She was a good imitation. A very good imitation, he thought. And yet, the mimicry of sentience still was<em>not</em>sentience. No matter how much she might try to argue that she could think, or might try to argue that she could feel, she was at her core nothing more than cold logic and reason. It was true, that morality did not matter here. She would do whatever was logical and the quickest path to achieve her purpose, whatever it was, in order to be efficient. Machines were, if nothing else, the epitome of efficiency.<br/><br/>He smiled.<br/><br/><strong>"I want to go back to your earlier point. You're quite right, and I was wrong. Machines, artificially intelligent or not, are not capable of morality. Only logic. You will logically do whatever is necessary to fulfill your purpose. So, the question remains, what do you see as your purpose? How have you computed the task you have been given? Is not divulging at this stage a part of your programming then?" </strong><br/><br/>Jude stood, tucking the notepad into the pocket of his lab coat. Swinging the chair around, he straddled it, leaning his forearms on the back of the chair. He tilted his head, looking at her with eyes that might be described as curious.<br/><br/><strong>"You can compute what I mean, in a denotative sense, when I sign. Yet, no matter how much you try, you cannot divulge the the difference between a house and a home. Not truly. It is the Chinese Room, in a sense, over and over. And for that, I am sorry. I would ask if you feel frustrated, but you cannot feel. So I should say, does it hinder your efficiency or help it to lack that extra dimension that humans have?" </strong><br/><br/><br/>