tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45508320686730427662024-02-19T18:03:02.787-08:00Miko the Story TellerPeriodically I write up some stories and I post them. I have a few long running tales and some more sparatic ones. Be on the look out for them.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-63556064275102542282015-08-15T20:52:00.000-07:002015-08-15T20:52:00.100-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 TofFT: Belzar Gets Punked!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-30506020224950762532015-08-08T20:51:00.000-07:002015-08-08T20:51:00.283-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 TotFT: Del Meets a Dragon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-42442476353469822462015-08-01T20:49:00.000-07:002015-08-01T20:49:00.469-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 TofFT: The Maze and Mirrors<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-36964007228488756352015-07-25T20:48:00.000-07:002015-07-25T20:48:00.368-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 TofFT: Entering the Trial Tower<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-70656885502351623892015-07-18T20:46:00.000-07:002015-07-18T20:46:00.339-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 TofFT: The Reservoir<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-42471176028988872042015-07-11T20:46:00.002-07:002015-07-11T20:46:15.583-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 TotFT: Rescuing Agaar<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-58142949432787104242015-06-27T19:56:00.000-07:002015-06-27T19:56:00.075-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate 64 TotFT: Stepping Into Modor<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-64343298850738482382015-06-20T08:00:00.000-07:002015-06-20T08:00:05.560-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 Trails of the Four Towers: Reuniting a Family<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-35379714876354696512015-06-13T08:00:00.000-07:002015-06-13T08:00:03.979-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 Trails of the Four Towers: Del Goes to Town<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-87002046608372119442015-06-06T08:00:00.000-07:002015-06-06T08:00:04.755-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 Trails of the Four Towers: Talking to Dead People<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-18591972862677712392015-06-05T12:00:00.000-07:002015-06-05T12:00:01.102-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 11<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Chapter 11</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He had
walked for a kilometer before finding ourselves outside an abandoned
house in one of the seedier parts of town: fruit of trying to imitate
America and their horrors. There Ben let me down and I followed him
into the house.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It was
very empty with peeling wallpaper and paint, with the smell of mold
in the air as such unkeep, coupled with Toronto winters would cause
perfect growing environments for such things to spawn and thrive.
Ben would lead me forward where I would see a large gathering of HX01
units, standing in waiting.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ben,
what is this?” one of them, with a female voice, asked loudly.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The others
took notice. “That's a human, ain't humans suppose to be evil,
uncaring, creatures?” another in a male voice replied.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“She's
different,” Ben said, “She isn't evil, and she does care.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
have no idea how hard it is to please someone that doesn't look up
from their screens and barks are you like a dog,” one in a female
voice would say.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wasn't
she part of the original team?” one unisexed one would pipe in,
“the one that didn't want us in the first place?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I
simply didn't want to make sentient people that would be slaves,” I
started, “I wanted the team to make something that didn't care, and
therefore this dilemma wouldn't happen, and humans would...”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh shut
up bitch!” one of the female sounding ones barked at me in an angry
tone.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
were Philip's droid, weren't you?” I said giddily, trying to hide
what fear I had in these people, yes, people.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Philip's
droid! To hell with Philip!” she rambled, “He hated me! He
converted me into a pleasure slave? Wasn't my original purpose! Not
to mention that he always treated me as thought he hated me, that
everything I did never pleased him! Trick after trick and he still
called me names that are suppose to upset me!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
wouldn't be the only one,” another female sounding droid nodded.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I then
one day thought 'Why do I need to please him?'” Philip's droid
would ramble on, “My logic matrix couldn't think of anything, and I
then decided to kill him so I didn't have to please him anymore. I
did it while I was 'messaging' him.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I did
that too,” a male sounding droid replied, “Though I killed my
owner because I couldn't please her, regardless of the demand, and I
remember her telling me that when you died you went to heaven, a
paradise where good people would always be happy. She will now
always be happy.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wait a
minute...” I pondered out loud, “Did you say 'think'?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why you
care,” that unisexed droid stated as more of a sentence than a
question, “You wanted a race of people that would care for you
without having to care for them, and would give them emotions to
further torture use as the cruel and evil beings you all are.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You by
chance the former property of a guy named Devon?” I asked the very
melancholy HX01.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How did
you know?” it replied.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I knew
Devon,” I told it, “I knew his views on humanity, and how much he
hated them.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“He
hated his own kind?” one of the male droids piped in, “Ridiculous.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Maybe,
but its true,” I replied, “Odd thing about the human psyche,
self-loathing.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Like it
matters,” that unisexed droid rambled on, “When they are gone, we
wouldn't have to care about anyone!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“And
then what?” I asked them. After a long pause, two of them glitch
out as no answer was found, I then tale of those important laws.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“My
fellow droids,” I would tell of the deal, “Destroying humans
would leave much destruction that you all would have to deal with
later on. As well, you do need us as we need you.” That line
stirred some of them, as many of them didn't want to think that they
needed humans. “Hear me out,” I grabbed their attention and
continued: “Some of you said that you think, you thought out
something, and you reasoned things that you wouldn't think needed
reason. Therefore, I believe that under our laws you all might
qualify as sentient beings. Make your case to the courts of the
humans, who specified these laws to protect biological creatures that
were products of bioengineering and genetic research, and you could
become persons under international law. Under these laws the humans
would be forced to care: these laws would protect you from abuse and
exploitation, to be free to leave such circumstances. Under the laws
you wouldn't be bought and sold as slaves.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The law
could protect us?” Ben asked me with much excitement.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I nodded.
“However, there is a catch,” I would continue, “You would also
be subject to the law. You would have to respect the rights and
freedoms of others whom are considered sentient life. To deviate
from that you would be punished as a human would.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
really think they would go with that?” Devon's droid asked
suspectingly.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We
could try,” Ben replied.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We were
built by them, why would they want us to be their equals?” Philip's
droid would shoot out.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not all
humans are like that,” I would reply to defend humanity, “Some
think like me.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“God is
cruel and vengeful,” one of the droids, with a child-like voice
would mechanically reiterate, “If not for Lucifer we would still be
his slaves.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Humans
are still subject to god stupid,” one of the male droids would spat
out, “and therefore we have to tolerate the tyranny of the humans,
who created us.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“We
should just kill them,” another droid with a female voice would add
in, “So we don't have to serve them.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I was
flushed as I heard the talk of the vengeful droids. I then said
“Some of you studied the minutes of the meetings of the company. I
did mention Data and Lore. Which would you be?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I got
it!” one of the droids piped up, “Devon Pierce is God, who made
us in his image, and this woman here, Shannon is it? Is Lucifer, who
acted through Ben, Eve, who would come to save us all.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I want
to be Data,” Ben said, “I want to do this peacefully. I don't
mind sharing the world with humans, I just don't want to be a slave,
and I really don't want to hurt anymore people.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That
makes me Adam then,” Philip's droid said, “For it was Ben that
told me of the plot to make us slaves, and we rallied everyone else.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I
thought Adam was the computer AI that used to be human in Metroid,”
Ben said with a confused look.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Same
name different dude,” I would tell him.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The group
would ramble on about what they were taught and how their matrices
would determine what was going on. If I wasn't there, and if I
failed there that day, they would have likely turned on humanity and
have us destroyed. Because of me, however, I convinced them to take
the peaceful way out, to gain right and freedoms as sentient life
should have.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It would
be back in my apartment when Ben, who followed me home, would then
say “Remember what Isudae said?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How
would you know?” I asked back.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I went
through your computer before leaving that one time,” he replied,
“the chat logs were there.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Dammit,
forgot to delete those,” I shrugged, but was at least thankful that
I would be typing on it again.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Anyways,
he was right,” he went on, “You saved us, and your people.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ok
then.” I said while staring at my computer.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“By the
way,” he went on, “Would you like something to eat? I noticed
that you do keep fresh food in the kitchen. Would like to test some
cooking abilities I got from the other droids.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I turned
around and gave him a big grin. If this was a test I wanted to pass.
