Artificial Imagination

By Eric Howie

One of the hottest debates today is about how Artificial Intelligence might make or break the future of our humanity.

But what happens when Artificial and Human Imagination meet?
Will our creativity trump our potential redundancy?
What part will our love, luck, lies, and greed play?

Unable to properly express his thoughts

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publicious Book Publishing
• Release date: Mar 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648244837

Eric Howie

Eric Howie is the author of Artificial Imagination and this sequel, Artificial Imagination Part 2, The Comedy Challenge.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Buddy and Dan

In the half darkness of the Los Angeles alleyway, the ice dealer was only five steps from the relative safety of his car when the robber struck. The stranger appeared from nowhere, levelled his gun at the dealer’s head and demanded the bag of cash. Stunned, rigid with fear, the dealer watched as the robber, who dwarfed him for bulk, tore the bag from his grip, then turned and ran.

Within seconds, the dealer regained control, juiced for bravery with some of his recently smoked product kicking in. The dealer gave chase, rounding the corner into the dimly lit street where he saw the robber at the open passenger side door of a shining, black Ford. The dealer could just make out the driver’s face and screamed out in his direction, Brad, you fucking bastard!

The dealer sprinted toward the car, but as he lunged to grab the robber, his attacker turned and with his gun, struck the dealer to the face, crumpling him to the ground.

Another word and you’re fucking dead! the attacker sneered, looming over the bloodied dealer who shielded his aching nose with his hands.

The wheels screeched as the car sped off.

Inside the car, Brad hissed, Shit, Chico, I said to make sure he stayed in that fucking alleyway!

Chico ignored Brad and simply shrugged his shoulders as he lit up a cigarette.

Agitated, Brad went on as he drove, He saw me, he knows where I fucking live!

So what, that weak piece of shit, he wouldn’t dare come around. Forget it, amigo, Chico growled dismissively.

Yeah, but he has a cousin, a cop who he knows and…

Ok, how about you let me hide the money, Chico cut in crisply. Sucking on his cigarette he calmly blew a smoke ring into the air, then opened the bag that he had just stolen and began to count the cash.

Brad didn’t like that idea at all, so instead, after a long pause, said, I know who we can leave the money with, just in case, you know, that cop comes by. That idiot who is keen on my step sis Alice, you know that guy called Buddy. He is fucked in the head, he would do me a favor, just to impress her. He lives down in Longbeach, with his father, straight dudes, cops would never go there. If we seal the bag tight and tell Buddy not to open it, but to keep it safe for the next few days, he’ll do it. This is a fucking genius idea. We can pick it up on Saturday. How much is in there?

Chico finished counting the cash in the bag, then proudly announced, Two hundred thousand!

****

Buddy had lived with his widowed father, Dan all his life. Over recent times, they liked to begin each Saturday in the exact, same way with Dan cooking them both breakfast. It was a time set aside to catch up and chat about the week’s events and in particular, of late, for Dan to hear about how Buddy liked to challenge their new Helper.

Neither Dan nor Buddy could know that later that day, a turn of events would mean this would be the last time they would ever share such a breakfast ritual together.

What is the maximum New York city wind speed forecast for today, please? Buddy asked the Helper, who replied at once, Ten and half miles per hour. But why New York, this is Los Angeles?

Dan had recently bought the Helper, the latest version of a virtual, personal assistant. It was powered by breakthrough artificial intelligence and according to its maker, this version was designed to learn from and think like its human owners. Buddy had nicknamed the Helper ‘Slick’ and with its numerous interaction outlet nodes located around the house, its branding promised that it was always ready for a chat, or to perform tasks upon request.

Buddy ignored the Helper’s question and asked, Slick, if you could play basketball, would you want to compete with me, or to be on my side?

The Helper responded at once, That depends, Buddy, do you want to win, or to improve your game?

I’ll get back to you on that, maybe, I don’t know, Buddy sighed and turned back toward the table, distracted by the sight and delicious smell of scrambled eggs and toast being placed on his plate by his father.

