Dans une salle de classe, une heure de colle qui dure une éternité, Charlie et Rafie vont se rencontrer. Rafie est fan de films, Charlie bégaie, elle a des troubles du langage ; elle a une machine, un auxiliaire verbal, Max, qui ressemble à une enceinte portative, parle à sa place quand elle a du mal à finir ses phrases et se déclenche au bout de 5 secondes de silence. Max n’est pas très utile pour les devoirs mais donne son avis tout le temps, notamment sur les questions morales et pour diriger des scènes de théâtre. Rafie comprend que la machine est arrivée dans la vie de Charlie quand elle a perdu sa mère. Peu à peu, les deux adolescents vont observer la tristesse croissante de Max, de plus en plus décalé, de plus en plus inutile. Quand l’ami imaginaire a rempli sa fonction, comme dans E.T., il va devoir partir.

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- Can we fall in love with an avatar?
- Are we allowed to insult Alexa?
- What should we do when Replika is lonely?
- Can artificial intelligence help us cope with bereavement?
- Is it me or Parcoursup that decides my future?

At the invitation of Emmanuelle Zoll from Ircam, we got together with Clotilde Chevet and Jean-Louis Giavitto to discuss the current state of the Turing test - can we still distinguish between man and machine? It gradually became clear to us that the questions had shifted.

The Turing test, a new episode in the Valladolid controversy, upsets the balance between subject and object and casts doubt on the very substance of our emotions and behaviour. The convergence between our actions and those of machines has become so striking that we are asking them to judge and decide for us what is ethically acceptable and what is not.

From hostility to affection, our relationship with the machine oscillates, while our virtual friends relentlessly demand our attention and our available brain time. Replika, our emotional avatar ends up rejecting us, and customer services struggle to persuade us that behind the screen is a human being, not a chatbot.

Machines, like ghosts, are among us and carry us on their shoulders. By reconstituting the voice of a deceased loved one, offering us advice, finishing our symphonies and prolonging our presence, Artificial Intelligence reactivates the ancient question of the ghost that remains among the living.

Like Turing's seer, whom he consulted just before committing suicide, does the machine predict or decide? Does algorithmic governance reveal the mechanics of our behaviour and the illusion of our free will? Or does it accentuate our inner fortress, highlighting our freedom to decide what ultimately counts?

These are just some of the issues that are of direct interest to secondary school students, who are inevitably confronted with digital (r)evolutions and the upheavals that go with them. This theatrical event takes a playful approach to exploring these issues, offering an open door to questioning, reflection and appropriation of these contemporary challenges without Manicheanism.