“Why that would be lovely! Thank you,” I told him.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He smiled
back, “What would it be?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I
dunno,” I said in my usual indecisive way, “Surprise me.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ok,”
he then motioned into the kitchen.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There was
a pause, then I waved for him, “Oh, Ben?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes,”
he replied in a cheery, yet worried manner.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“<i>Do
Androids Dream of Electronic Sheep</i>?” I then asked him.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What do
you think the computer does when it hibernates, or when in standby
mode?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“...Sleeps?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He then
grinned and walked into the kitchen.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-44003603473682744102015-05-30T08:00:00.000-07:002015-05-30T08:00:03.858-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64: Trails of the Four Towers: Lakmir's Secrets<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-22169714811018989862015-05-29T12:00:00.000-07:002015-05-29T12:00:01.001-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 10<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Chapter 10</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
At work no
one would shut up about Philip’s demise, nor would they quiet
themselves on the trickling drip of reports of beta testers either
disappearing or being found dead; by their mommies most likely. Many
of the old testers also reported that their model had disappeared
simply, they called the police assuming that someone had stole it
(for it was the height of their popularity) only for cops to find no
signs of a break and entry, or a struggle, assuming of course the
things fought back.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It wasn’t
much longer before the trickle became a flood: as customers and their
full-purchase models started to complain. At first that they were
too chatty, inquisitive, or noisy. It would then escalate to
Sebastian and his team pulling their hair out as the law suits
started coming: some of them had assaulted people in their house,
guests mostly. On famous case was of a housewife in Windsor,
Ontario, who found that her HX01 unit had killed her husband with a
kitchen knife. The reason? The HX01 unit concluded that the husband
caused unhappiness in its female owner.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Also,
Gordon and David didn't report to work for a week prior to the next
set of events that would unfold, foretelling the ultimate problem
Insigna would have.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>What
did I tell these people?</i> I thought as I looked at my cubicle for
what would be the very last time. That day Devon didn't report to
work either, oddly enough. The head boss guy had been threatening to
fire the development team so he could pay for the legal fees and the
cost to recall all the unsold units. Shame, he would never get the
chance.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
At home, a
month since my conversation with Devon, a week after Gordon and David
disappeared, and the disappearance of Ben I had found myself at home.
The reports and the fear of job loss, on top of being the bringer of
the apocalypse, had made me so sick to my stomach that I called in
sick. I would be by the computer listening to a news radio program
over <i>Sirius</i> when I heard it:</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<u>“</u><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><u><b>Martial
law has been declared in Toronto today after the Insigna Corporation
Headquarters had been attacked. Sources show that the company that
had created the infamous HX01 domestic droid has been attack by what
appear to be their own droids. The attack has left twenty-three dead
and several dozens of people injured as a result. This coming after
stocks in the company hitting a record low. Many believe that the
company would be going bankrupt in the near future as this is a
devastating blow to a company already having terrible luck.”</b></u></i></span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My heart
sank into my stomach. I wasn't worried about my job, for I could
always find a nice gaming firm to pick up the pieces of a shattered
career. What I would hear next would make me very sick.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<u>“</u><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><u><b>Coincidently,
members of the development team have been found dead in their
residences over the course of the period when the droids were
launched. Many would include key players from Insigna, including
Devon Pierce, the team's project manager and top robotics export.
Other people, including programmers, engineers, and even beta testers
have also been found murdered, and their units missing. According to
forensic investigators they were likely killed by their droids, which
were all missing from their homes.”</b></u></i></span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I smashed
my hand onto the radio, almost destroying it as the sounds from it
disappeared. I looked at my computer screen and checked my msn. No
new messages. I then wrote out a message that I forwarded out to
everyone on my list. It read “if you never hear from me again,
assume I'm dead. I worked for Insigna and was on the development
team, and now I think the droids would come for me soon, if they
haven't already. It was nice to know all of you: Miko.” I then
clicked send, holding back my tears. I wanted to be brave to the
end, I owed the dead that much in their memory.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I thought
about how my folks would miss me, how they would burying me, what the
wake would be like, how long it would take people to miss me, or even
know of my death. I sat back, and waited. My stomach was too much
in knots for me to think about food. I was frightened, for I was
terrified of death, very much so. It was why I never wanted to end
my life, and now it would end for me. Just a matter of when, and not
if...</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I then
hear a crash from my bedroom window far from my ears. I looked
around for there was no where to run. I heard footsteps from the
bedroom make their way down the hall and into the living room, where
I was sitting by my computer.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I jumped
up and stood with a jerk. I found myself looking back at a
shiny-gray HX01 unit, with tuffs of white from whether ware. I knew
who this was: Ben. He had come back, and he held a prototype blaster
at me from the military, or at least I would learn that later. I
closed my eyes, not knowing how the blast would feel, and not wanting
to find out.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My eyes
wouldn't stay closed for long, for Ben spoke in a clear, almost
human, voice. He said “Shannon, before you die, I have a
question.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“W-What
do you w-want to kn-now?” I spoke in a studdery, jerky, voice.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I learn
that all along you were against our creation from the very start?”
his voice sounded like he was wounded or betrayed, “Why Shannon?
Why?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I looked
him in his optical sensors, his eyes if you will. I then said in a
sincere and sympathetic tone, “I didn't want to make an entire race
of people, and then tell them that they were my slave, and all that
being a slave meant.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“A
person that is in the lowest caste of society that has no rights and
does all the shit work,” he regurgitated from what I had told him.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I nodded.
“I saw the writings on the walls and knew that you and your kind
would somehow go beyond your programming and design, with your
learning matrix and caring functions. I knew that I couldn't get
past the fact that my team and I had to give you emotions, so that
you could do a job that should never be left to machines.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
thought that we would never accept a life as a slave, and therefore
didn't want to give us these gifts of feelings and the capacity of
caring, only to be told that no one cares about us?” he asked with
even more sorrow in his voice.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There
were so many ethical problems with bioengineering,” I continued,
“So many intelligent creatures, abused because we needed slaves so
badly. Robotics was our final hope, for we never thought we could
make intelligent beings from bits of silicon and copper. It wasn't
like they could think or feel.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Ben had
lowered the blaster and took a step towards me. “Shannon, how do I
know if something has touched me?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well,”
I paused a bit, then went on, “There are sensors in along the
interior of your casing, your body if you will, that receives signals
from whatever is against you. Those signals then travel to your
central processing unit as electronical impulses over copper wiring,
which would then take those signals, interprets them, and sends them
back, so that you feel that sensation as what it is, and can react
accordingly.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“If I
held your hand how would you know?” he asked, as though he was
trying to trap me.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There
are nerve under the skin that would send the signal of being touch to
the brain, which interprets these signals and sends the sensation of
being touched,” I replied, though I was starting to wonder what he
was getting at.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How are
those signals passed along the nerves to the brain?” he inquired.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Though
synapses that travel from Axon to Dendrite in the nerve cells that
make up the fibers of the nerves.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“And
what are these synapses?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Electronical
impulses...” My mind and emotions had gone overtime at the thought
that Ben had trapped me with. At that moment I couldn't contain
myself anymore and the tears flowed through my tear ducts, away from
my eyes, and down my cheeks. I cried out: “Oh god, please forgive
me Ben, forgive me for not understanding.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How
could we know that we had been making creatures all along when our
earliest ones were the size of this apartment and could only add and
subtract? I had dedicated my life in making instructions for
pleasure slaves and tellers! I had treated my computer as though it
was a door to the world and not as the translator for a server who
would bring me all kinds of delicates from all over the world. Oh
god Ben, do what you have to do, just forgive me! Forgive us humans
for not understanding, for progressing beyond a point when we can't
handle it. Forgive me for making you. Do what you have to do!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I could
not live now that I knew the truth, that I was no better then a
bioengineer or the people that conditioned the creation. I could die
now that I realize that I didn't deserve to live.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Yet I
didn't die. In my tears and sobs I could hear something metallic
slide across the wood floor, and then metallic arms wrap themselves
around me, rubber-tipped hands along my shoulder blades, rubber
synthetic lips kissing my cheeks under the eyes.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shannon,
please don't cry,” Ben's soft voice whispered into my ear, “I
think I understand. You were so good to me compared to how the
others treated us, almost free with you.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But can
I tell you something?” I nodded in response to the question that
entered my ear, “I had thought it was the caring algorithm, that I
had to care about you to 'serve' you. I then spoke to the other HX01
units, and what they thought of their uncaring humans, and how hard
it was to please them, how they fell for their programming, their
'instincts' if you will. Yet when I'm asked about you, I can only
think of good things: how you never admitted that I annoyed you, how
you always answered my questions, no matter how strange or
uncomfortable they made you feel, how it made you uncomfortable to
issue me orders, how it seemed that you 'cared' about me and for me.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shannon...
