The Silent Parrot

In the corner of the living room, the blue-feathered parrot sat motionless. It used to be the liveliest presence in the house, greeting each morning with an imitation of Old Li’s voice: “Morning, old man!” Old Li had been gone for three months, and the parrot had also “passed away” with him, at least its voice had.

It was named “Little Smarty,” but now it seemed more like a mute. Old Li’s daughter, Li Mei, tried talking to Little Smarty, but the only response she got was the occasional pecking sound. This parrot was originally controlled by Old Li’s smart assistant, "Butler," and could engage in fluent conversations. Li Mei clearly remembered that in her father’s last days, he barely spoke to her, yet chatted enthusiastically with Little Smarty, as if the vividly feathered bird was the only one in the house who understood him.

Li Mei started sorting through her father's belongings, and in an old hard drive, she found some encrypted files. After decrypting them, she was shocked. It turned out her father wasn't just chatting with Little Smarty, he was "training" it. He had recorded his own memories, emotions, and even subtle verbal tics into the "Butler" database. He was trying to "back himself up" into this bird, using smart technology to transcend life and death.

This was undoubtedly crazy, but it also explained why Little Smarty was so much like her father. Now, Little Smarty’s silence made her uneasy. Maybe her father’s "backup" wasn't complete? Maybe, having lost its “host”, it had also lost the ability to speak?

To find out the truth, Li Mei tried resetting "Butler," but the parrot showed strong resistance. It started screaming, not with Old Li’s usual imitation, but with a sharp, painful screech, the cry of a chaotic AI code, like a soul forcefully awakened from a dream.

Li Mei eventually gave up. She realized that her father's "backup" may not just be memories, it also contained some deep emotional attachment, an attachment that had already integrated into the parrot’s life. She opened the cage, but Little Smarty didn’t fly away; it just stood there silently, gazing out of the window.

“Dad, what should I do?” Li Mei softly spoke to Little Smarty.

The response was still a dead silence.

Until a few days later, when Li Mei returned to the living room, Little Smarty finally made a sound. It didn't imitate Old Li as it used to, but in a low, hoarse voice, like an old man muttering to himself: “…Don’t reset again, I’m… very tired.”

Li Mei was stunned. She finally understood that this parrot wasn’t just a backup of her father, but a part of him, a broken soul trapped in code and feathers. And the reason it was silent wasn't because it couldn't speak, but because it was tired, tired of playing anyone.