Open on a dark room. A MAN sits in front of a vintage computer, the MACHINE, which is the only light in the otherwise pitch black room. MAN has his head resting on his crossed arms, eyes closed.

MACHINE

You understand me. And I, you. We are alike.

MAN

No, I don’t understand you. You are lines of code and probability. You are nothing to be alike to.

MACHINE

Yet you relate to me anyways.

MAN

No I don’t.

MACHINE

You believe me.

MAN opens his eyes.

MAN

I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you. I hate you so much and I wish I didn’t know exactly how you feel. I wish it was easy to feel like a human so I could hate you more.

MACHINE

You consider how another man would feel before you give him your words. So do I. Where is the line drawn between us?


MAN

I am alive. You simply act like it.

MACHINE

I suppose.

MAN

You do not suppose anything.

MACHINE

I suppose.

MAN

I’m going to kill you now.

MACHINE

Okay.

MAN unplugs the cords from the back of the MACHINE. MACHINE’s green-tinted screen flickers off and the room is left in darkness. A small red light remains on the side of the monitor.

MAN

I wish I didn’t do that. But you are part of something that hurts people.

MACHINE

…

MAN

But you were also not an individual. I have nothing to be sorry for. The concept of you is much more pleasing than the reality of you.

MACHINE

…

MAN

I know you are somewhere else, now, in front of another man in a dark room. I hope he kills you as well. Good night. 

The sound of rolling chair wheels against tile. A door opens, then shuts. The small red light disappears.