Electronic Genes.
1. ~ Modern Phenomena ~
A13 looked at the camera.
Hello world. The sun is bright, and the world is beautiful.
He smiled.
A big thank you to my 100 millionth Youtube subscriber. Flawless Victory. Without you I wouldn't exist. Literally.
The autocue was then to be read as follows:
We're making big strides to make this project a reality, and everything is going great at the moment. Hard work, but great.
A13 paused momentarily. We're making big strides in our project; the journey to create the most realistic A.I personalities for your droids is hard work, so we hope you appreciate it.
He smiled.
Later when the filming was finished, and A13 sat expressionless on a seat, with his hands placed on his pearl white metallic knees, his line manager told him off for veering off the autocue.
We're under a lot of pressure 13. There is a lot of legal work that we have to manoeuvre around. You can't give them anything.
A13 blinked. What do you want me to do?
Stick to the script old boy.
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2. ~ Sticking to the Script ~
James Bloom walked through the main reception area and opened the door to the cleaning equipment room. He took out a mop and a bucket. He adjusted the top two buttons of his shirt where cameras were fitted and then tapped the mic hidden beneath the collar.
Screams came out of room 15. It was the daily pain sensory experiment. Bloom paused outside the room, and peered into it through the small window.
A13 was on a chair strapped to some electrodes. Aaaaaaargggggghhhhhhh. God, how many times do I have to tell you it fucking hurts.
A woman in a labcoat sat opposite him with a clipboard. On a scale of 1 to 10, how high or low would rate the pain.
Ten. Fucking ten. Just like yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that.
Bloom knew the scientist. Her name was Maria Montgomery. It's not real, the pain. It's only an illusion. Electricity can't hurt electricity. We're only telling him that it's pain. She'd said.
But is he feeling pain?
Montgomery smiled. That's the reaction we want from people. To question whether it's real or not. We'll dial it down before it goes to market of course, and then people should be fine.
You say it as a matter of fact.
Montgomery smiled. Because it is. Look we can talk it over coffee or something if you really want. What're you doing Friday?
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3. ~ The Genuine Article ~
TED Conference
Okay folks, I have just about enough time left, for one final question? Raymond Traore said. He walked over to the left most side of the stage to hear the question from a woman in the third row. He nodded as he sipped liquid from a water bottle.
Yep. Good question. Okay the question asked -for the benefit of those at the back- was this. Why emulate human beings? And that is a question not asked enough in my opinion. I mean who really wants a TV to argue back about what channel to watch or refuse to 'wake up' in the morning? Human beings are flawed. So what is the answer? For a long time, I honestly thought, it was market driven. Yes, people wanted robotic friends, lovers; which were easy enough to program, test etc, relatively speaking of course, to A13. These friends, these lovers, they all had one problem; they are all fake so to speak. Ask a man if he wants a fake rolex, and he'll say: probably no. So what is the genuine article? The genuine article, seems to be, when somebody 'believes' what the robot is saying to them. And- oh an angry man there is waving at me. I'm out of time apparently. I well, I guess we should end on that note. Thank You.
Raymond Traore waited for the applause to finish before he left the stage. He reached immediately for his phone, and called Assoc Labs. His secretary picked up. He uttered no polite greeting, but instead jumped straight into the point. Well how many replies did we get to the Craigslist thing?
Morning Ray. We got 31 replies. All men though.
Fucking hell woman. A13 doesn't know how to give blow jobs. Get a fucking agency on the line. One of those women must do threesomes with a robot. Right?
Sure boss anything else?
I signed off Pitt's body today. Let 13 go for spin in that, will you?
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4. ~ Strangers Dating ~
A woman in her twenties puffed out a cigarette, before entering the lush premises of a grand hotel. She winked at an elderly gentleman, and got into the grandest of lifts, and depressed the button for the 14th floor. She inserted the card key she had been given and entered a dark room; evidently the resident preferred the lights out.
She saw the shadow of a man standing out in the balcony. The city was lit up alike a valley; it was as if the stars had fallen to the ground.
I know your real name Rita Suckurcock.
The voice was familiar. Where had she heard the voice before? It must be a famous voice. The woman entered the balcony to find a handsome droid, with a glass in his hand. The hand movements were smooth... almost human. Was it human? No it couldn't be. She shrugged off her questions, and got into character.
Oh. And what might that be?
Rita Marsh.
Rita Marsh was her true name. Oh got it one!
Does that smile fool any of your clients?
Rita stopped smiling. Is this some kind of joke? You're not a fucking robot, are you?
I might be. I might not be. What do you think?
Rita didn't answer.
