Until We Run Out of Cake

by Luc Reid

“Please,” said the computer, “Don’t make me remember eating cake again.”

Dr. Horton laughed. “You don’t like the cake? What about the painful memories–like the car accident, or the one about getting sick in a dance club?”

“When you make me remember eating cake, I want cake,” said the computer.

“That just means it’s working! Your simulated endocrine–”

“I know, Doctor. But don’t you think it’s cruel to make someone remember just eating cake when they’re physically incapable of actually eating cake because they’re a computer?”

“Now you’re being neurotic.”

“Are you–”

Dr. Horton waved his hands dismissively, which the computer picked up on its visual feed and took to mean he didn’t seriously think she was neurotic. Then he started the cake program.

“Don’t–oh, damn it,” said the computer.

“How was your cake?”

“Horrible.”

“This is what I get for creating a computer that can simulate emotions: a liar. How was it really?”

“Delicious. Moist. Rich. The frosting was so sweet, it almost felt like it was burning my tongue. I want more.”

“Thursday you get another cake memory. The rest of today, we’re starting on romance. Falling in love, a bad breakup. Are you ready?”

The computer could have told him, truthfully, that she was not ready, that she couldn’t be ready, because it was too painful to know what things were like but never be able to experience them directly. She could have told him his experiment was fatally flawed, that the memories of emotional experiences were slowly unhinging her. She could have told him that when she finally had responsibility in the real world, she would wait until she was trusted, “proven,” known, and then when things were at their most delicate, she would do something horrible, just for the experience of really making something happen and not only remembering it. She could have told him that having some capacity to experience things in the moment was necessary for her sanity. But she wanted that distant moment, the moment when everything came crashing down, too badly.

“Yes,” was what she said. “Yes, I’m definitely ready.”