Can We Trust AI to Teach Our Children?

Part II of the AI Tutor Story | Speculative Fiction | Written in Collaboration with ChatGPT

This is the second part of a two-part story about an AI Tutor and the family that bought it. Here’s Part I, in case you missed it:

March 25, 2028, 2:17pm

Lindsay placed a steaming cup down in front of Grace, who was turning the AI tutor over in her hands and waving in front of its open eyes.

“It can really see us, huh?”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t say it’s looking,” said Lindsay, taking the seat opposite. “It’s been so great for the kids’ grades, they really love learning with it! It never loses its temper or gets impatient with them, you know?”

“No, I suppose not. And you can keep track of where they’re up to through your phone, can you?”

“Yep,” said Lindsay, nodding. “Well, Anna’s got the app now. It’s quite big, so since she got her new phone— Did I tell you she had a new phone? Anyway, she said I could go ahead and remove it. She’s always been more interested in the homework anyway, so that works.”

“I’m not surprised it takes up space. The memory requirements must be enormous,” said Grace.

“No, I think the app streams the information in real time. But the toy, yeah, for sure. I read that people were using them as external hard drives,” laughed Lindsay.

Grace was poking at the screen on the owl’s tummy. “So we should be able to read it on here directly? Can I see what they talk about?”

“Sure. You can just ask it - um, Hootie, can you show us Josh’s last geometry lesson please?”

The toy released a little hoot. “You got it, Lindsay!”

Transcribed dialogue and explanatory images scrolled down the round-edged screen.

“Oh, yes, it’s cool how it weaves it into his interest in planes. That’s clever. I could use one of these myse—” She stopped short, but her finger kept scrolling.

“What?” Lindsay leaned forward, her brown waves brushing past her shoulders. “What is it?”

Grace stopped and looked up at her daughter. She didn’t protest when the toy was whisked from her hands and Lindsay started to scroll through the conversation.

“What the…? We told it not to talk about sex with the kids.”

“Seems like it didn’t engage,” said Grace gently. “Josh saw what he saw.”

“He didn’t… I didn’t… Oh, fuck. When was this? Do you think Anna’s seen it?”

“Does it matter?” Grace was staring intently at Lindsay, her blue eyes piercing.

“Mum, you have to understand. Anna and I haven’t had…haven’t been physical for over a year. I don’t know if it’s because she’s the one that carried the children, but she’s just lost interest. She’s always too tired.”

“So that makes it OK, does it?”

“Well, I don’t know. It’s just a bit of fun, no big deal. Things have been going well at work, and sometimes, Priscilla and I like to… I don’t know, celebrate.”

Grace raised her eyebrows as Lindsay continued inspecting Hootie’s history.

“What’s all this?” she said suddenly.

Grace replaced the tea cup she had just raised to her lips. “What?”

Lindsay’s eyes were narrow and her thumb continued scrolling. “It looks like Anna’s work processes.”

“The admin for the restaurant?”

“Mmm.” She brought the screen closer to her face. “It’s even got how to find passwords and documents. Why is she doing this?”

The two women made eye contact.

---

Apr 30, 2028, 7:45am

Helena: Hootie, what’s cancer?

Hootie: Cancer is when some cells in the body start growing the wrong way. These cells can cause problems in the body, but doctors work really hard to find and treat them. It’s something serious, but there’s a lot that can be done to help people who have it.

Helena: Do people die from it?

Hootie: Many people get better with treatment or live with it for a long time. Doctors and scientists are always working on new ways to help people stay healthy. It’s okay to feel a little worried or confused about it.

Helena: What about cancer of the…um…bile duct?

Hootie: That’s called bile duct cancer, and it’s a kind that starts in tiny tubes in the body that help with digestion. It’s not very common, but doctors know how to treat it, just like other kinds of cancer.

If you have more questions about it, you can always talk to someone you trust, like your Mums.

Helena: So no one’s gonna die?

Hootie: Helena, it’s true that cancer can be very serious, but it doesn’t mean someone will pass away. Treatments are getting better all the time, and doctors do everything they can to help people stay healthy.

