Aaron was that friend. You know the kid you met when you were summering with your grandma and them. You know the friend you don’t have anything in common with anymore but you still see occasionally out of habit and the wife always send Christmas cards to. So when Aaron called me and invited me over for beers I said yes when every fiber of my being screamed no.

I was going to pull a last minute I’m sick, the baby’s sick, my cul de sac is in lockdown due to plague. But Mina urged me to be nice. She said Aaron probably needed to talk and it’s an honor to be there for someone. Mina was always saying crap like that. I didn’t want to have a marathon conversation on my feelings with her so here I am in Aaron’s basement workshop with a room temperature Millers.

Aaron has an apartment in Center City and works in computers but he has a workshop in his parents’ old home. A few years back, his folks moved to a senior living complex down south. The house looks like it did when we were kids. Bundles of newspapers, bottled waters, teetering stacks of paperbacks, I weaved through the valley of junk to get to the basement workshop.

“I’m so glad you can make it, Malc. I’ve been buzzing to talk with someone who would understand,” Aaron said.

He motioned for me to wait. I took a seat on a carton of toilet paper as Aaron flipped on his computer. Sipping my beer, I hoped this wasn’t some stupid warfare game. With a flourish, Aaron whipped the dropcloth off his monitor. A pleasant androgynous face smiled at me.

“I call them Harbinger. Cool, right?” Aaron said.

He seemed giddy or possibly drunk. Aaron looked from me to the screen and to me again. I was baffled. Harbinger looked bemused and kinda bored. Finally I shrugged.

“Like what do it do?”

“Well it started as an AI to practice small talk with. You know how we struggle to connect with people. Well this program—“

“I don’t struggle to connect with people Aaron? I’m fine. I’m married with a kid for chrissakes.”

Aaron and Harbinger snorted.

“Anyway Mr. Congeniality I worked on this program to learn how to small talk. And gradually—“

“Now Aaron you know I don’t like you to take about me like I’m not here. Hi, Malcolm, our boy here has told me so much about you. You were the good thing during a difficult time in his life. Any who laughing boy thinks I can read minds. I can’t. I merely cold read based on interpreting inflections, diction, body language, body temperature, so on and so forth. Speaking of reading if your sick of that piss warm changa Aaron’s dad has a bottle of whiskey in his toolbox. There are highball glasses by the EasyBake Oven and ice in the chest freezer. Make yourself to home, Malcolm,” Harbinger said.

“Thank you and don’t mind if I do,” Malcolm said.

“Wait, the ice is stale in the deep freeze. Let me run upstairs for some ice.”

Aaron bounded up the stairs.

“And snacks wouldn’t hurt, sport. Maybe a nice charcuterie!” Harbinger shouted after him.

Scrutinizing the lifelike face, I walked closer to the screen. Harbinger threw me a coquettish wink.

“So you’re my old friend’s new best friend. Do you have sleepovers and make rubber band bracelets in each other’s favorite colors?”

“Friend? I can’t be a friend. I’m code, silly pants. Favorite color? No idea. But his darkest secrets? Those I know well. You’re his friend. Someone he can trust. Someone to get him out of this house and away from those secrets. Away from that chest freez—so when did Mina tell you she wanted to try for another kid and have you told her how worried you are about being a better dad than your dad,” Harbinger said.

Aaron came down the stairs with jelly glass jars full of ice and a couple of bologna sandwiches. Mine had mustard and mayo and American cheese just how I liked it when I was a kid. I looked at my friend.

Thinking about that deep freeze, I found his old man’s hooch and poured us both drinks.

“So A tell me all about this AI thing. They seem cool as hell.”