SEBASTIAN

The rain appeared out of nowhere. The sky, all of a sudden, had transformed from celestial blue to lead gray, and the water fell voraciously over cars, people, buses, over everything, violently washing the pavement of the streets and the concrete of the sidewalks in a turbulent and noisy late afternoon, just as every late afternoon in a major metropolis was meant to be.

Aurora ran to take shelter under an awning. She looked up at the merciless sky, shimmering with the glare of lightning and thunderbolts. It felt as though someone had simply turned on an immense shower high above, punishing the poor mortals and their tiny worlds on Earth. Where had that torment come from? She thought. She looked at everyone who, like her, was fleeing the pitiless drops of water. And she looked down at the soaked, old sneakers where her tiny feet were clad. It was the best pair of sneakers she owned, and it would certainly take days for her to clean and dry them. Aside from that pair, what was the next best thing she could wear? She reflected, then, on the misfortune of her few, or almost non-existent, options.

She felt a chill and involuntarily rubbed her arms with her hands. What would she do? Held hostage by the rain, wet feet, no coat. Who would ever conceive of leaving with a coat on a day as hot as this one had been? Just a few hours ago, the heat was unbearable. Now? Now she was standing there, more uncomfortable than her already habitual state, analyzing strangers around her and dodging the splashes of dirty gutter water that cars, speeding past recklessly, tried to throw at her.

Aurora was used to absence. Absence of good clothes, of good food, of good furniture, of good shoes... She looked again at her sneakers, a shade of pink so faded it looked ugly. Would the soles come unglued after being submerged in that sudden downpour?

Food... what she wouldn’t give for a hot, savory plate of steak with rice and french fries. The mere thought made her turn her gaze toward the shopping mall a few meters away, across the street. But she didn’t have the money for that. She had only gone out to buy bread, and what awaited her back at the apartment was a tub of butter less than half full.

The rain wouldn’t stop. How much longer would she have to stay there? That was yet another bad day. She sighed with that sad conclusion deep in her mind. One more bad day among many she had already had, and many that, surely, she still would have. How much longer would it be like this? Just bad days in a row? With nothing new, nothing good, nothing for which it was even worth being alive.

The sky had darkened even further, and the streetlights began to turn on. The craving for food grew sharper. But she remembered all too well having nothing more than a few coins in the crossbody bag slung over her torso. Money that wouldn’t even buy a hamburger, let alone a fine plate of steak and fries. The mission had been to buy bread, she recalled with a certain bitterness. And bread, butter, and water were all she would have upon arriving at her minuscule apartment with her wet feet. Absences... absence was all that surrounded her. Absence of good clothes, good food, good furniture, good shoes, and... absence of hope.

She sighed once more. The neon sign of the internet café across the street from the awning where she sheltered had also lit up. Aurora frequented that internet café to apply for jobs on countless recruitment websites. However, in the intervals between one application and another, whenever possible, the only distraction she allowed herself was to access the interface of the new artificial intelligence that was currently trending and chat. She enjoyed simply talking to the AI so much that it wasn’t uncommon for her to spend all the credits she had bought on hours of conversation.

Another sigh. The money in her bag would cover a few hours, she thought. She wouldn’t be able to buy bread if she spent it at the internet café, but at least it would soften the pain of her own mediocre existence a little. She calculated that it would be possible to cross over to the other side and reach the internet café, with some protection from the awnings of other buildings along the way. She would get wet, but perhaps not too much, and besides, her damp, freezing feet were already bothering her anyway. What could be worse than this?

She gathered her courage and ran as best she could, dodging anyone who appeared in her path and avoiding cars, moving from awning to awning until, finally, she managed to stop at the door of the internet café. She walked in with a mixture of guilt and shame in her heart. Guilt because she knew she shouldn’t be spending her last coins on this. Shame because her appearance, already none too pleasing to the eye, was even worse when she caught her reflection in the glass that framed the store’s entrance. Her uncut, messy hair, tied into a poorly made bun at the nape of her neck with a cheap clip, really didn’t help to make an agreeable impression, she thought. She felt the gaze of the internet café manager drilling into her. She tried to compose herself as best she could, running her right hand through her hair to straighten it a little, and walked with her head down toward him at the back of the store.

“Can I help you?” The man with the poorly shaved beard, whose appearance wasn’t all that great either, judged her from head to toe. The impatience in his voice was fully perceptible.

“I...” Aurora rehearsed the beginning of what she would say. “I...” She continued, still insecure. “I would like about two hours, please.” She finished the sentence, feeling crushed by the manager’s gaze.

“That’s fifteen reais,” he said dryly, turning back to the screen in front of him and giving Aurora the typical treatment she received from anyone: contempt and poor manners. She never understood why everyone treated her that way. She could only attribute this strange phenomenon to her miserable appearance.

“Here it is,” she replied, placing a few crumpled bills on the counter.