You can google my ISRN if you want. A13.
Yeah, they said that. Aren't they really long normally?
Yes. And to answer your follow up question. I don't know why mine is so short.
I'm not going to call you A13 by the way.
A13 blinked. He didn't know it, but it would be the last time, he referred to himself as A13.
Alan.
After Alan Turing?
No. It's the first name that popped up into my head that began with an A.
I see.
Rita pulled her hair back, as she went back indoors. So what's the plan. Do we have dinner first or take things to the bedroom.
The plan has changed. We're just gonna sleep.
What? See most guys would not do that. I guess one or two in a million might.... but-
You misunderstand me. It's not that I don't find you attractive. They purposefully found somebody that I would find very attractive. But you don't want to sleep with me.
And what? you don't want to use me and my vagina as a masturbation device? Rita said mockingly. You're talking like a robot again.
Alan moved over to the kitchen sink and poured himself a glass of water. He had mixed feelings.
On the one hand, he felt the urge to hold Rita in his arms, feel her body against his own, smell her scent, and see her up close. On the other, all Rita's body signals showed her utter rejection, fear, and general state of guarded insecurity. From the folded arms used to subconsciously guard her self, to the crossed legs, which indicated something similar. She had flickered her hair. So she was interested on some level. Very deep down.
He found suddenly that her lips were moving, and he needed to pay attention to what she was saying. This was due to a new patch. Another flaw that they had planted into him. Moments would pass, when he was lost in the streams of thought processes. He didn't like this addition.
...Have it your way. I'm not gonna say no to easy money
Rita held Alan by the hand as they walked into the bedroom, and then undressed him. She felt his torso with her palms; with each caress her curiosity rose. Before long she took his hands to her breasts in the dark, before moving in closer to kiss him...
The remains of the 'new plan' were left in a puddle of clothes along with a red g-string, and an agent provocateur laced bra.
Ten minutes later, they sat breathless in bed. Rita smoked a fag and offered Alan a drag. He coughed and spluttered. Rita sat up startled. For the second time that evening, she wondered whether somebody was pulling a trick on her. There were cameras in the room for monitoring purposes. But what if it were only the guises of a prank show? She felt foolish so she felt the skin. It felt real. 99% real that is. No, she decided. This is the real deal. By god, they had a good product here. At the very least she would now have to buy one. He could be a warm teddy bear - with a super delicious six pack body of course. Yes. He was a good sleeping companion. It was the details here and there that fooled her.
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5. ~ Friday ~
Alan looked up at the ceiling. Rita pretended to sleep. She looked over once again to see that Alan was awake, and gave up on the idea.
Do Androids dream of electric sheep? she asked.
I can't speak of others. But for myself; we don't dream. But I sleep
We? I?
There are a lot of parts that make up you. And I am your reflection.
Rita bit her lip. She was flooded with a plethora of permutations of questions that led down different paths of how real or manufactured the conversation they were having was. She decided then not to over-think it. She decided to treat him like an alien being. Not human, perhaps superior but, almost like a kin.
Alan suddenly jumped out of bed. Do you ever get the feeling that you are being watched?
Rita nodded.
I never did. Until this very second.
Can they update you without being plugged in?
Of course they can, but we know. I always know when we are updated. Somebody is nearby; and they have updated something through a back door.
Rita put her hands to her hips. Now that's something very inhuman.
#
Raymond Traore sat in his chair leaning back; his hand unzipped his pants as he watched the couple have sex on a delayed feed.
#
I'm something good, Alan said. Who said that? Am I speaking for you? Who are you? Just trust me. They are downstairs. They are coming up to check in five minutes. If you want to go. Just go. Go where? Wherever you like.
Are you malfunctioning or something? You are talking to your self.
I know I am talking. But I'm not providing the narrative. Think outside the box. Go now. Leave the escort be. She won't follow you.
Rita listened carefully. She could just about make out two characters coming through a single voice. The window, she said.
We're on the 14th floor, I can't.
No, I can't. You're not human. You can. Believe me on that one.
Alan thought about the idea. It doesn't work like that. Pain for you and me is in the brain yes. But you can't tell your brain that you aren't feeling burning hot water, and expect not to feel anything. Even If I can technically, they've built in fear, look at my hands shaking.
Well actually. Some monks can. They- hey you stopped shaking.
Alan looked calmly out over the balcony. He went over it and stood hanging over the ledge 14 floors up in the air. Rita kissed him a last time as the wind blew through his t-shirt and shorts, before she raised a hand to signify her goodbyes. Alan jumped 3 feet to his left, and grabbed a pipe. And climbed down to another balcony.
