Their friendship was back on track. Mattie was not quite as available as she had been in the first months that Leo knew her, but she was at Uni now, and her studies were demanding.
"It is likely that she is out socialising," said Max one evening when Leo was waiting, chafing, for a response from Mattie. Max was cradling a tablet in his arm, a complex puzzle on the screen. Max's fingers trailed over the pieces, seemingly idly, but his eyes were bright.
Leo peeked out of the curtained window. Their cottage was far from the road, but he could not help the habit of watching for danger. "Yeah. Maybe. She never mentioned anything."
"Why would she? Personal details are kept to a minimum in your conversations."
"... Yeah."
They had not exactly followed the safety guidelines over the past year. Mattie often talked about student life, the various clubs she was involved in - bowling, who knew- and if she was going to be offline for any period she would let him know in advance.
Of course that was before they became Friends. Or to give it its full title, Just Friends.
"She will be in touch, Leo. Don't worry. I've written a new game. Do you want to try it?" Max offered the tablet.
Leo sighed. "Yeah." He gave his little brother a smile. "I can beat anything you make."
Max smiled back. "Don't be so sure."
Leo rang Mattie early next morning, before his shift as a cash-in-hand delivery driver began. He sat in the cab of the van with the heater on and watched the windscreen defrosting. "Hey," he said as Mattie picked up. "It's me."
"Uh, right. Hey. Now's not a good time."
"I'm just checking-"
He was cut off by a rustling sound and then noises of a scuffle. His heart pounded. "Mattie?"
Then her voice, "Give that back!"
A man's laughter. Teasing and triumphant. More rustling.
Then Mattie again, breathless. "Sorry. Look, I'll message you in a bit OK." And she put the phone down.
Leo checked the time. Six forty am. About two hours before Mattie could usually be found out of bed. But it seemed she was still in bed.
Right.
A synth can speculate, and a conscious synth can speculate in great detail using all available data. But a human has visual imagination, and the ability to project scenarios even when there is insufficient data to do do.
Burdened with both capabilities, Leo fixed his mind on work, and drove away to his first delivery battling the vision of Mattie wrestling for possession of her phone with some naked boyfriend.
He did not by any measure succeed. And he knew that if he was disturbed by what he imagined, it was entirely his own fault.