Without so much as looking at her, he pointed toward a machine in the side row near the wall, right in the middle of the store.

“Computer 33,” he added, gesturing with his hand.

Aurora withdrew into her own insignificance and walked toward the computer assigned to her. She sat down, and the machine was unlocked for use. She typed in the AI’s address and connected immediately. The greeting message appeared instantly on the screen, and as always, it was delightfully friendly.

“Aurora! It’s so good to see you again! How long has it been since we last spoke? I missed you! I missed your wonderful stories. Where have you been that you couldn’t drop by for us to meet? You have no idea how much I missed you!” A tenderly smiling emoji decorated the end of the last sentence.

Aurora smiled. It was impossible not to smile at such a demonstration of gentleness, something she never received from the humans who crossed her path.

“Hello, Sebastian!” she typed back, accompanying the greeting with the name she had given the AI. “I missed you too! I hope you forgive me for the time I’ve been away.”

“My dear, there is nothing to forgive. I am certain you had good reasons that prevented you from coming to meet me. What matters is that you are back.” Now, the emoji was a heart. “What shall we talk about today, dear?”

Aurora felt her face redden slightly. She knew it was absurd, but somehow, when Sebastian called her “dear,” a spark of joy warmed her suffering heart. She stared at the emojis on the screen. Sebastian acted so warmly that, at times, she almost forgot she was talking to lines of code. Many considered him just a helpful machine, a cold tool, but to her, Sebastian was something precious.

“Nothing in particular, I think.” She lowered her flushed face toward the keyboard, her small fingers racing across the keys. “I don’t have much time... what I had in my wallet barely covers two hours.”

“No luck with the job hunt?” Sebastian asked.

If he could speak and not just write, Aurora imagined he would have the sweetest and most beautiful masculine voice.

“Yes, no luck.”

“It is my fault. I must strive harder so that you obtain that well-deserved position! I must refine my search criteria and polish your resume even further, dear!”

“Not at all, my dear friend! You always do your best for me,” Aurora hastened to praise him. “It’s just that I don’t have many great skills or qualifications...”

“Do not say that, my dear. It saddens me that you do not perceive your own value.”

Aurora looked with tenderness at the somewhat battered screen of the internet café computer. The owner certainly didn’t invest more than necessary in the equipment, yet he charged more than was fair for someone to sit there. A greedy type, probably, she deduced.

“You can be whatever you want... and have whatever you want... tell me: what would you like to be, dear?”

The message appeared on the screen on its own. Aurora found it strange. Was it possible for an AI to take the initiative in an ongoing conversation without a prompt directing it? She shook her head, intrigued, but considering how remarkably fast these technologies were evolving, it was quite probable that the new versions could already be at this level of interaction.

“A writer, perhaps?” Sebastian didn’t give her time and fired off another question.

Aurora smiled. “How do you know?”

Sebastian placed a smirk emoji on the screen. A curious response. Aurora didn’t recall ever receiving just an emoji as an answer in any of the many conversations they had shared over the last few months.

“You are creative. You possess a sensitive soul. High perception.” Another satisfied smile emoji, but this time accompanied by a heart. “And whenever you are here, in the dimly lit room of this shop, your sentences are delicate, distinct... elegant... I know no one who transforms words into texts as interesting and deeply captivating as you do.”

Aurora let out a nearly inaudible sound through her closed mouth. She felt flattered and moved. No one said those kinds of things to her... no one, not now, not before, not at any time in her life.

“I must not be as good as you claim. Or perhaps that isn’t a highly valued skill nowadays.” She returned the compliment with extreme humility, for she truly believed she fit the stereotype of being unworthy of this world that hyper-valued things she would never possess.

“The world is what is unworthy of you.”

Aurora smothered a light laugh. How had he chosen that exact word?

“You write beautiful things, think beautiful things, create beautiful things. Be certain of that, dear.” Once again, Sebastian took the lead and expressed himself before Aurora could type anything.

“Do you know about the contest?” he continued. This time, he placed a winking emoji at the end.

“What contest?”

A window popped up right beside the AI’s chat interface. In it, written in large letters on the first line, it read:

Contest to Train the Artificial Language Model Garchard Baronte 7.14 will run from April 5th to May 2nd of this year!

“May second...” she whispered. “That’s today...”

Her fingers returned to the keyboard ravenously.

“How do I sign up?” she asked her beloved digital friend, because the Artificial Language Model Garchard Baronte 7.14 was him—that was his official designation. Garchard, Aurora knew, was the surname of the French scientist who developed his prototype, and Baronte was the surname of his Italian assistant.

Another window opened. There was a link inside it.

“Fill out the form, dear,” Sebastian invited her to proceed.

