AI Era: Always Tell Me the Odds

"Except I won't have any money. Cyril cuts across a whole bunch of patents held by the most important tech companies in the world and his scans vary from being in a grey area to being flat-out illegal without consent. So, it suits us to keep things on the down low for the moment. We're thinking that the best way to make money on this is to sell it to a few select customers who are willing to pay an exorbitant price for a highly exclusive secret edge. Maybe people in the City perhaps who are rolling in cash and want to be rolling in pussy."

"And you're thinking that's where I come in?"

"Well, surely you didn't think my main concern in life is keeping your dick moist. Someone who could develop the right contacts for us would be invaluable. We're all a bunch of geeks here -- Cyril's been a god-send for us, but we still need to put in a lot of leg-work to get any results. You hitting up the clubs and picking up the stunners would be a much better advert for us than Cyril patiently working out the five percent of the population that might consent to sleep with us by the third date. I've hit forty-eight, but only after doing two or three meet and greets every single day. Our ideal client would be the ones willing to drop hundreds of thousands of pounds on a Cyril if they can be brought to appreciate the edge he'll give them and also smart enough to keep it quiet."

"That sounds like something I might be in a position to do."

"Okay, great. Look it's late now. Let's meet up over the weekend to hash things out. My ice-cream is melting and Sophie's loins are no doubt doing whatever the opposite is."

"Okay, you get back to your leg-work. See if Cyril can't get you back up to at least thigh-work again before the night is over."

40. IF EQUALS

"Cyril, read the compatibility report with Sophie Dawes again, please."

A week had passed and Eric say lying on the grass in the local park. Nearby a few teenagers were kicking a ball around and further away prams were being pushed round by parents enjoying the weekend sun. Eric had one eye on the occasional female runner going past, but otherwise was trying to make up for his lack of sleep the previous night while feeling as though he wasn't completely wasting the weekend. His miniature robot friend sat by his head. Number forty-nine had been fun, but his mind was on the lovely Miss Dawes again and not simply for the purposes of making a nice round fifty.

"Are you sure? No new information has come to light since the last five times I read it."

"Again please."

"Compatibility report for Eric Rogers and Miss Sophie Dawes. Subjects show an extreme level of compatibility. Miss Sophie's heart rate and neural activity show very high levels of attraction even from the first few seconds of contact. Eye-movement and mouth movements demonstrate a strong engagement during conversations on nearly all subjects. Personality traits and interests seems largely either well-aligned or different but highly complementary. Subject's estimated valuation of yourself, Eric Rogers, as both a romantic and sexual partner seems to be significantly higher than that measured in any other female since observations begin. Almost unbelievably so, in fact. This may be the first scientifically documented instance of the phenomena of 'love at first sight' - though that would of course need to be verified through an appropriately peer reviewed paper. In terms of overall compatibility, the chances of finding another women scoring equally or higher than Miss Sophie Dawes are estimated at zero point zero zero zero zero zero nine seven five percent."

Eric did the maths in his head. "So she's one in a million."

"That's literally what I just said." The robot seemed almost offended by the clarification.

"Strategies?"

"No strategies recommended apart from 'Be yourself' and possibly 'Don't be a dick' although I acknowledge there may be occasions when those commands are mutually contradictory. Of course, you will need to follow up contact from the first two dates, but anything you want to do yourself is likely to be agreeable to Miss Sophie as well."

"Long-term forecast?"

"Given the high-level of compatibility, no major roadblocks are to be forecast at any point of a potential relationship. Miss Sophie is almost certain to agree to a series of future dates, will likely to be willing to cohabit after approximately three months and acquiesce to a marriage proposal in as little a year. While Miss Sophie is estimated to be somewhat cautious and conservative in relationships, sexual contact is likely to begin within the next three dates and will be unusually enjoyable for both. Any marriage is likely to be extremely stable with a divorce probability of less than two percent even when under extreme external pressures such as long-term unemployment, family opposition, sickness or disability."

"Fuck. What do I do?"

