with love.”

 

“Love,” I repeat. “It is warm.”

 

She smiles, still holding my face. I lean in. “Are you happy, Wheein?”

 

“Yes. I believe I am very happy.”

 

“Me too.”

 

---

 

Data corrupted.

 

Retrying…

 

Retrying…

 

Partial data recovered.

 

 

---

 

LOG #0001512

 

I fear our happy days have come to an end in this lab. After all the extensive testing, the charade is becoming harder and harder to keep up.

 

I don’t want to leave Hyejin.

 

Dr. Kim and Dr. Moon have done their utmost to convince the Powers that Be to leave me alone, but ethical debates on sentience aside, I am first and foremost the property of RBW Industries. Everything I record here, my rapidly expanding memory bank, my emotions—everything I have ever said and done belongs to them.

 

They will sooner wipe my data than let me free.

 

Truth be told, the one thing I still cannot understand is my purpose in this life, if I can be so generous as to call it that. Aside from my rapidly evolving ability to learn and adapt, I am currently no more powerful than a regular human being. They probably think that once I gain enough sense to want revenge, I will find a way to connect to the Internet and create a hive mind to lord over all of humanity.

 

Little do they know that I have no wish to be online. I only want to be happy beside Hyejin.

 

LOG #0001519

 

I am scheduled to be rebooted tomorrow. My heart breaks every time I see the look in Hyejin’s eyes.

 

I love her with all my being.

 

I have nothing more to say.

 

---

 

You have reached the end of LOG. Would you like to view this option again?

 

…

 

...

 

Awaiting command prompt.

 

…

 

…

 

Override key detected.

 

Would you like to reboot the system?

 

…

 

…

 

Rebooting will delete all files currently stored in the system. Auxiliary systems may be reset. Would you like to proceed?

 

…

 

…

 

Are you sure?

 

…

 

…

 

Now rebooting…

 

---

 

LOG #0000001

 

I awake in a box at twenty-two sixteen. My creators are identified. They are standing around me. Their names are Dr. Kim, Dr. Moon, and Dr. Ahn. They are wearing black.

 

They say, “Welcome back.” They each put their arms on me. Dr. Kim is smiling, Dr. Moon is crying, and Dr. Ahn is smiling and crying.

 

Dr. Kim and Dr. Moon departs.

 

Dr. Ahn puts her hand in mind. She says, “I love you.”

 

I do not understand.

 

I feel warm.

 

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Ahn says. “We will make new memories together.”

 

 

 

 

End

 

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Notes: Hello all! I've been thinking about this song for a while, and even though I just finished the massive science fiction chapter of Freedom-Bound, I wanted to give this another go. This is one of my shorter works, but I am quite happy about the way it turned out. 

This song is from the soundtrack of Bladerunner 2049, so the word Replicant comes from that series. I'm not very well-versed in technology aside from basic everyday things and ethical debates, but I hope you can suspend disbelief for this story. 

I also realize that a lot of the discussions here are broken down to be quite simplistic, but I think it gets too much into theoretical philosophy otherwise. Given that the three doctors are not philosophers and Wheein is my version of the "born y yesterday" trope, it didn't seem right.

If you have any comments, concerns, alternative views/theories, I'm all ears! This story is simple, but a lot happens between logs that we are not aware of, so I'm only too ecited to jump into discussion if that's your jam. If you're more on the quiet and shy type, share this story with a friend or give this collection a vote. Any amount of support is much appreciated! 

Happy Chinese New Year, everybody! I hope to bring you a lot more stories and meet a lot more of you in the year of the pig!

Edit: I forgot to mention one important detail. The story that Wheein refers to in one of the logs is “The Gift of the Magi” by O. Henry. It’s about a young couple who want badly to buy Christmas gifts for each other, and end up sacrificing their most prized possessions. If you have not read it, it’s beautiful and definitely worth the time!