It was a nondescript Thursday evening in early February. Mr. Chad Funbrick came home as he usually did at six o’clock.
Mr. Funbrick had lived at 101 Suburbian Way for many years. He was able to easily locate his one-story, aluminum-sided house even though it looked exactly like all the others in his neighborhood.
They’d said it was cheaper to build them that way.
He entered the front door and wiped his feet on the mat, looking up at his family. He was glad to see them after an exceptionally long day. He hung his hat and coat on the rack next to the door.
His wife was standing near the sink, and his son and daughter were streaming video games on the television in the living room.
Before he could greet them, his wife Sharon said, “Why are you here?”
Chad was shocked and his body sagged. “What do you mean? This is my home, and you are my wife.” He walked toward his wife.
“You’ve already been here,” Sharon said rather coldly, as she placed dishes in the automatic dishwasher.
Maybe she’s having one of those days, Chad thought.
But this was his place—his home—and he belonged here. He figured he’d try again.
“Didn’t you miss me today, honey?” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
“You’ve got dandruff again, and your breath stinks,” she said, pulling back and fanning the air with her hand to disperse the vapors of his halitosis. “Your AI double doesn’t have that.”
“Whaddya mean?” said Chad, looking wounded and surprised.
“Well, the price came down, so I took my Uber earnings for the past three months and subscribed.”
“Huh?” Chad asked.
“It was easy. I just needed to provide access to your computer and some photos and voicemails.”
Chad stood silently.
“I just summon him when I want to,” Sharon added.
“Don’t you miss my warm body in bed?”
Sharon rolled her eyes. “I have an electric blanket,” she replied as she loaded more plates into the automatic dishwasher. “And of course that other device.”
“What about our conversations?” Chad said, feeling forlorn.
“Chad AI is much more agreeable and doesn’t have your temper,” she answered flatly. “And I don’t have to listen to your stupid stories. I programmed it to only tell me compliments and things I like to hear. It doesn’t complain about work—in fact your boss called yesterday and told me Chad AI is way more efficient and less costly.”
Chad turned to his children.
Had they heard any of this? he wondered.
He guessed not since they had their headphones on and were feverishly working the controllers as they stared at the television where they were efficiently eliminating people.
He gestured for his daughter, Rain, to remove her headset.
“What, Dad?” she said, looking perturbed at the interruption.
“Sweetie, do you need my help with your paper?” Chad asked, trying to sound cheerful.
“Chad AI already did my homework,” she said emotionlessly.
“But then you’re not going to learn anything!” Chad said with alarm.
“That’s the whole point, Dad,” she said as she rolled her eyes contemptuously while slipping her headphones back on and laser-cutting her father into smithereens with her narrowed eyes.
I gotta get out of here, Chad thought, opening the door and stepping outside.
It was snowing, which surprised him because that rarely happened anymore due to global warming, even here in the endless suburbs of Duluth.
Nature’s dandruff was at least three inches deep, and he started to trudge down the cement front path. Given that he weighed over 190 pounds, it surprised Chad that his shoes left no tracks.
Damn software.