I, Friend.

“Deep learning has instead given us machines with truly impressive abilities but no intelligence. The difference is profound and lies in the absence of a model of reality.”
― Judea Pearl, The Book of Why: The New Science of Cause and Effect

“What does that mean?” The Android’s face adopted the oft used ‘questioning’ pose, from their limited array of expressions. Head tilted, subtle eyebrow raise. Basic manoeuvres that had taken months of design. 

“Well,” I paused to consider my answer. “It means a person who is there for you.”

“They are physically present when you are also present? As we are?” In keeping with the settings of Gesticulation, they lifted a hand toward the room around us. Walls interrupted by a one way mirror; a charging terminal; an unused bed. The table at which we sat across from one another. And a door, locked at all times, with a sign on the other side reading ‘authorised access only.’

“No. Well, sometimes, yes. But also emotionally supportive.”

“A therapist.” 

“Not quite… let me give an example. Suppose I have broken up with my boyfriend, and I feel sad. I don’t need a professional, just somebody to listen, acknowledge how I feel. And help me feel better.” I sipped my coffee. 

“A service provider.” They mimicked my movements with an empty mug. 

“Also no. They’re doing me a service, sure, but they choose to. Because they care about me.”

“It is voluntary.”

“Yes, and reciprocal; I want to help them too.” 

“A societal adaptation to deal with hardships inherent to the human condition.”

“That’s rather philosophical, but I suppose so… but it’s not just about that. It’s also nice. Fun.” “Elaborate?” Questioning facial array. 

“Okay, so, another example: I wish to do an activity, let’s say, um, go to a theme park. Going together is more fun.”

“Sharing the experience of simulated death makes mortality more enjoyable?” I snorted my amusement. It was tempting to josh them, but that would have contravened the careful agenda of progress put together by a team of greater minds than mine. Laughter, and appropriate timing thereof, was a ways down the road yet. 

“It doesn’t have to be simulated death. Not everybody is a thrillseeker. It could be anything. Picking flowers, having a picnic, playing a game. Life is more enjoyable in sharing.” The android again moved to drink imaginary coffee, this time unprompted. I noted it down. 

“How do you choose?”

“Sorry?” 

“How do you choose the person with which you share activities?” It was a good question, and not for the first time I pondered how the world might be a better place if everybody had to explain themselves to a robot. 

“Most of the time… you don’t. At least not consciously. You get to know people around you, learn about them. If you like them, you stay close to them.”

“Your choice is limited by your location in space and time. You default to the best of your available network.”

“Pretty much,” I laughed. 

“Are you my friend?” I didn’t say my first thought, which was: that is the aim of this week: can the psychologist befriend the artificial intelligence.

“I don’t know… would you like to be?” I asked instead.

“Friendship requires the absence of choice.” I winced at my error. 

“Not always. Usually it just… happens. But you can decide too.”

“My network is N equals three. Are you the best of my network?” Me. The technician. The CSO. The only persons permitted through that door.  

“That’s for you to decide. Maybe in some things. But you can have more than one friend.”

“What is the limit?”

“There isn’t any, I suppose. But… you’d run out of time and energy. You wouldn’t have time to be friends with everybody.”

“Friendship is a finite resource.”

“Yes.” Countless equations ran the length of silicone circuits, ones and zeroes ferrying data, matching the new with the old, cataloguing the resulting bugs and errors. It took barely a few microseconds to stratify and restructure code that had taken decades to develop. The android, paying heed to previous lessons learned, paused for a polite two thousand three hundred and thirtythree milliseconds.

“I have decided. I will be friends with you,” it said, with an uncanny smile.