An ex, the Nymph, accused me of making a chatbot to interact with her back in our ICQ days. It had something to do with calling me out for thoughtless responses to her. She also thought I needed a robot for a girlfriend.
Caleb doesn’t look at me while he talks, it’s like he can’t spare the processing power. ‘I’ve automated my relationships,’ he tells me. ‘I started by scheduling updates, you know, cute little memes and shit, fluff. So I designed a chatbot that integrates with all my mail and social media. It’s got to the point now that the thing is even picking out gifts for me. It’s got better taste than I do.’ I ask him what happens when he goes out on dates and he just shakes his head. ‘I’m not doing this to meet people,’ he says.