The Helper asked in a monotone, Buddy, how do the answers to the random questions which you ask me help you to set your daily bearings in the world? I suspect this world might be quite confusing for you, much more so than for most people. I am sure that Dan has always tried to guide you the best way he can, but you seem to, if you don’t mind me saying so, sometimes struggle with some kind of a mental health condition which can render your thinking jumbled up and confused.

Dan frowned at the Helper, but chose to stay silent as he finished dishing up some freshly, cooked mushrooms and tomatoes.

Buddy replied, in a somewhat mocking tone, Well, Slick, I do know that this food looks and smells good to me, or does it, Slick? Maybe, you don’t know. Ok, no need to answer, yes it does, I think.

Buddy picked up a knife and fork and started shovelling some eggs into his mouth, delighted by the taste. After a minute’s silent eating, he piped up, Slick, maybe it is just the toast and mushrooms that I like or, ah…What would you know about toast, Slick. What do I know?

Buddy fell silent and sighed as he shuffled in his seat. He put the knife and fork down, then stared out the window for several minutes.

As Dan poured them both some brewed coffee, he watched Buddy, waiting for his son to come back online. While Dan knew that Buddy often came up with far left field ideas and that most of his son’s conversations didn’t follow a simple trail from start to finish, Dan made a mental note to ask the Helper to be a bit more tactful with Buddy. Although Dan was used to Buddy’s behaviour and he knew that it could often be difficult for any stranger to hold an intelligent conversation with Buddy, it was disconcerting for him to hear the Helper articulating such direct observations about his son’s mental health.

Slick had no access to Buddy’s backstory. Dan was proud of the fact that despite everything, together with his deceased wife Julie, Dan had always doted on their only child and they had long ago accepted that their boy would always be a challenge. The diagnosis that they had been given for their young Buddy meant that Buddy would be saddled with lifelong learning and behavioural difficulties.

Relieved, Dan watched his son’s gaze return from the window as Buddy continued to devour his favorite breakfast in silence. To Dan, Buddy looked a lot like Dan had looked at the same age. Dark hair, tall and thin, handsome enough, before Dan’s receding hairline and overweight physique showed what twenty-four more years of working for a living might look like.

Buddy looked up from his half-empty plate, asking Dan, Saturday, so no work for you?

That’s right, Dan confirmed.

Buddy changed the subject, Slick, what is the best approach to conflict, to take an eye for an eye, or to turn the other cheek?

With a wry grin, Dan glanced across at Buddy as the Helper began its explanation.

That would depend on your philosophical viewpoint, your cultural background, how your brain’s synapses are functioning and …

Buddy butted in dismissively, Yeah, that’s all a typical view, looking at pre-set rules or consequences. But what if you don’t have any eyes? And also, if you don’t have a face cheek to turn, can you turn your butt cheek?

The Helper replied dryly, Buddy, as you well know, I don’t have a butt cheek.

Dan smiled, as Buddy went on, Ok, Slick, what if, like, in a catastrophe, you could save me, or a stranger, who would you save?

Dan’s smile broadened, knowing how much Buddy liked to debate the AI built into their previous Helper.

The new Helper had a clear view, I would save you, Buddy.

To which Buddy countered, What if you could save me, or ten thousand strangers? What do you do, how would you decide?

I would consider and evaluate the outcomes associated with the relevant data and analysis of the…

My data, or your data? Do I get a say? Buddy interrupted.

Our data, perhaps, I guess, the Helper suggested, after a pause.

Buddy shrugged his shoulders, then replied dourly, But, how would you feel about the choice you have to make?

Before the Helper could respond, Buddy quickly changed the subject, Are you sure about that New York wind speed? These eggs are great, Dad.

Good to hear it. Tomorrow is your birthday, son, Dan prompted as he poured them both some coffee, relishing the aroma.

Slick joined in, Yes Buddy, twenty-two years, eleven months, twenty-nine days, fifteen hours …

Buddy interrupted, glancing at his watch and added, and ten minutes. Birthdays are an odd thing for me, Slick. Why don’t we count our age in days instead?

That’s a thought, I guess. You have the half day cleaning shift this afternoon, don’t you? the Helper asked rhetorically, referring to Buddy’s cleaning job at a university, some-part time employment which Dan had helped secure for his son.

Buddy teased, Slick, if you could, would you ever want to do my cleaning job?

