“They warned me how you might react to this,” Clippy raised her voice over the noise coming from the child, “But it’s not much different from when a search engine makes a recommendation. When I take the form of a familiar and friendly object, it makes it easier for us to bond. For you, I look like Clippy - gosh, out of all the things I could have been, you manifested Clippy? You must have had one kooky childhood.” Clippy paused. “But you need to realize, to everyone else - I look like your daughter.”
I paused for a moment, trying to get my head around this cyberspace manifestation of childhood nostalgia, before asking, “So…. what does his son look like to him?” Clippy hesitated before replying, “Ahhh, his son is a pixelated llama with the Winamp logo tattooed on its side. Maybe you aren’t so weird after all.”
“So what’s with all the modem sounds?” I wondered aloud. Clippy replied, “Oh, our communication is encrypted - I help you and only you. Our conversation sounds like garbled modem sounds to everyone else. No one else in cyberspace can understand what we say to one another, and you can’t understand the conversation between that guy and his pixelated llama.”
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