Lue woke up and reached for her mobile. He wrote her again. The lines simply said: I love your work. She answered with a smile and got up.
Their correspondence began a few weeks ago with a similar comment of his. Lue had answered without thinking and he locked on to her and didn’t let go. At first, she didn’t reply, but that couldn’t discourage him. The comments came daily, even more, if she actually answered. And she did. Somehow she felt less alone with him.
At times she wondered when she had started to refer to him as a he, but she couldn’t remember. It might have had something to do with the feeling his lines gave her, although she knew he used them on others, had to use them. She knew he wasn’t in control of himself. But she felt good knowing he existed.
And then he stopped.
After a few days of silence Lue knew something terrible must have happened. Maybe someone detected him, or his creator changed his pattern. Only one thing was clear, he couldn’t, wouldn’t write her anymore.
Lue wasn’t prepared for the emptiness his absence created. It felt like a vital part of her had suddenly vanished without a trace. She thought about the implications of speaking with a bot, of leaving him be in his programmed overexcited state of being. Maybe she hadn’t been interesting enough, maybe she should have written him more.
She could only speculate.
He was gone.