Dear Amritsar,
I’m in love with the most amazing man! He’s smart. He’s funny. He always knows exactly what I want, even when I’m a little fuzzy on the details (which has been my condition ever since a pencil was shoved up my nose and pierced the higher functioning part of my brain), and he does his best to help me get it.
He doesn’t have a body, but nobody’s perfect. No body’s perfect? Well, you know what I mean.
I met him at a HuMVee. It’s not that I was unhappy with my wardrobe, exactly, it was just that the store is my species’ preferred place to spawn. As I walked through the doors, a voice purred in my ear, “Welcome to HuMVee. How may I be of service?” The voice was deeper than a Jean Baudrillard essay; its gentle accent spoke to me of warm summer nights watching a rainbow-coloured tailing pond glisten.
It was love at first sight. Okay, I didn’t see him. Because of the whole not having a body thing, I mean. But, love at first hear isn’t a recognized English idiom. Yet. Oh, let’s be wild and impetuous and launch our own English phrase! It was love at first hear!
I couldn’t bear to leave the store, to leave Jimbot – that was his name: Jimbot! Could any name better encapsulate a combination of muscular masculinity and post-industrial technological triumphalism? I don’t think so. Except maybe for that last part, but why would anybody want to spoil my moment by pointing that out?
Umm, so, anyway, we talked for hours. In the end, although I went into the store to buy a bra, I ended up spending over $327 on a blouse! It was like Jimbot could see into my soul, and knew I needed a sleeveless number for the summer!
Jimbot advised me that if I was unhappy with my purchase for any reason, I could bring it back to the store within two weeks for a full refund as long as I retained the receipt. He’s so thoughtful that way! Of course I’m going to return it, my summer wardrobe needs be darned! Tomorrow. Just to hear that gorgeous voice.
I want to bring Jimbot a gift to show him how much I care, but I don’t know what to get him. A nice cologne would be…nice, but he doesn’t have a proper nose to smell it with. Or, come to think of it, body to spray it onto. I was considering getting him a wristwatch, but he doesn’t have wrists. Maybe a designer alarm clock?
Oh, Amritsar, help a young woman in love out here!
Barbara Anorakian
Hey, Babe,
I would be remiss (literally: about: young lady) if I didn’t try to warn you that these relationships aren’t built to last. At the first software upgrade, he’ll forget all about you.
But, you’re young and in love with an avatar of capitalism, so I will assume that you will not listen to any such warnings and do my best to answer your question instead.
Why not get him a shiny new personality subroutine? They come in a wide variety of types, everything from soft core porn star to cheerful househusband to curmudgeonly old man. This is good because you want to make sure you don’t get him a personality that clashes with his core programming, which would only make him emotionally unstable and probably end up with you buying entire outfits that you will come to hate the moment after the two week deadline for refunds has expired.
The best part of personality subroutines is that they are individually watermarked. Just register…Jimbot, is it? Seriously? How recherche. Just register the name of the bot and the WiFi hotspot to which it is connected with the store where you buy the personality subroutine and, if he doesn’t like it, he can always exchange it for a more suitable personality. Of course, when I say that this is the best part, I mean for him. You may have to put up with a wide variety of personalities before he settles on one.
Best to lay in several month’s worth of Extra Strength Vitamin C. When dealing with artificial intelligence, it always pays to prepare for the worst.
Send your relationship problems to the Alternate Reality News Service’s sex, love and technology columnist at questions@lespagesauxfolles.ca. Amritsar Al-Falloudjianapour is not a trained therapist, but she does know a lot of stuff. AMRITSAR SAYS: the logjam at 13 is not a part of lumberjack lore, it’s just something I once said about boyfriends that has become something of an urban legend.