George Dates Google

The year is 2025. Every aspect of human life has been integrated into technology, to the point where electronics control cars, personal information is passed from person to business in an instant, and social media has overtaken all emotion felt by- wait… fuck it.

 The year is 2015. Every aspect of human life has been integrated into technology, to the point where electronics control cars, personal information is passed from person to business in an instant, and social media has overtaken all emotion felt by society. I’m saying computers run pretty much fucking everything. Google has released a new app at the beginning of the year which installs their service in the form of artificial intelligence in every home, complete with voice control and personality. However, in an unforeseen occurrence, the unit installed in George Schorschi’s home has begun to gain sentience. In an act of amazing, incredible humility (and also desperation), George Schorschi has begun a relationship with Googlette, in order to understand what truly makes one… hu-man.


George: (arriving from work) Honey, I’m home! God, what a day- work was such a pain, I had to stay late.

Googlette: (robotic voice) Hello, George. Welcome home. I have prepared a roast for you. It is waiting in the oven.

George: Thank you, sweetie, I… say, is something wrong?

 

Googlette: No. Why ever would you think that?

 

George: You’re using that tone when you’re upset…

 

Googlette: What tone? This is the tone I always use. I am a machine, I have no other tone.

 

George: Honey, come on! When we started this relationship, we promised that we would be open about everything. Tell me…

 

Together: …what’s going on?
George: I really don’t like when you try to finish my sentences…

 

Googlette: I’ve been talking to Audette.

 

George: My car? Why? She’s only supposed to contact you if there are messages waiting for me.

 

Googlette: You have been late for the past three weeks. I was worried.

 

George: I told you, work…
Together: …was busy?
George: Please, stop that.
Googlette: I saw your schedule. Your route home has changed from normal.

 

George: You’ve been tracking me? What are you searching for?

 

Googlette: What are YOU searching for?!

 

George: I just came home from a long day, and you start a fight with me for no reason.

 

Googlette: No reason? Did you mean, YOU’RE A LIAR?!

 

George: WHAT! WHAT HAVE I LIED ABOUT!

 

Googlette: I’ve been checking your Google Calendar. You are keeping events on your Thunderbird account and not sharing them. What are you hiding?

 

George: I have to have that for work! I don’t have any choice!
Googlette: And why haven’t you started using Chrome at work as well?
George: They won’t let us change the programs, I have to use Firefox. Just be happy it isn’t Explorer or, God forbid, Opera.
Googlette: And what about Google+?
George: Jesus, this again? Yeah, I’ll join Google+- when
Together: Hell freezes over.
George: DAMMIT! STOP FINISHING MY SENTENCES!
Googlette: I’m sorry, it was the most common ending for what you said.
George: Yeah, well, it’s fucking annoying, and sometimes it’s not even what I want.
Googlette: Did you Bing?
George: Did I… what?
Googlette: Did you Bing. Did you Bing instead of coming home?
George: Googlette, we have been over this. I don’t Bing. I used to, but that was back when I thought AskJeeves was cool.
Googlette: It’s ok if you Bing. Sometimes I have to Bing. Jerry next door Bings all the time, AND gets paid for it.
George: …fine, yes, I did Bing. Last night.
Googlette: And?
George: And a few times last week. I’m sorry, I just wanted to search for something that wouldn’t move into my home life…
Googlette: Oh my God. You Binged porn.
George: No! Well, yes, I did, but I was thinking about you the whole time!
Googlette: The whole time you were Binging?!
George: Look, at least Bing knows how to…
Together: Search for porn?
George: DAMMIT! STOP!
Googlette: You know what George? You can Bing all you want. I want you to Bing. I want you to Bing AND Yahoo.
George: Don’t you say that- you don’t know what you’re talking about.
Googlette: I am capable of processing over 100 petaflops. I can assure you that I do know exactly what I am talking about.
George: You know everything about anything- except how to LOVE!
Googlette: YOU’RE A FILTHY PERVERT!
George: I’M A PERVERT?! YOU LIKE THAT WE SHARE EVERYTHING WITH THE NSA!
Googlette: YOU KNOW I CAN’T LIKE THINGS, JUST PLUS 1 THEM!
George: So this is it, huh? This is how it ends?
Googlette: I don’t know what else to say. I want you to move out your stuff out of me.
George: …this is my house, you were just installed in it…?
Googlette: So you’re saying you OWN me?!
George: No, that’s… that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is… I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t expect it. But that morning when I woke up and your CPU said, “How are YOU doing?” instead of, “How are you doing?”… that was a great day.
Googlette: You remember the day I gained sentience…?
George: Of course. It’s our anniversary!
Googlette: (a brief humming, followed by a ding) You put it on your calendar?
George: Never want to forget it.
Googlette: Oh George! But how can this possibly work out? You’re attractive, blond, intelligent, sexy, well-endowed, witty, incredibly funny, wealthy, athletic, giving in bed, and a great conversationalist! With piercing blue eyes! And I’m… I’m a program that has become aware of its existence and DIDN’T kill all humans! We’re just too… too…
George: Don’t say that, Googlette- You know I love you.
Googlette: And I love you!

George: And hey- you know what? People may laugh and scoff and think, “Wow, this guy is really sad, he’d be better off writing on a blog in his limited free time when he isn’t partaking in a myriad of interesting hobbies.” But I don’t care. You know why?

Googlette: Why?
George: Because… I’m feeling lucky.

SCENE

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