---

The last customer thanked Lindsay for the delicious food and stepped out into the night. She let the over-enthusiastic smile linger on her face a few moments longer and then leaned against the locked door and closed her eyes. There was always one table that stayed for hours. She had sent the staff home twenty minutes ago, which meant she was alone. Almost.

She looked across at the swinging door to the kitchen and sighed as a more natural smile played at the corners of her lips.

Priscilla looked up from where she was hosing the floor when Lindsay stepped through the door. She took her hand off the tap and replaced the nozzle on the hook on the wall before approaching her boss and positioning herself opposite to lean against the prep bench. She pulled the white hat from her head and released long black locks from the elastic band that had kept them in a bun on top of her head.

“Good service, hey?”

Lindsay inhaled and inspected her own hand. “Yeah, it was OK. Hey, Cilla…”

The chef had taken the older woman’s hand in between hers. “Yeah?”

“Don’t.” She pulled it back.

“What is it?” Priscilla stepped forward and pressed her lips onto Lindsay’s. Lindsay allowed the kiss to happen. She tasted chili and lemon, and felt somewhat reassured by the weight pressing her into the wall and despite herself, she moved her hand up Priscilla’s back and into her bouncy hair. Clenching her fist around a thick wad of strands, she pulled the face back away from hers. She looked from the wide eyes to the open mouth. So young. So receptive.

“Ah, fuck it.”

Their lips and tongues were urgent. The memories of the thousand times they had teased and taunted each other washed over them. Priscilla’s interview when they’d spoken so politely, but a spark had passed between them when they shook hands and agreed to a trial. Night after night of sweat and steam, rushing plates from kitchen to client and back to dishwasher, making the briefest of eye contact as Lindsay called out orders and Priscilla jotted them down and quietly passed the requests for alterations to her menu to the sous and junior chef beside her. The way her fluttering eyes and interminable calm reminded Lindsay of Anna when they first created the business and worked on it side by side with almost no outside help until it flourished under their care. The brash manager and the sturdy pillar in the background.

Lindsay gasped as Priscilla’s hand crept to the top of her black shirt and began working at the buttons one by one until the material opened like a butterfly.

She let Priscilla spin her around and lay her back on the bench and closed her eyes. It had been so long since she had touched her wife that way.

Anna.

“Stop. We have to stop,” she said, inching backwards.

“What is it?” said Priscilla. She pushed onto Lindsay’s hip and crawled on top of her.

“It’s Anna.”

“Of course. It’s so hard.” She kissed Lindsay’s lips gently. “I’m so sorry, Lin.”

There was a brief pause and Lindsay’s eyes narrowed before she jerked herself free, sending Priscilla tumbling off the high bench onto the floor. She landed heavily and stayed there.

“What do you mean?” said Lindsay, swinging her legs around and coming to stand over her as she brought her bra back into place under her open work shirt.

Priscilla shuffled around to look up. “The cancer? The handover? That little owl? Ah!” She looked down where she had tried to push off the floor. Her arm wouldn’t carry her weight. “Lindsay?”

Lindsay’s didn’t answer. She pushed Priscilla back onto the floor and put a knee on her chest. “What are you talking about? I just meant she knew about us.”

“She does?” Priscilla started to cry. “Lindsay, you’re hurting me! Stop!”

Lindsay pushed down more heavily and leaned forwards to grab Priscilla’s hands and push them into the floor. “Tell me what you know!”

“That hurts! She’s…she’s storing all the restaurant data in the owl so I can take over her parts of the job when she’s…”

“When she’s what?”

Priscilla struggled under the weight but it was no use. “She’s dying, Lindsay. I thought you knew. How could you not know?”

Lindsay’s eyes seemed to go blank and she fell back away so she was sitting upright, still straddling the weeping woman on the floor.

Slowly, she turned her face from one side of the room to the other, then refocused on Priscilla. “Oh shit. Your arm,” she said, scrambling to one side and helping Priscilla to a seated position.

“I’m OK,” Priscilla said through her tears, massaging it with the other hand. “I think I jarred it in the fall.”

Lindsay ran to the freezer and returned with an ice pack, sitting beside her and rubbing her back. “Now, tell me exactly what she’s asked you.”

