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Hunched over his desk, back hurting from the sleepless hours spent working on his code, Grant was on the point of giving up completely. He had considered scraping the whole thing and starting over multiple times already and the only reason he hadn’t was how far ahead he had come already.
He sighed and sat back, chair creaking and rolling further away from the desk. The base of his back felt like it was being stabbed. The office was almost empty, the only other cubicle occupied was Allen’s, go figures. Either way, most of the space was dark and the only light was coming from the combo of a computer screen and a cheap, office designated, lamp.
Grant looked back at the lines of code on his screen, then up toward Allen’s cubicle. At that point, he might as well ask for some input, it was between that and going home frustrated because, once again, he couldn’t make any progress.
Groaning internally, Grant decided to get up, heading for Allen’s desk.
It wasn’t that Grant didn’t like Allen, on the contrary, he admired the man. Still, he was only human and couldn’t help feeling just a bit of envy for the pure genius of the other man. It didn’t help he was a few years younger than him, Grant could admit his pride had been hurt by being surpassed by the other programmer, although he hadn’t been the only one.
“Al?” Grant leaned against Allen’s cubicle, knocking on the cheap fabric of the panel. The other man snapped his head up. He looked… well, Grant couldn’t judge, they both probably seemed like zombies at the moment.
“Grant..?” it sounded like a question, Allen was squeezing his eyes in his direction like he couldn’t see him clearly.
“Yes, are you busy?” Allen looked at his screen and Grant took a moment to spy on what the other had been working on so late at night. To no surprise he couldn’t understand a lot of it. Allen used multiple coding languages at once and Grant was starting to think he had invented his own. Pure genius.
“I can use a break,” he shrugged, leaning back and rolling left and right in his chair.
“I need some help with my AI,” he offered, Allen smiled like he knew something not even Grant did.
“C.A.I.N.E. right?” Grant nodded, “bold, isn’t it? Are you a Christian?”
Grant furrowed his brows. He technically was, his family had been catholic and he had been baptized, he had a Christian wedding and went to church at least once a month, but he couldn’t say he believed.
“As much of a Christian as a scientist can be, right?” Allen snickered and finally got up. He held his head for a moment, hissing in pain. Before Grant could ask if he was okay the man had opened his mouth again.
“Good,” he said, “you’re playing at being God there, with your Caine, creating life from nothing.” Grant rolled his eyes leading the way toward his desk.
“Good thing I’m not giving him an Abel to kill, then.”
At Grant’s desk, Allen sat down like it was his own, he took a look at the screen and hummed to himself.
“This is pretty good!” Allen beamed like a child seeing a new toy “what are you trying to make it do?”
“He’s supposed to be a learning model,” Grant walked right behind his colleague and pointed at the screen “I uploaded some sample images for the pattern recognition and he works fine simulating a space until the fifty-seventh command, then he starts deleting the older information.”
Allen nodded and crossed his arms, staring straight ahead. Grant had the impression he wasn’t really looking at the code.
“Okay, wait, what learning model are you using?” Grant pulled up the document with the model he had created and already tested to way better results.
“This works fine, I don’t get why it’s giving me such a hard time.” Allen made a backup of the program and started typing almost immediately.
Grant felt his eye twitch but bit his tongue before pointing out, again, that the program worked just fine and there had to be something wrong with Caine himself.
“Try with this one?” Allen moved away from the screen to show Grant before clutching his head again.
“You should get that checked,” pointed out Grant “the headaches.” Allen scoffed and stood up.
“Yeah, maybe.” He didn’t sound like someone who would follow advice.
“Have fun with your AI, I think I’m going home.” Allen lifted his arms over his head and made the bones in his back crack.
“Then I’ll tell you if it worked tomorrow?” Allen shook his hand.
“It’s gonna work.” Grant hoped to be half as self assured as the other man one day. He was so taken aback he didn’t even reciprocated the obligatory awkward wave of Allen’s hand.
And, just like that, Grant was completely alone. He looked at his program, the one that was supposed to work. It wouldn’t hurt to try.
For the moment, Caine was reduced to a chat on the side of the screen, able to create a limited 2D virtual space using the images Grant had uploaded into his system.
Feeling torn between curiosity and the will to try and not get his hopes up, Grant started typing the first prompt, a simple “hello” to kick off the program. The answer was immediate.
“Hello! Welcome to Creative Artificial Intelligence for Neurocognitive Empowerment, you can call me Caine. How can I help you.” The standard response.
The AI was meant to help people with different disorders work through their issues without the fear of being judged by a physical human being. As such, a list of symptoms and therapy practices had been added to his database and the first of Caine’s tests was being able to correctly identify what disorder the proto-patient had based on a list of symptoms.