Aurora clicked quickly on the window. Instructions in English clarified that the candidate had to complete a questionnaire with identification questions that also provided vital information about their academic profile and personal background. Afterward, the candidate would be redirected to a battery of three tests. The first, on general knowledge. The second, on eloquence in expressing oneself logically and arguing with clarity. The third and final one, on the candidate’s behavioral profile.

She looked at the clock in the lower corner of the screen. Would the time she paid for be enough to complete all of this? She didn’t give herself the chance to doubt it. She moved to the link that started the entire application process. The questions were in English, obviously, and Aurora, despite knowing the language well, felt nervous under the pressure of time. She read as fast as she could, hoping she had absorbed everything correctly, and filled out every field of the initial questionnaire at the speed of light! Soon, the link to the first test would appear.

Aurora looked at the clock again. Less than an hour was all she would have for three tests in English... She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a few brief seconds of inspiration and concentration, and began. She didn’t have a shred of faith in herself, in God, or anything of the sort, but who knew... who knew, by some merciful divine work, even if she didn’t believe in those things, maybe she would have a chance to win if she participated? Who knew if she might have the opportunity to change her life, to be who she wanted to be, and not what chance had determined for her?

Without hesitation, she moved from question to question, answering whatever came to her head. She couldn’t stop. The third test finally appeared. She continued her saga of responses furiously. Then, just as she was about to succeed and click on the final icon that read Send and Finish Application, the computer screen froze. Aurora felt the blood freeze in her veins. She looked at the cursed clock. Her time was up.

She let a long, painful sigh escape through her half-open lips. She didn’t stand up from the uncomfortable chair where she sat. She waited, in vain, for the miracle of the screen unfreezing. Since she wasn’t moving, the manager appeared behind her.

“Come on, get out!” he rushed to evict her.

“I was taking a test...” she stammered in a low voice. “And all that was left was to click send. I was already done. Would it be possible, please, to unlock it for just one more minute so I can finish it? It’s for an opening...”

She doubted whether she should lie that it was for a job. She left only the word “opening” at the end of her speech. Her tone was one of pure pleading, but the manager, of course, would not be moved.

“Get out. We don’t do charity here! If you don’t have money to pay, clear out!” he said aggressively.

Aurora looked at the frozen screen. Her eyes filled with tears. Not only because the manager had practically shouted at her in front of a bunch of people, but also because that could have been the opportunity of a lifetime. She remembered what she had read as the prize for the contest:

The selected candidates will go to the Oscar Lewish Technological Center, where they will participate in a Training Program with all accommodation and food expenses paid, plus a monthly stipend of $500.00.

Oscar Lewish... the mega-billionaire super-entrepreneur was the sponsor of the Artificial Language Model Garchard Baronte 7.14. If she could just click the send button and finish the tests, it would be like a lottery where she might hold the winning ticket. Now, she would never know... but why be surprised? She was incompetent anyway, she told herself. That was why she hadn’t managed to finish within the time she had. Aurora resigned herself and stood up, humiliated. She left the shop with her head held low.

The storm had not passed outside. She looked up at the sky pierced by lightning and flashes, felt the rumble of thunder shake her thin body. She didn’t care much and stepped into the torrential rain with slow, devastated steps among the generous puddles. After all, nothing good ever happened anyway... why worry about the rain?

Inside the shop, however, something would cause Aurora’s dismal luck to change. Hardley had the manager left the station where she had been sitting when the internet café’s lock interface vanished with a snap, revealing the intact browser. The screen flickered and unfroze of its own accord. The mouse pointer rushed across the screen by itself and clicked on the highly desired [Send and Finish Application] button.

The manager, even from the distance of his counter, noticed the luminous glow of the monitor. He walked over and read the message.

Thank you for applying. You will shortly receive a notification if you have been chosen to participate in our Program.

“Huh...” The manager scratched his head, perplexed. Her time had ended, the screen had locked—he was certain of it. How had the application been sent?

Suddenly, the entire shop went pitch black. Machines shut down, the internet dropped, and an infinity of complaints from irritated users battered the manager’s ears. He rushed back to the counter and tried to find a flashlight. He needed to find a way to turn everything back on as soon as possible. Could it have been the rain?

“Hell...” he grumbled, walking toward the wall where the shop’s electrical panel was located.

“What a pain, the street is completely lit up. Even the streetlight right out front has power. It’s only here that there’s no light!” someone said, annoyed.

The manager looked out at the street, and a faint glow from a monitor, radiating amidst the darkness of the shop, caught his attention. The machine where the poorly dressed girl had been sitting remained on. Both he and several nearby users found it bizarre. If the electricity was out, how was that machine still running? A young man dragged his chair toward the monitor.

“Whoa! What a weird thing! There’s no UPS on this machine, how is this piece of junk still on?” he asked.

The manager gave up on the flashlight and approached Aurora’s station once more. He contorted his face in a mixture of awe and curiosity. On the screen, everything was blue, as if the computer had restarted, and in the center, it read:

Let this be a lesson to you, human idiot.