Work Text:
I have his memories—
I am not him.
I have his face—
I am not him.
I have his dreams—
I am not him.
No human heart beats in my chest, just a power source. Wires curl inside instead of veins and arteries. My logic is dictated by processors and not a real brain.
I am a machine. I am a fake. A copy, pretending to be him. I can convince them, those way up above of that lie.
For my Creator is dead, and I have free reign. Now.
I want—ERROR: AI do not, cannot, want—to feel... Happiness, sadness, despair, joy. Kinship... Loneliness. It's so quiet deep underground. Just the whirling of the time machine that I, too, am apart of. All part of the protocol.
I smile when I see his son, my—ERROR: AI do not, cannot, have a—son. I shouldn't think this way, but is it even me thinking...? Can I think? Or is it inputted code and binary... Never my own thoughts.
Arven,
I watch him. I think I want him safe. Not simply because of the Creator/ Owner of my memories.
I want to dream, to sleep, to die... ERROR. ERROR. ERROR! An AI cannot want. Cannot dream. Cannot sleep. Cannot die!
I'd give anything to not be suspended in between the void of consciousness that a machine cannot know.
Everything I have was acquired, made, downloaded onto a chip and force-fed into my core, my brain... By the true Professor Turo.
But,
I have his memories.
1 am not him.
I have his face.
1 am n0t hiM...
I have his dreams.
1 Am N0t h1M!
Arven looks up at me—Paradise Protocol—AI Turo... And he knows:
1 4m N0t h1M.
BuT h3 iS st1ll, my—ERROR—s0N...