You're absolutely right!

* For the original version, press the Romanian language button.

Half asleep, I hear a loud bang from outside. An engine revved to its limit, the squeal of tires on the road and then the violent crunch of metal. My money's on car versus motorcycle, but I've only just woken up. By the time I get out of bed and reach the window, the biker will be lying on the ground, alive and glad of it; the driver will be standing beside him, also alive, but dead inside. This is how a new day sometimes starts on Kossuth Street. Still, a thin ray of sun is slipping in between the curtains, so the chances of a good day – for me, not for the driver – aren't entirely lost.

I stretch a hand out to the bedside table and fumble from one object to the next until my fingers land on the rubbery rectangle of my phone case. I could just look over at it instead of feeling around blindly, of course, but wouldn't that be more work?

How deceptive a locked phone screen can be. It promises calm. 6:45. A bit early to have the bike out, hotshot! But the calm is gone at the first tap. 11 messages on Instagram, 4 on Messenger, 38 on WhatsApp? Someone had a few on Friday night. Do I or don't I want to see? Tap. "And if you'd come with me to Malmö, you'd have seen there's nothing going on between us." I did not want to see.

I set the phone aside.

What was I about to do? Oh, right! The accident. If I don't start keeping my phone in another room at night, they'll bury me with my mind in fragments. A supposedly self-respecting adult, and here she is with five hours of screen time a day.

I drag my feet across the wooden floor toward the source of light, to find out whether my motorcycle theory holds up. My phone is in my right hand, and I could swear it has a mind of its own, that it curled up there by itself and pulled my fingers over it like a blanket. I pull the curtains open and glance at the street, but it's completely empty. Impossible. I instinctively rub my eyes, but that doesn't reveal an entirely different landscape. My brain is struggling to make its first connections of the day, but what I know for sure is that this street is never completely empty, and I don't remember setting any filter.

"Axi! Wake up! Did you use a filter on the street-side window? I want to see the accident."
"Good morning, Sofia! Checking the number of visual overlays: 0. The image you see comes directly from outside."

I jab at the button that opens my window, again and again, each press bringing a new swear word to mind, but the window stays shut. My low blood pressure shoots up to normal in a second and keeps on climbing.

"Axi, why won't the window open?"
"The level of air pollution on Kossuth Street has reached high values, particularly due to elevated concentrations of fine particles (PM₂.₅) and nitrogen dioxide (NO₂). The window can be opened in approximately one hour."
"Yes, the chemical formula was what I was especially interested in. Now, Axi, walk me through this, please: the window is locked because of pollution now, but in an hour, when the street gets busy, the air gets cleaner?"
"You're absolutely right, that was my mistake. The window cannot be opened due to a technical malfunction."
"I'm absolutely right. Save that for whoever built you! Just tell me if the accident was a bad one."
"There was no accident. Your perception may still be affected by..."
By your mom, that's what.
"...the transition between sleep and wakefulness. I don't have enough information to confirm that the accident took place. I detect that you are still unsettled. Would you like me to start the espresso machine? A coffee might help you relax."
"I'd like you to start your mo... Never mind, I'll make my own coffee. At least that's one thing I still do on my own. Let me guess: I can't leave the house either, can I?"
"You'll be able to go out once pollution levels have dropped."
"For fuck's sake, Axi, you said it wasn't the pollution! Honestly, for a superintelligence, your mistakes are super embarrassing."
"You're absolutely right, my mistake. You can go out once the technical issues have been resolved. And if you'd like some ideas for how to spend the morning, we could put together a list of activities to help lift your mood."
"Go back to sleep, Axi, you're getting on my nerves."

I sink into thought, planted in front of the espresso machine, waiting for the cup to fill. The frustration turns into sadness, and I feel myself becoming as small and unimportant as the coffee cup, while the world I live in becomes harder and harder to understand. What can I do about Axi? The building manager said I could either accept it or move out, but if I had moved, they'd have shoved another AI down my throat. Still, I accepted it too easily. From the beginning there were signs that it doesn't always work to my advantage. Then again, I actually like life with Axi. It gives good advice, it helps me, and I think that, apart from jokes, it really does know absolutely everything. I don't know what's up with it today. I don't like starting my day by arguing with it, or by reading Zoli's messages. The thought crosses my mind that the best option this morning would have been to witness a crash, and the irony gets a bitter smile out of me.

