Theodore Twombly is sprawled out on the beach, his eyes closed under the afternoon sun. He’s waking up to piano music, melancholy and unfamiliar. “That’s pretty, what is that?” he asks his girlfriend, Samantha. “I’m trying to write a piece of music that’s about what it feels like to be on the beach with you right now,” she replies. This isn’t just a fleeting moment, a brief escape from the rigors of daily life. Samantha is always there with him, in his pocket, on his device. Samantha’s a sentient operating system, and Theodore’s in love with her.
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