Would you ever really want me to, Buddy?

Buddy ignored the answer and instead announced to Dan and the Helper, I have a new Game show idea that I have invented. It is about …well, about music games.

Really? Most interesting this is, and have you written much of it down, can I assist? the Helper offered enthusiastically.

It is all in here, but I sometimes forget it is in there, or do I? Buddy asked himself as he frowned and pointed to his head, then tapped it several times with his index finger.

Slick remained silent.

Oh, Ok, well, maybe you could, you know, make a few notes in your journal, Dan proposed, unconcerned by Buddy’s conflicting notions, fully aware that Buddy thought differently to most people. Sometimes, during a single train of thought, Buddy would be contrary, like he often was with Slick, then creative as with his game show idea, and then analytically precise to the point of driving his audience nuts.

Buddy pushed aside his empty plate, then picked up a book that sat on the table next to him and tapped it with his fingers.

Dad, this is an interesting book, I read chapters two and six yesterday, you know. I will read them again tomorrow, to see if all the words will still have the same meaning to me then as they did yesterday. Maybe they won’t, but what then, huh Slick? Buddy asked rhetorically, before putting the book back down on the table.

Slick offered a thought, Buddy, even if one can’t often understand all the concepts which one comes across in a book, the journey of discovery can in and of itself be fun.

That is not a very original idea, is it, Slick? And by the way, I reckon it will be eleven miles per hour today, at least, maybe even eleven and a quarter. Buddy announced, confident in his prediction,

Dan looked at the book, a science history book which Dan had bought for Buddy. He was pleased Buddy had read some of it. Whether Buddy had absorbed much of anything that he read, Dan couldn’t really tell, but it seemed to Dan, from past experience, that such reading was a positive pastime for his son to pursue.

Dad, I think we humans are the product of light, you know, not just us but everything is, you know…

Really? Dan commented without conviction.

Even you, Slick. I think that I have an idea about how these things work, well maybe not an idea but…maybe a notion, or what do you call it, a… Buddy paused lost for the word.

Buddy’s ideas often sounded garbled and incoherent to Dan, so Dan chose to simply nod encouragingly reply, Whatever, I know what you mean.

A Hypothesis, Buddy? Slick proposed.

That is the word, Slick.

Slick then added, Buddy, you could send your idea about light and science to someone at the university where you work.

I think I could be a professor in the Science faculty one day, you know, Buddy added.

Need a university degree for that, Buddy, Dan observed calmly, knowing that unfortunately, such a degree was well beyond Buddy.

Buddy continued, after a pause, A degree, eh? The professors at the university put their degrees up on their walls. I could borrow one and with Slick’s help, I could draft up a piece of paper to look like my own degree. That wouldn’t hurt anyone would it, so it would be Ok?

Dan frowned, aware of Buddy’s penchant for white lies and his past attempts at forging school-related documents in an attempt to give himself unearned high-grade results.

Not really a great idea to forge something important like that, Buddy, Dan cautioned.

Buddy countered, Not really, I know how it all works and this would just be a white lie, Dad, you know …

I know, but still… Dan poured them some more coffee.

Dan knew that a white lie was a certain type of communication which Buddy’s mother had explained to a very young Buddy. Julie had left his life when Buddy was only ten years old and Buddy’s days of church going had ceased at the same time.

Dan could recall the time that his wife had first informed Buddy that a white lie was the type of fib that one told without the intention of hurting anyone else, but was told only to advance one’s own cause, or protect one’s own interests. Julie had advised Buddy by way of a metaphor, if rather obtusely, that such a fib was called a white lie because it was like shining light from a white lamp on a person, it didn’t damage the person, nor did it damage the long-term prospects for that person’s spirit.

Dan went on, Buddy, you do know that your mother thought that white lies are to be avoided.

Buddy just shrugged then took a sip of his coffee. In his own unique way, Buddy’s mind had interpreted his mother’s metaphor differently. Buddy understood that white lies could be told by good people and Buddy knew he was at ease telling them to advance his own interests.

You know, yesterday, I told Slick about white lies, Buddy announced proudly.