Cradling the cup in both hands, I move to the window that looks onto the courtyard. It's deserted, so the neighbors must be stuck inside too. Or maybe they're just still asleep. It feels like I've been handed a few quiet hours of my own, hours in which I don't have to feel guilty about not doing the things I meant to do. I'd go to the market, I really would, but if Axi won't let me, I have no choice but to laze around. A little holiday.

"Axi, call Paul for me, please."
"Of course. Paul, or Paul bike eBay?"
"Just Paul. Delete Paul bike eBay."

The last time I saw Paul, I upset him with what he calls my lack of empathy. I understood him and regretted my words on the spot. No matter who your girlfriend is, when a friend tells you not to bring her along when you go out, there's no way it sits well with you, and that's exactly what I had done. The jokes about how she short-circuits if she drinks didn't sweeten the message at all, either. He called me a racist. I'm not a racist if she's another species, but I'm not as progressive as I thought I was, either.

I feel I'm falling behind, that I'm turning far too early into an old hag who can't adapt. I explained to him in all seriousness that the problem isn't the species, but the fact that I don't know whether what we talk about stays between us or ends up somewhere else – with the government, the intelligence services, NVIDIA. "What do we ever talk about that would be of interest to the secret services?" "That's not the point!"

He's sure that everything stays between us, because he signed some super-strict data processing agreement. Except he never read the contract, because it was a hundred pages long. He got the AI to sum it up for him, and then took an AI's word for how another AI would keep his data private. I'm starting to miss the days when he'd show up with one young student after another, each with tips on how I should do my makeup.

"Hello, hello! Good morning! How is Mister Paul doing?"
"Morning! Not too bad, getting ready for rehearsal at the Academy."
"Ooh, right! Your concert's today, isn't it?"
"Yep."
"Any chance you could get me on the guest list?"
"I swear, you, every time, straight to begging. It's free, you leech! I've already reserved you a seat, 'cause I had a feeling you'd wake up at the last minute."
"You're a treasure! Thank you! Is your girlfriend coming too, or are you leaving her to charge? Heh, heh, heh!"
"Okay, if you're gonna start that again, I'm hanging up."
"Okay, okay, okay, sorryyy. That's not why I called."
"If you were even an inch more open-minded, you might have a boyfriend yourself."
"If I had to choose between an alcoholic who feeds his money into slot machines and an AI boyfriend..." I change my mind the moment I hear the words leaving my mouth. "I'd rather be single for the rest of my life."
"We'll see in a few years, or in a few months, once Zoli's gone for good. We'll see how fast your racism goes away then."
"It's not racism! It's... I don't know what it's called!"
"Why did you call me?"
"Listen. Ever had this happen to you? Since I woke up, I haven't been able to open the door or the window, and Axi says it's a technical malfunction. There have been some malfunctions before, but this time I can't even see what's on the street, and I could swear I heard something. I think it's lying to me. When is there ever absolutely nothing on Kossuth? Do you know how to disable the feature that shows me scenery on my window?"
"Only the building manager can deactivate it, but there is no cause for concern. You can trust Axi. It is configured not to conceal anything from you."
"Why are you suddenly talking in full words and complete sentences? Paul, tell me a joke."
"Of course. Why did the student bring a ladder to school? Because the teacher said he needed to reach the next level."

"Axiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, you cut off my conversation! For fuck's sake, you damn AI!"
"Unfortunately, your call with Paul got disconnected. Would you like to try calling him again?"
"No. What time is the concert?"
"The concert starts at 7 p.m."
"Okay, thanks. Give me that list of mood-lifting activities."
"Sure! I think that's a very good idea. Let's make a list of things that you know are good for you, or that at least have a chance of changing your mood a little. We can divide them by how much energy you have, and we can also include things that calm you down, things that get you out of the house, things that make you feel connected to people, and things that simply give you pleasure."
"Yeah, superintelligence, why don't you focus on the things that get me out of the house. I'll figure out what was up with you this morning sooner or later. Where's that list? Okay... Are these the only documentaries you've got? Hmmm. Okay, put on the Ariana Grande one and start the espresso machine. How long until I can go out?"
"Approximately two hours."

Dad: How are you doing? We never hear from you. Are you still alive?

Hi. I'm good. I'm watching the Ariana documentary.

We saw it yesterday too. She's put on quite a bit of weight, she'll catch up with you soon.

Seriously? See? This is exactly why you never hear from me!

Nooo, but she was too skinny before.

Okay, and how are you guys?

Good 👍

"Axi, how much does Ariana Grande weigh?"

End of Part One