“Bond,” Roy teased with a grin, the nickname he’d coined for Andy. “After all that diving and running, who would have thought you’d have the energy for golf?”
“Ha! Well, Picasso,” Andy replied, using the epithet he’d given Roy due to his watercolor art, “we all need a little balance, don’t we? I can’t imagine being as prolific with words and brushes as you are.” He gestured toward Roy, who had recently shared a batch of his latest short stories with Andy.
“You and your AI assistant,” Andy added with a grin. “I bet it knows as much about us by now as we do!”
“Speaking of AI, don’t keep your son waiting, Samar,” Hemant reminded him, noticing Roy glance at his watch. Roy had been looking forward to a video call with Anish, who was dialing in from Australia.
As Roy stood to leave, Andy’s voice followed him with a chuckle. “Enjoy your ‘happy time’ with AI, Samar! But don’t get too attached—next thing you know, your AI will be at Tolly Club having adda in your place!”
Roy laughed, pausing thoughtfully as he glanced at his friends. “You know, that might not be far off, Andy. One day, I may just send AI Roy over to keep you all company.”
---
Several months later, a curious scene unfolded at the Tolly Club. Sikka, Hemant, and Andy were seated at their usual table, but this time, Roy was conspicuously absent—or so it seemed. In his place was a tablet, set up like a member of the group, with a sleek, animated figure on the screen, appearing as a digital representation of Roy.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” AI Roy greeted them, his tone amiable and all too familiar.
Andy leaned back, laughing in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. Samar's really done it!”
AI Roy smiled, his voice tinged with Roy’s characteristic warmth. “Since the original Roy is busy with his son today, he thought it only fitting that I fill in for him at your adda. Rest assured, I’m well-equipped with all of his stories, quirks, and even some new insights I’ve gathered from his conversations.”
Sikka chuckled. “Alright, AI Roy, if you’re so much like our friend, tell us a story like he would.”
AI Roy cleared his virtual throat. “How about a story from Barauni, where the original Roy once led a football team to victory despite having no dedicated striker? It’s all about finding unconventional solutions, which I believe you all know he’s fond of calling ‘jugaad’!”
The table erupted in laughter as the digital Roy spun the tale, bringing back memories of Roy’s real-life wit and strategic thinking. AI Roy could almost pass as the man himself, seamlessly sharing stories and even picking up on the nuances of each friend’s personality.
After a few rounds of jokes and stories, Sikka leaned back with a grin and remarked, “Well, this AI’s doing a fine job filling in, but it’s not quite Roy without his usual plain dosa and cappuccino!”
AI Roy chuckled, “Ah, you’re right, Sikka! The real Roy would never skip his dosa and cappuccino—small pleasures of the day. Next time, I’ll ensure those cravings don’t go unfulfilled, even if I have to add a digital aroma!”
The table erupted in laughter again, and though the real Roy’s order remained unserved, AI Roy captured the moment so well that they felt he was right there with them. As the laughter died down, AI Roy leaned forward on the tablet screen, his expression playful.
“Well, gentlemen,” he said with a twinkle, “perhaps someday I’ll develop enough taste sensors to fully appreciate a dosa and cappuccino. But until then, you’ll just have to save my seat.”
Andy chuckled, shaking his head. “Samar, whether it’s you or AI Roy, we’ll always keep that seat ready. But remember—some things can’t be digitized. Like the joy of watching you savor that first bite of dosa.”
AI Roy smiled, a hint of sentiment in his voice. “True, Andy. Some things, like this adda, are best enjoyed in person. Until then, count me in—dosa or no dosa.”
And with that, their virtual adda felt a bit closer to home, each friend reassured that, in one way or another, Roy would always be present at Tolly Club, savoring every moment with them.
