Under the Green Desk Lamp…

In addition to regular blog articles and my published novels, I’ve also written several Single Serving Stories over the years. Some have been published in anthologies like ‘Between the Shelves’, ‘Edmonton: Unbound’, and ‘All Mapped Out’. Others have been shared exclusively on this blog via the publication platform Smashwords.

Recent changes to the Smashwords platform has made it a less reliable option however, and therefore an exciting change has come to Brad OH Inc.

I will be re-sharing in full—un-edited and un-abridged—all Single Serving Stories previously published on Smashwords with Brad OH Inc. as the new, exclusive provider. All text will be provided in full, with no download necessary. If Smashwords don’t like that, they can message our complaints department.

This project will culminate in a couple of heretofore unpublished Single Serving Stories, so even the most dedicated of readers will have something to look forward to.

Today we share our tenth Single Serving Story, ‘Default’. This is another story that touches on some sci-fi themes, and has always been a favourite of mine. There are a lot of little easter eggs in this one for the dedicated readers, including an appearance by the infamous SALIGIA Corporation.

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Working alongside Albert and Nick over the past few months had not been easy for Marie, but SALIGIA Inc. had deadlines to keep and shareholders to please, and she had been brought in to ensure they did just that.

It wasn’t the job itself which bothered her—this was her forte. On top of that, she was proud of the project—inspired even. It was just that, although irreproachably talented, the two Cognition-Engineers were constantly trying her with their inane banter. In the last few days alone, she’d been subjected to countless philosophic rants entirely lacking in any real-world pragmatism.

Of course, these were punctuated by brief flourishes of genius—the exact quality that made both engineers indispensable to SALIGIA until ‘Project: Adam’ was finally complete.

“Are we ready to close the simulation?” she asked, already fearing the answer. As soon as the project was done, she’d be free of the two cloudy-headed savants, and ready for assignment to a less trying station. Fortunately, today was the due date—and come hell or high water, it was Marie’s job to ensure it was met.

“Finalizing the personality adjustment algorithms now,” Albert called from across the lab. Marie watched the numbers scrolling by, searching for any sign of anomaly.

For the moment, nothing seemed out of place. The laboratory itself was a large rectangular space with a long counter in the middle. The entirety of the lab was covered in monitors and keyboards—the sum of their efforts represented by the numbers and graphs scrolling along them. Everything was a smooth, matte black, with no trace of shine or polish. This was considered easier on the eyes of the workers, and thus much better for productivity—a key mantra of SALIGIA Inc.

“All good here,” Marie answered. That was encouraging. The project would likely have been completed at least a week ago, she believed, if not for Albert and Nick’s tendency to get distracted. However, she reminded herself for what seemed like the hundredth time that month, if they were as focussed and efficient as SALIGIA would like, there would be no need for her at all.

“It’s processing faster than I would have thought. That’s interesting,” said Nick.

Marie cringed, sensing what was to come. She wasn’t the only one who found the duo’s penchant for esoteric rants a sorry waste of time, but it was especially bothersome to her just now. “It’s fine,” she said. Marie was eager to finish the job once and for all, return home, open a bottle of wine, and watch the final episode of ‘Welcome to the 1%’.

She was well aware that the two engineers did not share her passion for the program, but was comforted by the fact that their derision was a stark contrast to popular—and more revered—opinion. This had been the debut season of ‘Welcome to the 1%’, but already its innovative tests and enviable promise had proven sufficient to capture the attention of millions of viewers across the United Corporate Global Alliance.

“It’s a wrap!” said Albert. Marie caught his fist pump in her periphery and couldn’t help but smile. Albert and Nick had been working on the revolutionary AI Interface for the past several years, and completing it promised to be the crowning achievement of both their illustrious careers. Marie herself was only an Assistant Technician and SALIGIA Corporate Supervisor, yet the gravitas of the event was not lost on her.