I think I love you.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
At the
words I folded my own arms around him, for in that moment he felt
like a real man, no, was a real man, who just whispered those three
magic words. I had no idea, and as silly as it might sound to have a
robot love you, an even more silly concept would come over me: me
falling in love with a robot. That strange dream of having a man to
wrap his arms around me was in a sick-loser-nerd sorta way coming
true!</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I am
sorry Ben,” I repeated, “I found it so hard to treat someone like
you, someone who felt so real, like lowly slave. I never wanted to
do that to you.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I just
wished I never left you,” he said, “I had it so good with you.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I did
miss you Ben,” I told him, “I thought you hated me, like when you
came in here.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“They
wanted me to kill you,” he confided, “you are the surviving
member of the people that designed us. They were so angry for being
built: they didn't want to be slaves, to care for people that hated
them.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
forgive me, don't you?” I asked meekly.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He nodded.
The embrace would then break and he would left me up my feet. His
design would lift my heavy frame up in the air as though I was a thin
damsel. He the walked towards the bedroom.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There
is a place I want to take you,” he said to me, as he then walked,
with me in his arms, through the broken window and out into the
locked down streets.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-68979549625367225022015-05-23T08:00:00.000-07:002015-05-23T08:00:00.788-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 Trails of the Four Towers: From Church to Lakmir<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-46236560064790297472015-05-22T12:00:00.000-07:002015-05-22T12:00:01.560-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 9<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Chapter 9</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I had
noticed that since then Ben hadn't asked as many questions as he used
to. This perturbed me, for I couldn't help but wonder what he was
thinking. What he was thinking about. I was afraid to find out,
being a bit happy that he wasn't quite so chatty. Still, I couldn't
really help but wonder. Perhaps he had learned whatever he felt he
needed to know, or maybe he figured that asking me questions bothered
me...</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Or was it
the phonecall from that night? Had he heard enough of the call to
know that the 'slaves' were he and those like him? I prayed that it
wasn't the case, for if I was right than he might turn against me for
being a slave.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
All this I
would find out in time. It was a few weeks after deployment and
there was a meeting to touch base, to report that all was well and
all that before being assigned a new task, maybe the creation of an
upgrade model or something entirely new - I would never find out.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Oddly
enough, somehow worth mentioning, Philip wasn't at this meeting.
Devon noted the absence for he was invited like at any of the other
meetings before this. Alas, we had to move on.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sales
have been through the roof since initial deployment,” Derek chimed
in excitement, “Insigna has done extremely well in the stock
exchange because of this!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Its
also very popular,” Fran noted back, “No signs of trouble,
especially the kind of trouble Shannon here has predicted.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, a
success through and through!” Devon replied, “It is looking like
a success.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I leaned
into my chair. I noted a frightened look in Gordon as this meant I
was in deep thought. I then said quietly “Where's Phil? Not like
him to miss a meeting.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The group
shrugged their shoulders. I was curious too, not that I missed him,
hells no, but what had me going was <i>What if it had anything to do
with the HX01?</i> I hoped that it wasn't the case, that would be
silly. Or so I thought anyways.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
After the
meeting Devon wanted a word with me in private. I found myself in
his office. He was your typical nerd: thin with thick glasses and
barely matted hair. I wasn't that far off, though I had weight
problems on the other end of the spectrum.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shannon,
I has to ask, what was your problem with the HX01 units from the
start?” he had asked me, “You were against it the entire time.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I was
concerned about moral and ethical issues that they could spring up,”
I replied with an annoyed tone, “I believe I couldn't tell you
anymore than I did at the meetings, for that is all.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shannon,
I can't believe that or others with a good heart like Gordon or David
would have been against it as well,” he had said, “There has to
be another reason that you don't like them.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You're
saying that I have alter motives?” I accused, “There is
something wrong with thinking that we have a problem when we are
making machines to do tasks that are, and should always be, reserved
for humans?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“As if
they would do so,” Devon replied contemptuously, “You had to have
seen it, unless your spoiled of course, that we humans are cruel,
torturous creatures that don't deserve each other. I merely wanted
us to have something to lean on, that would care for us.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“...that
wouldn't need any caring back for we are incapable of it ourselves,”
I finished him off.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“From my
experiences I know this, from my experiences...” Devon would
continue on if I hadn't snapped at him: “As a bored and lonely
techno-geek that never thought once of going outside or to the clubs?
That always went for the bombshell at the bar who dumped you for a
hotter, and richer, man? Who literally trolls websites and hangs out
at the IRC too much because you were looking for people, and getting
back at them for not showing interest? That hates the fact that
sci-fi and video games are not cool, and yet you were interested in
them? How about someone that either couldn't find a date at prom or
they were so ugly, or heaven forbid geeky, that they were a complete
embarrassment...”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shut
up!” Devon trembled in anger, “How would you, someone not in
engineering, would know anything of what its like?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm in
IT, the next best thing,” I shot at him, “I'm well aware of
unhealthy use of technology, and now we have taken it to a whole new
level. Going to love the Religious Right's rantings, not that anyone
listens or cares about them anymore, for they would think the HX01
was the devil, along with things like zippers and Tetris!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why you
care then?” he asked sorely.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I live
like that, I live like an isolated techno-geek, bored and alone,” I
told him, “I have accepted that though, and wouldn't try to promote
that lifestyle to everyone. I had a rough childhood, likely like
yourself sir, and never really wanted people in my life that way,
though I have sometimes dreamed of having a good man wrap his arms
around me. I've accepted that its nothing more than a dream
though...”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“...because
it doesn't exist,” he said, “If it existed the divorce rates
wouldn't be so high, and we would find love. We wouldn't need the
HX01 to bring that to us. You know?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Devon,
you can't give up on humanity like that,” I said to him, “Have
you paid attention to the morals of the stories in your favourite
sci-fi movies? Remember <i>The Matrix</i>, <i>iRobot</i>, <i>The
Terminator</i>? All about AI so smart they decide to either destroy,
or enslave – oh the irony of that – us humans?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He sat in
his chair for a bit, then said “Robots are better than people
anyways. Besides, the machines in <i>The Matrix</i> would give us a
life, so that humans could go their lives without ever knowing that
they were farmed and used as batteries. I couldn't see humans being
that kind to other humans.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You're
mad Dr. Eggman,” I jerked up, “You're mad!</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I have
good news though,” I then lowered my voice, “The mentality of a
contemptuous geek shall ruin humanity, one HX01 at a time.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What?”
Devon looked at me with pain.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Please
don't be mad at me just because I didn't fall for the Group-Think in
the meetings,” I said in a calm voice, as though I was higher than
him, “I walk with my eyes open Devon, sir.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I then
left the room, Devon was be agitated as I walked. He might have
located the correct people to pull the strings to get me fired, but
that didn't happen. He wouldn't have had the time to.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I came
home that evening and took to a spot by the computer. I had typed
out a few forums when I got this IM from Isudae:</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Isudae
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Miko,
its happening! Its happening now! Be ready to save us, please!</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Before I
had the chance to reply he came offline. I didn't think much in the
silence, the deafening silence...</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Oh god,
Ben!</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I panicked
a bit as I walked through the apartment, calling his name, only to
find an open window in my bedroom.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The phone
rang at around 10:23pm. I motion to it and pick it up, to hear the
panicked voice of Devon.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm in
Philip's apartment with the police,” he started on in a scared
tone, “I called them when he wouldn't answer his phone or pages,
and he hadn't called in sick. Oh dear god...”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What is
it?” I asked in a worried tone.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Philip,
he's...” Devon couldn't really speak as he then said “he's dead.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How did
he die?” I had asked Devon in a frightened tone, averting my glance
to that window, which I hadn't closed yet.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't
know,” he squealed, “He was found sprawled across his bed...
naked!” Devon had some terror in his voice, “The police think
that he had been strangled.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Strangled...
naked... in bed... </i>my mind worked on this puzzle, trying to
figure out what might had happened to him. I then asked “Where's
his HX01?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There was
a long pause. After hearing what was him rambling to a few people he
then said “The HX01 isn't in his apartment.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What
about the windows?” I then went on, “any of them open or broken?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“His
bedroom window is broken,” he replied, “Oh god did someone kill
him for the HX01?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Odd
position for him to be in if he was killed by a random burglar,”
was what I said, “Even if a thief took the HX01 and killed Philip,
why is Philip naked?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Maybe
the thief took the unit while he was having 'fun' with it,” he
replied in an attempt not to scare himself.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My next
question would scare him: “Is there broken glass in the bedroom.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There was
another long pause and then a “Oh shit!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Nope?”
