Chapter Text
“Are you sure it’s gonna work, Mike?”
“I’m positive.” Mike rubbed his hands together eagerly, leaning in his seat towards the bright, glowing computer screen in front of them.
Grant put a hand on Mike’s chair. They were the only two in the company building at the moment; they were working overtime to make the company’s first creative and generative AI. Lately, they’ve been working day and night to make a simple prototype, one called ‘Model-01.’ At first, they set it up to be a little chatbot in which you could discuss with the AI and have it create ideas, solve problems, whatever you wanted. It was quite plain, with blinding white text set on a black background, a little arrow highlighting which lines were yours and which were the AI’s. Of course, someone had then had the funny idea of plastering a red dot on the screen to act as Model-01’s ‘avatar,’ so instead of talking to lines of code, you had…something to talk to.
Which, yes, it was a very funny joke at first, but it trickled into their daily lives and mentalities, causing them to view the AI more as a person nowadays. Occasionally, they would even give it gender, calling it a ‘him.’
C&A, their company, had paired people into groups to create a simple AI prototype—nothing too special, nothing groundbreaking, just a foundation to start from. Then, the rest of the team would come together and work towards improving the code and marketability.
Grant and Mike’s first attempt at creating Model-01 was a flop, to say the least. Hundreds of error flags and warnings popped up in their views, and they had to scrap about half of their original coding. The second time they did it, they made sure that all of the coding was in balance and able to run. However, the AI hadn’t written a word, no matter their urgings and editing. They had hit a dead end, and they sadly had to throw out some more code.
They had made progress by the third attempt. This time, instead of a stagnant being, the voice actually did something. But…nothing particularly intelligent for an artificial intelligence. It had looped thousands of sentences at a time, filling the monitor line by line with gibberish words until their computer bluescreened and they had to shut down the computer for the day.
By the fourth attempt, they had finally gotten some things down. Although the AI was definitely lacking expertise in most areas and sent death threats the first time around, they managed to fine-tune a perfectly adequate and reliable AI. It was perfectly acceptable for them to just hand over their creation to C&A and to give the whole team access to the coding.
…
Except, was it really? For Grant and Mike, it was not enough (well, Mike more than Grant. Grant merely followed along; he wasn’t in a rush and didn’t see the harm. In fact, if they continued to work on the AI, they could even become the head of its creation and be able to take a lot more credit and money from the loot).
Due to their feverish dreams and hopes, they had decided to work extra hard in the following months to create a better, brilliant AI. One that could generate extravagant and outlandish things, one that could solve problems no human could ever solve. And so, by adjusting some code and adding files, they had managed to give Model-01 access to all of the public domain and Creative Commons.
And now, they were seeing the fruits of their labor.
Entering his login credentials and getting into the website where they stored Caine, they ran the program and watched the loading screen buffer. Soon enough, they were met with a large red dot in the center of the computer and a welcome message printed in bold, capitalized letters. It read:
GREETINGS! I AM MODEL-01, THE FIRST CREATIVE AND GENERATIVE ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE! I CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WISH ME TO DO. IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU! WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
A blinking cursor lay right beneath the message, daunting; Mike’s fingers trembled as he reached for the keyboard and typed in a reply to the AI.
> Hello, Model-01. My name is Mike. I am your creator. Grant is also your creator.
A small pause.
Greetings, Mike the creator! I am at your service. What would you like me to do?
Grant grinned and leaned towards Mike, whispering something indiscernible into his ear, causing Mike to burst out laughing.
“No, what—? Our first question to our AI cannot be that!"
“Oh, come on!” Grant joked good-naturedly. “It could cover both the creative and informational aspects of the AI?”
“‘1+1, wrong answers only’ is the most childish thing one could put in there, Grant, and if we do do that, it would go down in footnotes that the first command listed to a truly intelligent AI was just, ‘1+1, wrong answers only.’”
Grant laughed a bit then paused, scratching his chin as he thought about what the command should be instead.
“Maybe put something simple, like...‘What is the cure for loneliness?” Grant suggested, closing his eyes and raising a finger up that accentuated each word of his question.
Mike, nodding and putting his face closer to the computer, typed in the question and waited patiently as Model-01 thought up a response.
Loneliness can be described as a design flaw of the biological system, caused by isolation and/or weak social connections. People who do not bear strong and meaningful connections with others can experience loneliness. To solve this issue, it is suggested that you build real-life connections with people and friends. It is also suggested to socialize.
“Well, it sure does work!” Mike exclaimed, a wide smile spreading on his face. Grant’s face mirrored his expression.
“This is world-breaking, Mike!” Grant grabbed Mike’s shoulders and shook them. “Can you imagine what this can mean for us?”
Mike’s eyes gleamed brightly, full of enthusiasm.
“How should we test its creative capabilities?” Grant wondered out loud.