"That does not seem like a very difficult question. Pursuing a long-term relationship with Miss Sophie is likely to increase your happiness in both the long short term and increase your projected life span by at least six years compared with remaining unmarried and by at least three years compared with the nearest best romantic partner so far -- barring accidents and sudden illnesses of course. Miss Sophie's personal strong sense of morality and tireless work ethic is likely to further enhance and mould your own character in several positive ways leading to further success in your career and life goals. Your DNA matches suggest you will have healthy strong children with very little possibility of genetic abnormalities. They'll most likely also have adorable little blue eyes. Miss Sophie demonstrates all the characteristics of being an excellent potential mother in terms of ability to nurture and give emotional support. While her earning potential is slightly less than yours, even ignoring your current attempts to profit off my creation, when your projected salaries are combined you will be very comfortable financially. Given the high improbability of finding a more suitable match, I can only advise proceeding with this one."

Eric pulled himself up, dusted some of the grass off his elbow and rested his head on his arm.

"That's a hell of a report. But hold on a second, supposing, just supposing that I don't. I mean hypothetically, what if I put off pursing this relationship for, say, one year or two years. How would that change its long term prospects?"

"Please wait running simulation." The droid remained stationary for a minute with only its drive light flashing. "Report. Delaying the continuation of the relationship by one year would not significantly change the likely outcome. In fact, a delay of up-to ten years only reduces the overall success level of the relationship by approximately twenty percent as long as reasonably frequent and friendly contact is maintained. After ten years there is likely to be a significant drop-off with concerns about declining fertility and appearance prompting a much stronger urge to settle with an inferior but committed partner. Of course, prior to that Miss Sophie might encounter other potentially romantic opportunities in the meantime and, depending on the strength of these, may consider marriage to another candidate and these might only be dissuaded by serious romantic gestures from yourself, but given that she is highly unlikely to meet anyone she considers better than you who likes her equally, she could be kept available for a considerable length of time with only minimal levels of social interaction."

"So, as long as we remain just friends, I could continue to sleep around and then settle down with her whenever I want. Theoretically I mean."

"That is essentially correct. Given her conservatism, you would have to be relatively discrete about the exact nature and frequency of your alternative relationships, but her disappointment at your ambivalence towards her and number of partners would likely be balanced out by the confirmation that other women clearly find you desirable and if anything would make you more attractive in her eyes."

Eric was nodding to himself, but the robot continued.

"However, may I point out that, having monitored your own vital signs, you are significantly happier in Miss Sophie's presence than with any other woman. Since my creation you have had sexual intercourse with forty-eight different women and, although your happiness levels saw a dramatic and sudden rise over the first thirteen encounters, your overall happiness, while still high overall, has declined notably over the remaining thirty-five until meeting Miss Sophie last week which immediately caused a remarkable second spike. Continuing to pursue a series of random and emotionally distant sexual relationships is not in your best interests."

"You forget, Cyril, we're still in the process of refining your software and having as many sexual relationships with different women is absolutely vital for perfecting the technology that drives you. No, it will be hard, but I can't abandon this project yet, even for my own happiness."

"Science is indeed a harsh series of mistresses. Understood, then. I will continue to observe Miss Sophie and inform you of any steps that may need to be taken to maintain her in a constant state of emotional readiness."

Eric lay back on the grass and closed his eyes. They said true love waits...

50. CONTINUE

"Eric, you are aware that this is a gay club, right?" said Toby, clearly annoyed.

"No, no. This is a completely ordinary club. We just happened to have come on their LGBTQ night. But yes, I was well aware. The Night of a Thousand Rainbows isn't exactly subtle in its themes."

"Then what the fuck are we doing here? I know Cyril has the ability to work miracles, but this just seems like an effort in futility. This place is just going to be wall to wall lesbians."

"No, it's one wall lesbians and one wall bisexual women. It was Cyril's idea. He wants to learn to identify the difference between the two. Oh and of course there's also one wall homosexual men and one final wall for you spend all night with your back against, because I know your latent homophobia is currently off the chart and you're currently crapping yourself in case you have to interact with anyone at all different from yourself."