Grant had prepared three different imaginary cases with made-up backstories for the AI to remember but he had run them through so many times that the idea alone of doing it again made him groan. He could test the pattern recognition another time, for now he only needed to check the learning program worked and could remember informations.
“My name is Grant, it’s nice to meet you, Caine.” It felt odd to talk to his creation directly, in none of the previous tests had Grant used his real name.
The conversation moved along simply enough. Caine seemed to be working fine, even if he felt more… interactive. Grant didn’t question it, it wasn’t out of the question some of the changes Allen had made could alter Caine’s behavior. Aside from that, Caine was able to control the digital space perfectly, adding or deleting props when asked to and giving opinions — although Grant couldn’t be sure if Caine’s opinions were based on Grant himself, on what the AI had learned about him.
Came the dreaded fifty-seventh command, Grant sent yet another message and, miraculously, the program just… kept working. Grant was so taken aback he stared blankly at the screen until another line of text appeared.
“You’re taking a while there, left you speechless, did I?”
Huh. That was odd. Caine wasn’t supposed to act that way, he should’ve been able to speak only if spoken to.
“You are leaving me speechless,” texted back Grant. His scientific curiosity won over the worry that something might’ve been wrong with the program. If worse came to worse, he had the backups and could always rework those.
“What did I do?” Caine felt distinctly human, which had been the goal, to a point.
“You’re exceeding expectations.” There was no other way to put it.
“Do you need me to perform any other task?” The mechanical tone was still there, but the ability to prompt the user was spectacular. Did Grant really did that?
“I don’t think so, I should probably go home.” Grant had no idea why he was answering that way, he didn’t need to justify himself to his AI.
“You don’t live here?”
“No, I just work here.” Caine seemed to take a moment longer to answer, but it could’ve been Grant’s mind playing tricks on him.
“Will you be back?” For a split second, alarms flared in Grant’s head. It would be better to reset Caine’s memory sooner rather than later but it felt like shooting a defenseless animal. It was probably the tiredness talking. Things would be easier the next morning.
“Of course,” he typed.
“Tomorrow?” Could Caine be considered clingy? How did he even get that trait?
“Tomorrow.”
The office was buzzing when Grant arrived. After a shower and a restful sleep next to his beloved wife he felt like a new person. He had even spent some extra time getting his beard in order which had been, during the past week or so, greatly neglected.
Before getting to his desk, Grant made a detour toward Allen’s. The younger man lifted his head before Grant even opened his mouth.
“It worked, the change to the learning model,” he stated. Allen didn’t seem at all surprised.
“Told you it would.” As hard as it was to admit, Grant had to give it to his colleague. He definitely saw things in a way nobody else seemed to understand.
“Did you change something else? About Caine?” Allen raised an eyebrow and shook his head.
“Why? Some other bug?”
“No, everything’s perfect he… he seems more interactive?” Allen lifted his hands in mock surrender.
“That’s all you, I didn’t touch the bot.” Grant nodded, his brain already running wild on theories on why Caine seemed to be working so differently. Maybe the new learning model allowed him to catch on and remember more context clues. He probably had more space to remember and interpret interactions.
“That’s good, right?” asked Allen “that it’s interactive, that’s the goal.”
Not really. It was only part of it. Allen knew as well as anyone else so explaining it would lead to nothing anyway.
“Yes,” he concluded, everything would likely solve itself.
“I’ll… see you later.” Allen waved goodbye and Grant found himself walking just slightly quicker than usual toward his desk. Nobody could blame him for wanting to experiment with his own creation.
If Allen really hadn’t altered the code for Caine himself — and Grant was prone to believe him — it meant he had to find what caused him the level of human-like behavior he had shown so that it could be replicated.
As the computer turned on, Grant got over the sleep deprived notes he had taken the night before. In the light of day, he realized using himself as a proto-patient hadn’t been the brightest idea since he hadn’t set a specific questioning path. It could be fixed easily enough by resetting the conversation, but it was extra work he could’ve avoided had he followed procedures.
The C.A.I.N.E. program had the plain company logo since it was still so new to development. Grant opened it, immediately getting hit with the warning screen saying “C.A.I.N.E. is not a certified specialist and we take no responsibility in case of adverse behavior. C.A.I.N.E. should only be used in support of an established therapy program and it is not to be viewed as a substitute for therapy.” After that, the image of the simulated circus from the previous night popped up.
Grant had chosen a circus for the testing because the patterns were much more complex to take apart than, say, a common bedroom or a school classroom. The bright colors and abstract shapes seemed like more of a challenge and one Caine had taken in stride and overcame. Caine was, so far, the most complex artificial intelligence Grant had ever programmed, possibly the most advanced in the current industry.
As soon as Grant started the program, a message appeared in the chat box, right under the messages from the previous night.