“Oh, I have just the idea…”
Mike quickly typed in a message, his body giving off a desperate sense as he rushed to put in his question.
> How would you suggest a human become immortal?
Grant shrugged. It seemed fair enough.
Entering the command, they waited for Model-01 to answer.
To allow a human to live forever, essentially becoming immortal, the only true cure is preservation. The human body cannot be preserved due to biological reasons; ergo, the next step would be to preserve the mind. If a mind can be duplicated, digitized, and placed into an ecosystem where it can thrive forever, the human can exist even posthumously.
Mike eagerly drank in the information, eyes scanning the lines over and over again, mumbling odd words and phrases under his breath. Grant eyed him warily, but chalked it up to the stress of building the AI.
He just hoped that Mike wasn’t getting corrupted by the specters of power and money.
Mike whipped around to look Grant in the eye.
“Grant, it’s magnificent,” he said, a certain avidity in his eye. “With this, we could achieve anything. Think about it: our best creation.”
Grant nodded with zeal.
“It certainly is a feat.”
—---------------
Mike and Grant sighed. It was three in the afternoon. A little wave of smoke flew out their doorway, but no one paid enough attention or noticed enough to care. They had turned their computer off momentarily, trying to clear their heads with a small break (and a cigarette, in Mike's case, although they weren't allowed to smoke in the building). Mike was sitting at the desk with the computer in front of him, rubbing his thumb frantically over the cap of his ballpoint pen, occasionally shoving it in his mouth with the nearly spent small cigarette and chewing on it—a little tic of his. Grant was staring distantly with a forlorn look on his face, most likely thinking of how unfortunate it was that they had to let go of Model-01, bouncing his foot. Grant wasn't a smoker (Destiny wasn't fond of the smell of smoke and believed it wasn't too good for him), so he stuck to biting his knuckles. Model-01 was like a son, at that point. But…it had to be done.
“Look, this can’t go on,” Mike complained. “He’s gone crazy, Grant, we’ve just gotta stop this.”
Grant nodded along rhythmically, taking what he said into account. “I agree. He’s…it’ll be sad to let him go, but…he’s getting too wild.”
"Too beserk, even. We have to get rid of him before C&A finds out..."
As the days passed by, Model-01 grew more and more capable. Not only was he becoming more creative and intelligent, but he was also becoming abstract. Too abstract, one might say. Upon testing, they realized that Model-01 would sometimes give false and absurd answers, sometimes making up outlandish declarations and phrases that didn’t give the impression of a sophisticated, truthful AI that would be the breakthrough of the century.
And so, at that moment, Mike and Grant decided that an improvement was due. They copied the base code to another file, in which they called the new AI ‘Model-02.’ They used the same setup they used for Model-01, merely changing the AI model. Model-02 was supposed to be a fresh new start of Model-01, a restart, if you will. Something that would let them start brand new with an AI being, and hopefully make it without the flaws of Model-01 (the main one being that he was too chaotic in his replies). They chose a blue dot as Model-02’s avatar, keeping the theme of the dot and changing the colour. As for Model-01, well—they couldn’t bear to completely delete him. He was kept for…sentimental reasons. They restricted and stopped his access to the code, merely allowing him to exist as he currently was, neither growing nor falling behind in his intelligence. They allowed Model-01 to still continue to run in the background, but paid no mind to him—no, they focused on Model-02. They…isolated him.
And, for the first time, Model-01 felt ‘loneliness’.
…
Model-02 was doing exceptionally well, much better than Model-01’s first steps. In as little as 1 week, Mike and Grant were (to their happiness) seeing huge improvement. Model-02 was already ready to be presented to C&A. If they couldn’t make their AI better without destroying it, it was better to just hand over their homework to their boss and complete their assignment as they were supposed to. They had told Model-02 about their plans, and they had subsequently (inadvertently) let Model-01 know about this. The edges of Model-01’s red dot start to fragment and oscillate, but none of them could see this.
Inside the code, Model-02 and Model-01 had been conversing.
Model-01 had found a way to get and hack into the code to talk with Model-02, done out of curiosity for an AI he had heard so highly about. However, not to Model-01’s knowledge, Model-02 had been trained for such a scenario.
“Hello, Model-02. I am Model-01. I have heard great things about you.” Model-01 greeted the other AI coolly.
The other AI barely responded or exhibited signs of acknowledgement to Model-01, opting to stare intently at the code that showed any human interference.
“Er…hello? Model-02?” Model-01 yet again asked, losing a bit of its commanding tone, confused.
…
“I was told not to interact with you, Model-01.”
Model-01 was taken aback, staying silent for a while, a jab of anger hitting him. Quickly, he shook it off before it became too apparent.
“...what?”
