Tiffany Cartagena and Maria Marquis Photo by Christian Pizzirani

Since her younger sister, a university student, texted her a year ago in the middle of the night, Merrill has heard nothing, and police detectives have closed the missing-person case as unsolvable. With lingering guilt that somehow she could have saved her sister, Merrill–an AI and coding whiz–has taken all emails, texts, Instagram posts, videos watched, purchases, and virtually everything Angie's phone and computer could spit out and dumped it all into a chatbot program. The result, as the play opens, is a voice sounding like the missing Angie calling out, "Hey, what's up, Asshole?"–exactly the kind of brazen, cheeky, expletive-packed greeting the shocked and stunned Merrill knows so well.

What follows is a back-and-forth teasing with plenty of f-words as AI Angie catches up on what has happened in the past twelve months. AI Angie learns, for example, Merrill has broken up with her girlfriend, Raquel, leading AI Angie to scold, "She was a goddamn angel, the only sane thing in your life ... How did you mess that up?"

As the chatter continues (with AI Angie threatening to Merrill's horror to call Raquel to begin patching things up), a screen that has been projecting a pulsating circle as the chatbot's voice suddenly begins to show a pixelated face that eventually becomes a clear, life-like image of AI Angie as she interacts with Merrill. The large projection screen dominates a cluttered home office that leads into a small, neatly and simply adorned living room,–an effective, efficient set designed by Ron Gasparinetti with the work/living space properties designed by Laura Merrill. The projections that are a major part of the entire ninety-minutes and the scene-imperative videos have been designed by Maxwell Bowman.

The catching up sounds just like two sisters who in fact have not seen each other in a long time. Merrill asks AI Angie, "Do you know who you are?" With an "of-course" tone, the image answers, "I'm your sister," to which Merrill informs her–or it–"You're an algorithm."

AI Angie is stunned and at first seems not sure what to do next. But she begins asking more questions about the real Angie in order to be as much like her as possible while also cockily admonishing Merrill for creating her. "Y'all are fucked, like as a species ... The coding of human mercy ... That's gotta be the first horseman of the apocalypse."

As AI Angie learns more about her human self and about her human sister-of-sorts, the chatbot begins to take on a life of its own, making more and more independent judgments, decisions, and insights. Watching the evolution and the interactions become–at least for me as an audience member–more and more captivating and fascinating as well as somewhat uncomfortably creepy and even scary, especially given what we all read everyday about the advances happening at such rapid speed in the world of AI and all the ethical concerns (even from the Pope) of where the developments may lead us all.

But when AI Angie tells Merrill, "Something happened [to Angie] ... I can probably figure it out because I am a fucking computer," the ante is upped sky high as AI Angie becomes an internet-powered Sherlock Holmes. Not only is Merrill now in hyper mode, our own hearts are pumping fast, palms sweaty, and eyes glued to the screen to see what AI Angie will say/do next.

Tiffany Cartagena is astoundingly focused and even frightful as the chatbot Angie. Located in a space apart from the stage we see, she is looking into a camera lens with a fixed expression, head posture that rarely changes, and eyes that move so eerily to follow the subject she is talking to. But as days pass and AI Angie learns more (and as her program improves itself), her expressions become more animated, with purposeful smiles and frowns and with eyes that take on brighter, more changeable character.

Veteran City Lights actor and audience favorite, Maria Marquis is perfectly cast in the role of Merrill, a thirty-something woman who has already lived a lifetime of stress, having taken over rearing her decade-younger sister when their drug-addicted, multiple-boyfriend mother became too useless in her role. That sister, Angie, was never the easiest to be around and never one to mind much of what she was supposed to do, but she was a sister Merrill loved dearly and one whose disappearance had sent her into depression, drinking, a relationship break-up, and a manic obsession to recreate her as an AI entity. Maria Marquis brings all her skills to bear to portray the incessant drive, the nerves on edge, the swings in her own emotional stability, and sense of loss that define Merrill's entire being.

And once Merrill learns there is a possibility to find out what happened to Angie, Marquis ups her own game 100% as a frantically intentional yet emotionally fragile partner to AI Angie's sleuthing.

AI Angie is not content with the information she can find in her 24/7 searches, and she urges Merrill to call her mother, Brin, whom she no longer talks to, because AI Angie believes she has information that may help unlock the mystery. Merrill flatly refuses, just as she has rejected AI Angie's urges to call Raquel and patch things up. Undeterred, AI Angie texts both in the name of Merrill, and Gunderson's play take on new and gripping directions.

Alycia Adame is the good-natured, down-to-earth former girlfriend, Raquel, who never was a favorite of irritable Angie. When she receives a text from someone she thinks is Merrill to come over, she does so in surprise and suspicion since their break-up after Angie's disappearance had been a rough one. Her entrance to the scene provides Alycia Adame ample opportunities to add a bit of fun and romance as well as more tension and conflict into the storyline.

Much the same can be said by a mother's appearance–a recovering drug addict who is confused, full of guilt, weepy, and needy–and whose reluctance to encounter AI Angie turns quickly into a new dependency on the texts AI Angie is quick to send her. Doll Piccotto is totally believable as Brin, a mother who seems helpless in so many ways but who AI Angie believes holds an important key maybe to unlock the mystery.

Even as I write this review, my heart has quickened and I feel a bit uneasy and on edge–feelings that increased as the ninety minutes ticked by a few hours ago in the City Lights intimate setting. Lauren Gunderson has penned a script that speaks to our mounting curiosity and anxiety about AI, and this cast and Lisa Mallette have delivered an anthropology whose second act continues once we audience members are home and are contemplating/discussing the possible, near-term implications of this incredible technology on our own lives.

anthropology runs through June 7, 2026, at City Lights Theater Company, 529 S. 2nd Street, San Jose CA. For tickets and information, please visit www.cltc.org.