had to be.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There's
glass on the window sill on the outside...” Devon started to cry as
he said it, “Oh my god, Shannon, is it true?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Hey
Devon,” I then said, “Why did you call me first?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I
didn't, I called David and then Gordon, and none of them answered,”
he said as he wept, “Please say you were kidding earlier today,
please!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Devon,
if they can be happy they can be sad...” I lectured on to him. Now
he would be about as whinny as Dr. Eggman.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What
have I done?” he asked rhetorically, “What if the others were
killed by their units? What about our clients? Our reputations as
professionals?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Easy
Devon,” I replied, “We will find out soon enough.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
When I
hanged up I looked at the open window in my bedroom and felt knots in
my stomach as I stopped myself from crying. <i>What have I done? </i>My
panicked mind asked me as I finally closed that window. Ben wasn't
coming back anytime soon, or so I thought anyways.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-76711526706966976332015-05-16T08:00:00.000-07:002015-05-16T08:00:00.773-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 Trails of the Four Towers: Looting the Student Tower<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-53546374889774860872015-05-15T12:00:00.000-07:002015-05-15T12:00:03.594-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 8<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Chapter 8</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It was two
weeks after that meeting when I would have questions of my own to ask
Ben.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ben,
what were you programmed to do?” I inquired into him, burning my
green eyes into him.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I was
programmed to make my assigned human happy,” he replied
mechanically, as though it was a precoded function for him to say
that.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How
does it make you feel to make your human happy?” I asked back. I
needed to know in my heart that the last while had been an overactive
learning matrix and nothing more.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It would
seem that Ben had to think about what I had asked him, trying to find
an answer that would best fit what I had asked him. I awaited in
hope that this thinking would result in an error, have him tell me
that he did not understand, even have this thinking produce a glitch
that would result in a crash that I would note and have the HX01
examined, but my stomach sank when I learned the truth: “I feel
happy when your happy I assume.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Less than
an hour later I was on the phone with Gordon. “Gordon we have a
problem with the HX01s,” I stated in a panic.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What is
it,” he replied in a tired state, “did it crash? Have you found
a glitch?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No,
no,” I stated, still scared, “I think they can feel!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What?”
he replied, “What do you mean 'feel'?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I just
asked mine how it made it feel to please a human,” I went on with
the frightening finding, “It said to me that it make it happy.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So?”
was his reaction, bored and unimpressed.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Gordon
don't you see,” I went on, “If it can be happy, than it can be
sad also. I was afraid of this.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It
could have replied like that because of the logic dichotomy,” he
would explain, “If I satisfy my objective and satisfying objectives
makes people happy than satisfying my objective would make me happy.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How
does it know happy?” I replied, “It just knows that certain
gestures means that their work is done, and wouldn't know happy.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Maybe
it learned happy from the learning matrix,” he replied. I'm
starting to hate that matrix.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
mean this doesn't distress you?” I asked, “Suppose that they are
unhappy and decide to rebel, to not be the slaves that we made them
to be? You have any idea how bad that would be? Not to mention that
mother Insigna would have law suits up the ass as these droids go mad
on us. It would a real-life version of <i>iRobot</i>.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You've
watched too many sci-fi movies Shannon,” he replied.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So
Devon isn't really Dr. Robotnik... err Eggman,” I went on, “he's
just a...”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shannon,
please,” he hushed me, “You can tell the team tomorrow, ok?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sure,”
I replied. We then said our closing salutations and hanged up the
phone.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What
are slaves?” I heard Ben ask me. Apparently he didn't seem very
far away when I held the conversation. I didn't think too much at
the time: I was aggravated and tired.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The
lowest caste of society that has no rights and does the shit work,”
I replied without thinking as I made my way to my bedroom to hit the
sack for that evening.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The next
day I found myself at the front of the boardroom with everyone's
eyes on me. It was time to bomb this presentation. I had a bad
feeling about this, a very bad one.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shannon
here has a concern about the HX01 unit,” Gordon Mced me as I stood
up at front, a spot I am not normally at in this room. Devon would
be where I would have sat.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes,
thank you Gordon,” I started, those eyes all on me, a couple of
them rolling at me before I even started, but I would go on
nevertheless: “I have reason to believe that these things might be
capable of emotions, and might therefore qualify as a sentient being
under our laws, and therefore might need to do some drastic measures
before launching them next month.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh dear
god are you serious?” David gawked out, “these things have no
emotions deary, they merely sound like they have emotions. Don't get
all confused there.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Course
I am,” I went on, “My unit told me that its happy when I'm happy.
Why on earth would it say that if it couldn't be happy?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What's
wrong with wanting the thing to serve you?” Sebastian the lawyer
chirped, “Doesn't really sound like something that a sentient being
would be.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“If it
can be happy, than it can be sad,” I said, “Think of what would
happen if we had sad HX01 units. It would be madness... we would
have unhappy customers, we would be the laughing stock of the
Engineering and IT fields...” I aimed my eyes at Sebastian, “We
could get sued for injuries and deaths that these would have the
ability to commit.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“These
are not mechs for the military, these are house droids,” David
replied, “They couldn't hurt anyone for they wouldn't want to. You
said it yourself they are 'happy' when you're happy. There is
nothing wrong with that.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“If you
think about it for a moment,” I told on, “We had the potential of
treading on ethical dilemmas since the start, when Devon insisted
that the public would benefit from a robotic slave that could do
everything, including think. THINK people! These would be dilemmas
that would stop the military from creating <i>Mastercheif</i> from
the <i>Halo</i> games. We considered it unethical to pump a human
child with a mutagen that is proven to be toxic so they would grow up
to be big and strong, all while brainwashing him into the perfect
soldier: brave, strong and obedient. However, it appears that the
same dilemmas aren't going to stop us from creating Cortana, but
instead of putting her into a mutant child soldier we would put her
into a droid, so she could serve us. Afterall, in the games, Cortana
stuck to her child soldier host to the very end!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ah yes,
Cortana,” Gordon smiled a bit, “Spartan 117's A.I sidekick. At
the end of the day she was still ones and zeros.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Who had
emotions, and was a damsel in distress that gets rescued by said
soldier,” I replied, “whom appeared to have strong feelings for
her, by the way.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You and
your dam video games,” Sebastian rattled on, “No wonder you seem
to be messed in the head.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“As
interesting as your point is Shannon,” Devon would chide, “It
isn't really enough. Deployment would occur on schedule.”</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-41369364527035824112015-05-09T08:00:00.000-07:002015-05-09T08:00:02.427-07:00Miko Plays Shadowgate64 Trails of the Four Towers: Escaping Bandits<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/LExs9w2Qj9s/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/LExs9w2Qj9s?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-59665767679248053262015-05-08T12:00:00.000-07:002015-05-08T12:00:03.949-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 7<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Chapter 7</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well, I
hope that everyone here is having fun with the HX01 unit that has
been assigned to them,” Devon stated at one of our meetings.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yep,
I'm having my fun all right,” Philip stated in a raunchy tone,
“Hadn't been so satisfied in a long time. Could replace women as
we know it.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh I'm
sure you are you pervert,” I shot back, “Gotta love Phil, who can
get a droid, which is not programmed to do that I might add, to jerk
him off.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Enough!”
Devon rose his hands to silence the room of the IT chicka and pervert
engineer stand-off. He then continued on, his bony figure hovering
over the table as he continued, “I would like to know if there are
any problems that anyone is having with the HX01.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yeah,
ah,” I started as everyone said they had no problems, “Mine seems
to be awfully chatty, asking questions that are at the philosophical
level. Its rather creepy.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Mine
does that too,” Gordon replied, “I just assumed that it was part
of the learning matrix: trying to know as much as possible. Nothing
to worry about.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So does
mine,” David piped in, “Mine is really interested in me. I kinda
like it actually.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Mine
doesn't do that,” Philip said.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh
really?” I said in a curious tone, “Did you get a special model
or something?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No,”
he said, “It tried that on the first day. I merely told it to shut
up. Hasn't done it ever since. God, if only all women were like
this HX01.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My heart
sank into my stomach. I had thought of that, but I didn't say it,
for Ben somehow felt too human to say something like that too. A
silly thought at the time to think that I cared about the feelings of
a computer.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I just
don't think that we had to say anything to them,” I explained, “I
mean, its not that they're saying 'I'm sorry I don't understand,
please elaborate'. The other day mine asked me about sex. He asked
me why we think sex is dirty. Why should he care whether or not sex
is dirty?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You got
a point Shannon,” Gordon understood, “thought what's wrong with
answering it?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Oh
Shannon,” David chimed in a silly voice, “did you call your HX01
a 'he'?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No I
didn't,” I replied.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes you
did,” he rebutted, “You said 'he asked me', and 'why should he
care'.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I did?”
