Avocado and artichoke philosophy

Imagine that you have been having an Internet relationship with John for the past six months. During that time you have discussed many issues, and you have gradually come to respect John's intelligence and perceptive questions. The two of you have connected on so many levels that you have begun to look forward to your evening meetings on the Net. Although many of the people with whom you live and work seem preoccupied with trivial and superficial things, John always focuses on the “big picture” and appears to understand what really matters.

   When you suggest a face-to-face meeting, John puts you off. As you become more insistent, John finally admits that this will be impossible because “he” is a computer program. But this revelation should not harm your relationship, John contends. You can go on just as you have done for the past six months. Still, you feel confused and a little betrayed by this new information. How, you wonder, could you have been fooled for so long? Realizing that you have had a relationship with a computer, you are embarrassed, and even angry. Continuing these conversations now seems out of the question.

   The Tom Hanks character in the movie Splash faced a similar problem. When the beautiful woman who seemed to return his affection and readily agreed to move in with him turned out to be a mermaid, Hanks responded with indignation, “I can't love you. You're a fish.” The mermaid took the same approach as John, the computer, insisting that this new revelation need not have any effect on the relationship: “Whatever you connected with, fell in love with, I'm still that. The fact that I'm a mermaid has nothing to do with anything.”