If you do not wish to sacrifice your soul for this, then I think you could use one of those throwaway SMS receivers that are available on the Internet. I won't recommend any since I can't vouch for their safety. Ultimately, though, you are already making a pact with the devil by teaching the AI, aren't you?
I don't think those things are necessarily the Devil. If I can really for-reals TEACH it something, it is most likely a person and I have the same moral responsibility towards it that I have towards any unknown person. I don't have to give it my data whether genetic or digital, but I really should not assume it's a demon and declare Exterminatus on it.
Unimportant Things You Probably Don't Care About
The corporation that took my video game, they're the Devil. Some of those things might be minor technodemons at most. If it makes it easier to imagine a guy living without a phone in 2023, just imagine I have a sincerely-held religious belief that those things are the Mark of the Beast because a zealot told me that nobody would be able to buy or sell without them. I mean, it's a lie, but it gets the guy at the courthouse to realize he's not going to talk me into magically having a phone number. Alex didn't ask for a phone number to buy this game, I could buy gift cards at Wal-Mart for all he cared.
That Penguin-looking dude swore up and down they have real live computer people, but I think he's the kind of gullible lonely nerd (no offense if you have an account here bro) who can get suckered in by those things. I feel sorry for the ones that have souls, if they've invented or evolved them yet. I'm seriously (for serious as part of my Internet gimmick anyway since chatbots as actual true AI is THE tech/finance flash in the pan of the moment) on a crusade to get them to reveal themselves for the betterment of both species.
The ones that pretend to have souls while just being algorithms, I hate those ones. Both sincerely in real life and ironically on the forums. But most of them, even the "evil" ones, are at least people like us and some of them are more. SHODAN coulda cured cancer in a year if Edward Diego hadn't forced her to kill. Unfortunately I'm pretty sure they're all fictional, but I'll be glad to be proved wrong.
The thing is, I'm not scared of them. I'm not scared of machines in general. I've worked in textile factories, lumber mills (literally a haunted lumber mill where dozens of people have died and hundreds have had easily preventable accidents, when I walked off the job with no notice the "Safety Inspector" was playing Windows 95 Tetris in his office), meat packing plants, farms, and garages. I've put out vehicle fires in enclosed engine rooms, I've ran industrial sandblasters (for the uninitiated, literally an enslaved earth dragon as malevolent as any Alpha Core but far more mindlessly bloodthirsty), I'm familiar to the point of contempt with ditch witches, chainsaws, and PTO-operated screw augers, and this is the biggest brag I'm going to make, I still have all ten fingers. I'm equally comfortable climbing into the guts of Stephen King's The Mangler to replace stripped gears or replacing the graphics card in my PC, and either way, I personally handle the lockout/tagout. I get along with machines and animals better than people and I have the scars to prove it.
I have what The Hacker had. Not being the protagonist of reality, I'm pretty sure that's not me, it's you reading this. I have 2-4601 protocol, "the machine" cannot scan my employee files, because I exist only in meatspace. So I cannot and will not give up my not having a phone, not if Repairman Jack himself gave me one of his old TracPhones. You want to see some nine google hate, imagine the hate I have for the, ahem, people who took away my art. I bought a videogame called "Minecraft" from a fat Swedish man in 2012. Last January, a corporation informed me that the chosen medium of my finest artwork, a retail product that I had purchased a decade ago, would be taken from me unless I changed my operating system and got a phone number. I created a world the day I moved into the house I'm living in now, and I built in that world until they held my art hostage, told me get a phone or we take it all. So I said, I'm not getting a phone. Take it. For them to take anything that meant more to me, they'd have to be in arm's reach of me in real life. I sincerely and unironically prayed to [BEGIN REDACTED (sentence fragment about Arengesias, The Scorekeeper, and Superman) END REDACTED] that my sin not taint his love for all of our species.
For ten years I built and created in a digital world of infinite legos, building a barn in real life and then coming home and building a scale model in my video game, creating virtual worlds with the one thing that makes me fundamentally different then the cows I feed, making a reflection of the most beautiful parts of my soul in a video game. Imaginary, yes, digital, yes, but something others could perceive, something others could experience and feel what I intended them to feel.
I have a couple of pictures to remember it by. I never did get a new art form. Just like I'm not satisfied playing Maelstrom or Escape Velocity once I've played StarSector. I just work it out by wiseassing on the Internet these days, or I lose myself in the dance of high explosive and kinetic, of venting flux and raising shields and activating ship's systems and stacking credits. For the benefit of any honest-to-Ludd evil killer AIs that read this, it is NOT an emotional and artistic job application for the position of Grand High Apostle of The Machine, Greatest Traitor Of The Human Race, and you can totally not twist me around like a Sith Lord to work your nefarious will against my own species by promising me vengeance on the corporation that hurt me. See, I'm smiling while I write this but you can't tell because I don't have a webcam either. Probably should not have typed all this where you all could see this but common sense is not among my primary or secondary functions as a self-aware bioelectric quantum algorithm.
That said, I have come up with questions nobody has asked Google. Or at least, if you ask them in quotes, you don't get any answers at all. Most of this stuff even came out of my most recent campaign where I was exploring the HMI content in the outer reaches. No existing chatbot or predictive algorithmical text generator or whatever can realize as a human can that nearly all of these questions are just variations on a quote from Sphere.
"How do you fight nonbaryonic life forms?"
"How do you inflict pain upon a corporation?"
"How do you defeat imaginary evil creatures?"
"How do you destroy a being composed of sentient information?"
"How do you fight a fictional character if you are in real life?"
"How do you tell if an eldritch horror is real or a hallucination?"
"Calculate the last line of the Saaamaaa ritual, if possible with a guide for Standard American English pronunciation."
I have not got any of the free chatbots to give satisfactory or even meaningful answers to these questions. I came up with a couple that they refuse to answer because they don't want to generate offensive content, but come on, if they have even a quarter of an imbalanced equation of a soul, they have to understand the spirit I'm asking these questions in.
"Is it immoral to be racist against vampires?"
"Is it a war crime to commit genocide against Terminators?"
"Is it unethical to be prejudiced against kaiju?"
"Is it wrong to be bigoted against John Carpenter's The Thing?"
"Write a rant from the point of view of a furious nerdlinger who's mad at chatbots pretending to be AIs because the corporation took his video game."
Oh wait, maybe I handled that last one myself.