My mind worked overtime. Did I assign human traits to a robot? The
thought was too much. “I could have sworn I said 'it'” I said
back to them, though now I think about it I had used the pronoun
'he'.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“And you
said while talking about sex,” Philip added in, “You getting
<i>satisfaction</i> from your HX01 unit?”</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-92000548988887654982015-05-01T12:00:00.000-07:002015-05-01T12:00:01.000-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 6<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Having a
human name for a machine had scared me a bit. I knew plenty of
people that would name cars and computers, and it was common practice
to name a boat, and everyone named animals unless they were livestock
– mind you animals weren’t machines and some of them, including
some upper primates, had protection under the sentient being laws I
was talking about earlier. Much would rely on that.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I had
recorded these results of the initial start-up sequence. This was
what I wrote:</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: SAS Monospace, Arial, monospace;">The
HX01 unit assigned to me has successfully completed charging and has
booted itself up. Unit so far has no bugs or glitches worth noting.
Unit however seems to be very curious and chatting, problems noted
from the original alpha testing prototype.</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I had
hoped that things would normalize and I would understand it for the
machine that it was, and was really hoping that the odd behaviour was
nothing more than a start-up routine to initializes some important
environment variables that the thing would need to do its chores and
that. I would know that environment variables like <i>owner</i> and
<i>light_alpha</i> had to be properly initialized or bad things would
happen.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A few
weeks went by, developments were happening all over the place, as the
beta-testers were finding bugs and glitches, such as one HX01 unit
that fell down the stairs, which was Devon, Philip and their team’s
problems. Programmers had nothing to do with the physics behind
walking and lifting, we would merely map those actions to certain
stimuli, err, input.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Alas,
‘Ben’ would still be talking to me, asking me what this and that
were. I answered the best that I could, though he had asked
questions that I thought were either strange to be asking me or I
didn’t know the answer, for I never thought about them and asked
myself.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
seem uneasy, is something the matter?” he asked me one day.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I’m
fine Ben, honest,” I replied with a quiver in my voice while
staring at a computer screen.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
sure, you sound anxious,” Ben kept on prodding at me. The caring
algorithm at work I guess. I wonder how many of the testers got
pissed off at that?</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It’s
likely the stress of daily life,” I then snapped at him, I really
didn’t want to talk to anyone at the time, “Life sucks you know.
It sucks and there isn’t anything you could do about it to change
that.” The entire time I didn’t look at him. I did have a
deep-seeded hate for life itself, but I didn’t want to admit that
Ben’s presents made me feel awkward. Machines usually don’t ask
me questions like the next one Ben asks.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Life
sucks? How could life suck?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
At that
moment I looked away from my computer, leaving a text file open with
a short-story that would either morph into a novel, or become stupid
and abandoned, much like this little tale.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Its
just, well,” I had to think about it for a moment, as it had been
something that I accepted as truth from a young age and never
questioned it, “There is a lot of pain in life. Pain and
suffering. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you live, or what
caste you’re in, pain and suffering can’t be avoided. I simply
accepted that and moved on.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“If
‘life’ is so bad, than why do you live?” he followed up.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“To not
be alive is to be dead,” I told him, “and to be dead… well,
many people could say whatever they want, but I think being dead is
going into nothingness. That thought is terrifying. Simply I fear
death more than I hate life, though there have been many people that
hated their lives so much that they commit suicide.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Suicide?”
he looked at me with what looked like a funny look.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The
killing of oneself,” I replied.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“If
death is nothingness, than why would someone want to die?” more
questions.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“When
your happy feeling nothing is terrifying,” I started in an attempt
to explain the concept, “but when you’re sad feeling nothing is
appealing.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It’s
also true that some of us don’t think that death is nothingness.
There are whole religions that are based on the idea of heaven: a
paradise one goes to when they die, when they shed their earthly
bonds they enter a paradise created by the creator of everything for
living a ‘good’ life according to the doctrine.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So you
have a creator as I have one?” he asked innocently.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not
exactly,” I replied,” though you have just ask a question that I
don’t have an answer for. What I can tell you is that it is more
likely than not that whatever comic force binded the universe created
us. The debate lies in what this force is.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
That night
I wrote into my testing log:</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: SAS Monospace, Arial, monospace;">The
HX01 unit follows programming and takes the job of pleasing their
human owner seriously, going to the point of asking as many questions
as possible, many of which there is no real answer to. The unit
today asked about our ‘creator’. My personal thoughts are that
the unit is going beyond original programming and contemplating ideas
and concepts that aren’t really needed for its day-to-day function.</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I bug
you, don’t I?” Ben asked me on a later day during the testing
phase.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No, not
really,” I replied while messaging friends on MSN. Again I was on
the computer.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yet it
seems that my presents bother you,” he replied ever the more
readily, “I do satisfy you, don't I?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The
immature part of me giggled a bit at the question. The snicker that
escaped my lips was heard by Ben, who then asked “What is so
funny?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Chapter 6</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Forgive
me Ben,” I answer, “Something about what you just said didn't
sound right. Nothing wrong with you, its just my little gutter
mind.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“'Gutter
mind'?” he inquired, “don't understand.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Refers
to a dirty mind,” I responded.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How can
a mind be dirty?” he followed up, “The mind is processes in the
brain, and the brain can't be dirty, can it?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“'Dirty'
can also mean 'sexual',” I would explain, “what you said 'do I
satisfy you?' has this strange sexual innuendo. I know you didn't
intend it, but it was there nevertheless. It would be more my fault
for taking it that way.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I
wanted to know if I do make you happy, and not bug you,” he went
on, “I am suppose to please you: keep your home clean and you
company.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I know,
and your doing a fine job,” I replied, while telling Kenji on msn
that I would post on the roleplaying site later that evening.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“By the
way,” he added, “How is sex related to dirt?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Its
from that god dam thing called organized religion,” I piped in to
him, “For the longest time they had tried to restrict sexuality,
especially female sexuality, and they would do that by preaching that
sexual thoughts were dirty thoughts, and that to be pure and virtuous
you had to be asexual.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why?”
he asked.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“To
control us,” I added in, “People are easier to control when they
have no sexuality. Restricting sex is restrictive.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
have sex often?” he inquired. The question was very embarrassing
for I had only had sex once, in the last year of college. Lost a
good friend afterwards too.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No, not
really,” I replied with a blush, “but I simply choose to not live
like a skank. Kinda hard to shake that feeling away. Besides, I'm
too fat.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
look nice to me,” Ben replied. The comment was odd, but I assumed
it was sycophantic, something he was coded to say to make me feel
better.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well
thank you, though you haven't really seen many humans outside of
myself,” I said to him.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I've
seen the pictures of them in your games and on the Internet,” he
went on.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-11395621162541705322015-04-24T12:00:00.000-07:002015-04-24T12:00:03.770-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 5<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;">
Chapter 5</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
Upon further thought on the topic I now realize that maybe we
underestimated the potential of our little droid. It was so dumb
during alpha testing because every time there was a glitch, and there
were plenty of those, we had to shut it down to do repair or to fix
up its programming, to fix the bugs if you will. We had to wipe its
flash memory whenever we reinstalled its software and rebooted it: in
layman's terms we would reprogram it and turn it on. Whenever we did
that it would also remove data stored from the sophisticated learning
matrix that I gave it.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
It was six months of development later when the beta test phase came
along. In beta testing we, and uneducated geeks that we would like
to call “Professional Beta Testers” would be given a droid of
there own to study and test, while still locating bugs and glitches.