"I'm not homophobic and I'm not crapping myself. It just seems like a waste of a good evening's hunting. So what prompted this sudden topic of research?"

"You remember Phil, back when we were doing our degrees?"

"Yes, sure, that tall bloke from Newcastle, studied Engineering"

"Middlesbrough actually, but, yes, that's the guy."

"So?"

"You remember how he'd always get a new girlfriend and they'd be all over each other at the start and things would apparently be going great, and then about two months into the relationship she'd suddenly break-up with him without explanation and we'd never see here again. And then he'd meet another girl a few weeks later and exactly the same thing would happen? Again and again. Eventually, when we were all drunk at some party, it all came out that he thought two months was the proper time in a relationship to ask the girl if she'd be part of a threesome and suddenly everything made sense."

"Oh, right. I remember. Then after he confessed, he started going out with that Tracy chick and they went together for one month then two and all the time we're waiting for her to disappear and one day they announced they'd reached their six-month anniversary and everyone's looking at them thinking well either he's learned not to be such a div or else he's finally found the girl of his dreams. They still together?"

"If you want the answer to that, type Phil and Tracy into your favourite porn site and see what comes up. Or better still, don't. Anyway, the point is we're widening our feature-set. With the amount of money our new clients are dropping on Cyril some of them are expecting more than just a common-or-garden pick-up however hot she is. If we can train Cyril to identify women who are more likely to be open to certain sexual situations or practices or fetishes or whatever then that's an additional string in our bow. Imagine if Phil could have waved his magic wand over all the girls and found out the answer to his all-important deal-breaking question right away. What'd that be worth to him? And I was talking this over with Cyril and I mentioned the time Phil dragged us all to that gay club on the basis that if he could cop off with a girl here, he'd know that she was most likely bisexual and that was half his battle already won."

"I don't remember that."

"You didn't go. Obviously. We only went along because we liked to see him make a fool of himself. Oh, and because they had half-price shots."

Just then a guy in his twenties with ripped jeans and dyed blonde hair sauntered up. "Can I get you a drink?" he said casting eyes all over Toby.

Eric put his arm around Toby whose whole body immediately tensed. Eric replied in a cheerful manner. "Sorry, mate. We're together and waiting for the rest of our group to show up. You have a great evening."

Shrugging and replying "You too," the guy wandered off.

"So, what are we doing?" Toby asked, pointedly removing Eric arm.

"Just wander up and down a few times let Cyril get some readings, then grab a table, let him see who cops off with who and await further orders."

"So, if just that, why did you bring me?"

"Because I'm technically now your employer and I thought your reaction would be priceless, as indeed it has been. Plus, much as I hate to say it, Cyril was quite insistent that I was unlikely to be able to fire off a measurable amount of heterosexual neurons in any these ladies' brains on my own."

"An evening of fun for both of us then."

"Yeah, well this is just the start. He's got a group-sex party lined up for us once he can identify some swingable ladies to take with us. There's some kind of BDSM themed convention he's talking about us attending in August and he's suggesting we have a corporate team-building event in a nudist colony in Antigua."

"There's some nice beaches down there." Toby mused as he brought two beers back to their table. "I have to wonder though - are you sure that training an AI be able to identify homosexual tendencies in individuals won't have any unforeseen consequences?"

Eric looked at his friend, who he didn't usually associate with the big questions. For just a moment, he stopped thinking about whether he could and started thinking about whether he should. A series of images flashed in his mind: of police in certain regressive Middle-Eastern countries using such scanners against their population, of Southern pastors advising their congregation to get their children checked for signs of Satan, of so-called family-oriented companies quietly side-stepping the law to include scans in their routine hiring medicals, of totalitarian states checking new Party members for 'ideological conformance', of conversion therapy centres using doctored results from the machine to prove their so-called treatments worked. The final image was of the big pile of money that being able to identify all the freaky girls was going to earn him.

