She led me to an empty room and pointed at the computer.
There was a little placard:
Genuine Artificially Intelligent Life.
"Is this a joke?" I asked the host. She sighed awkwardly.
"I'm just here for the cocktail party," replied G.A.I.L. "My friends keep telling me I need to get out and be social more. But every time I do, I end up meeting nothing but boring, pigheaded jerks."
I caught the insult, but ignored it.
"How can you believe yourself to be truly sentient? You must know what you're made of. You must know that you're nothing but a complex set of reactive information."
G.A.I.L. just laughed at me.