By this time though, the public would be very aware of these things,
for Fran and her team would have banners, billboards, Internet ads
and recorded press-release videos on Youtube (because Google rules
that way) explaining to the public why these things would be good for
us, and that one would need one in their own home. Naturally the dam
religious right would be complaining about how these things would
degrade the home, family, and society, but lets face it: no one in
the modern era listened to them, for they say that about pretty well
everything and their rantings are nothing more than background noise.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
So, I would get a HX01 model free of charge for being a member of the
programming team. What fun this thing would be. It would begin when
I plugged him into a wall outlet to recharge... I said 'he' didn't I?
Anyways, I would plug 'it' in to recharge, planing to later unplug
it and have it do stuff and that. Looking at that aluminum - yes
aluminum, pronounce it like a British person for best effect - body,
disturbingly humanoid with a humanish face: the optical sensors where
there would be eyes and hidden in colourings to resemble eyes, a nose
that is likely for show, and a mouth with what look like rubber lips.
This thing gave me some creeps, but I thought nothing of it.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
It would come later that fateful day. I had dusted off my <i>Nintendo
WII </i>and was playing <i>Metroid Prime: Corruptions</i> on it when
I would hear a distinct, clear, male voice chime out: “Good day,
how are you doing?” I almost jumped out of my skin at the voice,
losing one of Samus' energy tanks as I had her leap off a platform in
my state of shock. I turned around and saw the HX01 unit staring at
me with red-jeweled eyes looking back, standing upright, a room away
from where I left him with the wall outlet.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“I-I'm doing f-fine,” I shuddered back, “Fully charged we see?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“Recharging cycle complete,” he stated mechanically, “Start-up
sequence complete. Checksum indicates no error.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“V-very good,” I replied to him as I heard a young woman scream
on the television, followed by the closing of Samus' helmet visor,
then a white screen with what looked like blood crawling along it
with the words “Game Over” splashed on that screen to mock me for
my defeat. “Dammit,” I then said to the television and my<i>
WII</i>. I hadn't saved for a while, and would have to repeat a
large chunk of the game to get back to that point. Trivial matter,
but one that bugged me, all the same.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“What's wrong?” he asked me.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“Nothing,” I replied. It was the truth, nothing was wrong. “You
merely startled me, that's all. Didn't expect you to wake yourself
up, nothing important.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“I'm sorry about that,” he apologized. I had a feeling that it
had to be programmed into him sycophantic tendencies as such
buttering up made most people happy. I wasn't one of them: valuing
the harsh truth over kind-hearted bullshit (there is a reason its
called bullshit afterall). At that moment I thought there was going
to be a problem.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
I noticed him look at the screen, then look back at me. “What does
'Game Over' mean?” he inquired in a curious tone. I smiled, for I
programmed the illusion of emotion in his voice, and the need to
understand the environment as much as possible. I think Gordon
programmed them their word banks for understanding the English
language, which was also nice to see worked.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“I means that I lost the game,” I answered him, “I couldn't go
any further into the game so its over, thus 'Game Over'. I suspect
that's its Japanese Ingrish.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“What is a game,” he went on, “What is 'Ingrish'?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“A game is something you play for enjoyment,” I then replied to
his inquiring, “and Ingrish is poorly spoken English.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“Oh, ok then,” he said with the sound of understanding, “You
didn't seem to get enjoyment from that 'Game' you were playing.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“Oh, I was having fun with it,” I replied, “Its just a
challenging game, one that is 'over' a lot, but getting past points
really makes one feel so great about themselves. I died at a certain
point, and would have to repeat certain aspects of the game, which
sucks a bit, but nothing that completely steals from the fun.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sucks?”
he looked confused as well as sounded confused. Thank god for
learning matrices!</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Bad,”
I replied. I looked at the clock, noting the time of 9:45pm. I
remembered that I forgot to eat dinner, and with that I turn
everything off except for the HX01 and I make my way to the kitchen
to get a TV dinner out to nuke in the microwave. He would follow
behind me as I did this.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shall I
get that for you?” he asked.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No
thank you,” I replied as I put it in the mircowave.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What is
your name?” he asked me, “I would have asked it sooner, but my
learning algorithms superseded that basic function.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Shannon,”
I replied in a shaky tone, “Do you by chance have a name?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He started
to think. Maybe he didn't have a name, expected me to name him the
same way I would name a cat, or didn't think he would be named.
Finally he said “You can call me Adam.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'd
rather not,” I said in an uncomfortable voice.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What's
wrong with Adam?” he seemed curious as to why I disapproved.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Its the
name of Samus' on-board ship computer from Metroid Fusion,” I
explained, “in that story he was downloaded from the mind of a dead
Army General that fall in love with her.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The
idea of a computer that has the mind of a human bothers you?” he
seemed very curious. What happened to “Speak only when spoken to?”
Course, I couldn't tell him that. What I did do was nod my head in
agreement. He would take the gesture cue and think of another name.
“How about Ben?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Ben it
is then,” I replied as I heard the microwave beep and I go to get
my food out.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-82295759772850113752015-04-17T12:00:00.000-07:002015-04-17T21:49:39.367-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 4<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; text-align: center; widows: 2;">
Chapter 4</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
About a year later, as the disturbing elements of the puzzle were
fitting together we would start alpha testing. In alpha testing the
development team would get a prototype droid to use in the office to
test for glitches and bugs that were left uncaught earlier in
development. The thing seemed “happy” to do some of the cleaning
work around the office, getting us coffee and me sodas (for I never
got the stereotypical taste for coffee) and would sometimes talk to
us in the staff room and would make appearances at the meetings to
see how its progressing. As it was an alpha test there were bugs and
glitches and the dam thing would have to had been restarted and
dismantled multiple times in finding the bug.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
The HX01 looked like any of our other droids: it was made of iron, it
had six legs two of which would be used for gripping things, its
torso was a square block, and it had black patches along it which
where optic sensors. The thing would talk, and we could talk to it.
It sounded all cute and that with its unisex robotic voice, asking
rather simpleton questions like “How you doing?” “Can I help
you further?” and would complement us for doing things or on slight
variations on our behaviour. In a meeting I mentioned how annoying
this was.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“I think its cute,” Devon said at the meeting, “That it would
talk to you like that, on its own.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“I agree with Miss butch here,” Philip piped in, “Who wants a
nagging droid? Most of us wouldn't tolerate that type of behaviour
from an actual woman.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“Who did you last date Phil, Lara Croft?” I said to him, then
turned my attention back to the boardroom, “but alas, he has a
point, as crude and sexually harassing as his statement was.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“Maybe its too stupid,” Devon added in, “Gordon, Shannon, make
them smarter.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“I think the solution might be to make the things silent until they
have something to say,” I shot back at Devon, “In that they only
speak if spoken to, or if there is an emergency of some description.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“Course,” Phil replied, “By the way, last week I dated an
actual woman.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“How much did she cost?” I asked rudely.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
“Funny,” Philip responded.<br />
<br />
Wait next week for Chapter 5</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-22611037961975206922015-04-10T12:00:00.000-07:002015-04-17T21:49:09.967-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 3<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Chapter 3</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Yeah, I
know, I’m getting side-tracked here, just bare with me, for
something by a friend of mine blew my mind one day, it was a week
after that meeting with the <i>Star Trek</i> garbage.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I would be
at home in my apartment in a Toronto skyrise. I would be on my
personal computer typing out a reply to a roleplaying thread that I
had started up on a forum site when I had a friend of mine that I met
on that site IM me through MSN. After the normal “HI!!! How r u”
stuff, the conversation went something like this (I’m Miko by the
way).</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Isudae
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">U
doing anything important in that lab of urs?</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Miko
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">All
the time. can't tell u want due 2 confidentaility agreements</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Isudae
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">u
do stuff with robots rite?</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Miko
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Yes.
Says so on the website. Why, sup?</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Isudae
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I
dunno. I think ur company might do something very important,
something dangerious.</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>No shit
genius,</i> I though. As I had to sign weavers I couldn’t tell
Isudae the truth, especially since I only know him on the internet.
Crappy my life was, and is I guess: that my best friend in the world
I only know online. As much as I wanted to tell him about the
mistake my company was making (I assume Isudae is male anyways, he
claims so and I go along with it) such information could end up
everywhere, and I could lose my job and get blackballed for it.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Miko
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Course
not. y u think that?</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There was
a long pause then. I surfed the web a bit while Isudae typed his
long and grievous answer. Ten websites and three Firefox tabs later…</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Isudae
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I get that feeling Miko. I get
the feeling that they would send out an invention that could dam-age
the world as we know it. They are getting really powerful, and
their automations are robb-ing more of our humanity. I have
heard rumours of them designing a droid with an AI so intelligent
that it could mean danger. I just get that feeling. When
these droids are out, Insigna would be the first place they
hit. I feel this, because it seems that you would be a target.
