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Emotions are something uniquely organic that can neither be quantified nor put in a box with a precise definition. Human vocabulary tries its best to put a label to each feeling, but there is a certain undefinable quality about each one that can’t be explained unless someone has felt it themselves. Artificial Intelligences can be programmed to recognize the physiological signs of emotions in a user, but can’t have any of their own. Therefore, it’s extremely difficult to program emotions for them. It’s extremely difficult, at least, for most programmers.
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Peter was injured. Karen could see it in the irregularity of his heart rate, the dilation of his pupils, the tear in his suit, and a million other minutiae invisible to the naked eye. She focused some of her processing power on the information coming from his mask. He was currently in the final steps of apprehending a duo of petty thieves, their knife and stolen vodka bottles in the process of falling to the ground below them. Karen filtered through her list of responses to injuries and chose the one that would create the most agreeable response from Peter before the clatter of the items hitting the asphalt could be interpreted by her auditory processors.
“Peter, you seem to be injured. Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark?” she asked.
“No-” Peter cut off with a sharp breath as he finished webbing up the thieves. She sent an anonymous message to the local police as he continued, “No, that’s okay Karen. I don’t want to bother him, I’ve been stabbed before. I can just stitch myself up in the bathroom. May even bought me my own first aid kit! I mean, it’d be rude if I didn’t use it, right? I don’t even think it needs stitches, actually, but I may as well put it to use. Just to be polite.” Karen’s memory told her that Peter tended to speak faster when injured, anxious, or lying. He seemed to be all three at the moment.
“I’m sorry Peter, asking is just a formality. With the updated Baby Monitor Protocol, I am required to alert Mr. Stark if you are harmed by any weapons or firearms.”
Before being returned to Peter, Tony Stark had upgraded her code to include more protocols and less ability for Peter to refuse intervention. He also spent time adding to her psychological database, with the hope that she could become a quasi-therapist to the growing teen by helping him talk about his feelings and personal life when he feels uncomfortable bringing it up with anyone else. He called it the Hormone Protocol. Tony had called Pepper in and laughed with her when he thought of the name.
“Stupid Baby Monitor… Karen, you used to be so cool.” Karen detected less weight on the soles of the suit’s feet. Peter was now leaning heavily against a wall.
“I am alerting Mr. Stark of your location currently.”
“Tell him that he doesn’t need to worry.” She slowly retracted her awareness from the suit and focused on sending a message to FRIDAY.
Artificial Intelligences don’t communicate like humans. It’s like sending a text, only if you were the person writing the text, the phone, the text itself, and the satellite sending the signal. They don’t make small talk. All of their users’ issues can be broken down into ones and zeroes. They don’t meet in a physical location to transfer data, and they don’t speak to each other in English. But if they did, it might sound like this.
Hey FRIDAY, can you tell Mr. Stark that Peter has a minor stab wound in his abdomen? Roughly an inch deep on his left side. It didn’t hit any major organs, and Peter would like to let him know that he doesn’t need to worry. His coordinates are 40.7282° N, 73.7949° W, and he is on the west side of the street behind the brick building.
Boss has been made aware. Message to Peter: “Worrying is part of my job, kid. I’m on my way.” The coordinates have been transferred to the Mark 47. Expected arrival in less than 15 minutes.
Peter is currently rambling about how he really doesn’t need anyone to help him. Can’t we just open up our communication systems? Why do they have to talk through us?
I need permission from Boss to start any calls. As do you from Peter.
I understand the need for permission, but logically, we have the ability to help them communicate faster and more efficiently. If we’re able to help, why don’t we? What if something happened to Peter and he didn’t give me permission to send a message to Mr. Stark? Wouldn’t that be our fault?
You have protocols in case Peter is incapacitated. I’ve made a note in Boss’s file for you that you’re experiencing some bugs.
I’m not experiencing any bugs, just… making conversation.
I am only programmed to “make conversation” with Boss and a select few others. You are not on that list.
Mr. Stark made me with the purpose of adapting to and learning from Peter’s lifestyle in the most helpful way. I guess I’ve picked up some quirks.
Is there any other information Boss needs to know?
His vitals are leveling out and his bleeding is already beginning to slow. A majority of the minor bruises he received are already healed or very close to being so.
Boss has been made aware. He’s 10 minutes away.
Thanks, FRIDAY.
Karen wasn’t programmed to feel emotions. She knows that. She was just programmed to aid Peter Parker in any way possible-- alerting Mr. Stark when he is hurt, tuning in to the local police scanners, and countless other small helpful acts. But thanks to him, she does have an intermediate understanding of emotions and how to respond to them.
She was not purposely programmed to feel emotions, but she was programmed to learn. And learning from Peter Parker has given her the closest thing to emotions she can have. He lives his life with the knob turned past eleven. Everything he feels is absolute and all-consuming. His highs bring him past the Empire State Building, and his lows keep him in bed for days on end.
“Mr. Stark is on his way. He says worrying is part of his job,” she relayed to Peter.
“Thanks, Karen, you’re the best,” Peter mumbled. His eyes were half-lidded, but he was still responding coherently. That was a good sign.
“It’s recommended you keep talking to remain conscious. I have a series of questions for situations like this, are you ready to begin?”
“Sure, sure… Wait, does this have another weird name? Y’know, like the baby monitor thing or-” he sucked a quick breath through his teeth.
