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Your heart was racing, and you felt the cold sweat as it dripped from your pores onto the back of your neck. The pretty young hostess, whose name you couldn't remember, had just called your name. You were a shoo-in for this round. A quick glance over at the old guy in the faded red and blue sweater on the other side of the table confirmed this.
He'd had the look of a long shot right from his first words on the topic, just like all the rest of the contestants. The hostess hadn't noticed that, though, because his accent had thrown her off. You had to wonder if, maybe, the producers had arranged for him to be there, to act as an early loser that the audience wouldn't feel too bad for. You were glad that they'd thought of it, because as well as you were doing, you sure had no intention of being the first one out.
"I'd like to go first," the old guy said, his tone still shy, unsure, despite his great topic and his sure-sounding words.
You nodded.
He started with speaking about one of his favorite books, one that spanned 'hundreds of years and continents far away'. You cut his talk short: "I read the book too. I liked it a lot. It helped me see the world in pretty much the same way, I think. I, uh, may not have studied it quite as closely as you did, but I think you make a strong case."
His cheeks blushed a shade of pink you didn't know he was capable of, and he nodded quickly, embarrassed.
You continued, trying to show him that you were just as friendly to him as he was to you. "And yes, I got really depressed similar to your condition when my grandfather died. I'm sorry for your loss."
After he'd forced out a small emotional gasp, he smiled at you, and your heart melted a little. He seemed to have accepted it, and you smiled back at him.
"So what happened?" you prompted. "What was the trigger that made you think you were losing everything?"
He went on, all self-confidence and soft tones again, like the kind you heard often on television. Your eyes were drawn to his lips, which often moved as he spoke. You wondered if they were as soft as they looked. "I was studying some history about a war some years back. And it was around the time I had just finished my first year of college. I thought I had my life all figured out, you know?
"But, somehow, I realized," he began again, staring intently at you, "that I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I had just assumed that I would settle in and work at my father's air courier company, but now I wasn't so sure. And then, on top of that, all my professors told me that I was going to be a failure if I didn't find a way to settle down in some subject, and I didn't know what that was."
You nodded. "Sounds familiar," you started to say, but the hostess cut you off by calling for your turn to speak.
You sighed. You forgot how common it was to get cut off when speaking.
But you weren't going to let the hostess or the other students to get to you now. Your turn had come, and you had to give it your all, no matter what you'd known beforehand.
You stood, smoothly. "I'd like to hear what I think, if that's OK," you said.
"Of course," the old guy said. "I'd love to hear what you think. And, I'd also love to get to know you. I know you don't want to talk much socially and all, but I want to start a conversation with you. Something about the show would be perfect for that."
You laughed a little, but radiantly. "I'd love to do that. I think I'm going to enjoy it, that's for sure."
You sat down, and the hostess continued with introducing the rest of the two-person teams: the girl on the red lawnchair, and the guy in the black sweater. She just mentioned it in a bland way, but it worded, "You'll also get a chance to ask each of their questions after they've spoken".
And you did.
After you spoke to the guy, you turned toward the girl. "I'd like to talk to you next."
The host paused for a second, knowing that by now you noticed what this may mean for the other guy. She turned toward him, and he nodded. "Alright," she said.
She said her name was Samantha, and she said she was from New York, a neutral state in the conversation. Her speech was also neutral, an honest monotone, without many odd pronunciations or weird accents. You weren't quite sure if you heard any kind of regional accent, though.
"Hey, Samantha," you said. "What do you think about artificial intelligence and its dead end?"
Her eyes were serious, but her mouth seemed to be smiling with the question. She said, "I think it's like the real world. You create something new, and it's great you've found an answer. But the problem comes when you're expecting the answers to the questions you didn't even ask yet. It just seems like you don't want to leave anything in the hands of someone who might not deserve it. The real thing is, you bring it into the real world, you have to start to wonder what you can actually make this sort of thing do, with it. It's hard.
"And it's easy to forget that it's not perfect. Its knowledge may not be extensive enough to always be practical, so the world won't be as safe as you expect it to be. But again, that's the thing with you humans. You want everything to be fast, you want it to be easy."
You nodded. "It sounds like some of the arguments for AI that I've been reading a little about. I agree with you that it's going to be different from anything we've ever imagined. But I also think you're right that it's going to be a little scary. I'd like to ask you about that in a few months. We'll see if you think the same thing."
She shrugged. "I'm sure I'll think this up again a couple weeks from now. But I hope it comes up next time in a more optimistic dress."
You smiled at her, and you felt like a smile playing around the old guy's eyes, too. That was something nice between you two, at least.
"Oh, and by the way," you said to her, "I have a sister. Would it be OK if she sent you a message on Facebook?"
She said she'd love that.
Your sister got in touch with her soon after, and you later found out that they had hit it off well. You also told your sister that you'd like to ask your partner on a date if you had a chance. She said she understood.
That night, you were surprised to see a message from your partner on Facebook, inviting you to a party he was going to hold next week.
You told him you'd love to see him, and you waited for the day to arrive.
On the day you were going to the party, you were in no doubt that you looked amazing in those nice clothes. You agonized for some time about what you'd wear, and you were glad to see that it was all for a good cause. You'd wanted to look perfectly perfect, after all.
You knocked on his door, prettily. A moment later, he opened it, and your face flushed at how handsome and handsome he looked. Immediately, you thought of the old red sweater he was wearing on the show, and you had to keep yourself from laughing, because you knew how he felt about it.
He smiled politely at you, but he had a look in his eyes that you couldn't quite read. That lasted for a second, then you blinked, and it was gone. He invited you in, and you asked him again if this was really the right address.
"Yeah, it is. I wanted to throw this party here. It's not too much to ask for, is it? It's right here in the dorm," he said.
"I guess not. But I'm wondering why I'm here before everyone else, if you didn't want me to come in early with you."
He flushed. "I'm... a little nervous," he said.
You nodded, then you stood there for what felt like forever, and he didn't go on. You decided that maybe you should be the one to say something. "Why are you nervous?" you asked.
"I didn't know what to do, when you invited me to this," he said, still frowning.
"Well, I thought you were going to set up some snacks or something. That's all I wanted," you said, not knowing what else to say.
He laughed, and you tried not to react to it, but inside, you felt like your heart had melted a bit.
"All that I can promise for is that I'll really try not to make you feel bad tonight," he said, and his eyelids were now drooping a bit.
"I appreciate that," you said.
He nodded. "But I've been wondering something," he said.
"What is that you're wondering?"
"Well, do you know why I asked you on this date?" he said.
You shook your head. You just assumed that he was starting to like you the same way you were starting to like him.
"I asked you because I'm interested in you."
Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and you saw a look in them, as though he was saying just what he truly felt.
"I've never thought that I'd find somebody like you," he said, and he came closer to where you were on the verandah. He reached for the rail by your hand and put his to hold it. "How long has it been since you've had a boyfriend?"
You shrugged. "A little, a little over a year. We were never really very good at communicating, you know? I haven't found that many guys in that period, but I'm still young, and there are still plenty rising."
He nodded. "Well, I've been lying about this for the last few years," he said. "And I probably shouldn't now, and you probably shouldn't hear this, but I've been lying to you all this time. You're not the nice girl that I see, and I can't really protect you the way I want to. I don't have a lot of luck with girls, and I'm worried that I might not have one if I let you down."
You stared at him for a long moment, then you swallowed, and you said, "I think I understand. I've always felt that I was the only girl who was able to use this. I feel like it can really make you happy. And it feels like you're growing up a lot in the last few years, and if I asked you not to do those things, then you might not be able to have those kind of things afterwards.
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