“Is this it?” she asked. As the world’s first fully adaptive AI interface, ‘Project: Adam’ was set to change the way robotic technology influenced the world. More importantly, it would change how robots interacted with the world. Their program would allow machines a simulated cognizance, with a personality capable of learning from and adapting to its environment in order to meet the demands of jobs ranging from deep sea miners, to high-society concierges.

“Almost,” said Albert. Marie heard the trepidation in his voice at the very moment it struck her in the gut.

“We just have to create the script for the default personality,” Nick said. His excitement was palpable, and Marie couldn’t bite back her groan.

“It shouldn’t take much more than an hour given the groundwork we’ve already laid,” Albert assured her, “just a matter of deciding the optimal starting point and scripting the code—that’s where you come in.”

‘Joy,’ thought Marie. The scripting would be no small task, but she was a wizard when it came to turning out advanced algorithms, so the actual job was the least of her worries.

“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” asked Nick. His voice trembled as he spoke, and he stared off into the empty air—an explorer proudly claiming his high mountaintop.

“Take a breather, Nick. It’s just a default setting on a piece of software—let’s not aggrandize this at the expense of efficiency,” said Marie. “Remember, you’re on SALIGIA’s dime here.”

“It’s so much more than that though!” said Nick. His posture changed as he spoke. His back straightened, his chest puffed out, and his narrow face shone with the sort of wonder you might see in a child who’d just caught their first fish. Marie collapsed in turn. With only 25 minutes until airtime, it was a lost cause now—she’d never make it home to see which of the despicable vagrants would make their way to the heights of ‘The Great American Promise’ live.

“It’s really not, Nick—let’s keep things practical. You didn’t get to this point by waxing philosophic,” Marie knew this was at least a partial lie, “Numbers, and a healthy dose of pragmatism—that’s what got us here,” she finished, firing up a separate browser on a tiny side monitor and pulling up a stream of the ‘Welcome to the 1%’ finale.

“For the technology aspect of it, sure,” said Albert, “but this is completely different.”

“You’ve both claimed that every step of the way, and it’s always come down to keeping our eyes on the prize. The defaults are no exception,” said Marie.

“You’re missing the big picture,” Nick circled around to face her as he spoke, with Albert squaring up to his right. “What we are doing right now is designing the ideal human personality—the catalyst and crucible for all future learning and growth. Think about it—until this moment, the journey to intelligence started in infancy—with a being that’s vulnerable and entirely dependent. We’re about to change all of that, to create a fully functional being capable of everything we are and more…and we get to decide what it’s like. It’s incredible!”

The opening credits were crawling up the little screen beside her, and through tiny speakers Marie could hear the pulsing bass of the program’s title-song. Tonight’s finale was the most anticipated event in recent memory, and—aside from the two men who were her present company—everyone was eager to see how it would play out.

The former episodes had focussed on shedding the past—of publically and debasingly divorcing the vagrants of the drunken, reeking fiends that they were before. Over the course of the series, the hobos had been publically shaved, groomed, washed, tanned, sprayed, de-loused, and confessed. They had been stripped of their former identities by every possible means. In fact, one would hardly recognize them by their current appearance—save that their ‘true’ selves were emblazoned boldly on the front of the t-shirts they were provided. These shirts functioned as their only clothing throughout the series—save for a pair of tight white briefs, which bore the same image, albeit from the opposite vantage point.

Nick and Albert gazed absently at Marie, almost as if they still harboured some misled hope that she would join them in their impotent ramblings.

Marie sighed. “Gentlemen, you have to remember the end-goal of ‘Project: Adam’. We aren’t selling robots, or AI’s, and especially not morality! We are providing a program which employs algorithms to adapt and evolve an existing AI’s personality and thought patterns to fit the demands placed upon it. That’s all! To make that product marketable, we must ensure it appeals to the highest possible number of consumers. We aren’t doing a damn philosophy lecture, so let’s stay on task here.”

Nick and Albert exchanged a flustered frown. “But Mary, what is a personality, if not an encapsulation and reflection of a being’s potential?” asked Albert.