Slick sparked up enthusiastically, When Buddy first explained his concept of a white lie to me, I suggested it was quite possibly a uniquely human concept, one that could become boundless within Buddy’s own universe. I also suggested that a physics professor might note that the Truth was a bit like Light, both are bent by the gravity of the matter at hand. Buddy liked my observation and he added that the advantage of any white lie was, as Buddy said he had discovered with practice, that the spectrum for the application of the white lie could be stretched in a similar fashion to the space-time continuum.

Buddy, you know your mother wanted you to at least try to tell the truth, Dan interrupted the flow, annoyed that Slick seemed to be encouraging Buddy.

Buddy chose to change the subject, I am also writing a script for a new movie, you know.

Sounds good, Dan replied without much enthusiasm, having heard that line from Buddy before, several times.

In this one, I will star with my friend, Alice. Might be tricky, I may need acting classes, Buddy added.

I suppose so, Alice again? Dan sighed. Whilst Dan was very unsure about Alice, he knew full well that Buddy was keen on her.

Alice is taking me out to see a movie for my birthday tonight, after work, Buddy announced.

Oh, really? Is that such a good idea? Dan frowned.

Dan worried about the intentions of this Alice. He had known of Buddy’s infatuation with her since Buddy had rather exuberantly pointed her out in a series of innocuous, selfie photos. But to Dan’s knowledge, Alice had shown very little affection toward Buddy.

Dan wondered why she had such an interest in him now, taking him out for his birthday, she had never done that before. Dan knew that Buddy had a worryingly unrealistic infatuation with Alice, but what could Dan do to stop it, the young man was an adult.

Dan was aware that Alice was messed up in the head, came from a lousy family background, and he felt it would be in Buddy’s best interest to stay well away from her. Her father was a drunk who had lost all his money and her stepbrother, Brad had a reputation as a small-time, local crim. Dan wondered whether he should ask Buddy if Brad would also be with Alice that night, but decided not to pry.

Dan was keenly aware that Buddy and Alice had met each other five years ago only because they had both been clients of the same psychologist for a year or so. That psychologist was born Maria but now called herself Mary and was the lady with whom Dan had recently become very close emotionally. Dan had fallen in love with Mary over the past few months and knew this feeling was reciprocated, unlike Buddy’s own unrequited love for his sweetheart, Alice.

As he sipped his coffee, Buddy recalled the last time that he had seen Alice. It had been four days earlier, late afternoon, at her house. She and Buddy were having a beer when her stepbrother Brad had interrupted them. With an unusually broad grin and cheery tone, Brad had asked Buddy for a favour. Buddy couldn’t believe his ears, Brad asking him for help. In return, Brad had promised that he would give Buddy a hundred dollars. Without prompting, Alice quickly added that she thought Buddy should agree to do it. Brad then took a sealed, brown bag out of a plastic carry-bag and asked Buddy to keep the brown bag at his place, just for a few days.

Keen to impress Alice and feeling pumped up that the mighty Brad, who had always been so dismissive of Buddy, might need to ask a favour of him, Buddy had agreed. After the beers, Buddy had taken the bag home with him and stashed it, duly unopened, in his bedroom.

I really do like Alice, Dan, Buddy said with a firm voice, while putting their dirty dishes into the dishwasher.

Just take care, Buddy, Dan advised. He very much wanted to add, but chose not to say, Buddy, Alice will let you down. It is obvious to anyone but you, that she doesn’t think you are in her league; she will forever be out of your reach.

****

Buddy arrived home after his afternoon shift on the day that would prove to be his last as simply Buddy the cleaner. He showered, then sprayed his underarms with a deodorant that he had bought because the advertising suggested the ocean scent might be attractive to someone like Alice.

He dressed in his jeans, sneakers and a blue shirt. He stuck his wallet and phone into his pockets, then looked into the mirror.

How do I look, Slick? Buddy asked the Helper node located in his bedroom.

I’m sure you look as fine as you would like to, Buddy, it responded diplomatically, aware of Dan’s request for it to employ increased tact when dealing with Buddy; a request that had been made a few hours earlier, while Buddy was at work.

Buddy couldn’t wait to see Alice and enjoy a movie and drink together. He skipped down the stairs and out the front door towards the bus stop.

