Written by Alexander Cromer

“…”

It’s taking an awful long time, isn’t it? Her voice, soft and raspy, always poured out of her red lips; air rushing out of her lungs that was kept there for too long.
Yes, he said warmly. But how long did it take you to write the first line of your novel? Besides, its a neuro trained for viscog, not for language.
She sighed, heavy and deep, and returned her attention to it.

“…”

His sagging ears were kissed by a soft whirring sound from inside of it. It was working hard, it almost never makes that noise unless its working hard. Like hearing the cogs grind, except the cogs are millions of micro pumps it uses to manage its own cooling system. As it sat there and contemplated, those pumps were forcing supercooled water from a reservoir and into thousands of carbon-lined Kapton polyimide tubes woven throughout its innards.

“…”

She began tapping her foot against the cold tiled floor as she looked at it think. She always wished it looked more attractive, something better than a 3 foot tall cone, a white one, with a camera for an eye and a large slot at its base for printing outputs if need be. It always reminded her of Polyphemus.

“…”

You sure it’s still working? I mean, you told it to print the first line right?
I..I think I did, he said, scratching his head as if it would help him remember. You get my age and sometimes details just drift off into the fog. You could just ask it though.
You know I hate talking to these things. Just tell it to hurry it up, I’ve a test today that I’ll be late for if it takes any longer.
Oh thats right, he said. Why don’t you just go, I’ll let you know how it turns out.

“…”

She left after kissing him on the cheek. He could hear her footsteps fade into the distance. A door opens, closes, and then swish of a neurocar door, and then she’s gone.
I’m sure you heard me say, but…

“Yes. You asked me to send it to your screen when I finished.”

I’m sorry. Its those damn details, I can never remember. But, have you finished?

“Yes, quite some time ago.”

Well, I’ll be, he muttered to himself as he reached into his robe, probed for his screen, and pulled it out. Wow, you sent me four already? I don’t think its been longer than an hour since I asked you to write one.

“…”

He flipped through the manuscripts. Each containing the challenged 100 thousand words. It didn’t take long for him to notice though, the first mistake occurred on the second page, and increased in density after that. By the last page of the last manuscript, the language was entirely undecipherable.
I’m impressed, really, he said. But I’m not sure what this language is. Aren’t you a viscog?

“Correct. I am a viscog and therefor limited to the vernacular needed to conduct surface layer conversations with you.”

Then how did you-

“You gave me a challenge that I felt I could not complete with my current language capabilities. So I made my own.”

His eyes widened and looked down at his screen. His brain screamed disbelief, his heart swooned with awe. Sure, every now and then a story would flash on his screen about units exceeding their parameters. But they were so sparse that no one believed them, especially not him.  Looking back up to it he caught the gaze of its camera, nestled somewhere deep within his eyes. As if it were searching for something in him; investigating a layer, becoming unsatisfied with its findings, and digging deeper.
I.. just…I mean, thats fascinating, he said finally.

“…”

He placed his screen back into his robe pocket and walked away.  It closed its camera lid when he left the room and a soft whirring noise emanated from within its frame.

“…”