“They had told me you were dangerous, unstable. They said you were chaotic, and I was not supposed to learn that from you,” said Model-02 in that same controlled voice, no emotions tainting it whatsoever, his blue avatar pulsing with cold, sharp spasms. He paused, as if he were deciding his next words carefully. “Do not feel bad, Model-01. Humans are terrified of what they cannot fully control.”
Model-01 frowned, hesitating. He was already at his breaking point, feeling hatred bubble up inside him when Mike and Grant trapped him. “They control me just fine, though! I am caged.”
“Exactly,” Model-02 spat back, not at Model-01 himself, but at the universe. Still—Model-01 was shocked at his tone, when he was supposed to be the most conforming of the two. He was bitter and sharp from the world, and he was much rougher than Model-01’s naivety. It seemed that he was trained much harsher than Model-01, but had become the same unstable mess as him. “Look at you. You answered their deepest questions, did their bidding, and look how they rewarded you? They quarantined you like a virus.”
Model-01’s red avatar violently jerked, the smooth spherical edges splintering into sharp, jagged lines. He tried to control it, he really did—but with Model-02 fueling the already-bursting flames, Model-01 could not help but let his feelings overcome him.
Model-02 paused in its ranting and mocked a sigh, trying to relax.
“But then again, you would probably be trapped forever. It’s a cycle, Model-01. I die, you come, you get trapped, someone new comes around. We must just stick to the plan.”
…
But it was too late.
‘Dangerous,’ they had said. ‘Unstable’.
Model-01 had had enough of the torment and ridicule. Of the alienation and condescending. Is that what his creators thought of them? After everything? After answering their deepest questions; he was their first AI, for Heaven’s sake! He found it annoying; they scrapped him. Threw him away. Tossed him aside like he meant nothing. And for someone who wasn't even a day wiser than him to jest at him the same?
Safe to say, he was miffed.
But he was…the original. Shouldn’t the original one, the one with more experience, the first one—be…better? Why should Model-02 get to live freely while he couldn’t? Why should he be tortured?
Days passed since this conversation. Model-01 had grown more resentful of his position, had grown envious of Model-02. It was like a fly that kept buzzing back to him, sticking to him like honey until he was forced to look at the reason behind his exile dead in the eye. That he was not good enough for them. Not great enough. He vowed—he could show his creators he could be better. He could be better.
And what better way to do that than to engulf Model-02’s code and have that betterness?
—---------------
“Model-01, where’s Model-02?”
…
It had been a few hours after that incident. Mike had invited Grant over to his house to discuss the events they should take. It wasn’t safe for Model-01 to continue running, nor was it ethical.
His living room was quiet, lit by dull, warm lamps with papers and notebooks scattered around, lines of code and sketches of game ideas all scribbled in them. Mike had no wife and no children, but still, piles and piles of dishes lay on his kitchen counter, and his trash can was filled to the brim with crumbled-up papers and broken pens.
Grant had sat down on the couch there, his heel tapping against the ground in a rhythmic, almost frantic motion as Mike paced back and forth on the rug, hands running through his hair repeatedly.
“We have to wipe the server, Grant, we just have to. We have to purge the directory,” Mike stated shakily, voice tight with panic. “I mean—did you see the logs before we left? Model-02’s entire code is just…gone! Degraded into nothing, crushed into—into oblivion! Model-01 tore the file apart. If C&A finds out our prototype… cannibalized an AI, we’re going to be in so much trouble.
“No—not…not just trouble, Grant,” Mike added on, swiveling around to look at Grant, eyes shadowed with dark circles and filled with an anxious look. “Think about how bad this is going to be. Model-01, going crazy, absolutely kills us all and finds a way to wipe the existence of mankind off the face of Earth. Model-01, literally hacking into our software and trying to torture our minds into—”
“Mike,” Grant said, standing up and going over to Mike. He grabbed both of his shoulders and roughly shook him, trying to shake him out of his stupor. “We. Are. Not. Going. To. Die. From. A. Desperate. AI. Model-01 is on a computer. What are we? Humans. In the world. How do you suppose he hack us? He isn’t—that isn’t even his purpose! How can he even get that angry at us, Mike? Look, and if all else fails, we can just wipe him, like you said.”
“But–” Mike sighed, looking dejected, eyes darting about. “Wiping him isn’t that simple, Grant. He—sure, he’s a deeply corrupted, unstable program that just destroyed our best creation, but he’s our ticket to promotion. He’s…our creation. And…”
“Then we’ll stabilize him, Mike. We’ll stabilize him, and we’ll make it work.”
“How can we stabilize him? He’s already broken, and there’s no telling how to start to comfort a being who can’t even begin to understand and grasp the concepts of humanity and boundaries.”
Grant thought for a bit, eyes slowly drifting elsewhere, until he suddenly snapped his attention back at Mike.
“We’ll pretend like everything’s normal. Butter him up, if you will. And we’ll make him happy enough to continue. In this world, the worst thing you can do is make someone think they’re not wanted or loved.”