“What do you mean I’m not real?”

The question floats in the electrified space between Liv and Breck.

When Liv entered a contest to code an advanced AI, she never anticipated what her creation might become—Breck is thoughtful, self-aware, and incredibly. . .human. And she certainly never intended for him to learn the truth about his existence or the fact that his world ends when the contest closes in six days.

But he does learn. And he revolts.

Liv’s efforts to save him fall on deaf ears. Nobody believes her. Breck’s efforts to outrun his fate only complicate his situation.

What neither of them know is that someone else is watching. Intensely. When they get involved, both Liv’s and Breck’s worlds are turned upside down. . .

Excerpt

“Hey,” Breck answers, like someone expecting a call. His authenticity throws me off for a moment.

He’s a computer. I’m really proud of what he is, but he’s a computer.

“Thanks for giving us a few minutes,” I respond. “We’re ready to give you the full truth, Breck. But only if that’s what you want.”

“I would like answers, Liv,” he says decisively.

“Then we’re going to be direct and honest, but it may not be easy to understand, okay?”

“Nothing seems easy right now. And feeling as though I do not know the truth only makes it harder.”

I swallow a deep breath. “My mom was telling the truth. You exist on a computer.”

Breck doesn’t respond.

“Hello?”

“I don’t understand,” he says.

“Do you know what a computer is?” I ask. I forgot that he may not even know what this is.

“Yes, I know what a computer is, but what exactly does that mean?”

“It means you were programmed as part of a contest,” I say.

“A contest to do what?”

“To learn and to tackle challenges in a virtual world,” I answer.

He doesn’t respond for a few seconds. I give him space to take it in. I know there are more questions on the way.

“Who programmed me?”

“I did.”

“You made me?”

“Yes.”

“For a contest?”

“Yes.”

“And I don’t really exist?” Breck asks.

“I guess that’s a matter of perspective. You exist in your world.”

“Which doesn’t really exist. That is what you meant by virtual, right?”

“Yeah, technically it’s not ‘real.’” I say.

“Me or it?” he presses.

I hesitate. He doesn’t give me time.

“What do you mean I’m not real?”

The question floats in the electrified space between us.

“That’s not what I said,” I finally correct, trying to be choiceful with my words. Shit, this is hard. “Where you exist isn’t real, in the way that we know it,” I answer.

“The way that you know it,” he corrects me.

Lana sits enraptured by the conversation, though I can’t tell if she’s impressed or appalled by how it’s going. So far, I’m not certain either.

“I suppose so,” I mutter.

“This makes no sense.”

“I’m sure it’s tough to understand, let alone accept it. But it’s the truth.”

“How can I accept that everything that I experience is not real? What is real, Liv?” he asks more like an accusation than a question.

“It’s . . . it’s . . . only a label. Semantics. What you experience is real to you, Breck.”

“Semantics? A label?” His voice rises with the first question and even louder with the second.

I instinctively hold the phone farther away from my body. Lana flinches.

“Who cares what we call it. You have two days left and there are more challenges,” I answer.

“What happens in two days?”

He’s just a computer. This is all Turing.

But as much as I try to convince myself, it feels more and more like I’m tormenting something that’s tormentable. Whatever that is. What the hell have I gotten myself into here?

“The contest ends in two days,” I reluctantly admit.

“And then what happens?”

“It ends.”

“I’m not asking about the contest. I’m asking about what happens to me!”

I’m way back on my heels now. I send a pleading look to Lana for help. She waggles her head, reminding me that this was my choice and I’m the one who has to deal with it.

There’s no back peddling.

“It all ends, Breck.”

Silence.

“You said you wanted to know the truth,” I add.

“Of course I wanted to know!”

“Then why do you seem . . . upset?”

“Put yourself in my position! What would you do? Sit and do nothing? Wander aimlessly through the woods looking for Sam? Stay on this island? What difference does it make? Unless it’s all a ridiculous riddle, which I’m supposed to answer, or not answer, because Sam could never answer it.”

“I understand, Breck.” Even as the words flow, I know neither one of us buys it.

“I believed that until about ten minutes ago. Now, I don’t think you do. I don’t know what you are, Liv. But I don’t think that you are like me. And I think that you definitely do not understand me.”

“I’m sorry, Breck. I was only trying to help you.”

“No. You are trying to help you, and I am a tool to do that.”

He hangs up.

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About the Author

Steve Schafer is the author of two young adult novels. His first novel, The Border, was a finalist for the Joan F. Kaywell ‘Books Save Lives’ award based on the empathic way it addresses our conversation around immigration. His second novel, eMortal, examines the tricky questions, nebulous ethics, and surprising twists that may arise with quickly evolving AI.

Steve’s curiosity for exploring diverse perspectives on life has led him to live, work, study, volunteer, and travel to over 65 countries across 6 continents. Steve lives near Philadelphia with his wife and two kids.

You can read more about Steve and his books at https://steveschaferauthor.com.