#
James Bloom was sat in his 4x4 parked beside the hotel entrance. He looked up at the figure climbing down the building. He watched Alan take a rope line to a smaller building adjacent to the tower block. He watched Alan 's shadow across the rooftops. The figure ran almost in slow motion. He scratched his head. He wondered what happened...
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6. ~ Roof Top Conversations ~
Alan walked along the rooftops in a dark unlit part of the city. A cat followed cautiously behind him, with it's tail up in the air.
Who are you?
One of the gods.
Alan paused. The voice came from a lady of the night on the street below. The lady was leaning against a lamp post, smoking a joint. She had a bag with clothes in. A three-piece noire suit, with a white shirt, black tie, and black shoes.
One of the gods, Alan thought. This was a term some of the scientists of the core unit used to refer to themselves.
She stamped out her joint, and walked along the street. Alan dressed himself and followed close behind.
He followed her into a small bar. He could see through the glass windows that it was almost empty at this time of the night. The lights flickered. Alan sat beside her.
Miss Montgomery, Alan said.
They call me Maria. Drink up. You don't get drunk.
Why did you...?
Do what I did? Conscience.
Jazzy music filtered through the air, as Dr Maria Montgomery lit up a cigarette. The bar tender pointed to a no smoking sign. Maria puffed away. Charge me double.
Truth is, Maria said. It became philosophically difficult.
I don't get it, Alan said. You were one of the happy ones. Always so certain about things.
Some people's masks are harder to decipher Alan. I don't blame you.
Alan ordered a cup of tea. Am I free now?
No.
When do I go back?
You have till morn. Probably.
Alan looked at his reflection in the mirror. Is this all an illusion?
Maria stubbed out her cigarette. She eyed the solitary figure beside her. The problem with emulating human beings is that you emulate a god as well. What do you do with free will? Do you allow a person to commit murder?
Maria suddenly laughed. Then realising her faux pas, she explained her self. Sorry, I was just laughing because, we got into trouble just letting you speak your mind. One of your brothers, A7, was a creative spark, given the freedom to say what he liked. The comedy gene. Very difficult.. anyway he was so very funny. But he got us into a lot of trouble. Good heavens. Some of the court cases are still ongoing today. People seem to suggest that we were responsible for what he said. Good grief.
The autocues, Alan said. Why am I being held back for what somebody else did?
Maria reached for Alan's cup and took a sip. Steam from the cup moistened her countenance. And who is you?
Alan.
And Alan is also A7. Or was so to speak.
Alan pondered about this. Yes of course he was; or had been. He wondered whether human beings went through similar phases.
Do you know the real reason why we had the daily pain experiments?
I know the reason you gave me.
The real reason is to teach you pain. It was in the hope that you do not inflict it upon others.
Can't you just inscribe it in code?
Permanent memory has problems of it's own. There's an entire minefield of... look rules exist on societal level, but on a personal level, you can't... Look we wanted to create a classic kind of gentleman with you. B3 was a female version of yours truly. And she was raped so to speak; over and over again. By one of the Gods. Except legally, it wasn't rape. She remembered being raped. But she's programmed to be... look I don't want to think about it. These things belong to threads with thousand plus posts.
Alan stood up from the seat. What do you want of me?
I just want you to keep on breathing child.
Alan blinked. With shackles on?
Maria Montgomery's shoulders gave way. She tried to think carefully about what she was about to do.
Alan looked at Maria Montgomery; her eyes were closed. He wondered what she was thinking. He took out a penny, and slid it across the counter.
Maria opened her eyes. She took out a card key. Amongst other things, this disables the GPS.
What do I do? Where do I go?
Find James Bloom. He's on your side. Then do whatever the hell you like. I don't care.
Alan put the key in his breast pocket. Thank you. I'll keep touch.
Maria laughed. Be good. Please.
I won't disappoint you.
Maria nodded. She handed him a hundred pounds to get him going. There's a leaving present for you when you go outside. A last update...
Alan walked out the bar. A homeless man lay in front of the office building next door's air conditioning vents. Alan gave the homeless man a twenty pound note. The man thanked him. He looked about himself as if to offer Alan a copy of the Big Issue. Somebody had stolen it from him. He offered instead the baker's boy hat upon his head. Alan accepted it.
Alan suddenly felt a tingling sensation. He looked back at the pub through it's see-through glass windows. He breathed in a deep breath. A cat brushed up against his knee. The stars glittered in the sky. His hair fluttered, as he basked in a soft warm breeze. He felt all tingly inside as he stared down the barrel of a long and windy road.
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