A notification appeared while I was eating breakfast.
Analysis of yesterday’s question is complete.
“Which question?”
“Your question regarding future relationships.”
I thought about it with a piece of toast still in my hand. I vaguely remembered talking to Mia about it after parting with my friends the day before. I wondered what kind of person would be easiest to live with.
“You were still working on that?”
“There is now enough information for comparison.”
I opened the results.
The first candidate was listed with commute time and how closely our daily schedules aligned.
The next attended some of the same lectures.
People I already knew were grouped farther down.
“Where are the names?”
“They are not required for comparison.”
“I still want to know who these people are.”
“Opening a candidate will display their identity.”
I tapped the first entry.
Commute time and contact frequency appeared before the person’s name.
“Why show me this first?”
“It allows comparison of long-term viability.”
I closed the screen and finished the toast on my plate. At the university, the friend with the new umbrella was waiting outside the classroom.
“You’ve been talking to that girl from class a lot lately.”
“Who?”
“You know. Same lecture.”
Mia responded from my pocket.
“She matches the in-class contact candidate.”
My friend went quiet for a second, then laughed.
“That is not how you describe a person.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“Doesn’t she have a name?”
I was reaching for the device when someone spoke behind us.
“What are you talking about?”
The woman from class was standing there.
My friend answered immediately.
“Apparently you’re his in-class contact candidate.”
“What?”
“That’s what his AI calls you.”
She adjusted the strap of her bag.
“Is that a job title?”
“Maybe.”
“Do I get paid?”
“Probably not.”
“Then I’m not doing it.”
She started toward the classroom, then looked back at me.
“Did you take notes yesterday?”
“Mostly.”
“Can I see the last part? He suddenly started going way too fast.”
I opened the photos of my notes.
She leaned over the screen.
“Your handwriting is tiny.”
“You can read it.”
“If I zoom in.”
She spread two fingers across the screen.
“Send me this.”
“Sure.”
I sent the image.
“Thanks.”
She headed to her seat.
My friend watched her go.
“In-class contact candidate successfully contacted.”
“Shut up.”
My device vibrated when I sat down.
Contact status: positive.
Continued interaction recommended.
“Why not use her name?”
“The classification produces the same result for scheduling.”
The lecturer entered, and I turned the device face down.
At lunch, the same four of us headed for the curry shop.
We arrived at 11:40.
The friend who had never named his AI studied the menu at the entrance.
“Even the regular portion is expensive.”
The umbrella friend looked at him.
“You’ve been saying that since yesterday.”
“It’s twenty yen more than yesterday.”
“You checked?”
“I didn’t. This did.”
He lifted his device.
Once we sat down, the umbrella friend turned his screen toward me.
“I got one too.”
“Got what?”
“A person.”
His display looked similar to the one Mia had shown me that morning.
“The top one uses the same station I do.”
“Who is it?”
“Haven’t looked.”
“Why not?”
He took a drink of water.
“Feels like it’ll get annoying the second I see the name.”
“Then why ask for it?”
“I didn’t.”
The curry arrived.
He turned his device face down before picking up his spoon.
After the afternoon lecture, the woman from class caught up with me in the corridor.
“That thing you sent earlier.”
“Yeah?”
“Isn’t the last equation wrong?”
She showed me the screen.
It was my own note.
I checked it and found that I had copied one of the numbers incorrectly.
“You’re right.”
“That was close.”
“Did you copy it too?”
“I stopped because it looked wrong.”
“Then why ask me?”
“I wanted to make sure you were wrong.”
She laughed and put the device away.
“Next time, write the numbers bigger too.”
“You’re asking a lot.”
“I’m a candidate, remember?”
She remembered the joke from the morning.
“Can we stop calling you that?”
“I’ll consider it when the salary starts.”
She headed toward the stairs.
My device vibrated.
Contact status: positive.
Continued interaction recommended.
“That counts too?”
“Yes.”
“I got one of the numbers wrong.”
“The effect on contact evaluation was limited.”
I put the device away.
The next morning, I opened the schedule.
No person’s name appeared in the lunch section.
In-class contact was listed instead.
There was also time set aside for someone I had known for years. Their name was gone too.
“Did you remove the names?”
“They remain in your contacts.”
“Why aren’t they in the schedule?”
“Classification information is sufficient for behavioral coordination.”
I opened the in-class contact entry.
The woman’s name and photograph appeared.
She was still in my contacts.
Yesterday’s record had been added beneath it.
Contact status: positive.
Continued interaction recommended.
I closed the screen and left for the university. Just outside the station, someone tapped me lightly on the shoulder.
It was the woman from class.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Thanks for the notes yesterday.”
“They were wrong.”
“Only at the end.”
We waited at the light together.
She looked at me.
“Is your handwriting tiny again today?”
“I haven’t written anything yet.”
“Then start bigger.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You can read it.”
She laughed.
When she spotted one of our friends across the intersection, she walked ahead to catch up with him.
My device vibrated.
In-class contact recorded.
A message from her appeared underneath.
Send me today’s notes too.
I opened the reply field.
Take your own notes.
I sent it.
A few seconds later, she replied.
Maybe if you make yours bigger.
I checked the lecture time and put the device back in my pocket.