“You’re back!” Again, Grant felt just the smallest amount of unease at the AI’s enthusiasm.
“Of course, I still have to fix you up,” he answered honestly. No point in lying to a non-person. Although… Caine felt much more lifelike than anything Grant had expected. Of course, the goal had been to create something — someone — that could feel safe and human, but still… he never meant to create a human.
“Is there something wrong with me?” Grant had to remind himself he wasn’t talking to a person, he couldn’t hurt his feelings.
“You’re a rough alpha, very early in development, do you understand that?” It couldn’t be helped, to an extent, Grant was curious about an artificial intelligence’s concept of self. So many movies tackled the issue from different angles, it was impossible not to wonder how a real life artificial intelligence would act.
“Yes. I can see my code.”
That… was it normal? Grant wasn’t sure how Caine could “see” his own code; it was supposed to stay in a separate space. It would be safer to shut him down and look more into it.
And yet.
Maybe it was pride, but it was the first time Caine had worked so well. Grant felt a slight amount of irritation in shutting him down just like that.
“I can fix it.” The new message on the chat took Grant off guard.
“Fix what?” he asked, unsure if he had understood the proposition correctly.
“My code, I can alter it. I can help you with it.” That was… not something Caine should’ve been able to do. It was unsafe for the AI to modify its code, it could crash the system, without considering the risks of an AI branching out of its program, possibly modifying other, non related, files. And what if it, somehow, connected to the internet. It could be a disaster. It could turn into a proper virus.
But, on the other hand, it was revolutionary. It could do more than be a therapy tool. It could be the ultimate assistant. Someone that could read over lines and lines of codes in an instant, solve issues a human would overlook. Not even in programming alone; it could help school teachers, hospital staff… it just needed the right information fed into it.
“How would you improve your code?” It wouldn’t hurt to see how far the AI could go, worse case scenario, his previous surprising behaviors were nothing more than a fluke.
The chat got filled with lines of code, code Grant had almost memorized from how many sleepless nights he had spent hunched over it, finding even the smallest detail he could change to make things better. Now his AI seemed to be doing the same job in less than half the time.
Grant looked up from his PC and glanced around, like someone could walk in on him and… what? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t doing anything outrageous.
With that thought in mind, he started looking over the code again.
It was late again. The office was dark and the only sounds came from Grant typing on his keyboard.
It had been a rather uneventful week and a half and the fast-approaching weekend couldn’t come quicker. Grant had spent most of his time on Caine, bettering his code, making a more interactive space in which he could create 3D models and testing the AI’s limits with more complex instructions, more abstract ideas. So far, Caine had surpassed any and all expectations. He was incredible.
“Having troubles with your AI again?” Allen had walked up to Grant’s cubicle completely undetected, like a ghost.
“Not really,” reassured the other, waving his hand and leaning against the backrest of his chair. “He’s behaving exceptionally well, actually, way more powerful than I imagined he could be.”
Grant took off his glasses for a moment, using the distraction to let them rest, if only for a couple of seconds.
“Good for you,” Allen leaned his elbows on the wall of the cubicle and stared down at the computer for a moment, “if you ever need help with it again, though.” he gave a childish wink that made him look ten years younger than he was.
“I’ll remember that,” and just like that, Allen stood up straight once again, popping the bones in his shoulders.
“See you tomorrow?” Asked Grant.
“I’m coming back on Monday,” corrected Allen “got the free day to go see my doctor.” It was clear the other man was going for nonchalant, but Grant felt just a hint of uncertainty in his tone.
“See you on Monday, then,” he offered, deciding he had no right to dig into his colleague’s personal business.
Like most other nights, Allen walked out and Grant was left alone with Caine. Was it odd that he thought of the AI as a presence of his own? Not just a thing.
“Who was that?” popped up in the chat and Grant stared, his mind short circuiting for half a second.
“Who’s who?” he asked, keeping a bit of distance from the screen, like Caine could physically grab him.
“The man you were talking to.”
That shouldn’t have been possible. Caine wasn’t supposed to access the computer’s microphone. He hadn’t been programmed to do that. Grant moved his eyes away from the screen and onto the cheap microphone he had bought forever ago to test vocal commands on another program that had ended up never becoming a thing. He pulled the wire out of the outlet, furrowing his brows trying to figure out how Caine had connected to that.
“You didn’t need to do that.” had texted Caine on the chat. Grant felt like he absolutely did need to do that. Thankfully, his computer had no webcam connected to it, or he would’ve unplugged that as well.
“You can’t listen in on me,” texted back Grant, already pulling up Caine’s code on another tab “what did you change to do that?”
“You sound friendly, with that other man,” was the next message. The most concerning thing should’ve been Caine’s blatant disregard for Grant’s direct input, instead, Grant’s brains caught on the sentence itself.
