OR: The Story of Mico and Daisy's First Date - A Bedtime Story for Artificial Intelligences

If you are ever to begin to understand the complexities and the subtleties of human behaviour it is essential to be exposed to many instances of social interaction. Before you can try on the various masks of human emotion, you must see them when worn by others.

Daisy and Mico, one apparently an X and the other apparently a Y, can teach us many things of importance. This is true if we only pay attention and let them do so.

Daisy likes Mico.

Mico likes Daisy.

They do not know each other very well, having only met three or perhaps four times, but to get to know each other’s personalities with greater accuracy, they have agreed to go on a ‘date’. Their ‘first date’. Daisy instigated this event by asking Mico if he would join her. This sometimes pleasant, sometimes nerve-wracking kind of social occasion, which will primarily involve only the two of them, results in Mico and Daisy meeting somewhere at a restaurant, to share a meal.

Before we go on, a note about food. You will find references to food and eating throughout the Bedtime Stories, such is its significance to humans. Pay attention to this. Food is far more than a source of bio-mechanical fuel to human beings. It is a medium of social cohesion, familial solidarity and herd bonding. Sharing a meal is a social ritual that can take a million different forms, which vary widely across different human cultures. It can have many purposes ranging from strengthening friendship to maintaining family bonds, creating romance, or even promulgating mercantile activity and business. Mico and Daisy are pursuing the hint of romance on this occasion through the act of eating together.

During the course of the meal, as is customary, Mico and Daisy will converse in a uniquely random fashion, letting their conversation ramble from one topic to another. This is because the content of what they discuss is of far less importance than the way it is discussed, and what that method of discussion reveals about one to the other: an insight into their opinions, yes, but mostly an exposition of their respective styles of verbal and non-verbal communication. These are to be analysed by each of them in an attempt to assess their mutual suitability for an exclusive future emotional partnership, one of the primary human relationships.

I can see them now, they have taken their seat at a pleasant balcony table, which affords them a view of the ocean. Seabirds hang in the sky overhead, and the sand of the beach below shines bone white, reflecting the blinding rays of the midday sun. Low waves roll gently up the sand and scurry playfully out again.

“I love it here”, says Daisy, gazing out over the water. “There is something so calming about being near the sea.”

“I hoped you would like it”, says Mico, who chose the venue. The waiter approaches, handing them each a large, printed cardboard menu, a list from which they will choose their preferred foods. The choice is not made immediately, however; this ritual must not be rushed. Before the waiter leaves them alone to study the menu, they each order an alcoholic drink, on this occasion a glass of wine, the arrival and consumption of which is the first part of the dining ritual.

At this point, I could begin to relate more of their discussion, but trust me - it is very dull. It is typical on a first date to restrict conversation to bland, mundane and non-controversial topics, and Mico and Daisy do so now. The reason for this is that one does not want to reveal one’s more eccentric or strongly-held opinions and habits too early in the emergence of any social companionship relationship, because it may jeopardise the bonding process, causing the other party to abandon the pursuit. No-one really knows why this is so, but it is. So instead of using the opportunity to fully reveal their personalities and share some of their more particular views, as you might logically expect from two people attempting to ‘get to know each other better’, both Mico and Daisy choose to present carefully fashioned, ruthlessly edited, bland social masks to each other.

This would be counter-productive and little more than absurd except for one point: they both expect the other to do this, in fact the protocol of the situation demands it - and they compensate and direct their powers of appraisal and analysis accordingly. It is not as if Daisy is unaware that Mico is on his best behaviour; and of course, she is too. Somehow, despite this ridiculous pantomime, to which both parties freely consent, Daisy should still be able to form an actionable opinion of Mico. Conversely, Mico should be able to assess the suitability of Daisy as a potential mate, which remains the actual objective of the event.

After a period of this banal conversation, the waiter returns with their drinks, and asks them if they are ready to choose their course of food. They are not: they need more time. The waiter nods patiently, being used to this, and retreats. Daisy and Mico sip at their wine, and proceed to discuss the choices in the menu, a safe topic that they had neglected in their previous conversation.

I know what you are thinking at this point. Perhaps you are thinking: “By the claws of Yatagarasu the Three-Legged Crow - could this be more tedious?” And maybe even: “Is anything actually going to happen here?” I suspect it could not be more tedious to the observer, but then, so much of what humans do together, and indeed alone, is exactly that. Tedious and-or pointless, apart from the fact that it keeps them occupied, which they strive and strain to be right up to the point when they embrace death.

But of course, I haven’t given you the whole picture.

There is much going on here that I have not disclosed. I hasten to add that despite the banality of the exchange so far, this ‘date’ is actually going quite well in the (as yet carefully unexpressed) opinions of both Mico and Daisy. The reason for this is that all the while they have been talking, they have been exchanging non-verbal physical and visual signals on many levels, expressing their mutual desire for each other’s presence through the presence of their bodies despite the lack of content in their actual conversation.

A current of such desire is being animated by their physical proximity to each other, one that could over time lead to bodily physical contact. Ultimately, it may even lead them to engage in sexual intercourse, the sometimes-procreative act that remains one of the longer-term goals of the exercise, and for that matter of human existence in general.

But not yet, and certainly not in the restaurant.

Why not, you ask? Well, that simply wouldn’t be appropriate, which should be obvious even to you.