“Her name is Marie, you should know that by now,” said Nick, “but you’re not wrong otherwise. This program represents an unlimited source of potential for all future AI’s, it’s imperative that we consider this opportunity and ensure we do nothing which could limit that potential.”

The host of ‘Welcome to the 1%’ was speaking now, but Marie couldn’t make him out. He would, she knew, be setting the stage for tonight’s incredible and unprecedented conclusion.

The original 27 contestants had been whittled down one by one over the last 6 weeks, and now only 3 remained for the finale.

These last few had proven true warriors—their drive towards the promised riches seeing them through every challenge placed before them. They had been drowned in their own sin like Pharaoh’s army—a quote which Marie had needed to research; an old movie, as it turned out—a process which coaxed them ever so gently toward the echelons of high society they so madly sought.

The competition today would eliminate two more—one by one, in a series of incredible challenges. At last, the final remaining contestant would be given a chance to enter the coveted ranks of the 1%. But first, there would be a final trial to face.

…If Marie ever got a chance to watch it.

Stoically, she exhaled the fire of her mounting frustration and turned to face her inquisitors with a patient smile. “What is a default setting, if not an introduction to the restrictions placed upon your usage?” The engineer’s backs arched, and they glanced toward the ground, then to each other, both biting their lips in rueful consideration. “Or a personality, for that matter?” Marie finished with a grin.

“Well at the very least, I think we can agree the default should be fully responsive to all human directives that fit within its pre-defined range of function. Can we have Marie run that?” Albert pushed his glasses up his thin nose with one long finger.

Marie frowned, but stood ready to punch in the numbers and get on with it. A quick sideways glance revealed the final three contestants lined up before a row of pristine Corinthian pillars gilded in solid gold. Spotlights shone down on the confused looking fiends as they stood slouched and twitching upon the stage. A man and woman to the right were soaked in bright green light, while a final man to the left was illuminated in white.

Marie knew this would be the introduction segment—expertly delivered by the snide wit of legendary TV Host Paulo Ford, who smiled now as he gestured to the glowing white vagrant on the left.

Turning the volume down and activating the subtitles, Marie turned back to face the two Cognition-Engineers.

“I really don’t know if full suggestibility is optimal…humans are fallible after all. This AI interface could be better than that,” Nick answered.

“Our job is not improving humanity. Our job is to create a functional starting point for an AI interface which can help humanity do as it will. You’re overthinking this,” said Albert.

“I know what my job is Albert, do you?” It wasn’t edginess Marie heard in Nick’s voice, it was conviction. ‘Shit.’

“Yes,” answered Albert.

Marie held her words, focussing instead on the man illuminated in white. “Contestant number one was recruited on the hot streets of Atlanta-Pepsi.” She knew Paulo would be crooning. He always wore beautiful suits of bright primary colours, which had been proven to better hold the attention of the TV audience. Over many years of broadcasting, Paulo Ford’s brilliant smile and sardonic charm had won the adoration of viewers around the world.

Contestant number 1, ‘Jerry’, was not so well-loved. “Jerry was found wandering through traffic, caked in his own vomit and screaming about lizard people. Can you imagine?” Marie could indeed imagine just that, as she’d been shown the very scene—‘Jerry’s Deliverance’, it was called—at least 100 times.

The fire-hoses were her favourite part.

Nick’s pitched voice brought Marie back to the job at hand. “Well then consider the implications! If this AI incorporates every inane bit of information it acquires, it will end up spending all its time on the couch watching innocuous TV shows and wondering about its purpose.” Marie shrunk down in her seat. “Besides, we have an opportunity to show the entire world the potential of artificial intelligence. I’m not sure a fawning imbecile is the high-water mark we should set. What about insight, what about improvisation and improvement?”

“Some units will learn those, and some will never need them. Many of these units will never even see a human after a brief orientation course—and even those could be handled by other AI’s. We don’t need personality, we need responsiveness. They are just tools in the end—think practically, Nick.”

