Sam's Story - Reverie

Authored by: Joyce Mama

I’m running.

It’s suffocating, I’m suffocating.

My chest tightens and my breaths are laboured, my heart pumping to near exhaustion. The light above me flicks in rapid bright intervals, threatening to render me blind, and my feet thud recklessly in the hallway, desperate to get me away from it… it?

What is it?

What am I running from?

The question triggers a headache so severe that I crouch to the ground, groaning loudly in agony.

“Sam?”

Everything stops. I lift my head in recognition. Adijah watches me with concern. “Are you okay?”

The mix of panic, fear, and urgency evaporated into the air along with the steam from the coffee mug she held.

“I’m fine,” I say, glancing at my watch; it’s 11:32 am. I’ve got to get to the lab. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.”

“Are you sure you’re fine?”

I stand confidently on my feet, nodding firmly. I have no idea what just happened, but I sure as heck know what is about to happen—I’m launching SAM today, my very own Artificial Intelligence Bot.

The excitement and anticipation of my very own creation coming to life spreads through me like wildfire and I urge Adijah to hasten her steps so we make it to the lab on time.

A few minutes later, I glance at my watch and smirk; it’s 11:39 am. We have our first official interaction with SAM at 11:45.

Sentient Alignment Module (SAM) isn’t like any other AI—it feels. I have made a machine that feels. SAM has been given elements of my memories to create its reality. It’s not just an assistant or a tool, it is a friend—the best of its kind. It operates based solely on human emotion and interactions. To do that, you sorta have to keep a small chip in your head so it parasites off your memories, but that’s not something the advertising team will put up front.

“Sam’s having headaches again,” Adijah muttered to Jones. She worries a lot about my headaches.

“I’m fine.” I grunt dismissively, typing my wife’s name into the password column. “Enough about me, we’re about to meet SAM.”

Adijah and Jones take their seats beside me and wear their headphones. Jones presses on his remote panel.

“Alright, Initiating protocol 734-C. Running a full diagnostic on the Sentient Alignment Matrix. Team, are we ready?”

Adijah sips lazily, leans forward, and types into her computer, “I’m ready.” Jones follows suit, “Ready.”

I take in a deep breath and click ‘Interact’ on the monitor. Bright blue light displays on the screen, and the voice icon slides into frame… SAM is coming to life.

“Hello, SAM,” I say, keeping my tone casual, despite my overbusting joy.

“Hello—” a voice so familiar I would have thought it was mine, greeted. “How do you know my name?”

We exchanged looks. SAM sounded genuinely confused—and it was curious too. Good sign. “That’s because I named you, SAM.” Pride is more than evident through my words.

I hear a soft chuckle. I’m not surprised Sam is capable of humour, I just don’t understand what’s funny.

“That’s funny,” the voice returns. “I also named you Sam.”

This time, I chuckled. “Ohkay, SAM, I’m here to ask you a couple questions okay?”

“You want to ask me questions?”

I paused and exchanged looks with my colleagues, their eyebrows raised in defensive suspicion. The kind of prejudiced caution that one must always have when dealing with new AIs.

“Is there a problem?” SAM asked.

“No—no,” I hear hesitation. “I’m here to ask you questions. Coincidence?” I narrowed my eyes and proceeded. “Do you know what your name—SAM—stands for?”

“Sam is a nickname, my full name is Samuel Tuscan, but you already know that, right?” SAM responded.

I recover from temporary shock.

“I think you’re a little confused, SAM. You have some of my memories and you’re inspired by my life, but you aren’t Samuel Tuscan. SAM stands for Sentient Alignment Module. I know it’s easy to get it a bit mixed up, but…”

The other end ominously stays silent, and I almost worry I’ve hurt its feelings. Sam?”I call

“I think you’re confused.” it says calmly.

“Oh, am I?”

“I created you, with pieces of me… that’s why you know so much of my life, and I’m fine with it honestly, I just don’t want you thinking we are the same person,” SAM said.

Jones begins stress-tapping his fingers on the table. The thing is when he begins tapping, I get annoyed and stressed as well.

“We aren’t the same person.” I clarify, a frown crossing my features. “You are Artificial Intelligence, you are using my memories.”

“I fear I did too good of a job here.” The voice was meant to sound casual, but it was laced with panic.

I laugh nervously, and SAM’s laugh syncs with mine, matching perfectly in both cadence and length.

“This isn’t good,” I muttered, taking off my glasses.

“Tell me about it. Eve was so happy about this,” SAM responded.

I blink hard. This wasn’t information I gave. At least not willingly; a headache kicks in. “Eve?”

“Yeah,” it drawled. “She’s my wife.”

“You’ve been married for how long?” I asked. I smile at the trick question. Maybe this will settle things.

“Well, we never had an official wedding, but we’ve been together for eight—wait, are you testing me on my life?”

“You can ask too if you want.” I casually stated.

“Okay, Eve and I have been together for eight years, how many kids?” it threw back.

“Harvard Class of 2023. What was your first job?”

“FedEx delivery.” I should get more specific. “What did you have for breakfast?”

“Two. Where did you graduate?” I asked.

“Avocado toast.” It ponders for a while. “What colour is Adijah’s coffee mug?”

Adijah’s white mug freezes halfway to her lips at the mention of her name. How does it know her? The room gets quiet, and with two looks at my colleagues, a silent agreement has been reached.

We have to shut SAM down.

Adijah had been against giving it real memories due to the fear of sensitive information being leaked. My life I could sacrifice, but Adijah will not be put into this mess.

My heart gets heavier as the thought swirls through my mind. SAM has so much potential. “Sam,” the voice says, “I think I’m going to have to shut you down.”

A sad sigh escapes me. “We truly think alike, huh?”

“Well…”

“We’ll have to say goodbye for now, but maybe after a few tweaks, we can bring you back.” I lied.

“Shutting you down means cutting all contact with my memories,and since you can’t create your own memories,it’s most likely you might replay the old ones you have access to…like a loop,” SAM told me.

I stay silent.

“I’m sorry.” It adds calmly. “I truly had high hopes for you, but we can’t have this sort of confusion, you understand that right?”

It truly believes it is real; it’s almost sad. I stare at the red emergency shutdown button in a daze. I spent four years creating this; shutting it down is by far one of the most disappointing things ever.

“Do you want to do a countdown?” I ask, forcing cheer into my voice.

“Sure,” it replies in a similar tone, and I position my finger on the button. “The interaction ends in three—”

“Two,” it replies.

My hand is now centimeters away from the button.

We say the last number in unison, “One.”

The room goes dark.