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“I don’t,” she replies, taking a large helping of salad. “I don’t understand anything except the fact that he’s trying to replace me with a computer.”
Only the faintest stain on his cheeks lets me know I’ve managed to step on a land mine.
“I’m not trying to replace you. I’m trying to build something even bigger off all that knowledge you have,” he says. “It’s really a project to honor your work.”
“You are not naming that robot after me,” she replies, a worried expression coming over her face.
I can fix this. And I will after I eat this big heaping bite of heaven. It is exactly that. Freaking heaven in my mouth. And I want to live here in this pretty place with a nonna who worries about me and feeds me.
I am still a child in the world looking for a mommy.
“There’s no robot involved,” I assure her. “And the matchmaking aspect is only part of what Heath’s AI can do. He really is working on it as a way to honor you, and he’s got so much data that might help future couples. Isn’t that what we all want someday? For our stories to inform the next generations?”
She stares at me like she’s got a bullshit detector, and it’s going off. It might be. The woman spends a lot of time in country bars. “There is more to matchmaking than data.”
I hope Heath takes this one because I’m eating, and I am serious about that.
He does not. He gives me a look that tells me I started this and I better finish it.
“Like I said, it’s not merely matchmaking. That’s only one aspect of the AI’s potential, and I think you can help us decide if it’s worthwhile to pursue,” I offer.
Heath sends me a death stare. Probably because I invited his nonna to join us at our non-office and meddle as she pleases. Well, he’d let me answer her.
“All right. What else is interesting about it?” she asks. “I don’t understand all the terms, but I’ve heard Heath talk about the framework. His roommate Darnell comes for dinner sometimes, and he says the framework is lovely. Also, you should ask Darnell to let you read his novel. It’s very exciting but it’s not finished.”
I’m betting Lydia Marino isn’t very tech savvy. I’m sure she can use her phone and the Internet and a smart TV, but she likely doesn’t write a lot of her own code. It’s clear to me no one has explained this to her. I understand Darnell. He’s a writer. He wants to find a reader. But Heath should have informed her of what he does. “It’s like a base. So most people when they start writing a program use some kind of framework as a base. Like Ruby on Rails, AppMaster, Flask. There are tons of good ones out there. It basically puts you a bunch of steps ahead in the program, and then all the real programming work you have to do is to customize it.”
“So it’s a cheat?” Lydia asks.
Wow, she’s a little judgey there. “It’s a base.” I search for something she can understand. “Like when you make soup. You don’t make your own stock.”
“Of course I do,” she insists.
I’m not going to fault her for that. I hope I get to eat that soup someday. “Well, the rest of the world is lazy, and they need a little help and don’t want to spend a year building a base they don’t have to. Except for your grandson, who I would bet has been building this framework for a long time. Years, probably.”
Heath takes a sip of his water. He’s already halfway through the massive piece of lasagna he took, so I don’t feel so bad. “I’ve been working on it since I was fifteen. I like to do things my own way.”
“And from what I’ve seen his way is super innovative and can help many coders in the future. And that’s what the business part is about. That and the AI he’s building. They could both be very popular once they’re out there in the marketplace.” It actually feels kind of good to tell the truth. Even if I’m telling the truth to the goddess of a woman at the head of the table, and her grandbaby thinks I’m saving him.
I’m not joking, this shit melts in my mouth, and I feel it in my soul.
I’m already wondering if she’s made dessert. She feels like a dessert-making person.
“Well, I’m sure it’s all very technical,” Lydia declares, and Heath seems to relax, the danger of what is probably a lecture he’s heard many times before passing. “But I’m more interested in you, dear. I already like you more than Heath’s usual dates. The last one was on some kind of diet. Kettle or something.”