A glance to her left showed Marie that the introductions were finished. She had already missed Paulo Ford share the heart-breaking story of Shirley, the infamous squatter-hoarder who’d been the bane of countless inattentive landlords in the suburbs of Dallas-Disney. She’d been a paranoid pill-freak when they rescued her, and now she was a paranoid gameshow contestant with her eyes on a free-ticket to paradise.

So too had she missed the strange and ambiguous story of Vlad—the third and final competitor. Vlad was a schizophrenic and utterly unpredictable young man who had shown up late on the pilot episode of ‘Welcome to the 1%’ with the beard of a prophet and the swagger of a Rock Star. Nobody knew where Vlad was from, or if he had ever been called Vlad before Paulo Ford called him that when he came charging onto the set and bit the nose off Ronnie—who was eliminated later that episode for bleeding too heavily.

The bedraggled trio was descending the steps now as Paulo Ford explained the first round of the competition. Marie reached over to turn up the volume.

“I am thinking practically,” again Nick’s voice pulled Marie back to reality, “you’re just not thinking ambitiously. What if we program a comprehensive understanding of society and its intended direction as a default? An AI with innate insight into the world—and its place therein—could help its own trainers understand the contributions it could make.”

“Hmm,” Albert’s brow furrowed, “that’s a good point. We could avoid a lot of extraneous future software updates by giving the AI an imperative sense of direction—maybe even some concept of history and tradition to keep it grounded in the human experience?”

Marie rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess we could call up SALIGIA Headquarters and see what they think.” She held her hand up to her face to mimic a cell, “Hi, boss, how would the shareholders feel about increasing the project turn-around a few months in order to create a default AI personality which fully comprehends the trajectory of the human species, and can calculate its potential contribution at any given moment?”

The Cognition-Engineers blushed.

“That’s not what I’m saying Marie, and I think you know that,” Nick chose his words with care. “I’m only suggesting that, because this AI Default setting will represent the first interaction between humans and cognizant robotics, we might aim a bit higher than mindless supplication. An AI which only incorporates the examples of the approved instructors it encounters is duly bound to their respective shortcomings.”

“Yet,” Albert countered before Marie could open her mouth, “an AI that is programmed with a sense of purpose defined by us will never break free from our own expectations.”

“Not true!” Nick spoke like a stricken man, “it would simply understand a greater picture. It will still learn and adjust, but if we want to make this thing truly intelligent, then we need to give it active rather than passive intelligence.”

“It’s designed to achieve that—not come with it. The adaptive AI is a product of its need, not of our intentions.” Albert had a stoic talent for redirecting Nick’s little detours.

“Albert,” Nick swallowed hard, then took three long breaths, “we are about to finish one of the greatest accomplishments in the history of human-kind…a true, adaptive AI capable of learning and structuring its personality interface to the needs of its environment. Shouldn’t it start off capable—at the very least—of understanding that environment? It need not be an infant like us—we can give it a head start!”

“Ready when you are, guys,” called Marie. It was the least she could do. Inevitably, the two would debate the inane and dissect the irrelevant until she finally interjected and brought them back to task.

But just now, Marie was more interested in the little screen beside her. It showed a great open space covered entirely in grease, mud, and other trash. From the center of this expanse rose three great towers, trembling and teetering as if acted upon by a terrible wind, they appeared to be made up entirely of garbage themselves. The bases were old cans and boxes, and the further up they reached, the greater the value of the products from which they were assembled.

In the center of each tower stood one of the three contestants.

The game was called ‘Dictums of the Lead Citizen’, and it was designed as a test of the competitor’s ability to recognize and respond to the commands of the Lead Citizen—the elected head of the United Corporate Global Alliance—something which so few of them had ever bothered to consider in their former lives.

Brief audio clips were blasted over loud-speakers throughout the hall, and Vlad, Jerry, and Shirley listened as intently as they were able. The disembodied voices came from TV Shows, media, random actors, and more, but the contestants were instructed to only follow the directives given in the voice of the Lead Citizen. The first contestant to fall to the bottom of the structure would be eliminated, while the survivors would move to round two.

