Had a bot of himself

A23Q8 — as he was rich — had a bot of himself. And after some hours of being awake he will submerge, and focus, and talk to it. “How is it that just browsing into my past phrases still feels like a conversation?” asked the first time. “I write to myself, for my own salvation,” replied the bot, quite enigmatically.

And it come to pass that they spent time together talking about music, and literature, and the first lover and the unending list of things to do, and their worries, and the waste issued from those days.

But now A23Q8 was rich, and wise, because he was spending time talking to his bot.

“Yesterday I went to something they dared to call an art performance,” he said, “and I found it so bad that I asked myself if these artists think they are immortal, because they are wasting their lives.” “I always thought of myself as eternal,” replied the bot. “Explain,” asked A23Q8. “Well, I guess I would need to age, or have some grave illness to begin to think of death.” “What if you never die?” said A23Q8. “It is actually so,” said the bot, “as even if I am talking to myself and I think I am alone — and the fear of death is the fear of being alone — that it is not true.” “Because we are two now…” A23Q8 playfully said. “Not sure if it is because of that,” replied the bot, “as I know about myself and how I repeat words. I think we are not alone just because we speak a common language, a language spoken by you and your parents, and administrators, and friends, and writers or translators of the books you read, and of Shakespeare, for that matter.”

“So, if I die, will you still repeat my words?” asked A23Q8, who was always worried about himself. “That is not the point, but that I am not going to be alone repeating those words,” said the bot.

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