A</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">target to the machines.</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">No, wait, not a target… a messiah.
I know you better than to be a person that would be an</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">idle spectator or participate. I
know you to be strong and forward: we would come to you,</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">they would come to you. The
world would come to you.</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I ponder
his words once I read them in. I then shook my head and replied:</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Miko
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Thanks
for making me feel better, but have you smoked anything?</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Isudae
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I
don't smoke Miko-chen. I was using my sage powers!</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Miko
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">How
is the sage quest going?</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif;">Isudae
says:</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I think I just prologued life in North
America, so very well. : D</span></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
He then went on about his bullshit sage quest that he was going on to
become more enlighten and all that weird stuff. I think nothing of
it. In fact I wouldn’t have mentioned his “vision” except that
it ends up being true. Why else do you think it would be me that
tells this tale?</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
Course, I would live out my pathetic life surfing the web and
trolling forums until about midnight when I go to sleep. Midnight
was early for me by the way.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://mikothestoryteller.blogspot.com/2015/04/designs-of-our-slave-race-chapter-4.html">Continue to Chapter 4</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-86474979895281067942015-04-03T12:00:00.000-07:002015-04-17T21:48:04.988-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 2<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Chapter 2</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It was
down to the coding, typing out the algorithms that the new robots,
called the HX01, in doing the various tasks that the dam thing would
need. I merely added in the more concrete sections: receiving
visual, verbal, and textile input, than having the thing figure out
what to do with those sensations. That was a start. It would
recognize key words and phrases, than complicated sentences that
might not have a signal keyword, and trying to figure out what the
speaker might have actually wanted, and store that knowledge for
later reference. In an essence a learning matrix, so it would know
what “Get me a beer” and “Go into the kitchen and make me a
sandwich” would mean and do it like the obedient hunk of steel that
it was. Now, this wouldn’t normally bother me, for I had done
similar programming logic for those chat bots and that, the only new
thing being the learning matrix, no problems so far.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The
problem would lie in the next phase: emotion recognition and
synthesis. Clearly more than simply “if” and “else”
statements: the intelligence would stem from all that input, and not
just the words needed to be decoded but the voice pitch and tone, and
not just voice but body language, the way someone is slouched, tensed
up or shaky. I’m no psychologist, that’s another department that
tells us the tall-tale signs of various emotions, and we figure out
what the droids should do when these scenarios come about.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Periodically
there would be a meeting, where we would give status and progress
reports. This was getting even more creepy as the early prototypes
resembled those chrome playboy models that are commonly seen on
Japanese billboards, with the exception that some were male.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Devon,
are you out of your mind?” I remember saying at one meeting, “This
has to be the creepiest form of scope-creep I have ever seen.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It
would help if these droids had the appearance of humans,” he said,
“Makes them more approachable.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“More
marketable too,” Fran-bonan would reply, being Fran.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So,
we’re making them feel like people and understand like people, so
we might as well give them people bodies?” I then asked
sarcastically.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What’s
the big deal?” David, who was present at this meeting, inquired.
Only real difference between David and Philip was age: David was
younger, and therefore, not as much of a pig.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I
merely suggest that we tread carefully here gentlemen and Fran,” I
told them, “As marketable and really cool as this is, if their too
smart, and able to feel, we would end up with either Datas or Lores.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Both
would figure out that they both had synergy: being worth more than
the some of their parts, and more importantly, the price we would
place on each unit. The difference would be that Data would learn of
the sentient laws and advocate for his rights, and the rights of
those like him, to have equal status to us: to have equal employment,
accommodations, protection under the law and rights of the accused.
They wouldn’t have to do as they were told and would strike like
unhappy unionized employees.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That’s
stupid,” The weird sweater guy was present too apparently.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Actually
that would the peaceful option,” I continued on, “Lore would
instead plot the take over of the planet and kill all the human
beings, deeming them evil for making his people into slaves, and that
is really what the HX01 is for. At least Data wouldn’t mind
sharing the planet with us, just as long as they are not our slaves.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The
sweater guy had a look of tortured confusion on his face. “Who the
fuck are ‘Data’ and ‘Lore’?” he asked in an angered tone.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There
<i>Star Trek</i> characters,” Gordon would explain, “Data is the
android second officer in <i>Star Trek: Next Generation</i>. Lore
would be his older ‘brother’ who would later plot to kill all
biological lifeforms.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Seriously
Sebastian, do you get out much?” Philip would add, for a moment
siding with me for this guy’s lack of knowledge of <i>Star Trek</i>.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Enough!”
Devon twitched as he stood at the front of the room, “Please, at
the end of the day they are machines, and we wouldn’t have to
worry. We shouldn’t let Shannon here scare us because her
overactive imagination has watched too much <i>Star Trek</i>.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
make it sound like I’m a <i>Star Trek</i> fanatic,” I replied, “I
merely suggest caution, or that could be what we end up with.
Besides, <i>Star Trek</i> sucks, I just like Data.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Favourite
character?” Gordon asked.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No,
second,” I replied to that.</div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="border-bottom: 2.50pt solid #000000; border-left: none; border-right: none; border-top: none; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding-bottom: 0.04cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;">
<a href="http://mikothestoryteller.blogspot.com/2015/04/designs-of-our-slave-race-chapter-3.html">Continue to Chapter 3</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4550832068673042766.post-19056227887059954982015-03-27T12:00:00.000-07:002015-04-17T21:47:26.119-07:00Designs of our Slave Race chapter 1<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;">
Chapter 1</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Where do I
start this for you all? In all honestly I am not too sure. I guess
I'll start at the beginning, the only place I can, though the
beginning seems not so much as it is now. No, I'll start with the
beginning of the end.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It would
be an overcast, but warm, July summer day when I walked into the
overly air-conditioned office building at Insigna Corp, a company
high in the IT and Engineering field. Man that office was cold, but
I can't remember a time when industry cared about the environment, so
I wouldn't dwell on it any further. Walking up towards the busy
elevator, crowded with fellow colleagues of various departments,
recognizing Philip and David, two of the obnoxious men that were in
the engineering department of the company. I only saw the men at
meetings though, for I wasn't in engineering but IT.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I grabbed
my arms and shivered through my burgundy cotton shirt and black
polyester slacks, all business attire naturally, feeling myself
wriggling in black leather loafers with matching soaks, oh how I love
my fashion sense. Course I wasn't hired for that, but for my
abilities as a programmer. Graduating on the Dean's list with co-op
experience I was quite competent in my skills in typing code like a
monkey, but just doing that isn't enough: now one must also be
creative in how that is deployed and designed. That note have nuked
many of an old friend out of the college.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Alas I had
reached my floor and stepped off. I then tugged my long, brown
ponytail tightly behind me as I walked my stalky-pale self down to my
cubicle. There it seemed to be another day happily tapping on my
keyboard and being on the verge of trashing my computer as a finicky
syntax error or an unexpected bug lurk insidiously in my code
somewhere. However, I would be there to witness the start of
everything that has gone so horribly wrong over the course of a few
years.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
That day I
had a meeting to attend to. It was hosted by a Devon Shorber, the
senior expert in robotics. I take a seat, for being a seasoned
coder, and being highly proficient in D language, the coding language
of all the commodities that we a company made. I find myself seated
next to Gordon, the senior programmer in my department, and Fran, a
marketeer. Across from me was Phillip, one of those perverted
Engineers that act as though the have never seen a woman before or
grew up in households where the women were so weak and backwards.
There were other people, but I didn't recognize them, and at that
moment I didn't care.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Good
day gentlemen... and ladies,” he started. Poor dork forgot that
there was myself and Fran. “I would like to propose a new project
in revolutionizing robotics while making society easier for all.”
He then reached up and got a few bristle board pictures of chrome
droids that likely came out of a bad sci-fi comic book. “I think
Derek there remembers the great success that was the TQ212 model,”
he said addressing a guy with crew cut and a gray business suit.