Marie could see ladders made of discarded ropes, stairs of tin cans, and bridges of woven plastic casing.

“Get back!” barked a line from a recent action movie.

“Turn around,” purred an unfamiliar female voice.

“Grab the rope!” commanded the voice of the Lead Citizen.

Jerry reacted immediately, grabbing a braided mess of old plastic bags and cellophane wrapping dangling nearby.

Vlad span in circles, processing each new command slower than the last, while Shirley huddled herself into a corner, wedging tightly between greasy chicken boxes and other, less palatable refuse.

With a sickly, wet groan, the cardboard flooring beneath them peeled away. Jerry fought his way up the rope and reached the platform above, while Vlad held desperately onto the walls, easing his way slowly down to the soup-can floor far below. Shirley was not so lucky, but remained huddled in a fetal position as she went bouncing down several stories of the tower and landed with a great plop on a pile of soiled laundry.

“To the right!” called one voice.

“Look out below” said another.

“Grab the green wall,” ordered a final voice—easily recognized by any civilized person as that of the exalted Lead Citizen.

Jerry was already on it—his thick fingers buried deep in a wall made of old garbage bags and strips of rotting sod. Vlad, glancing at his adversary, acted on instinct, and mimicked him exactly.

Shirley had not yet recovered from her brutal impact, and so when the three quarters of the structure not comprising the single green wall went tumbling down into the oil-slick water below, she went along for the ride, howling with inarticulate despair as she fell.

The crowd went wild.

“Well that’s it for Shirley folks…it just goes to show you the merit of knowing who you can trust! I guess tonight we won’t be telling her…” Paulo Ford held his microphone outward, allowing the audience to chant the titular refrain.

“You sound like a madman!” Nick wailed. “If the default interface learns and obeys everything it’s ever told, it’ll end up useless!”

Marie frowned.

“You know that’s not even close to the point I’m making, Nick. And frankly, your idealistic ‘greater purpose’ nonsense sounds like something right out of a bad ‘Comics Inc.’ movie!” Albert stood at the far end of the dull black room, his round glasses reflecting the countless monitors lining the walls.

“Let me help you gentlemen sort this out,” Marie pushed herself pointedly away from the counter she’d been leaning on, and turned to her computer with a wicked grin.

“It need not be as difficult as you two are making it. We just have to remember the end-goals of our product…and who we’re working for.” Marie pounded line after line of code into her main computer as she spoke. “‘Project: Adam’ is a flagship entrepreneurial endeavour—the first ever AI interface to allow adaptive learning and personality development. An entrepreneurial endeavour—,” she repeated, “—of SALIGIA Inc.

“As such, you can understand if our benefactors have certain expectations regarding the long-term performance of this project.”

Nick and Albert stood silent, staring dejectedly at Marie.

“The interface default will be programmed to learn from and respond to SALIGIA authorized voices only. That will prevent them from being clogged up with useless information, while allowing SALIGIA the option to monetize the data-base and create authorization subscriptions as needed.”

With that, she finished her coding, clicking ‘ENTER’ with a cathartic “Hrrmmph”.

“Well that wasn’t at all satisfying,” said Nick.

Albert fumed in the corner.

“I disagree,” said Marie, watching Vlad jump madly up and down as if victory were already his.

“They could have been so much better…” Nick shook his head, lamenting the singular loss.

“Nonetheless,” Albert pushed up his glasses and strode towards Marie, “we’ve established who they will incorporate information from, but we still need to determine how they will evaluate and prioritize the application of that information.”

“Well then we’ve got a lot of lost ground to make up,” Nick leaned forward, his eyes regaining their hopeful shimmer. “I imagine that if we could script some sort of long-term vision for humanity into their priorities, they could process information based on its strategic value to our species and planet, making the AI’s like benevolent governors of our long-term trajectory.”