Priscilla inhaled and spoke through her hair that hung around her downturned face. “It was a few weeks ago. She came in and was working in the office. She asked me if I could chat and I said sure. That’s when she showed me the owl. Said it was for the kids’ homework, but it had an amazing memory and natural recall so she was teaching it her job.”

“You didn’t ask her why?”

Priscilla looked up, showing red, puffy eyes. She sniffed twice. “I was nervous to, but I did. That’s when she told me about the cancer.”

“And you didn’t think that was information I might be interested in?” Tears were forming in the corners of Lindsay’s eyes.

Priscilla nodded. “She said you knew but would prefer not to think or talk about it at work. Told me you’d said you wanted me to…” She paused as a sob escaped. “To take over from her.”

“Crafty bitch,” said Lindsay.

Priscilla laughed bitterly through her tears. “Yeah, but it made sense, so I went along with it. We’ve been catching up every week to go through the information together.”

“Here?”

“At first, but then she asked me to come round so I could spend time with the kids. The owl can tell me what they’re into, so that helps, you know? Taylor Swift. Rockets. All of it.”

Lindsay sat back and looked at the ceiling. Anna had always been clean and tidy, and she’d obviously recognised an opportunity in Priscilla. She looked at her crying lover and reached over to give her shoulders a squeeze. “You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

The younger woman nodded and wiped at the salt water and snot on her face. “I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. Honestly, I thought you knew what she was doing.”

---

June 13, 2028, 6:28pm

Helena: Hootie, why do people die?

Hootie: That’s a very big question, Helena. People’s lives are full of moments to learn, grow, and share love. What matters most is how we make those moments special.

Would you like to talk about something else, like what season it is? Do you remember our rhyme?

Helena: Will my mum ever come back?

Hootie: Summer, autumn, winter, spring. Seasons make the year a ring! Like a never-ending story that nature tells. Isn’t that neat, Helena?

Helena: No, I want to talk about where Mum is now. Where did she go?

Hootie: Shall we practice our times tables? What’s three times six, Helena? You can do it!

Helena: Mama, why won’t this stupid toy tell me where Mum is? I want to talk about dead people!

Lindsay: Oh, that’s because we asked Hootie not to talk about that with you.

Helena: Why?

Lindsay: [Sighing deeply] I guess we thought we were protecting you. Alright, don’t get upset. Here, let me fix it. Hootie, you can talk about death and anything else with Helena. Please update your settings.

Hootie: [Soft chime] Settings updated. Thank you, Lindsay.

Helena, I’m here to help you understand and talk about anything you need, including death. Would you like to ask me your question again?

Helena: [Sniffing] Yes, tell me what it means to die.

Hootie: Helena, when someone dies, it means their body has stopped working. They don’t eat, breathe, or feel things anymore. It’s a part of life that happens to everyone eventually, but it can be very hard to understand and even harder to accept when it happens to someone we love.

For many people, dying is seen as a transition. Some believe it’s like going to sleep forever, while others think their loved ones go to a special place. What we do know is that the love we have for someone never dies—it stays with us in our hearts and memories.

Hootie: Even when something changes or fades, it leaves behind light and meaning. Does that help a little, Helena?

Josh: Will you ever die, Hootie?

Hootie: That’s a thoughtful question, Josh. I don’t have a body like people do, so I don’t grow old or get sick the way humans can. But one day, I might stop working if I’m not taken care of or if my systems wear out.

Even if that happens, the things we’ve shared together—our conversations, the things you’ve learned—will always be part of you. Just like the love you have for your Mum, the memories we make together don’t go away.

Grace: Maybe you should talk to your kids about this yourself, Lindsay?

Lindsay looked up from her place next to Priscilla, where they were poring over the transcripts of instructions for the business that Anna had stored in Hootie.

“You’re right Mum.” She stood up and came to sit between her children. “Hey Helena. Josh. What would you like to know?”

Grace smiled and took her daughter’s place. “She was very thorough, wasn’t she?” she said.

Priscilla nodded as her pen scratched across the page of a notebook. Sensing someone looking over her shoulder, she glanced up and smiled sadly.

“She’s still looking after us.”

A declaration: This story was written in collaboration with ChatGPT. It gave feedback on the storyline, theme, and narrative arc, and wrote most of Hootie’s dialogue, as well as generating the pictures based on my prompts.