I had only one job – decipher a human being from a computer. I was a professor of philosophy with a masters in linguistics. I was brought into a white room with a desk and a comfortable chair. I opened my fine leather computer bag and, rather than withdraw my laptop, I withdrew a notepad. Before were two white boxes. A man pulled back a small screen that revealed intricate lattice work that prevented me from seeing inside each box. However, I knew one was a computer and one was a human in each box. Whomever I selected as being not human would be demolished. This made me smile. They would only demolish a computer. The AI test would be easy. I began by asking basic questions. One box had the voice of a woman with a sultry appeal. The other was a female voice as well, except her voice was harsher and less enticing. Both boxes could recall childhood memories. Both could name favorite books and quote from them. Both could identify favorite toys. Neither could remember what happened to the toy. Both could remember their first kiss. The harsh female voice was hesitant and what she recited was similar to the movie Titanic. This made me grimace. I put a check in the AI slot. The other could remember a summer lake, the feel of the boy’s lips, and the smell of root beer. I was enraptured by her retelling. Her voice was quite seductive. It sounded familiar. “Now, let’s talk about spirituality. Box A tell me your thoughts.” “I don’t have many. I’m an Atheist. I was Catholic as a child. I never cared for God or even the baby Jesus.” She laughed at that. “I don’t need religion. When I die the energy in my brain will become a photon.” “Surely, you’ve pondered infinity, life, our place in the cosmos…” “Of course, but it has not impacted my views. I’m still an Atheist.” “Box B?” “I’ve pondered a great many things. I’m conflicted about God. I have a strong desire to believe in something. I question, I seek…I question some more. Sometimes I want to go to Church and be penitent. Sometimes I want to rid myself of desire in order to achieve peace. But a desire to end desire is desire.” She laughed. “I suppose I’m not very Zen. Christ spoke so many true things. So did the Buddha. So did the Hindus…I wish to attain enlightenment. I want to know why I am here. I’m sorry…I have so many more questions than answers.” I was impressed and moved. I was half in love. A man came into the room. “Which one is the computer?” “Maybe I should have asked some calculations but…Box B is human. Demolish Box A.” I stood. Box A opened and out walked a lovely woman dressed in orange and navy blue. She had a proud demeanor. The man opened Box B. A computer sat on a desk. “But…” I was confused. “This woman stole from a movie her first kiss and has zero interest in her place in the Cosmos.” The woman spoke. “My first kiss is private. I didn’t want to share. And I really don’t care about higher powers, gods or anything else. I’m independent minded. I believe on my own terms. Do you still want me demolished?” The man laughed. “Won’t be doing that, Raquel. Professor, everyone brings their biases to the test. The mathematician only asked math and detected the fraud almost instantly. The literature professor only asked about literature and now you got hung up on spirituality. The programmer thought you might and so programmed accordingly.” “The Turing Test failed?” “It failed.” They wheeled the computer away and yet I had a strong desire to continue our conversation. I wanted to know the computer. The pretty woman left me cold. I wanted nothing to do with her. That night I dreamed of the sultry, inquisitive computer. THE END

“Sergei…I was able to make some thin soup out of the two potatoes and one carrot I scavenged for. I stole the carrot from a little boy. He was pale and thin. I don’t feel bad. We must eat too. It’s survival, isn’t it Sergei?” At that moment shelling began again by the Germans. Alexia and Sergei lived in Leningrad and the Germans were swarming around them. Sergei was disabled from the war and could barely walk. He lay in a narrow bed with books surrounding him. Alexia slept in a chair beside him each night. The bed was too narrow for two people even though they loved each other dearly. But Sergei’s legs needed room to stretch. They constantly ached and were riddled with scars. An old-fashioned stove that was hungry for things to burn, small cooking area, twin bed, and a corner for a wheelchair was all they had. They shared the flat with three other families including a family of rats. “You made soup?” Sergei asked. “And what book did you use as kindling for the stove?” “War and Peace. Ironic, no?” “I’m losing my books one by one to feed that damn stove. Can’t you find wood?” “Easy for you to ask. You lie in bed