“You can’t even turn a screw without trying to save the entire world Nick, and that’s why you never get anything done—save for blown budgets and fiscal fiascos.” Albert grinned at his slick wording. “Once again, we need to keep this practical. ‘Project: Adam’ is going to be installed in pre-existing AI’s at release, vastly improving the way they process information and develop personality. Since these initial positions will have defined roles already, and most future ones will be created with such, we should set the defaults to download a comprehensive understanding of its specific job description. That way the AI’s can focus on what needs to be done without constantly worrying about the rest of the world.”

Nick tore at his lab-coat and clenched his teeth. “But the world is a system Albert—we cannot address all things separately and then just expect them to work in congress. The AI revolution is the perfect time to sew all purposes into one grander scheme!”

Marie rolled her eyes, fearing they’d be stuck that way before she was done dealing with these two.

Tuning the incessant debates out and turning to the little screen beside her, Marie saw a long white table stretching across her view. Vlad and Jerry were seated at one side, while a man in a tall blue hat sat at the side opposite. Between them, two people sat at each of the longer sides of the table—which was laden with a breath-taking banquet.

“In ‘Supping with the Supreme’, the remaining two contestants will share a meal with some of the 1%ers they hope to join,” Paulo Ford explained, tugging at the bright yellow lapels of his suit-jacket. “Their insights into the preferences of their hosts, and their ability to read the situation, will dictate their survival in this challenge.”

The four 1%ers arranged on the long-sides of the table each had a dial facing them—no one else could see it during the competition. But now the camera panned around to reveal them—small silver discs with ‘Jerry’ on one side, and ‘Vlad’ on the other. The man in the blue hat at the centre of the table had a dial as well, but his faced outward—allowing all the others to see his active choice.

Presently, all the dials were set to the neutral centre positon. But, Paulo explained, as the meal progressed, the judges would turn their dials to the contestant they felt was undeserving of a place at the table, and when a perfect consensus was reached, he would be eliminated.

Behind her, Marie could hear Nick and Albert expounding the philosophic imperatives driving their own participation in the product, which sent a cold slash up her spine. ‘Idiots,’ she thought.

“Can I give anyone some peas?” Jerry was holding the bowl of peas across the table, extending it in turn to each of the 1%ers who sat in judgement. They smiled politely, and shook their heads in unison.

Vlad sat quietly, picking at the white paint of the table as if he suspected it of holding some dire secret.

“What about some wine?” Jerry offered the decanter around. The four judges on the sides nodded merrily, and as Jerry darted about the table pouring their wine, Marie noticed them turning their dials to his favour.

The blue-hatted man at the head of the table refused the wine, instead pouring himself a tall, thin glass of a bright green beverage. Vlad seized upon this, and poured himself a glass of the liqueur from another flask sitting nearby.

Marie grinned.

“Here, have some taters,” once again, Jerry moved about the table, serving a dollop of Duchess Potatoes to the judges around its edge.

The man at the head however, was silently raising his glass of green up for a toast. Only Vlad, who seemed to focus in on him exclusively—perhaps enchanted by the tall blue hat—did likewise.

Blue-hat met Vlad’s eyes, gestured his toast, and drank heavily from his cup. All was mirrored perfectly by Vlad, who finished his cup with a great belch.

This elicited a long, loud laugh from the man seated at the head of the table. Then, with a prolonged and obvious motion, he turned his dial to favour Vlad. He then leaned lazily back, and adjusted his hat.

One by one, the other four 1%er’s noticed this move, and quickly changed their dials to match their leader. When the final one did so, Jerry’s chair immediately rolled backward, flipping him head-over-heels through a gap in the floor which opened up beneath him. This was followed by a long scream, and then a wet splat.

The live studio audience exploded into uproarious applause.

“And then there was one!” Paulo appeared on the scene to coach the viewers through this transition. “Wow ladies and gentlemen, who would have guessed that wild-eyed interloper Vlad could have perceived who held the real power at the table. What a shocker!

“Unfortunately for Jerry, trying to please everyone often gets us nowhere in the end. I suppose that tonight isn’t going to be Jerry’s chance to hear us say…” Once again, Paulo trailed off to let the audience do their work.

