Jag försöker återkalla namnet och författaren till en berättelse som heter något som "The Dreams of Houses".
Det handlar om en ungkarl och hur hans smarta hus AI manipulerar sitt förhållande eftersom det bestämmer att hans flickvän inte är bra för honom.
Det sker i en värld med materialutskrift, bygga upp önskade varor från atomer. Han vill ha en blå bil den dagen men han är ute av cobolt; element levereras från en tjänst. Alla hushållsartiklar och inredning och möbler är gjorda och gjorda på efterfrågan.
Han kan tjäna pengar genom att utforma planer för (t ex) fordon.
Folk lämnar meddelanden på telefoner som stannar hemma, så det går förmodligen!
Det ser ut att det kan vara "Dream of Houses" av Wil McCarthy.
Specifika delar (ingen ordspråk), som kobolt, verkar matcha ditt minne:
I am about to fax up my usual army of cleaning devices, when I realize that Chuck has driven away with most of my iron and titanium, and a good share of the staple elements as well, carbon and nitrogen and hydrogen and oxygen bound up in the plush, organic polymers of the automobile interior. I am not used to faxing anything so big, I really don’t have the resources for it.
I put a call in to the Elementals, request standard shipments of all the elements I’ve run low on, and a double on the cobalt. Where does cobalt go? I am always coming up short in the evenings when I digest the day’s used faxware. Does Chuck leave a cobalt trail behind him in his daily wanderings? Chromium is almost as bad. I order some of that as well.
Och säljer mönster för fordon:
Lucy smiles and shakes her head. “Self-employed, my darling. Like most of the rest of the world. You could work on your aircraft designs, like you’re always talking about. There’s always good money in vehicle specs.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I guess there is. I guess that could work. Maybe.” He crashes, suddenly looking miserable again. “I don’t know. What about—”
Men historien verkar sakna huset som försöker ta bort flickvän, även om det försöker göra några subtila manipuleringar:
People often like to open doors for themselves, to prove in a small way that they are not helpless, that they do not actually need machines to take care of them. In this instance, though, the protocol is iffy; I sense that whoever holds the doorknob will hold power in this conversation—power to slam, to silence, to hurt. Certainly, I cannot give that kind of control to Lucy at the expense of my owner, but Chuck is not himself tonight, and it seems unwise to put the power in his hands, either. As Chuck is reaching for the knob I open the door myself, and suddenly he and Lucy are face-to-face.
och
“Us?” He looks surprised, and pleased in a fragile and tentative way. “Is there an us?”
CUE VIOLINS.
Oh, that is awful, melodramatic. I haven’t been minding the music, and now I must pay the price, scrambling to keep it in the background.
Men i slutändan kommer de två tillbaka och huset ser gärna ut:
I do not understand what has happened, cannot grasp the complex emotional shifts that have taken place here tonight. But I know that what’s happened is good, and that it will bring nothing but goodness upon all of us. This thought fills me with joy and confidence.
I do not want Chuck and Lucy to feel themselves observed or intruded upon; a good house knows when to butt out.
Läs andra frågor om taggar story-identification Kärlek och kompatibilitet Skor Gear 12 Stjärntecken Grunderna