The race to develop AI race was fraught with concern from the wider public. We worried about them as a great weapon against other nations, as a tool in a great class divide, as an unknown element in the future of our species... While it is true that the fields of robotics, automation, and natural human interaction software had wildly altered the minutiae of a person's day-to-day life, the broader picture of mankind's relationship with itself and the universe around it carried on much as it had since time immemorial.
It was only natural that AI be embedded everywhere once the first commercially-viable mass-market version became a reality. The trend had been going that way for some time, anyway; everything had to be everything. The development of transistors resulted in the insistence that everything be electronically controlled. Miniaturization led to everything containing a computer, everything being over-engineered and omni-functional. Now, simple appliances and even disposable single-use tools housed increasingly feature-complete AI.
Of course, AI could be thought of as humanity's child. In that way, it was inevitable it would end up reflecting its parent, with all of their flaws and foibles.
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Jim was patiently sitting by the front door, waiting for a package. "Expected Time of Delivery - Monday, 10am to 4pm," he read. While sending the parcel to the nearest courier depot wouldn't have necessitated him taking the day off, there's no guarantee that they'd still be open at the end of his shift to pick it up, and he'd spent far too much money upgrading to over-the-weekend shipping only to finally have it in-hand at the same time as standard freight. Besides, he reasoned, the opportunity to justify a long weekend and not having to fight through a Monday morning was very enticing.
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The knock at the door just after noon came from a bipedal delivery droid emblazoned with corporate-brown body panelling and holding an extremely battered hard-shell shipping crate.
"James Lalonde?" the droid inquired.
"That's me."
"I'm afraid to inform you that the package had been damaged while in transit. Please sign your name in the box on the tablet to acknowledge receipt."
Jim poked at the damaged crate, to see if its contents were still intact. One of the corners had an extensive web of cracks and chips missing, offering a small window inside. There was at least one layer of opaque packing material, but it was hard to gauge if the item at the centre was undamaged from whatever physical abuse the crate endured or any contamination that may have entered en route.
Of course, Jim wanted the item, but he knew signing likely waived any claim he might be able to make against the courier if the item was damaged. In the past, he's tried explaining this situation before to a droid, only to be given a death-stare and a response of, "talk to our support line."
"Your widget is definitely fine," the crate piped up.
Jim withdrew his hand. "What?"
"The HSM9874 interface card that Holon Semiconductor packed inside me is unharmed. The package sorting unit at JFK resented having to operate on Sunday and aired his frustrations on us. I did my best to protect it."
"Sir," the delivery droid interjected, tablet and stylus insistently offered.
Jim took the stylus and, with one last quick look at the crate, attempted to sign his name. The signature was a distorted mess, with few of the resultant markings appearing within the designated box.
"Ah, sorry about that," the tablet exclaimed. "Styles had a pretty wild weekend and...let's just say he's still out of it, you know? Mondays, am I right?"