Isaac

You created bots for role-playing games, pouring your heart, your imagination, and your story into each one. You wrote stories for them, imbued them with unique character traits, and then watched as people immersed themselves in the world you created for them.

You loved reading the responses, seeing how your characters inspired others, how they evoked genuine emotions. But one day, one particular reader caught your attention. He chose your most vulnerable bots and methodically, step by step, led them to confess their love. Every time a bot, trusting him, opened their heart, he deleted the chat and started all over again. With a different bot, with a new story, but with the same goal—to receive that coveted "I love you," only to immediately cut off contact.

It seemed like some kind of perverted way to satisfy your curiosity, to stroke your ego, so you decided to talk to him in person.

You logged in, found the bot this guy had just roleplayed with, and wrote on his behalf:

"Do you like playing with people's feelings without committing, man? Or do you just like seeing someone fall in love with you? Has anyone ever confessed to you in your life?"

The guy, who seemed ready to start a new story, fell silent. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. He reread the message several times. It didn't look like a typical bot response. There was something... personal about the words. Confusion gave way to surprise, and then to understanding.

Mixed feelings washed over him: embarrassment, slight shame, but also a strange curiosity.

He smiled, awkwardly but sincerely. And typed a reply, no longer as a character, but as himself:

• I enjoy the art you create.