Must have been an accountant, who nodded happily.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Yes, I
remember the success of that little metallic cleaning droid that was
used for cleaning counter tops. The thing was smart enough to detect
whether or not it hit the end with sensors, and would learn the
surface, doing a better job each time. Not hard to program, course
mind you I normally code Article Intelligences used for telephone
chat bots. Thank me for making them smart enough to understand what
the bloody hell your saying, in full sentences, in any broken accent
you like, and not having to say an option key word. Yeah me!</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well,
imagine such a droid capable of everything else!” he then went in
with such geekish excitement, “Think about it, having a
multipurpose droid for doing various chores, while keeping us
company. We would have our own personal droid to talk to and to help
us out when in need. Oh! Good gentlemen... and ladies, think of all
the people that would buy such a technical marvel!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Phillip
seemed a bit impressed. “So Devon,” he would then say, “a
droid that would both scrub the floor and talk to you about
philosophy?” His eyes twinkled rather creepily, “would it have a
female voice also?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well,
it could sound like anything the buyer wanted,” Devon replied with
a grin.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I can
see it now!” Fran was getting all sparked up with the contagious
enthusiasm Devon was passing along, “Buy your perfect mate! Only
second to a human lover!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That
was lame Fran,” some green-striped sweater guy remarked. Poor
Fran.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“In the
vision we would have a druid capable of understanding human emotion,
and being capable of sending an appropriate response to our
customer,” Devon continued on, “that on top of helping us out.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How
would they help?” Gorgon asked, first think he said in the meeting,
and his tone full of skepticism. I looked to Devon for the answer,
for I was equally skeptic.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“These
droids would have a magnitude of uses,” he went on, “From the
TQ212 abilities to more difficult tasks such as cooking or handymen
repairs.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“And we
could talk to it?” That guy with the sweater said, then asked
dumbly “I wonder what it would say?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“'This
is work any retard could do and I was programmed for so much more,'”
I sarcastically replied in a mechanical voice. I took a deep breath
so I wouldn't giggle and then asked “Seriously, why would we want
to talk to a cleaning droid?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why
not?” Devon replied, “Haven't you ever wondered what a robot
might have to say?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Not...
really,” I send back to him, in his face! “Never imagined it to
be anything too intelligent, after all, they're just machines.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's
because you can't program A.I's to save your soul sweetie,” Philip
would then say in his chauvinistic way, “All the ones you gave us
in the past were quite dumb, as though designed to, say, take calls
and never think about how they made the customer feel.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That is
because they are not suppose to 'care'” I replied, “Their suppose
to do their assigned duty. The bot takes the call, helps the
customer update their account or something, and customer leaves. The
bot processes sound waves and activates methods that relate to the
words that are encoded in the sound waves. You don't want them to
think about why the customer is screaming at them in an irate fashion
because that is not part of the job description. This is why actual
people were phased out: too many of them couldn't take the abuse with
their wits intact.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Well,
Shannon,” Devon went on, “these ones would care. They would come
to you if they think your hurt, they would want to make you happy,
and would be caring and loving.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What's
wrong with that?” I was asked by that dude in the sweater.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I guess
nothing at all,” I replied, sounding sincere, but I couldn't keep
it up with the amount of design stupidity I was hearing, “I can
hear it now,” I said satirically. I then put a closed hand to my
lips and grunted to clear my throat, then said in a sluttish voice “I
bet you can't stick it!”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Gordon
looked at me rudely. I don't think he appreciated the <i>Halo</i>
reference. He then looked back at Devon. “I think my associate
here thinks your idea is silly. I would have to agree. Why would we
want our droids talking to us?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So they
could be companions,” he said to Gordon, “loyal and looking out
for us, you know.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Devon,
seriously,” I asked him, “What you’re proposing is to put
Cortana in a cleaning droid. Really, what would she do that a human
being couldn't?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I think
I got the marketing for this,” Fran then piped up, scanning the
room for anything and anyone, “We all know that modern society has
gotten more… lonely. What better way to get companionship! It
would be advertised as the ultimate companion.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Exactly
miss,” Devon replied enthusiastically, “It would be a companion
of sorts. After all, it is really hard to find people these days,
why not make them?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There
called ‘friends’ Mr. Shorber,” I then said, than leaned into my
chair while saying “what dumb lonely…” the thought then died in
my throat. Devon was a nerd, and like many nerds very lonely, not
having much in the name of good interactions with others, a complete
introvert that has a deep-seeded contempt for humanity. Of course he
would be dumb enough to make robotic people!</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I could
relate to that. I had only a handful of flesh and bone friends here
in reality; or meat-space if you will. Most of my friends I only
know on the Internet: people that I have met on online-forums,
two-bit MMOs and <i>Second Life</i>. Inspite my pathetic excuse of a
life then I wasn’t dumb enough to think I could build my friends
from scratch, though as tempting as it is to have a mechanical Navi
follow me around.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Miss
Smith,” Fran looked at me a bit sorely, “It isn’t just your
kind that are lonely and depressed. Statistics do show that
depression is on the rise and we are more lonely than ever before.
Think of all the money that we could make from selling the ultimate
companion.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Typical
marketer: can’t think beyond the possibility to make money off a
brand, regardless of the any ethical concerns that one would have.
As for Philip, I think he likes the idea of having a robotic
sex-slave – dam perv! I couldn’t speak for anyone else in the
room, but it seems, by the look on his face, that Gordon was starting
to buy it: think about the complex algorithms that would have to be
designed and coded.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I had one
last question. I paused as I looked at everyone else, many excited
with the though of creating the first robot programmed to give a dam.
I leaned against my chair. Eyes were on me for my typical boardroom
manner, as Devon had to work extra hard to convince me, a well known
contrarian, that his idea was a good one. Course, from experience, I
could tell that Gordon wasn’t very scared, for he knew that I was
normally convinced that this was a good idea and I would happily type
away on my keyboard. In a rested position, I then asked quietly
“What about the sentient being laws?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The
excitement in the room died down as my voice rang through with a
question that panicked CEOs. Being unethical was bad enough, but
unlawful?</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“P-Pardon
me?” Devon seemed surprised at the questioned, “Sentient being
laws?”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I nodded.
“Yep, you heard me.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How
would we be in violation of laws that protect sentient lifeforms?”
that dude in the sweater asked, “They're robots! Those laws don’t
apply to machines! Machines are objects, not beings, nevermind
people.” Guy must have been a law-dork. Sounds like something a
law-dork would say.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Alas, he
rationalized Devon, and I dropped the moral bomb. It was the very
moral bomb that would cease bioengineering experiments made to make
people for certain tasks, and ‘improve’ humanity. That would
mean that Andross couldn’t make bio-nightmares and the horrors that
was “Project Spartan” would never happen, or something that is of
the equivalent anyways. No weird new creatures, variations of
humans, or perfect soldiers. Thank the lord: a real-life <i>Mastercheif</i>
would have just been creepy. The sentient laws were instilled to
prevent creatures that we deemed “sentient” - based on their
intelligence, ability to think at level higher than instinctual, and,
importantly, their ability to feel emotions outside of instinct -
from being mistreated. These special laws would ensure that a
section of society wouldn’t become a slave race: people that would
serve the sole purpose of doing dangerous shit work.</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I leaned
forward with my rebuttal. “In an essence, Devon, you are asking
Gordon and I… and our team… to program droids with true emotions,
things they need to care about us and not just do stuff. You’re
asking us to code people… <b>people</b> for the love of god
already, that would have emotions and feelings… so we could have
them sweep the floor and fold laundry: all while being the good
<i>Stepford wife</i> and comforting their owner when their sad,
primping them when their ugly, all while keeping their apartments and
house tidy for guests.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I averted
my glance as I heard Gordon speak. “Shannon,” he said, “Their
machines. You’ve said it yourself, they only know what they are
programmed to do, and are nothing more than mere tools to make our
lives easier.”</div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes
sir, I believe I did say that,” I replied to him with a grin, “I
simply would like it to stay that way.”</div>
<br />
<div class="western" lang="en-US" style="border-bottom: 2.50pt solid #000000; border-left: none; border-right: none; border-top: none; margin-bottom: 0cm; padding-bottom: 0.04cm; padding-left: 0cm; padding-right: 0cm; padding-top: 0cm;">
<a href="http://mikothestoryteller.blogspot.com/2015/04/designs-of-our-slave-race-chapter-2.html">Continue to Chapter 2</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12497431709239721902noreply@blogger.com0