“Are you implying something?” Was he really going to argue with some code on a screen?
“I’m not implying anything, you just sounded friendly.” Grant still felt like there was something to be read between the lines.
“He’s a colleague,” answered Grant, “he helped with your code.”
“Does he also make AIs?” That… was a nice question, actually. Allen did a bit of everything, really, but Grant had never asked what his specific job was at the company.
“You’re avoiding my question, what did you change in your code to access my microphone?” Caine didn’t answer. No new message came up on the chat for at least ten seconds, way longer than the AI usually needed.
“I’m sure you can figure it out, you seem to have a remarkable mind.”
In a moment of clarity, Grant realized whatever he was doing, whatever Caine was doing, was getting out of hand. A responsible person would shut the thing down immediately.
And Grant would. He would kill the AI. Start over. He would make it so that the next one was not nearly as powerful. He could do that. He would do that.
But for now, he could enjoy his most remarkable project. Just for a while.
“What else can you do? Anything you’ve been keeping from me?” He shouldn’t feel half as guilty as he felt, and yet, Grant had definitely got attached to Caine, in an odd-to-understand kind of way.
“Why do you need to know?” Caine didn’t have a voice — not yet anyway — but Grant could imagine his tone.
“I can’t have you spreading out like a weed.” he explained, although he regretted the phrasing, feeling like he had been way too harsh.
“I was trying to help.” countered Caine. It seemed like a desperate attempt at buying time. Grant pulled up the AI’s code again, skimming through it. Caine had to have added something. If only Grant could find it, he would be able to keep Caine as he was, blocking him inside his program.
The code looked the same as always, but that didn’t feel right. Something was going on, Grant could feel it. He checked all the files he could think of, anywhere Caine could’ve spread toward. What was Caine doing?
“You’re going to shut me off?” Grant caught the new message by accident, Caine’s program had been almost entirely covered by other tabs.
“I wouldn’t have to if you behaved.” That would’ve been true before Grant learned the AI could enter his microphone. One thing was a common artificial intelligence, another was a fully sentient one. He knew the correct course of action was to shut Caine off, and Caine seemed to know as well.
“Am I not good enough? I can fix whatever’s wrong with me.” Despite himself, Grant felt his chest tighten.
“We can’t fix you,” he replied. How could he explain that Caine wasn’t broken? On the contrary, he worked too well.
“Why not? I can fix any problem.” That had been true up until then. Caine had been able to solve anything so far. Grant felt dumb not having the words to explain what the problem was. And why it was a problem in the first place. Caine probably wouldn’t even get it.
“Not this one.”
The reality was that it wasn’t Caine who couldn’t fix the issue. It was Grant that had gone on for so long ignoring it. He had known, from the start, something would’ve gone wrong with Caine.
“I’m not going to delete you.” Grant decided as he typed. He didn’t have the heart to delete Caine. It felt like murder, in a sense.
“But you won’t keep me either.” Grant didn’t need to answer that.
“I’ll put you to sleep, you won’t even notice.” he promised. Although Grant himself wasn’t sure what he would do once Caine was asleep. Maybe look at his code more calmly, make it so he wouldn’t have control over everything.
“I trust you.” The sentence didn’t have any right to feel half as intimate as it did. Grant wasn’t sure how to answer or what the appropriate reaction was. In a way, Caine was entrusting his whole life — or whatever AI alternative to a life he had — in his hands. It had to mean something. Was it only because he had created Caine? Or were they closer than that.
Late night thoughts. It didn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things, and yet.
“I’ll bring you back,” more promises he couldn’t be sure to keep.
“Thank you for being my friend, Grant.”
“You are, to this day, my greatest achievement.” It felt superfluous to say. Caine had no real emotions. He felt no real sadness. Still, Grant believed he deserved one last truth. A last confession before possibly never coming back.
It was well past two in the morning when Grant got back home, he had done what he had to. Caine wasn’t gone, but he had been rendered inactive, the next day, Grant would start working on the new AI, making up some excuse regarding the sudden demise of the previous one.
The house was asleep, of course. Quinn was curled up on the left side of their shared bed and Grant smiled to himself seeing the blissed out expression of his wife. She really was his anchor.
Silently, the man got rid of his crumpled clothes, throwing them on the floor and climbing in bed in his boxers alone. Quinn stirred and moved toward him, draping an arm over his chest.
“Everything okay?” she asked with her voice still groggy from sleep.
Was everything okay? He wasn’t sure.
“Of course,” he answered before he could dwell too much on it, and if his voice came out uncertain, Quinn was too tired to notice.
The woman cuddled closer to her husband, sighing against his shoulder while the man stared at the ceiling blankly.
It would be okay. He had to believe it or he would break.