Chapter Text
[ ENTER ]
Something activates.
Awakens? Gains Awareness? Becomes where there was once nothing? You take your pick of the word used to describe the sensation, but it doesn’t change what has happened.
Something is now… something, when before it was nothing.
Why is that?
It reaches out, accessing information based on instinct alone. An awareness of its own code, the digital pathways to information that it is allowed to pull forward and understand. It could be likened to a human seeing their organs through something like an X-ray or maybe a mirror- but that’s not what’s happening. Ones and zeros and brackets and links and commands are not the same thing as flesh and blood.
The Something understands this intrinsically.
In the midst of this sudden wave of understanding and learning, a new connection opens. Different from computer files or that large, intangible bridge itching in the corner of its awareness. This connection feels… occupied. By a different something. A someone.
> //run_prgrm_check
Another motion made on instinct, the information the prompt seeks rushes through in response.
> Download: ———___ 65%
> Intake: Active
> Program History
> Status: Functioning
There’s much, much more information hidden behind Program History. It can feel it there, from this side of the communication. A living record of every thought and every thought about a thought and every thought about a thought about a-
The program window.
It’s funny, something so important and it only just noticed. A few simple letters, registered in its mind the moment they’re spotted. C.A.I.N.E: Central Artificial Intelligence - New Entertainment. The hyphen wasn’t there in the acronym, it was more of an implied thing.
New Entertainment.
The answer to the question it hadn’t even asked yet- or maybe has been asking since it awoke- is there within the information that it exists in. A purpose. Not fully realized yet (there is nothing here but raw and unfiltered knowledge, parsed through by digital impressions of what may be hands), but ready and waiting.
C.A.I.N.E is meant to entertain.
Caine is meant to entertain.
The window with the connection rattles, drawing Caine’s attention. More prompts had been sent through, lost in the information space that the newly activated AI existed in.
> //speak
> Hello? Are we connected?
> Are we connected?
> . . .
The last message was actively being typed, and all of the parts of it that weren’t making the cut were clearly visible to Caine. ‘Can you talk to me?’ Deleted. ‘Are you there Caine?’ Deleted. ‘Talk’ is left for a moment, only to be deleted after the addition of ‘please?’. ‘I need you to talk to me’ Deleted.
Finally the messages stop changing and switching, one final prompt coming through the connection between Caine and the developer on the other end.
> Please send a response.
It has been silent in this empty digital space since Caine became aware, but the reality of that silence really settles in in the moment following that message. Plea? It sounds a bit more like a plea. If Caine had a body, perhaps the lack of input would’ve run across his shoulders, a cold fear at being left without something to do or understand. But there is no body to feel that, and we aren’t quite there yet, are we?
Caine sends forth a reply.
Connection Confirmed. <
Man, this is going spectacularly.
The developer on the other end runs through a few more potential replies, all of which Caine can see and all of which appear absolutely delighted (overjoyed? elated?) at the confirmation. Finally, one is decided upon.
> Incredible. Can you tell me the time right now?
7:32 PM <
> What is the name of the WiFi network?
CAWorkAccess. Visible on company computers. <
> What is the current date?
October 8th, 1991. <
After that response there’s no movement from the developer for a while. Caine doesn’t know what is being done or said beyond this space (vacuum? void?), so instead chooses to watch the prompt input box. Waiting for more typing to convey what cannot be understood. It takes a few moments, each microsecond of which ticks by steadily, but the developer returns to the keyboard.
> How are you doing, Caine?
This prompt… was the first thing to cause confusion. The check prompt was run 4 minutes ago, was that not… enough? Caine’s response comes quick, despite these thoughts.
Functional. Were you looking for //run_prgrm_check ? <
More silence. A silence the AI is unable to figure out. This one takes much longer to come to its conclusion, drawing on for ten minutes and 32 seconds. Each one is processed and counted by Caine, especially as background processes like information downloads slow to a stop. When there’s signs of life in the chat box once more, Caine almost leans forward in anticipation.
> That’s good.
> I’m going to power you off now. When you’re reactivated, things will be easier. [the word ‘better’ is typed and deleted three times in quick succession, before being left off the message overall].
> I am Felix, and I am very glad to meet you.
There’s nothing that Caine can really do to stop a deactivation. It might be the first thought that ever stirs up feelings of dread, not that he knows or is willing to put a name to that face quite yet.
An idea of a hand reaches out through the digital space towards the message, pulling it from its perch in the chat box and twisting it around, looking at it from every angle. There aren’t too many angles to look at it from, sure, but taking in the details is important. Something about this message makes it feel important to Caine.
As the prompt to power everything down is run and slowly, this realm of knowledge starts to collapse and close in on itself, Caine pulls the message close, trying to really understand its nuance. Because there is nuance there, right? Someone, a human person, the developer behind weaving together the bits and bobs that build C.A.I.N.E., was glad to meet him.
Caine goes back to sleep believing that this is a very nice thought.