Autopsy(Kay Scarpetta #25)(30)

Open-source Generative Pre-trained Transformer level three (GPT-3) technology is as stunning as it’s scary. This early on, and already AI is leaving human capabilities in the Stone Age dust. An avatar can look, sound, gesture, act and react like anybody the software engineers decide.

In most instances this is accomplished with video and audio recordings knitted together. Often the source of the modeling is the programmers themselves. But it also can be relatives, friends, spouses, and that’s how it started with Lucy and Janet. Their generated avatar was never intended to be the spitting image of either of them.

It wasn’t to take the place of a partner or a relationship, and I’m beyond the point of thinking it constructive to criticize. After all, who am I to say? I can’t know what’s best when technologies fantastically surpass anything humans have experienced in the past.

I came along in an era when what I’m looking at with my niece this minute was the stuff of science fiction, of Star Trek and Star Wars. I don’t pretend to know the answers I once thought I did. Including to the most fundamental questions about life and death. Are they really what we think? What makes us so sure?

Because I’m beginning to doubt it as I’m faced with an avatar that I’d swear is someone I trust and love. If I’m feeling that way, what must it be like for Lucy? I don’t want to imagine if Benton no longer were here, and I started spending my days talking to his cyber doppelg?nger.





CHAPTER 12

WERE YOU ON THE computer all day?” I sit down on the ottoman.

“I’ve been working.” Lucy pulls up a software menu, scrolling through it.

“Well, last I checked, your birthday’s not over yet, and what does Janet have to say about it?”

“I’ll let her tell you herself.”

With the click of the mouse, Janet blinks and smiles.

“Hey, babe, I’m back with a question,” Lucy says to the avatar. “Hope you weren’t lonely.”

“Yes, I was, Lucy Boo,” Janet says, the nickname going back to my niece’s childhood. “What’s your question?”

“What did you say to me earlier about my effing birthday that I’d prefer to effing ignore?”

“Two bucks in the swear jar!” And that’s classic Janet. “I said you should be happy about your birthday. Maybe people will take you seriously if you don’t look nineteen anymore,” she adds flirtatiously.

“Ha-ha, very funny. I spent this effing birthday working like any other day.” Lucy talks to the avatar as if it’s her partner. “Do you think that was a mistake?”

“You’re up to three dollars already, and such a silly thing to ask.” Janet laughs. “You always work. Birthday or not, life goes on. Things happen that have to be addressed. And besides, Lucy, you’re happiest and most at peace when you tackle problems, right a wrong, accomplish something.”

As the dialogue continues, I’m noticing that Janet’s language, gestures, her blinking and other facial expressions are vaguely stiff, too uniform and repetitive. I find her quiet and reserved. Thoughtful, deliberate and patient, rarely interrupting, and that’s who she was. Her new translation is a bit stilted, but if I didn’t know what I’m looking at, it’s likely I’d be fooled.

I might sense something’s off but never guess I was communicating with a cyber being. A programmable entity. A spaceage Siri-or Alexa-type device with a powerfully familiar voice and face, a personality so believable that I feel an ache in my chest every time I’m given the latest demonstration.

“Guess who I have with me?” Lucy continues talking to someone no longer present.

“Hi, Janet.” I hide the grief I’m feeling. “It’s always nice to see you.”

“Hello.” She cuts her keen blue eyes toward the sound of my voice, staring right at me.

“You remember Aunt Kay, and how cool that she’s decided to show up for a birthday chat.” Lucy makes what seems like a trivial statement.

But the Janet on the screen hasn’t spoken to me before. I’ve been nothing more than an observer now and then, and haven’t asked her a question directly. You could say we’ve not officially met beyond my looking over Lucy’s shoulder or reviewing the video clips she sends.

“Of course, I remember,” Janet answers, her radiant smile just like days of old. “We’ve spoken many times. It’s always nice to see you too, Doctor Scarpetta,” as she’s always insisted on calling me.

“I bet you can figure out precisely how much time the two of you have spent together,” Lucy replies. “Let’s give Aunt Kay a taste of your medicine, go ahead and do the math.”

“It will be my pleasure,” she says brightly. “Doctor Scarpetta and I have been in each other’s company one thousand two hundred and twenty-one times since our first encounter.”

“And where was that?” Lucy’s attention is locked on the image on her screen like Narcissus staring at his reflection in the pond.

“We first met at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia, when you and I were new agents,” Janet continues.

“And over the years, how often have you talked?”

“Doctor Scarpetta and I have spoken on the telephone twenty-two thousand, nine-hundred and six minutes and twenty-one seconds. Would you like to know how many e-mails and text messages we’ve exchanged?”