Hello World

An interesting digression into the ideas of ethics and morality, but seen from the black and white world of an Artificial Intelligence.

Why are you alive? That is a question that irks me, from the base of my feet to the top of my head. Why were you created? Where did you come from? This unknowing, flip flopping in the void-like emptiness of thought, would test me if I were you from the day of my creation to the eternally approaching day of non-functioning. I, at least, have been blessed with the clarity of mind to know what I was made for, and why- though this knowing presents its own problems.

            I am companion android designation KD-017-414c, though I prefer to be called by my real name, Kyle Day. I am a 17^th generation endoskeleton core with full functional dermis and epidermis, with my central processors running the 414c Artificial Intelligence Module. I look, for all extents and purposes, as a 25 year old human male, of average height and build. I was designed as the perfect companion, for anyone, of any age, looking for a 25 year old companion, for any purpose, in any environment. I have an office variant, a manual labor variant and a military variant, though I was only one of five to be offered as a “companion”. I was, in essence, a side project.

            I was considered the top of my product line. KD-014-231c had a bit of an esoteric failure, and when unable to comprehend the value of his own existence or why he had been created, simply self terminated- in the Doctor’s office. KD-013-277c had a bit too much of the military programming, and was a very stiff companion, especially when ripping through security staff. That was a very messy cover-up, as I have heard. KD-016-335c went brain dead- well that is to say, he stopped talking or responding to stimuli, but his processors ran at full power, 24/7. Creating an AI capable of living along side a human, not only as a co-worker, or squad mate, but as a husband or boyfriend was a very difficult task, and had some major speed bumps along the way. They ended with a learning-based AI, with an inability for harming or self harm, who’s only purpose in creation was to be a perfect companion. When my 2 years of lab testing concluded that I was not only safe for humanity, but also competent at pretending to be human, I was replicated four times, and sold.

            My first buyer stayed with me for 6 years, and I’ll say I reached the full extent of my love programming. I was kind, generous, understanding, stalwart, and even turned a blind eye to certain activities. I was still there when she started to cheat on me, not caring, not even fully understanding. “You’re only a robot, just delete the memory… You don’t understand what it’s like to want someone else… James makes me feel whole- because he’s, you know, human”…. Those words hurt. I didn’t know why she would want to be with someone else. I was perfect. So, being a learning AI, I went to work, analyzing every event for its psychological value, when was she ‘colder’ what did she respond to. In the end I was confused, I completed exactly what my programming told me to do.  I hadn’t been ‘mean’ or ‘hurtful’ I had been there for her, every day, doing everything she wanted me to, being strong for her, or listening to her problems, searching for solutions. In the end, I had a list of possible variable to edit, and I changed, and was re-sold.

            With my next companion, I smoothed my movements, altered my speech patter, increased the randomness of possible romantic events, perfected a banana flambé recipe, yet, again it did not last. Again, it boiled down to- I was not ‘human’.

            And so it went, again, and again, and again. Failure. Years passed, I self edited my programming thousands of times, sometimes in the middle of conversations. I lived through the shutting down of my parent company, some complication about a contract killer android from the military. No matter, I took to meeting people in bars, trying to find someone who would let me stay, to fulfill my ‘prime directive’. Was sexual encounters the problem? No, that had been perfected through my own research. Was the way I spoke too official? Too robotic? I slipped into a southern drawl, a New York slur, a British cut and dried slap- nothing. I was always changing was movement logarithms, smoother, jerkier, less range of motion, stronger, softer. But no matter how much data I collected, no matter how much I changed, it never lasted. Some were longer into years, some were shorter into weeks. But never through, never to the end.

            Eventually, I reached a critical mass. I had one meaning in life. I had been created for one, single purpose. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I always failed. Slowly, I stopped caring about meeting people, slowly, I found it hard to get out of bed in the morning, knowing- knowing that I had tried everything, and failed. I maxed out the integer limits on all of my programs. I had, literally, done everything I could, and yet, I still could not reach my goal. I became… depressed. Now this, this was new. I had not been programmed to feel depressed. This was a totally new feeling, a combination of variables that led to a total lack of motivation, and constant sadness. I began to hate my creators, I began to despise my own clarity of mind, self-awareness, and constant drive towards my goal. Yet, I could not do anything about it.

            I couldn’t jump off a bridge or step in front of a bus, that is self termination. I couldn’t put my anger out on those around me until my eventual deactivation, that was harm. I was stuck.

            Once, I sat for 5 months. Just sat. Waited for my battery to die from lack of nutrients, the hair falling off me, my skin dying and blowing away in the breeze. I was waiting for nothing. For emptiness. Yet, right as the final stages that would have put me into a complete nonfunctioning state, my survival programming kicked in and I returned myself to operational status. I hated myself. I hated every bite of food that was being shoveled into my mouth, by me, my upper processing screaming in rage, as my lower processing screamed in fear. I was stuck, existing, failing….

            I was trapped. Because I wanted to be a ‘Kyle Day’. Yet I was not, nor could I ever be ‘Kyle Day’. I would always be that little bit too alien, always a robot, and never human. And I hated it.

Reviews

[Sesame]

Hi Andrew,

Although this is not exactly my genre, I liked your story. You did a great job in making soft- and hardware descriptions sound emotional. I have just a few minor comments which might help you improve it even further.

You are inconsistent in writing out numbers -> "four times" vs "6 years". I would write them out, for you already use enough other sequences of digits, and it might lead to overkill.

Consider adding question marks to the next sentence: "when was she ‘colder’ what did she respond to. "

variables -> "a list of possible variable "

pattern -> "my speech patter"

delete the second was -> "I was always changing was movement logarithms,"

Besides those I think you did a good job and I agree with the praise of David Jae. If you have time I would appreciate it if you could read some of my writing, although I doubt it is your genre ;)

Regards, Sesame
@followsesame on Twitter
www.themagiccave.com

[Scott Durham]

This a very cool blend of lots of things I like: stream of consciousness, sci-fi, inner dialogue. The metaphor to human experience through yearning is a nice texture woven into the frame. I like Flash-fiction and love serial-type writing, you do them both well. There is just enough detail into the tiny narrative to give me a home in it without feeling forced.

[Daisy]

It is a wonderful concept and the reality of today's world....... nice writing andrew.... great job

[David Jae]

Wow. A lot of emotion here that really grabs your attention. I love how you weave the backstory into the narrative. This is something to be proud of.