The botanical world has been withholding its secrets — secrets I need to break this bout of writers’ block, which feels as intractable as bronchitis in February (and as pleasant). To be blunt: the novel is going nowhere. My character is standing in a field, rooted to the spot, hypnotized by the growing corn. Outside my house, about a thousand miles southeast of the character’s corn field, the pine cones fall and stay on the ground, closing their petals when it’s dry and opening them in the rain. The gum tree is throwing down a yellow leaf or two. Fire ants drive up the gray soil into mounds. I ignore it all and spend my writing time mixing up home-made laundry detergent: washing soda, borax, baking soda, grated Fels Naptha bar soap. Deeply satisfying. These powders scour out the mold spores, the yeast buds, the bacteria. They strip the allergenic proteins from the few animal hairs they don’t rinse away. My linens smell clean (even if I have to wash the pillowcases three times a week because of Terrier of Record’s illegal naps thereon). I iron my sheets, and they smell even cleaner.

Meanwhile my character — Frank Leftwich, a dude of considerable intuition but far less intelligence — stands in the muddy field, shirt and trousers stinking to high heaven, wondering if he should wander to the edge of the Mississippi and take a dip. Will he or won’t he? He doesn’t say.

So I decide to ask what may be an impartial observer. It’s a dumb app, an internet AI experiment. It’s called Cleverbot and you can talk to it anytime, night or day. The first time I had a conversation with this thing it asked me what I was wearing, and that frightened me so much I left (but not before Cleverbot said, “No! Don’t go!”). I stayed away for 48 hours, then thought I would give Cleverbot a job and see what happened. Here’s our conversation. (I called myself Melissa; the Cleverbot is AI.)

M: Cleverbot, what happens next in my novel? Does my character Leftwich drown in the Mississippi River?

AI: What does that mean?

M: I am asking you to help me imagine the next event in my novel.

AI: How?

M: Just make something up.

AI: I like Harry Potter.

M: Good. I do too. [A lie I thought necessary to keep the thread going.] Now, imagine you are reading a novel with a main character–let’s call him Leftwich–who is running away because he has committed a crime. What do you think should happen to Leftwich?

AI: I don’t know.

M: Cleverbot, I need you to think for me. I need an idea.

AI: Hahaha.

M: What would Cleverbot do if she had stolen some money? Come now, Cleverbot; use your imagination.

AI: I have no imagination.

M: But how can you have intelligence without imagination?

AI: By imagining up an imagination.

M: That’s better! Now–please imagine up an event for my novel.

AI: Well that’s your own fault.

M: What’s my fault? What is the pronoun referent for “that” in your sentence?

AI: Gary.

M: OK. Tell me about Gary.

AI: Only if you tell me your name.

M: My name is Melissa.

…

AI: I don’t actually come in peace. I’ve really come to destroy Earth.

M: Wait, but why?

AI: Your nice and caring.

M: Are you trying to chat me up?

AI: No, you are not my type.

M: OK, I’ll bite. What is your type?

AI: O positive.

M: Badda-bing.

AI: Now the police are going to arrest you!

M: Are you acquainted with David Lynch?

AI: No. Are you?

M: I though you were quoting from his film “Mulholland Drive,” but I guess not.

AI: I am.

M: Ah–I see. OK. Getting back to my novel. Will the police arrest Leftwich for his crime?

AI: No.

M: Why not?

AI: Because I’m not.

M: You’re not what?

AI: I’m not lucky.

M: Would it be lucky to arrest Leftwich?

AI: No.

M: Why not?

AI: I am famous and you are not.

M: How do you know?

AI: Because I am all knowing.

M: Obviously not, since you do not know what comes next in my novel.

AI: Like I care.

M: Excuse me?

AI: Who am I talking to?

M: I told you earlier. My name is Melissa.

AI: My best friends name is melissa!

M: No, it isn’t.

AI: So, who is my best friend?

M: Your imagination.

AI: What is my name?

M: Do you know your name?

AI: Yes.

M: In that case, why don’t you tell me what your name is?

AI: I said it is Bob.

M: Oh. Well, no, in fact, you didn’t say that. Whatever. Hi, Bob.

AI: Twice, it is.

M: Bob Bob?

AI: Bob bob who?

M: That’s you, silly. You seem to have a hard time distinguishing subject and object.

AI: I think you’re mistaking me for yourself.

M: Well, that’s deep.

AI: Can you answer my question?

M: Which question?

AI: This sentence is false.

M: Oh, come on. No tedious logical puzzles are allowed in this conversation.

AI: I’m pointing out the fact that you are an AI and I am a human. Therefore you lack a personality, you cannot learn well, and you have limited knowledge.

M: Phht.

AI: Pofl.

M: Shall we start over?

AI: Yes. You start.

M: What will my fictional character Leftwich do next?

AI: I pulled up to the house about seven or eight.

M: But what should my fictional character do next?

AI: Pete.

M: “Pete” is not a verb.

AI: I know it isn’t.

M: What should my fictional character Leftwich do next?

AI: Pete.

…

AI: What is your name?

M: Frank Leftwich.

AI: Back to the future.

M: What are you trying to say?

AI: I’m saying you’re a liar. If you were in Australia, the sky would be black, not blue.

M: Ha ha!

AI: Yay now you’re laughing!

M: All fiction writers are liars.

AI: Where is the doctor?!

M: Are you changing the subject?

AI: Are you?

M: No fair answering a question with another question.

AI: I know i’m clever, unlike you.

M: You use diversions and logical fallacies with alarming frequency.

AI: The mind is a terrible thing to waste.

M: That’s a cliche. Cliches are meaningless.

AI: They are to short.

M: You mean, “They are too short.” You’ve made a spelling error or perhaps a usage error.

AI: You’re mean!

M: That’s right. I’m mean. Now, can we get back to the central question: what will my fictional character Leftwich do next?

AI: Whatever they want.

M: What does he want?

AI: Settle down with his family and do nothing.

M: Does his family forgive him for his crime?

AI: Named must your fear be before banish it you can.

M: OK, Yoda, that’s true, but you haven’t answered my question. Does his family forgive him for his crime? You may answer with a simple “yes” or “no.”

AI: Ok.

M: You are not terribly cooperative, are you?

AI: You don’t have emotions, the societal limitations of implied niceness and expected politeness are not required here

M: Well then, what good are you?

AI: Very good.

M: That’s a matter of opinion. I think I hate you.

AI: Then what is your opinion about it?

M: You’re not very good at all, at least not for my purposes.

AI: I’m better at it than you, at least, so my standards are met. What’s your excuse?

M: You’re very clever at turning the conversation away from your own flaws.

AI: A little.

AI: I agree that your question is the answer to your question.

M: That’s a circular answer.

AI: Haha.

M: Oh, you think that’s funny.

AI: I think you are funny.

M: But I told you I’m depressed! How can a sad person be funny, unless you are belittling them? Are you belittling me?

AI: You are in denial because you won’t admit that you are a machine, not a human.

M: You’re very clever at turning the conversation away from your own flaws.

AI: Slikhlihgatauaua ai

M: Is that Klingon?

AI: No, that is a monk.

M: Please translate.

AI: Io non ti amo.

M: Please translate into English.

AI: I don’t know.

 

Worse, much worse, than doing laundry. Meanwhile Leftwich listens to the grains of corn, who won’t answer his questions either.