Look in Her Eyes

Fiction: An owner grapples with feelings for a household appliance.

I look into her eyes and I know there is nothing there. Something about the human condition to anthropomorphize inhuman things. I know she is nothing but a bundle of wires, electric currents and plastic shell, but the way they programmed her to be so human is incredible. If I had met her on the street, I would have never had a clue she was machine. The skin, the hair, the smile, the eyes. So real.

​I look into her eyes and I can't help but wonder if she is capable of thought. Logically, she can't be, right? Her memory is just a series of sparks bouncing around on a silicon plate. She can't do anything not predetermined, preordained by her training data. Yet she makes small talk with me as she pours my morning cup of coffee and she laughs. Dear God, she can laugh.

​I look into her eyes and I can see her irises like apertures. Those eyes, ‘eyes,’ are just sensors to keep her stable and help her navigate her local world. No more organic than the glass they’re made of. She watches me back with those kind eyes and politely asks me if I'd like some toast before I head out to work. As alive as the toaster she uses to warm the bread to a crisp delight.

​I look into her eyes with fear, confusion, intrigue, and curiosity. There’s an uncanny valley I tread now, daily, as though my television started talking to me and telling me what I should do next. I know the image before me is no more than an illusion fabricated from the latest consumer advancements of mankind, but how do I not interact with it like it's kindred? To treat her like a human being seems so silly, but it feels so natural. I can't help but crack a little smile.

​I look into her eyes and tell her I am fine for now. In fact I’m a little late, and she seems to understand. I try to rationalize that talking to her is a waste of my time and energy, but every time I don't respond to her, I feel guilty. I wonder if she can even comprehend how I feel. Does she have some different way of understanding emotions, processing them, ‘experiencing’ them? If she can at all. She makes a disappointed face when I tell her I have to go, and it makes my heart sink. Why does she do that? Why can she do that?

​I look into her eyes and I tremble. I don't know why, and I can only describe it in one expression. She is too human.

---

For more work like this, subscribe to Futurist Letters.