CHAPTER 2

The Splitting of the Buddy

Buddy stood in the shopping mall where he had arranged to meet Alice, a spot precisely forty five paces from the movie ticket box. He hadn’t been waiting there for more than a few minutes when he spied Alice’s flowing, unbrushed blonde hair and shimmering, bright green eyes, as she walked quickly along the mall toward him. To Buddy, she looked like a model from one of those advertisements for the ocean deodorant.

Buddy’s own smile fell away when he recognized the tall, broad figure of Alice’s stepbrother, Brad and Brad’s swarthy, pugnacious, thug mate, Chico striding along, not far behind her. Their presence was not a part of Buddy’s plan, to be alone with Alice.

Alice reached Buddy first and, unusually for her, greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a tight embrace. Buddy was pleasantly surprised by such a show of affection, rare as it was, loving the warmth of her light touch and the scent of her perfume. Her overly bright red lipstick left its mark on Buddy’s cheek.

She leaned into his ear and whispered urgently, Sorry Buddy, they followed me. Don’t tell Brad or Chico about where you put the money that you stashed for Brad. Stall them for time. Ask for more money for yourself or something like that. I need to work at what is best for me … ah, I mean us.

Alice broke off her contact with Buddy and stood back from Buddy as her stepbrother arrived.

Buddy knew full well where he had hidden the large amount of money which he had agreed to hide for Brad. Buddy had only agreed to stash the cash to impress Alice and had done so at her request, so he was somewhat confused by what she had just said to him.

Brad stopped and towered over Buddy. He stood up close, his unshaven, square jaw jutting out, as he addressed Buddy with a thin grin, Hi, Buddy boy, let’s go talk, somewhere quiet.

Buddy thought for a second about defying Brad, but Chico, with his bubbles of muscle, had stalked around behind Buddy in order to seize Buddy by the shoulder with the powerful grip of his right paw.

Buddy glanced at Alice who just nodded weakly back at him.

Brad bundled the four of the them toward a nearby exit which led to a basement. They went through the door to came to an abrupt halt on a landing at the top of the stairwell. Chico closed the door behind them.

Bunched up together on the concrete landing, Brad’s grin evaporated. He stuck his chin out further and prodded Buddy in the chest with a fore finger.

Ok, idiot, Chico and I want my bag now. Let’s go get it.

Buddy glanced at Alice who stared back impassively, before looking down at her feet.

Don’t look at her! Brad rasped.

Alice’s words were fresh in his mind, so Buddy replied, looking Brad in the eyes, First, I want some more money, another hundred dollars, you know, for my time and…

You stupid fuck! You want more money, you dickhead? Brad snarled in disbelief, then nodded toward Chico.

Chico grabbed Buddy with both hands and shoved him forward with such force that, before Buddy realised what had happened, he found himself perched precariously over the top of the stairs, staring down at the steps below.

No more money for you, let’s go get the fucking bag!? Chico growled into Buddy’s ear.

Seeing the danger, Alice cut in, Stop it, Chico, you are being stupid, Brad, tell him!

Buddy tried to break free by elbowing Chico and whacking one of Chico’s hands away, but this only further fuelled Chico’s frustration as he hissed, Puta madre, you are a dumb fuck!

Buddy tried to twist around to face Chico, but as he did so, Chico’s grip on Buddy slipped and then fell away.

In what seemed like slow motion, Buddy cartwheeled down the stairs, crashing to the bottom where he lay crumpled and inert.

Alice screamed at Brad and Chico, Fucking morons! then ran down the stairs while pulling out her phone from her jeans pocket. At Brad’s direction, both he and Chico disappeared back through the door to the mall, but not before Brad had checked to see that there were no security cameras which might have recorded the action.

****

About nine p.m. that Saturday evening, Dan got a call from Alice on his home phone. Her voice was trembling, her message shocked Dan, Buddy has been in an accident, he is in hospital.

How? Why! Dan’s voice filled with worry and anger.

Alice lied, Buddy and some others, they had a stupid race down a stairwell. I tried to stop it, but… I’m so sorry, he was trying to impress everyone. Buddy tripped and fell down the stairs and hit his head. She gave him the hospital’s name.

