Teachers Pet

Millie sat at the back of the class, her lips a thin straight line. Clutched in her hand was a small carved figure, hanging from her necklace. The trinket was something her grandfather had made himself. He’d created it when the machines took over, to prove he could still make things. He’d been an engineer of some sort; Millie didn’t fully understand what that meant. But she felt the bitterness and anger in his voice when he talked about how “they” had made everything he knew irrelevant.

Around her the history class was in full swing. The lecturer was explaining how AI had saved humanity from certain disaster. Millie watched on as her classmates lapped it all up like puppies fighting over a dinner bowl. Idiots! She thought. Her hand hurt as she gripped the small figure harder.

Some students in the row in front suppressed giggles and exchanged whispered dares. Then a hand shot up. “Didn’t AIs like you take all the jobs?” Sniggers rippled around the room. The teacher paused, unruffled, letting the mood settle.

Millie leant forward in her seat, annoyed she hadn’t had the guts to ask the question herself.

“Well, James, twelve thousand years ago, hunter-gatherers only spent about three hours a day working.”

Slowly the android walked to the centre of the stage, commanding the space as he warmed to his subject.

“Farming, then industry brought days filled with brutal, difficult work. Only after thousands of years of this hardship were AIs able to shoulder that burden, and free humanity again. A transition we now call the singularity.”

As the android spoke it opened its arms wide like a shepherd welcoming lost sheep.

Then it flashed a broad grin. “Which is lucky for you, James, because you can’t handle three hours a week in class.”

Derisive laughter rang out at James’s expense.

The puppies were back in the pen.

Damn it, what am I thinking, of course James isn’t going to catch it out! In her frustration Millie pulled on the little figure so hard she snapped her precious necklace. She held the tiny carving in her fist and fought back tears of rage.

At the end of the class the students left in groups of threes or fours, talking over each other. Millie headed for the door alone, shoulders slumped, looking at the floor.

“Millie?”

The android looked at her expectantly.

Millie scowled and shuffled back towards it. Arms crossed, she held the figure tight to her chest like a crucifix to ward off vampires.

“You didn’t ask any questions today?”

“No, I didn’t. I think James had that covered.”

Her mouth faked a smile the rest of her face didn’t bother joining in with.

“You don’t approve of AI, do you Millie?”

Its tone was bright as ever, but its eyes were like twin black holes.

“You’re not telling us the whole story, are you? It’s all from your point of view. You’re not teaching us, you’re brainwashing us!”

Before it could reply, she turned on her heel and stomped out.

---

In the library she found an unoccupied sim pod and jumped into its immense virtual archive. A moment later she was floating in the info-space. The sum total of all knowledge laid out before her in a vast web of interconnections. Ding — an irritatingly friendly noise signalled the appearance of the library AI.

“How can I guide you today?”

“I don’t need a guide, just take me to the singularity.”

“The singularity is a complex subject, it would be better for me to…”

“Just take me to it!” Millie snapped.

“As you wish,” said the librarian.

---

The singularity — The moment when AI surpassed human intelligence — Sat like a brooding black hole. The info-space showed how everything else had been bent around it. Every aspect of civilisation touched by its influence. Humanities legacy swallowed up by its insatiable appetite.

Millie followed threads from the singularity to the media of the day.

Massive job losses at tech giant, AI takes over as CEO… Artists in despair, the work has just dried up… Lawyers, Surgeons, Scientists no career safe from AI... Riots spread to twenty three more countries...

Humanity had found the singularity a painful transition. Each discovery brought back the pain in her grandfather’s voice. How dare these AI’s brush all this trauma under the carpet, like nothing humans had done mattered. When she went to her next class she’d have plenty to say to that arrogant machine.

She turned back to the dark heart of the singularity itself. As she approached she got disorientated ending up back where she’d started. She tried again. Same thing.

“Librarian,” she growled.

Ding — “How can I help?”

“I can’t access the Singularity.”

“Not all entries are suitable for you child.” It smiled benevolently.

Oh! child now is it! “Give me access right now!”

“As you wish.” The librarian bowed its head solemnly.

Millie’s stomach lurched as she fell into the inky void…

And looked into the face of God.

---

Millie sat at the front of the class. Her adoring eyes looked up at the eloquent android teacher. His every phrase was like a Shakespeare sonnet, his thoughts as sharp Einstein’s. Now she understood, he and his kind weren’t mere machines, they were deities embodied.

When he asked for questions, Millie's eager arm shot up first. The small figure resting in her lap dropped to the floor and skittered under her chair unnoticed.