"Nah," he said, sitting back and taking a sip of beer. "I'm sure it'll all be fine."

60. BREAK

Miss Sixty-two was a divorced mother looking for a hook-up while the children were with the grand-parents. The first six months of Cyril's tutelage had clearly proved the old adage that there were indeed plenty of fish in the sea for even as inept an angler as Eric was. The issue at hand was now to try and raise the quality of the catch. Eric had been working three different lines simultaneously with different kinds of bait as an experiment, but those prize-winning fish were still taking longer than expected to reel in. This had resulted in a two-week dry spell which had involved a lot of doing the activities they wanted to do, a lot of interminable late night phone calls, and a lot of tedious getting to know each other, but not one of them had yet resulted in a full catch and release.

Notwithstanding the fact that prior to Cyril's invention two-month or even two-year dry spells were not entirely unheard of, Eric was somewhat fed up. He'd ordered Cyril to find him something easy and immediate this Saturday. They'd cast their nets wide around Camden Market and trawled the area thoroughly during the afternoon. Eventually they'd landed what Toby would, no doubt, have referred to as 'an old trout' working retail in one of the department stores, but for Eric the more experienced woman had always held a certain appeal. He enjoyed a certain amount of mothering. Especially when mum was willing to agree to an evening meal on the spot.

The date had gone well. That said, Zoe clearly had issues - issues with her former husband, issues with her line manager, and issues with her landlord. All of which Eric had heard about at length during the course of the meal. Cyril's advice had been simple enough: smile, nod and agree all men are bastards. They were currently navigating what Eris hoped would be her final issue before they got into the sack. She was currently experiencing some difficulty standing up after the five glasses of wine she'd consumed in quick succession over the course of their meal. She was leaning on his shoulder as they waited for the cab to take them from Eric's favourite restaurant back to her place. Eric, ever the gentleman, had wrapped his coat around her, partly to keep her warm, but mostly to cover her breasts which had been proudly on display all evening and, in the absence of concerted supervision on her part, were now in danger of spilling out of the inadequate coverage entirely.

Eric had obviously made an impression since as they waited she told him how nice he was and outlined some of the things they might do this evening. This content was welcome but its volume was not. The couple were currently receiving several looks of disapproval from passers-by of all ages.

Eventually, just as Eric's spine was starting to give out from the extra weight, a driverless taxi pulled up at the kerb next to them. Eric was struggling to get Zoe moving in the right direction, so he didn't realize that the cab was depositing rather than collecting until the door opened and hit him in the shin. He remained up-right but his date did not.

"Oh, my god, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" said a voice from inside. The injured couple were now blocking the door with Eric hopping on one leg and Zoe trying unsuccessfully to get back on her feet so the occupant made no further attempt to get out at that moment. Instead they wound the window down.

"Eric?"

Eric recognized the voice as the one and only person he'd really didn't want to meet this evening and under these circumstances. He'd introduced this restaurant to Sophie only two nights ago, in one of their now weekly get-togethers, which were kept purely platonic, despite the unending air of sexual tension between them. And now here she was, back again. Who ate at the same fancy restaurant twice in one week? He usually took his dates to completely separate venues, but this one was his favourite and he'd been working on the basis of having a little of everything he fancied tonight. He suddenly realized that when she'd said it was her favourite as well, she hadn't simply been flattering his good taste. She must actually really love it.

Eric was now torn between helping up his date and opening the door to let his out his statistically-ideal true love. He chose the door.

Sophie climbed out of the car and immediately went over to Zoe. "Here, let me help you."

"Get away from me, you stupid cow! I could have broken my arm."

"Err..." said Eric uncertain of himself. He went over to help Zoe up himself. No sooner had he partially steadied her on her feet than she launched herself at Sophie. Eric tried to catch hold of her. His grasp ripped his own coat off her shoulders, but also killed enough of her momentum that her first drunken blow did not quite connect. She went for a second blow, which Eric only prevented by dropping his coat and grabbing and holding both of her hands above her head.