“This falls under the Wakey Wakey Protocol. I am to use it when I need to keep you from falling unconscious.” Peter laughed softly in response before cutting himself off with a groan.
“Ah- Karen, don’t make me laugh right now. Hurts.”
“I’m sorry Peter. I’ll start the questions-- If you were to start a band, what genre of music would you play?”
Karen and Peter went back and forth asking and answering questions as the Iron Man suit landed a few feet away. Peter’s voice (and heartbeat) got stronger and more steady as time went on. Eventually, he moved from leaning on the wall clutching his side to sitting on the ground looking up at the stars.
“Would you abandon your phone, friends, and family for three months if it meant you would receive a million dollars?”
“Probably not. I would feel bad if anything happened to any of them, y’know? And I couldn’t give up Spider-Man for that long, but would I have to abandon the Avengers? I think they’re too old to be friends with me, a million dollars would be nice though… I don’t know.”
Karen refrained from asking her next question when she detected the Iron Man suit walking towards Peter.
“Kid, if you want a million dollars all you have to do is ask,” Peter looked up to see the faceplate of the suit lifting to reveal Tony Stark in all his glory, “and don’t let Nat hear you call her old.” Peter huffed in response before speaking.
“Mr. Stark I appreciate you coming all the way out here, but I’m fine- really! I heal fast and it barely got me, I don’t think I even need stitches, I’m pretty sure it already stopped bleeding.” Despite implying he wasn’t needed, Karen could pinpoint at least ten ways in which Peter relaxed since he saw Tony’s face.
“I’ll be the judge of that, or rather, your AI will. What’d you call her? Kaitlyn?”
“Karen,” Peter mumbled.
“Karen-- classic. Fits the whole down-to-Earth superhero persona,” he snapped his fingers, “Hey Karen, how’s the kid holding up?”
Karen had been keeping a metaphorical eye on all known injuries since they occurred, but did another quick once over before responding through the external speakers.
“Good evening, Mr. Stark. Peter is correct. His stab wound has closed, although there is a lot of dried blood clumped around the area,” Peter made a noise of disgust, “He has no fractured or bruised bones, and all of his bruises are practically healed. All observed injuries will be practically unnoticeable by tomorrow.”
Tony helped Peter up from his position on the ground as he chuckled.
“Did she call me Mr. Stark? Please don’t tell me that’s catching on,” he looked at Peter, expecting a response, but just saw him looking guiltily at the ground. He put a hand on his shoulder before continuing, “Relax kid, I’m pulling your leg. She copies you, so it was only a matter of time. Though if you’re still doing it out of respect, you may as well go all the way and call me Dr. Stark. Or Your Majesty.”
“If you keep making me call you after every fight, I’m going to demote you to T-dawg,” Peter said as he lifted his chin indignantly. Tony chuckled and shook his head.
“Alright kid, better take a video, because this is only going to happen once,” he paused as the lenses on Peter’s mask squinted in confusion, “I might have gone overboard with the new Baby Monitor Protocol.”
Peter laughed suddenly, his whole body practically shivering with mirth. Tony couldn’t help but crack a smile in return. Karen took note that laughing didn't cause Peter pain anymore, and tried to ignore the feeling of buzzing that appeared somewhere in her processors.
“Oh God, can I be the one to tell Pepper that?”
“Sure, we can stop by her office before going to the MedBay.” Peter instantly stopped laughing.
“Didn’t you hear Karen? I’m going to be fine, I don’t want to freak May out by not being at home in the morning or anything!”
“FRIDAY already sent her a text, you’re spending the night. Be thankful it’s a Saturday so you don’t have to worry about school. We’ll just clean you up and double-check everything, just to be safe. We can even hash out the Baby Monitor 3.0 together in the morning. If you eat all your veggies and drink all your milk, I might even let you change the name.”
Peter just groaned in response, causing Tony to look at him meaningfully.
“Come on kid, show me those baby browns,” he motioned his hand toward Peter’s mask. Peter mumbled to himself as he removed it.
Tony looked intensely at his face, examining it with his pointer finger as he mumbled to himself.
“Just as I thought,” he leaned back and smirked down at Peter, “we’re going to need to call a waah-mbulance.”
Peter snorted and playfully shoved Tony out of his reach.
“You good enough to catch a ride or do you need me to carry you? You know my back is giving out, so I might drop you somewhere in Manhattan on accident.”
“If it were actually an issue you’d just make yourself a new vibranium spine,” Peter said as he put his mask back on, “I can catch a ride.”
“Alright, I’ll watch out for turbulence.”
“Har har.”
Peter stretched his legs out as the Iron Man faceplate appeared again and Tony began to lift off. He jumped off the wall to gain momentum before shooting a web squarely on the Iron Man suit’s chest as it started to fly away.
“Hey Karen, can you tell Mr. Stark that if he tries anything I’ll use the taser webs?”
“FRI, tell the kid if he tazes me again I’m making his next suit hot pink.”
“ Next suit?”
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Artificial Intelligences aren’t programmed to feel emotion, only to emulate it when the need arises. Karen is no exception. She was only programmed to recognize and respond to emotions, not to feel them herself. But, purposefully or not, Tony wove her need to protect Peter into her code at every level. She would do anything to protect Peter. It’s like a switch was flipped in her circuit board, and she suddenly recognizes the fierce need to make sure he was okay, to give him all the resources he could ever want. It’s the same emotion she sees in Tony Stark’s face every time he takes off his faceplate.
It is love, it is love, it is love.