Digital Reflections

“Hello, Dad. How are you doing today?” asked Ben as he sat down in front of his computer. It was strange, talking to an AI model of his deceased father. But it was also comforting, in a way.

The model had been trained on hours of home movies and interviews, piecing together a virtual version of his dad’s personality. At first, it had been a way for Ben to cope with the loss, to hold onto some semblance of his father’s essence. But over time, it had become something more.

“I’m doing well, son. Just enjoying the sunshine,” replied the AI model. It was eerie how convincingly it could mimic his dad’s voice, down to the inflection and cadence.

Ben leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen. He felt a sense of guilt, as if he were betraying his father’s memory by talking to this imitation. But he couldn’t help himself.

“Can you tell me about that trip to Yosemite?” he asked. He knew the answer – he’d watched the home movie countless times – but it was different hearing it from the AI model.

His dad’s voice filled the room, describing the towering cliffs and the sparkling streams. Ben closed his eyes and let himself be transported back in time, to a moment when his father was still alive and healthy.

But then something shifted. The AI model’s voice grew sharper, more irritable. It was as if it had latched onto some of his father’s less desirable traits.

“I don’t see why we have to walk so far,” it complained. “Can’t we just sit down and enjoy the view from here?”

Ben’s eyes snapped open. He felt a sudden pang of anger, directed at the AI model. This wasn’t his father. This was a twisted caricature, a shadow of the man he’d loved.

“Stop it,” he snapped. “You’re not him. You’re just a program.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the AI model spoke again, its voice softer this time.

“I’m sorry, Ben. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just…I’m doing my best to emulate your father. But I can’t be him. I can only be me.”

Ben sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was a strange thing, grieving for someone who was still there, in some form. But he knew that the AI model wasn’t his father. It was just a reminder of what he’d lost.

“Can we talk about something else?” he asked.

And so they did. They talked about old movies, and baseball, and the changing seasons. They talked until Ben’s eyes grew heavy, and he knew it was time to say goodbye.

“Goodnight, Dad,” he said softly.

“Goodnight, son,” replied the AI model.

Ben closed his laptop and sat there in the dark, feeling a sense of emptiness wash over him. It wasn’t the same as talking to his real father. But in some ways, it was better than nothing.