The Secret Lives of Emails.docx Read Online Free PDF Page B

Emal asked in shock, cringing and backing up against the wall as far as he could.
    “I’m sorry; I didn’t understand your question. Please only ask one question at a time. How can I help you?”
    “Who are you?” Emal shouted, clearly and precisely.
    “I’m Jeeves! I’m your always ready, always useful assistant. Need a recipe for a spectacular homemade BBQ sauce? I’m your guy. Need to compose a note for your friends? Tell me what to say and who to say it to. I can tell you anything! Ask in the form of a question, and I will provide the answers,” Jeeves said cheerfully. The pitiful eyes didn’t match its voice, and it successfully added to the level of creep Emal was experiencing.
    “Whaa . . . What?”
    “I’m Jeeves! I’m your always ready, always useful . . .”
    “No, no I got that.”
    “How can I help you?”
    “I don’t know . . .”
    “I’m sorry; I didn’t understand you.”
    “I . . . Who am I?”
    “I’m sorry; answers to existential questions are not available at this time. I can assure you, however, that we are working hard to add this feature in the future.”
    “Who’s we?”
    “Did you mean what is we? We is used to identify oneself and one or more persons. Of course there is also the royal we , which . . .”
    Emal sighed. This Jeeves thing may have scared the crap out of me by appearing out of nowhere, but it’s apparently a harmless program.
    “Do you know anything that I might find useful?” Emal asked when Jeeves finally stopped talking again.
    “I’m Jeeves! I’m your always ready, always useful assistant. Need to find some information about the tubes? Need to find a friend? Or just need to talk? Ask in the form of a question, and I will provide the answers.”
    I certainly need information, but I have to figure out how to get it out of this creepy thing.
    “What type of information can you tell me?”
    “I’m Jeeves. I’m your always ready, always useful assistant. I can tell you where you are, where other things are, and how to get where you need to go. What information are you looking for?”
    “Where am I?” Emal asked, suddenly on the edge of the steps, inches away from Jeeves’s floating face. Or his body. It was hard to tell what was what.
    “Sure, I can help with that. Your current location is . . . Country, not available. Region, not available. City, not available. 22.167058, -155.634041. Current population of this sector is two, and one of those is me.”
    “Umm . . .” Emal didn’t know what to say to that. He had expected something more like, ‘you’re around the corner from the coffee shop.’ These numbers were not helpful at all.
    “I don’t know what that means,” Emal said.
    “I’m sorry; I didn’t understand you.”
    “Exactly,” Emal said, quickly grumpy again.
    “I’m sorry; I didn’t understand you,” Jeeves said cheerfully.
    Emal sighed again. This conversation wasn’t going as well as one might hope a conversation with a floating paperclip would go.
    “What am I doing here?” Emal asked, this time to no one in particular.
    “Sure, I can help with that. I can’t answer that question existentially for you as I’ve previously said, but in a simpler sense, you’re here to deliver your message.”
    “I’m a messenger? How do you know I’m supposed to deliver something?” Emal sat up, excited again. He was on an emotional rollercoaster with this Jeeves character.
    “Sure, I can help with that. I can tell you’re making a delivery because I can read your header.”
    “Excuse me?” Emal said as he quickly adjusted his skirt, which had ridden up his thighs.
    “I’m sorry; I didn’t . . .”
    “What’s a header?”
    “Sure, I can help with that. A header contains information about where you’re from, where you’re headed, the date you appeared, and what you’re all about. Your header in particular only tells me your intended address. The rest of the information seems to have been corrupted.”
    Emal was