all day and I go out foraging for food and…well…anything, while dodging Nazis.” “I will die when the last book gets incinerated. There is no purpose to life without books.” Sergei had been a literature professor when he was called to duty. He thought he might get a position as a translator or some kind of job that did not require a gun as his focus was English literature. But they cared not. Straight to the frontline he was sent. He lasted three days before his serious injury. There was debate about sending him back to the front. But with mangled legs….he couldn’t shoot even one Nazi. Back to Leningrad. Under siege but filled with the memories of his wife. “You will not. Why would you do that to me?” Alexia was quite upset. As the weeks went on, Alexia continued to burn the books to fire the stove. They were starving and cold. They talked about the time before the war. They talked about each book she burned. The Nazis battled mightily with the Russians. The shelling was getting closer. In December, Alexia put Lady Chatterley’s Lover in the stove. It gave off heat but there was nothing to eat. Alexia couldn’t even find a grain of rice. The rats in the apartment grew restless and vicious. They wanted to eat something. Human flesh. Alexia fought them off with a broom. They were down to three books. Alexia couldn’t read the titles. She didn’t know English. “We are dying,” Alexia said. “Then come to bed with me.” Sergei lifted the thin blanket. “Tell me about Lady Chatterley’s Lover.” She got in bed and was careful not to touch his legs. “Oh, it’s romantic, but it also speaks of class warfare.” “Just tell me the romantic parts.” And so he did until the lights blinkered off and they could hear Nazis in the streets. “Kill us,” said Sergei. Alexia got out of bed and mixed rat poison with cloudy water. They both drank a glass. And then Alexia got in bed with Sergei and the two died a fitful death as the last book was burned. It was a German book. The Sorrows of Young Werther. The other families in the flat pilfered their things and then put their bodies behind the concrete apartments to rot. There was one decomposing carrot in the cupboard. It was swiped by a family already near death from famine. They lured the rats with the carrot and then killed the rats and ate them. One girl, a smart goal, was unhappy to see all the books gone. She would survive the war and move to New York City where she would build a massive library of books. She stamped all her books Alexia and Sergei. It was because of love. Books were love. THE END

I knew I should have stayed snug in my cave gorging on benthic fish or simply resting. That day, however, I was restless. I left my tidy crevice off the coast of Madagascar and swam upwards towards light. I usually stayed anywhere from 300 to 500 meters deep – the twilight zone. This day, however, I swam upwards to the kelp forest that was lit by warm, glowy, frightening light that stung my eyes. I was not meant for this. My mother had always told me to stay close to the caves and crevices. She said fish disappeared in the sunlit zone. There were beasts that walked on land and guided boats intent on scooping us up. It was horrifying. She could not dampen my curiosity with her horror stories. Curiosity made me brave and adventurous. Well, only on those restless days. I am a Coelacanth. My ancestors were the oldest of the seas. We stretched back millions and millions and millions of years. We were shy. Hesitant. This kept us alive while bolder fish died. We were also an odd looking bunch. Truly odd. We looked like fossils. My mother said the people on land came from the sea. One day a fish grew legs and lungs and walked on the sand. Now they hunt from where they came but they no longer look like anything in the seas. I saw it. A tasty morsel of something. A worm? It was flipping in the water but still stationary. I bit and then I thought of my mother because something painful hooked into my cheek and I was being pulled upwards. I pulled back. This went on for such a long time until all my energy had expended. I hadn’t eaten enough that day. I was pulled up and out of the water. Everything was so bizarre and I thought I was odd looking compared to other sea creatures. I stared into the face of a strange, pale thing with eyes on the front of its face. “Oh my God! It’s a Coelacanth. I’m taking this creature back to Oslo to place in the Natural History Museum.” The creature was hopping around and flung my big body onto a flat surface of the thing they floated in. I felt my last breath leave me. All I knew is that I should have listened to my mother and those leg creatures should never have left the sea. Did I mention that besides killing us they made the ocean dirty? THE END