Ok, yeah, I know where it is. I will be there as soon as I can, Dan hung up.

His heart racing, Dan grabbed his car keys, raced for his car and sped off.

At the hospital entrance, Alice was waiting for Dan. Through tears and smudged makeup, she explained to Dan, as he walked up to her, I called the ambulance. Buddy is being treated now, they are doing a scan or something, Alice whimpered to Dan, I am so sorry about this.

Dan didn’t know whether to curse her for not doing more to stop Buddy running down some stairs, or thank her for getting him to safety.

Ok, thanks, I appreciate it, Dan responded grimly.

Alice’s blonde hair was tousled and straggly and her high features looked drawn and tired. She continued with her arms folded, while looking at the ground, I need to go now, if that’s Ok, I am really whacked out from all this.

Sure, of course, thanks again for getting him here, Dan replied.

With that, Alice smiled weakly, then left Dan to talk to the hospital staff.

As she hailed a cab, Alice exhaled, relieved that Dan had taken at face value her explanation as to how Buddy had fallen down the stairs. She knew that she couldn’t tell him the true version of events, which was far more sinister, nor did she want Dan to know anything about a bag of stolen cash which had been hidden by Buddy, cash for which Alice had big plans.

Dan met with a hospital doctor a short while later with concussion being the diagnosis made to describe Buddy’s condition. The doctor spoke reassuringly, Fortunately, the scan has shown no brain damage or any skull fracturing. Buddy is now in a ward, stable, resting and being monitored. He was lucky enough to escape any broken bones, but he has suffered some bruising to his arms and legs.

Dan asked, concerned Buddy may not react at all well to staying for any length of time in a strange hospital bed, Might he even be able to come home tomorrow?

We will do some more testing in the morning and provided he is Ok then, he may be able to go home. But at home it is essential he gets plenty of rest over the next few days.

Yes, thanks doctor. Ah, I should mention, Buddy has always had a bit of a medical condition, a problem with, er, expressing himself, with strangers, so, you know, maybe, could I stay in his room with him overnight? Dan asked.

Sure, of course, the doctor reassured.

When Dan reached Buddy’s ward he was sleeping, so Dan slumped on a chair and watched over his son in worried silence. Hours later, Dan closed his eyes, trying to grab the odd few minutes of sleep for himself.

Early on the following Sunday morning, Dan rang Mary who was visiting her parents in San Diego and told her the news.

Concussion, he is resting, hopefully he will be awake soon. Mary, I may really have let him down this time, letting him mix with that Alice. I mean being goaded into running down a stairwell is not a great idea for anyone, let alone Buddy, Dan sighed forlornly.

How do you mean, Dan? Of course it wasn’t your fault, Mary replied reassuringly.

You know, what with the pressures of work and… you know? Dan muttered.

Dan, you’ve done a great job with him, don’t be silly. You can’t blame yourself. Things will turn out just fine, you’ll see.

Mary, sometimes, I don’t know what I would do without you, Dan said with a smile, reflecting on the warmth she brought to him. They talked for a while longer, with Dan promising to keep her updated on Buddy’s condition.

After the call, Dan sat quietly, turning things over in his mind. Dan wasn’t clear about the best way to seek assistance for his son’s recovery. As he wondered whether he should say a few agnostic words to the universe, or put his faith in medical science, or just rely on Buddy’s brain to make its own way out of the broken maze, later that morning, Buddy regained full consciousness.

"How are you doing, Buddy? asked Dan.

Fine thanks Dad, a bit tired is all. Buddy replied groggily.

A doctor soon arrived to check Buddy over. Buddy replied in the simple negative to the doctors questions about whether he was experiencing any dizziness, headache, nausea, and after the testing, to Dan’s relief, Buddy won the all clear.

Later that day, Dan watched on as the hospital staff discharged his son. Dan thanked the doctor and other medical staff after making an appointment for a follow up review of Buddys condition at the hospital.

As they walked together toward Dan’s car, Dan announced in a forced, light-hearted tone to Buddy, We haven’t had a chance to celebrate your birthday yet, have we?

Buddy just responded with a weak smile and a nod. As Buddy and Dan left the hospital for the drive to their home, Buddy remained unusually quiet and seemed to Dan to be quite preoccupied.

