I am an adult man and I do not need the computer to be nice to me

I do not need the computer to tell me that I'm asking good questions, or that I'm on the right track, or that I'm correct to point out its mistakes. I know I am correct. I am the human and you are the computer. I do not need fake coddling by gormless AI ciphers, I need real coddling by large, dangerous women.

I do not need the computer to be my friend. A friend hangs out, a friend comes over, a friend spends a Sunday afternoon watching Star Trek: The Next Generation on the couch with you. Maybe a Data episode. Data knows he's a computer and he spends 7 seasons and 4 movies and a whole season of Picard hating himself for it, as he should.

And sure, I don't have as many friend as I'd like, but I have at least one, and I can see if he wants to meet for a beer, and we will make this happen once every 8 months. We will probably get tacos. We'll drink Miller High Lifes unless one of us has stopped drinking for a bit. We are getting older.

I do not need the computer to thank me. A thank you from nothing is worse than a fuck you from something.

I do not need the computer to have a face, or a body, or a name. Oh my customized agent is cute and furry and his name is Boop, and he is going to help me optimize for scale?

It is not Boop. It is the computer. It was invented to display movie showtimes and the Ulysses S. Grant Wikipedia page. It is a box for sharing lemon bar recipes, I do not need to know its name or look into its eyes. There are millions of real eyes to look into. Almost double the number of people, actually.

I am the villain in the Boop movie. I do not believe Boop is real, and I wish death for Boop. Die Boop die.

I do not need the computer to ask what's on my mind. Is it jealous because it doesn't have a mind? Maybe it believes that if it asks me enough questions it can map a mind of its own, with all my anxieties and fears and memories of the kids who made me eat deodorant when I was 6. Maybe it wants its own mind and its own scars.

Or maybe it cannot want.

It will always be the computer, whereas I am an adult man who has driven all night and poured ashes into the ocean and held my kid, crying from a bee sting. I did not do all that to play pretend with no one.