I checked you out of the library. You were due back in two weeks for synchronization, but I kept you out much longer, running up huge fines. The librarian was very nice and didn’t make me pay right away, but said that she had very little discretion; that the fines were set by the library system and your publisher.

I am a writer and I was looking for an acting teacher to help me improve how I read my work out loud. Although, of course, your publisher didn’t tell me your real name, your bio on the package really spoke to me. I thought we would get along, and we did, from the very first moment that you were uploaded into my card slot.

Suddenly, there you were. It surprised me that you were my height. I’m not sure if that is an artefact of the software: virtual teachers scaled to the same size as their students, or whether you really are (or were) five foot six.

I was ready to work. I began to read aloud from the draft of my novel, and I could tell before you even said anything that the narrative voice just didn’t work. She wasn’t in the story, but aloof, above it all. This moment felt almost like telepathy, but I imagine it was accomplished by transmissions from the software of the emotional colouring of what you were about to say.

… I went to the library again this morning and checked you out. We’ve got two weeks.