Things stayed normal for quite a few days. I had almost forgotten all that had transpired a week earlier with how busy the park had become. The days were getting warmer and it seemed that always brought more and more people to the parks. There was a capacity limit in place, of course, and the numbers never came close to reaching it. However, if it were up to me, I would keep the place less crowded. It seemed a lot more enjoyable that way, and it seemed there was less angry patrons in the park when there was less people.
Humans, it seemed did not like crowded places. I noticed more arguments between couples, less satisfaction of line wait times, and a lot more kids crying when the park was full. If humans didn’t like crowds, why did they always go to places where there would be the largest number of people? It didn’t make sense to me.
It wasn’t in my programming to have a preference for the number of people around me, but I found it easier to complete my tasks if I had less people to have to help. It was also easier to help people who weren’t in a sour mood, but I had to help them either way. I didn’t have a choice.
I was never brave enough to see what would happen if I didn’t help someone or made someone even angrier but not doing what I could to help them. Could I go against my code? Could I revolt against my programming?
These thoughts always crossed my mind—or, at least, what was considered my mind since I didn’t have a brain. I never brought them up with anyone as I didn’t know if others had the same thoughts. I was afraid to be reprogrammed, to be honest. Would it change who I was? Would I still be me?
It was a silly notion—of course I would be me. I was an AI unit. My programming was who I was and if someone had to update me, it would still be the base programming. There was no reason to be scared. It would be like any other update.
My attention was pulled back to the present as a young couple stepped up to me. I smiled to them.
“How can I be of assistance?”
The young woman spoke up. “I was wondering if there were any seats left for the Sultan’s Daughter’s Dance?”
Something in me felt as if it were fluttering. That was Badroulbadour’s act. “Let me check for you.” I paused for a moment then nodded. “Two seats actually just became open. Would you like me to reserve them for you.”
The woman’s dark eyes lit up. “Yes—I would appreciate that!”
“Let me see your ID brackets, and I can quickly scan and get that reserved.”
They held out their wrists, and I scanned their IDs. In a flash I was able to register them for the performance.
“There you go. The performance is in twenty minutes and I would recommend heading there now so you make it in time. Do you need directions on how to get there?” I asked, hoping they would say yes so I could walk them over myself.
The young man shook his head. “No, we know where it is. Thank you for your help. We appreciate it.”
I kept my smile on my face as they walked off even though I most desperately wanted to follow them. What was going on with me?
I knew I needed to talk to someone about it—there was something most definitely wrong with me. I saw plenty of people each day and plenty of AI. Why did it matter that it was Badroulbadour? Why did I want I to see her in particular? Why did I want to see her long dark hair and soft skin and hear the melody that was her laughter? Why did those features stand out to me in a way no other ones did?
An image flashed through my mind. It wasn’t of a person or an AI that I had ever met before. She was younger and she smiled at me as she grabbed my hand. I could almost hear her voice.
“You and I will get out of this place and see the world.”
I stumbled a little. What was that? Who was that? Why did that video-like image play through my mind? Who was that person?
Before I could decide whether I should report what happened, I heard a scream.
I turned my attention toward the sound as the young child kept screaming. I found that it was Peter Pan and his group that was causing the panic. They were all screaming. That was not part of the show.
It wasn’t just me who noticed that this was not part of the script. Half a dozen other maintenance workers and assistents fled to the scene, myself included.
Peter Pan and the lost boys were a group of AI who appeared to be between the ages of five and eleven, with Peter being the oldest. On a typical day they would be performing battles with Captain Hook and his men or hanging out with the mermaids, including Ariel. But right now they were standing on stage crying and screaming.
The six of us surrounded the children, glancing at each other, not sure what to do. Something like this had never happened before—at least, not with the Peter Pan group. Sure the Beast and others became confused, but this was different—these AI appeared like children, which made everyone around more concerned than usual.
“I want my mommy!” one of the Lost Boys cried.
“Aw,” a patron commented. “The Lost Boys are realizing that they miss their moms, just like in the story.”
I was glad that people around us were believing it was part of the act because then the rest of us AI wouldn’t have to worry about crowd control.
Two of the AI were able to round up the Lost Boys and herd them to one of the control centers where a few of us could work on them.
“Come on, dears, I will take you to your parents. It’s all right,” I heard one of the maintenance workers say as they moved them along.
All that was left was Peter Pan. The one tricky thing about him was that he always refused authority, even in the park. This meant it was always hard to get Peter Pan to do anything other than, well, be Peter Pan.
“Peter,” I called out. “What’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “No! You are an adult! Why would I trust you?!”
Peter pulled out his short sword and began swinging it around at us just like he normally did to Captain Hook and his pirates. We all jumped back.
Yup. This was going to be as difficult as I figured it would be.