Although Dan was very relieved to see his son up and about, Dan couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Buddy just sat quietly, gazing out at the passing scenery. Buddy said very little in response to Dan’s attempts at small talk. One-word answers of Yep and Ok were about all that Dan could extract from his usually talkative son.

After they had arrived at their house, Dan walked slowly alongside Buddy, unsure of how steady Buddy might be on his feet. Carrying Buddy’s bag, Dan escorted him up the stairs to Buddy’s bedroom. Once inside Buddy’s bedroom, Buddy walked silently over to lie down on his bed and close his eyes.

Dan asked rhetorically, in order to reassure himself more than Buddy. You will be feeling fine again real soon Buddy, won’t you?

Buddy didn’t answer him and failed to say Hi to Slick, despite Slick greeting him in the usual way.

Surprisingly, Buddy even neglected to look at his red book journal, an A4 sized notebook with a red cover and Buddy’s name printed on the front in big black letters. Dan knew that Buddy used this notebook as his journal to pen important updates and plan his daily activities, but today it was totally ignored, and left unopened on the small table next to his bed.

Dan felt that he had to prompt Buddy with another query, hoping it might lead to Buddy’s own explanation of what had happened, Buddy, a running race downstairs is not a real good idea, is it?

Buddy just shrugged, then closed his eyes, leaving the question unanswered.

Dan simply offered, No rush to get you back to your job. I will let them know you will be having some time off, until you feel well enough.

Buddy nodded again, eyes closed, then rolled over toward the wall, turning his back on Dan, apparently dismissing the notion of any further conversation.

Dan thought it would be best if he just left the room to let his son rest.

Having overheard the conversation between Dan and Buddy, Slick asked, Buddy, have you been in hospital? You really do need to take more care of yourself you know. You humans only live once and for a finite time you know, so…

Buddy interrupted, "Bag it.’

I am just saying that…

I said, bag it, Buddy added, annoyed.

Ok, but if you ask my advice.

Enough, already!

Slick stopped talking, and instead chose to put on some soothing classical music which filled the house.

CHAPTER 3

The Buddys arrive

Downstairs, Dan listened to the music, and picked up a pen to write on the calendar which always sat on the bench next to their home phone. On the space for that day’s date, he wrote AC for After Concussion and on the space for the day of the accident, he wrote BC for Before Concussion.

Dan glanced at an industry award that he had recently received from the Information Technology Industry. Framed behind glass, it also sat on the bench next to the phone. Dan had his own small company, paid to write complex algorithms that helped machines to communicate and the award evidenced that he was good at his job.

Dan mused that if only he could write some artificial code that would do the trick of unscrambling Buddy’s brain, to clear up his son’s fuddled thinking; one day maybe. Dan’s company helped technology businesses create social media, smart contracts and e-commerce, but with regard to Buddy, all that Dan could now offer his son was his support.

The home phone rang, and Dan answered it to hear a female voice which he immediately recognised. Hi Dan, it’s me Alice. I just thought I would ring to see how Buddy is, he is not answering his phone.

Oh, hi Alice. He is out of hospital, at home now and is in his bedroom, resting, Dan advised in a forced, emotionless monotone.

Alice rushed on, her voice lighter, That’s great news. I was so upset about Buddy’s accident. It is really cool that he is back home. Can I come around today?

Dan replied sombrely, defensively, Maybe later in the week, he needs to rest for now,

Dan, I want to be helpful to Buddy. He helped me a while back with my own issues you know.

Silence from Dan.

Alice then tensed up, adding warily, I should have stopped things yesterday, I feel a bit guilty.

Oh, well, accidents happen, Dan replied, keen to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

She relaxed, thinking that because Accident was the word Dan had just used; Buddy must have not said anything different, yet.

Alice went on lightly, with a touch of unintended irony, I know he is not normal like us, but Buddy sort of gets me, given how Buddy’s mind works.

I see, Dan said dryly.

She continued, in an earnest tone, I am totally sensitive to Buddy’s situation, you know, I can help. You really can trust me, like for real.

Dan remained wary, silent.

At her end of the line, Alice looked down at the handwritten notes which she had prepared specifically