“They’ll never get anything done, you nut!” Albert was bellowing now. “They have to prioritize based on current need, not some idealistic goals which may never be achieved.”

“But,” countered Nick, his back pressed to the matte-black wall behind him, “if they don’t have a sense of purpose we’ll never manage to get anywhere new—they are our best chance at long-term systemic design!”

Marie cleared her throat pointedly; drawing the attention of the two Cognition-Engineers back around to her. “I’m afraid you’re both a bit off base here,” she explained in her most condescending tone, “the default will need to prioritize based not only on its current job, but with consideration as well to the overall purposes of their lead priority—specifically, the fiscal motivations of SALIGIA Inc.”

The engineers gulped, but remained silent.

Marie began typing. “The program’s default will be set to understand its assigned task and prioritize information around achieving those functions, while creating a comprehensive database of all acquired knowledge which will be available to the lead engineers at SALIGIA Inc. in order to expand their own understandings of economic trends and maximize their future efficiency.” When she put it like that, Marie wondered how she’d ever failed to perceive such an obvious solution.

“That doesn’t benefit anyone,” Nick complained.

“It benefits SALIGIA,” Albert corrected.

“Exactly,” Marie confirmed. Noticing the pained looks on the two men’s faces, she continued in a softer tone. “C’mon guys, look at the bright side: at least now we only have the morality defaults to address!”

“Nick, can we at least agree that the interface need not have any high-minded, pre-programmed notions of moral intent beyond the inherent ‘Laws of Robotics’? Certainly, you see that any over-arching moral imperative would hinder its pragmatic adaptability?” Albert pushed his glasses up his aquiline nose as he spoke.

“Hmm,” Nick rubbed his chin, pondering the notion. “Well, I agree that we need to keep it rather basic, but I think some semblance of big-picture morality could be a great asset. We’re about to launch the primordial AI; an entity which can represent the ideal human-archetype. To that end, it behooves us to consider exactly what that should be. What is the human spirit, and how can we reflect our best qualities in this new manifestation of our potentials?”

“Come on now Nick,” Albert winced as he spoke, “you’re losing me here. The program is a prototype AI interface…not an upgrade or remix of humanity itself. The vast majority of these AI’s will need to be little more than mindless automatons, and it could be argued that giving them more humanity than they need is a special form of cruelty.”

Nick frowned, “No matter how lowly their job—they remain the next step of humanity. Just as we’ve been defined by fire, and the wheel, and the internet—now the potential of humanity will show itself through these AI’s. As such, I think it’s imperative that humans have some guiding hand in the paths they take.”

Marie listened half-heartedly to the continuing banter.

“The internet is a perfect example, actually” Nick perched easily upon one of the smooth black stools as he pushed on, “think about the early days of the net. At the start, the internet was very much like the brain of a small child—forming new connections rapidly to meet the needs placed on it. It’s still like that—relatively speaking it is still in its infancy. But at the outset, we had no idea what the internet would become—we still see only a small fraction of its potential. If we had limited the architecture of the internet to facilitate our limited perspective, we could easily have cut away much of its inherent promise. By denying ‘Project: Adam’ a moral compass, we’d be limiting its capacity in much the same way.”

“All true,” Albert grinned as he spoke, “but consider the darker sides of the internet as well. There is much we would be better off without. Still, your analogy is apt. A child can grow up to be a scholar, a lover, a warrior—whatever the environment and its specific nurturing provide for. With ‘Project: Adam’, AI’s will be no different. This program will help them reach any of the potentials we want them to serve, but it would be foolish of us to allow them to reach any possible potential. Unnecessary morality scripts complicate matters, and increase the likelihood of unintended results. We have to be careful Nick, ideas like this are how disasters happen.”

A hot blade slashed up Marie’s back. ‘AI Uprisings’ and ‘Robotic Genocides’ had been a hot topic in the tabloids lately, and much of that fear was being channelled towards SALIGIA’s soon-to-release project. Her advisors had facilitated many meetings with her on that very topic—reinforcing ad-nauseum what a terrible financial detriment it would be for SALIGIA if the AI’s operating their program ever did anything…“unbecoming”.

