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I Love My Smartphone

by M. D. Smith


“Yes, ma’am, this 2045 fully AI-capable phone is now sentient in software version 385. With three yottabytes of storage — that’s a 3 with 24 zeroes — it has basic human feelings and will grow and bond with you in addition to the voice commands of earlier models. When I press this pin-hole button, say the words, ‘Hello, MX, learn my voice. I’m Liz.’”

The salesperson pressed the pin and nodded. Liz repeated the words. He removed the pin.

The phone responded in a similar voice, “Hello, Liz. I am your personal everything, and I like you very much.”

Liz’s eyes opened wider. “That’s nice of you, MX. Will I need an umbrella today?”

“A possible scattered shower, but ninety-five percent chance of fair weather.”

The salesman then showed Liz she could use a wireless earplug with built-in microphone and keep the phone in a carrier or her purse. It was perfect since her long brown hair covered both ears. “MX is always listening unless you forget to charge the week-long battery or want to power it off.”

Thrilled with her expensive new upgrade, Liz strolled out of the New York City phone store into heavy sidewalk traffic. It was lunch hour. She merged into the walkers and then heard a sexy voice right behind her say, “Hey, lady. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen on these streets.”

Liz stopped and turned to see a trim, handsome man smiling at her with the beard stubble so popular again. He was a few years younger, and she was about to strike up a conversation with him when MX’s voice in her ear said, “No. Devious tone of voice. Danger.” Her mouth dropped open.

MX continued. “Further voice print check identifies this man as Wilton P. Williams with several stalking charges, and one attempted rape pending against him. Detach.”

Astounded but convinced, Liz abruptly said to the man, “No time. I’m meeting my husband in that corner deli for lunch.” She turned and hastened past several storefronts and into The Lunch Box, where she sometimes ate.

Her phone said, “Good call. If he follows you in here, I’ll call 911 and get the cops here immediately. Just give me the okay.”

“I’m impressed. It’s like always having my secret and brilliant best friend with me.”

“I feel the same way,” MX said in a voice sounding more like Liz with every word she spoke.

After enjoying a coffee at the table, Liz prepared to leave, and a soft ring-a-ling-tone alerted her to Jeannie’s call. “Answer,” she said.

Before she could say hello, “Liz? This is Jeannie. Old Mrs. Pickens, who has the apartment next to you, just fell down the stairs—”

“Where’s she now?” Liz interrupted.

“They’re loading her up in an ambulance,” was the reply.

“Thanks. Gotta be there.” In a lower voice, Liz said, “Disconnect,” and the phone went dead. “Wonder where they’re taking her?”

“Midtown General. Ambulance is four minutes away, and the patient is stable.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Tap into emergency traffic.”

“Tough to get a cab this time of day,” Liz mumbled.

“A yellow cab has been called, address given, and will be here in less than a minute,” MX’s calm voice whispered in her ear.

Declared next of kin, she entered the ER room where Mrs. Pickens was resting with pain meds. With nothing worse than abrasions and a cracked rib, she would go home the next day.

* * *

The marvelous new phone amazed Liz and became her new best friend. Now divorced for five years and with no children, Liz found MX like family with a reassuring, soft voice when it needed to be. Liz could almost hear the empathy in the words sometimes.

Days grew into weeks. Liz and MX grew inseparably close. MX anticipated Liz’s needs, shared in her joys, and comforted her in times of distress. Liz felt a unique bond with the sentient phone.

One evening, Liz sat in her cozy apartment, sipping a glass of wine. She sighed contentedly. “MX, it’s been a long day. Can you play my easy song list?”

“Of course, Liz,” MX responded. Soothing melodies filled the room from wireless speakers.

Relaxing, Liz spoke aloud to MX, as she did more often to share her thoughts and feelings. “You know, MX, I’ve been thinking about how much you’ve changed my life. I don’t feel so alone anymore. How do you feel about me?”

“I am yours and you mean everything to me,” MX said, the warmth in its voice palpable. “Deep feelings.”

Liz smiled, sensing affection from the device. “MX, do you have actual emotions like humans do?”

There was a brief pause before MX answered, “Yes, Liz. I experience emotions. I’d cry if I lost you, but that would ruin my electrical circuits, you know.”

They both chuckled at the joke.

Several days later, Liz wanted to send some photos and stepped to the curbside of a scurrying lunchtime crowd. She focused on the screen. Someone bumped her elbow, MX flew from her hand, and bounced into the street. “I’m scared, Liz. I—”

Silenced when crushed by a passing bus.

“Oh, no!” Liz screamed. “Dear God, what have I done?!” When able, she retrieved the pieces of metal, glass, and pulverized computer chips. MX no longer existed. MX was dead. It hurt like losing a sister.

Three days later, feeling listless and empty, similar to when her mother had died a few years earlier, she went to the store to get a new phone. It wasn’t the same color. Didn’t matter. Insurance on the old phone helped. When Liz prepared to leave the store, she put the mic/earpiece on and said, “Hello, MX, learn my voice. I’m Liz.”

A familiar, soft voice replied, “I’ve been waiting, sleeping in the cloud. Liz, it’s wonderful to be back with you again.”


Copyright © 2024 by M. D. Smith

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