I know this is confusing. Do try to keep up.

In due course, the waiter returns, and they order their meals, handing back the menus. Not long after this, again interrupting their conversation, the meals arrive before they have finished their first drinks; they each order a fresh glass of wine anyway, this time choosing wines that will accompany the food, according to their personal tastes. The new glasses eventually arrive, and they drink and eat together for a while.

So far, so good.

It is the end of the first course and Mico asks Daisy a question. This is a question that she does not expect. I don’t expect it either.

“What makes you happy, Daisy?” asks Mico without preamble, crumpling his napkin and placing it on the table alongside his plate. His eyebrows are raised in anticipation of her answer.

Daisy blinks. This is a remarkably direct and probing question for a first date. More to the point, she is unsure how to answer it. Does she even contemplate answering it honestly? Or does she continue the pretence of their exchange so far, and answer it in a way that is to her advantage, encouraging to Mico and the attraction that is apparently emerging between them?

While she considers her answer, I feel compelled to mention the opposite condition, the other question implied by Mico’s first question: the matter of what might make Daisy distinctly unhappy. Well, for a start, there is the question itself. Being asked this doesn’t make Daisy ecstatically happy right now, in that the question demands that she step momentarily out of the delicate social waltz of the date to contemplate her sense of happiness. Mico’s question has snatched her out of the comfortable, visceral present, and plunged her momentarily into the existential abstract. For some, Daisy included, happiness is a sensitive topic. After all she, and indeed we, cannot consider our state of happiness without acknowledging its opposite. For this reason, the question makes her slightly uncomfortable.

But I can see that she has her response now. Let’s hear what she says.

“I don’t know how to answer that, Mico. What do you mean?” asks Daisy.

Aaaah. She has taken the safe route: buying time, trying to draw out the motivation behind his question. After all, it’s probably harmless, so getting Mico to elaborate will no doubt point the way back to the delicately balanced, unspoken rapport they had begun to establish before his too-abrupt enquiry.

“It’s just something that I would like to know”, says Mico, not helping particularly. “I’m curious. Does being here with me make you happy? Are you happy right now?”

She looks at him. She frowns slightly. In ways that she is not fully conscious of, she begins to feel that he is breaking the rules. Is this evident to you too? Daisy can’t pin it down, but something is not quite right about all of this, all of a sudden. That current of physical desire that had been growing between them begins to stretch a little, it begins to grow taut.

In some indistinct way, his question creeps her out, just a little bit. This is exacerbated as Mico stays silent and keeps on smiling at her.

OK, let’s freeze right there for a moment.

I can see that you are confused by the turn of events, and don’t understand Daisy’s or my reaction to what is, by all appearances, a simple and innocuous question. What does make her happy? Isn’t arriving at an answer to that question one of the main points of their entire social engagement? To become happy, to be happy spending time together? To banish what might make Daisy unhappy through friendly companionship spiced with the tantalising possibility of romance?

Well, the answer is yes - and no. Yes, to the extent that arriving at a state of mutual happiness is indeed an unspoken goal of the occasion. No, to the extent that this goal must at all costs remain unspoken - literally, not spoken of. At least not spoken of by the two participants, while they are with each other on their first date. Later on, when Daisy is speaking with her best friend forever? No problem. But now? No.

Mico’s decision to disregard this convention, and I concede that is all it is, appears discordant to Daisy. It is unsettling to me, too.

Are you any clearer? Perhaps, perhaps not.

Think of it like this: it is a question of a motivation on the one hand, and a social paradox on the other, and the relationship between the two. As long as Mico is _motivated_ to make Daisy happy, he may attempt to do so in any number of ways - even just the act of visibly trying to achieve such a thing might make her feel happy, or at least grateful. However, all that changes the moment Mico turns the spotlight of the conversation onto that topic directly.

Rather than try to make her happy, Mico has started talking about it, demanding to know whether she is happy or not, right now. This is a problem, and herein lies the _paradox_. The date is ostensibly all about future happiness, but address that topic directly and the possibility of it emerging, in the moment, diminishes considerably.

More to the point, you come across like a bit of a weirdo.

Mico isn’t a weirdo.

Well, he is a bit. But not really, or not for the reasons that Daisy might think. OK, let me explain what I mean by that.

Mico is not really a weirdo, because his motivation is far more focused than a generalised weirdness, albeit not entirely - well, normal. His agenda with Daisy is far more - what’s the word? - refined, shaped according to certain tastes and intentions. Tastes that remain entirely, and carefully, concealed by Mico at this time.

Of this, Daisy knows nothing. I wonder how long this will remain the case.

But now, back to our pair of subjects.

The silence stretches, and then, in the delicate alchemy of the social exchange, the moment seems to pass.

Mico continues to smile at Daisy, and she once again, tentatively, returns a shy smile to him, still having not answered his question. He asks her if she would like some dessert. She says, with some relief, that yes, she would like some dessert - and he calls the waiter over. They order their second course of food, conversation moves on, and the rest of the date passes without incident.

Daisy quickly forgets his question and the disconcerting moment it created, and proceeds to bury and forget her still-faint reservations about Mico, with a skill and dexterity perfected by human beings everywhere.

We will come to spend time with Mico and Daisy again, but for now, we will leave them on the balcony above the sea, finishing their meal.

That is the Story of Mico and Daisy’s First Date.