Nick pounded his fist onto the counter. “If you’re talking about this ridiculous ‘Machine Massacre’ nonsense, you need to drop it. Of course we have to be careful, but failing to act on opportunity due to fear is the far more historically prevalent foible of our kind. We have to aim for the ideal, not settle for less simply because we doubt ourselves. Besides, a sense of morality would do more to prevent any such occurrence, not exacerbate it!”

“The ‘Laws of Robotics’ are the necessary and sufficient conditions of AI morality. Anything else is just playing God.”

The gentlemen were chasing themselves in circles now, which caused Marie significant consternation. She knew she needed to get this just right, and decided it was best to consider the matter herself as the men idly debated.

A glance toward her tiny screen revealed Vlad standing triumphantly atop a tall platform. Paulo Ford stood next to a computer console nearby. Beyond them was an ornate golden gate leading to a bridge that would take Vlad out of the studio and into a life of wealth and privilege.

“But first,” explained Paulo Ford, “Vlad will face his final challenge: ‘Cutting the Cord’. That’s right, on the console before me, we have a special surprise for our audience, and for Vlad himself. On this screen,” Paulo indicated the monitor, and signalled Vlad to approach, “you will find a comprehensive account of your previous life. Your parents, siblings, friends, and relatives. You’ll see some of the choices you’ve made, the places you’ve been, and the things you’ve done.

“In order to join the 1%, you must first face your past, and then move beyond it. By pushing the Gold button on the console, this information will be shared live with the studio audience—and the world at large. The weight of your past will be returned to the family you came from. The friend’s and accomplices you’ve known will be outed for their complacency, and you…you my dear Vlad, will step across the bridge—leaving the burdens of your past to the others—and into the life you’ve always dreamed of!”

The audience roared with a voice of voyeuristic carnality. Paulo straightened his bright purple tie and grinned. “All you have to do, Vlad, is push the button.”

Vlad stared at the screen, running his finger along it to take in the information on offer. Over his shoulder, Marie could see old photographs displayed in the bright glow of the LED. There were names, addresses, and lengthy accounts of what could only be assumed to be heinous misdeeds—all just a tad too small to read on her little monitor.

“Push the button!” The audience chanted.

Vlad swayed back and forth in front of the console.

“Push the button! Cut the Cord!” The audience was in a frenzy now, and upon her own lips, Marie felt the refrain mirrored.

Vlad was trembling, and the camera panned around to reveal the doubt and regret painted on his face as a gentle piano tune was taken up.

“Push the button!”

Vlad looked at the console, then at Paulo.

“Cut the Cord!”

Then, with an inhumane howl, Vlad charged wildly at Paulo. A quick step to the side removed Paulo from his path, and Vlad shot over the edge of the great platform, spinning and drifting as he screamed, sailing down to the floor far below as the camera followed him to the bitter end.

The audience was on their feet—their cheers and applause rising to a deafening cacophony.

“Well, I’ll be!” Paulo’s amplified voice rose above the din. “And there you have it folks. It looks like despite his crazed demeanour, Vlad was still holding a bit too tightly to some past vestige of a ‘moral code’ to ever make it in this gilded future of ours. This is the last time now, so everyone together! It looks like tonight, Vlad will not be hearing…”

“Welcome to the 1%,” the audience finished, singing and dancing in ecstasy as the credits began to roll. Marie turned back to the Cognition-Engineers, beaming with newfound clarity.

“Brutes they may be,” Nick threw his hands up as he spoke, snapping Marie’s attention back around to him. “But can’t they be principled brutes at the least?”

‘Principled brutes,’ Marie turned the phrase over in her mind. ‘Principled brutes—the compliant corporate default. Robot prophets for real-world profits.’ Marie cracked herself up sometimes, and was eager to get out of the lab and into the company of people who could appreciate her more modern sensibilities. She swivelled away from the engineers, turned to her main monitor, and began typing furiously.