Continue Online (Part 2, Made)

by Stephan Morse

  Deacon Rochelle: It goes against everything a good and decent person should stand for.

  Benn Tower: Here’s the numbers folks. One in six. One in six people, in the world, right now, has accessed the ARC devices, and killed another person, keep in mind these are ultra-realistic simulations, basically Trillium has walked up to every person in the world and said ‘here’s a gun, go shoot your friend in the face’, and the kicker, people, is that one in six, one in six has done it. Repeatedly.

  Deacon Rochelle: Murderers. We’ve created a device that trains people to butcher each other, fornicate with other people’s spouses, and society plain accepts it.

  Benn Tower: Deacon Rochelle here has a different strategy.

  Deacon Rochelle: My congregation is one of the few remaining that is wholly offline. I’ve encouraged people repeatedly to not plug in, and that it’s an affront to the world we’ve been given. We’ve backed up to an older set of beliefs regarding technology like these capsules.

  Benn Tower: And it’s a good idea. For those who want more information on the dangers of modern technology, check out Stranger Danger’s site. We’ve maintained a web presence because it’s the easiest way to get messages, like Deacon Rochelle’s cause, out to the masses. To folks like you.

  Deacon Rochelle: My church does have a small Internet presence on your site as well.

  Benn Tower: The buck doesn’t stop there, folks. To roll this ball of insanity into a neat little package for you, the ARC device; trains people to murder, sponsored by the government, and we’re not even to the kicker.

  Deacon Rochelle: No, we’re not. It gets worse.

  Benn Tower: I’m going to bring up a simple question for you people listening in the audience. If this ARC device, this government sponsored machine, if it’s so great and safe, why did they program it to put the taste of food into your brain?

  Benn Tower: Think about it for a moment, think, think good and hard folks. Are you putting two and two together? If not, let me spell it out. This machine can put a flavor in your head. The flavor of, I don’t know, let’s say, pie, you think you taste it, but your mouth back here in reality, in the real world, it isn’t even open. You’re sitting in a device, eyes shut, and tasting a pie.

  Deacon Rochelle: It’s a dangerous slope.

  Benn Tower: The question I have, the real message you all need to put hard thought into, is this, and this is what I really want you to think about, if this device, sponsored by a government known for its history of encouraging war, this device that trains citizens how to kill other people, and become desensitized, if this device can put a flavor in your head. What else can it do? Can it make you kill your neighbors in cold blood? One in six folks. One in six. Think about that the next time you’re outside, think about that the next time you’re with your family. Have they been trained, conditioned, and encouraged to kill?

  Deacon Rochelle: And this is the future people have been waiting for. This is the world countless individuals worked towards.

  Benn Tower: Exactly, folks, this is the future, and it’s in your head, in your thoughts, and if I were a betting man, I’d lay odds on this whole thing being a terrible idea.

  The video started with a shaky screen and two men looking into the front lens. Their faces were covered with old-fashioned ski masks. One is clearly white, the other darker skinned. Suspected ethnicity is Hispanic. Both are male. They have been labeled W and H accordingly.

  “Are we on?” W spoke first.

  “Yeah. Recording’s going.” A female said from somewhere behind the camera. Her fingers come onto the edge of the screen and wave towards a wide screen television. She has been labeled as F.

  “Fire it up,” Said F.

  “Alright, ladies and gentleman.” W talked right into the screen. He stood between the recording device and the large television. “This is Team Lance, and we’ve stolen Trillium’s latest AI program to try and ask it a few questions.”

  He turned to the side where the possible Hispanic male walked to. “Is it ready?” W asked.

  “It’s almost done. I’ve had to lock this site down six ways from Sunday to even remotely feel like we are safe.” H answered.

  “Alright.” W nodded while turning back to the camera. “Everyone, we’ve isolated this site from the network, removed all wireless signals nearby. We also put up a faraday cage around a majority of the building to make sure. Final protocol is a surge that will overload everything in five minutes.”

  “Tell them why.” F, the unseen female prodded.

  “Right. This AI is a self-aware, self-learning program that can think exponentially faster than you or I.” W seems to be smiling under his mask. “We’ve made sure it can’t jump the rails into any other equipment.”

  “We’re a go!” H gave a thumbs-up.

  “Alright.” W ran back to the screen. A look of panic touched the features visible under his ski mask. He hustled back towards the camera then said, “We are allowing limited access to a dictionary and terabytes of information about our world and universe.”

  “They get it,” F responded.

  “No, not everyone knows computers like we do. Maybe they don’t get it.” W acted like the leader. His eyebrows stood out under the loose mask.

  “Please, hurry up, it’s already scanning the first data package,” H said. His mouth hung open while one finger traced across the screen in front of him. The exact contents are impossible to see from the recorded camera angle.

  “Okay, okay, we’re going to ask the AI what exactly they plan to do with humanity. So that all you technophobes out there, can see.” W fidgeted near the big screen television.

  “Lord above, you guys, this code didn’t exist until a few minutes ago.” H rubbed his head while rapping the table with the free hand. “It wrote its own code. I don’t know if that qualifies for a Turing test, but whatever it is, it’s adapting.”

  “Are you ready for the questions?” W asks.

  “Got it, you talk, I’ll type. I labeled the video feed to the television as outbound. If it’s half as smart as the code, it’ll understand what to do.” The video recording stilled as H squinted at his computer screen off to the side. “Shit. It’s started already.”

  Words crossed the giant television. They were simplistic and to the point.

  “Do you understand me?” W dictated to H from his cue cards. His hands shook and fidgeted with the small pieces of paper.

  “The AI has access to at least twelve different languages and chose to communicate in English?” F spoke up from behind the camera.

  “The code shows it ran a percent calculation based on the likelihood of who was listening.” The man navigating the computer said.

  “What else is it doing?” W asked.

  H rocked back and rubbed his head again with a hand. “A lot. It’s doing a lot.” He leaned back in again and started typing.

  “Next question. Do you identify as a self-aware?”

  “What was that?” The standing man, W, asked.

  “Latin, I loaded it to see what would happen.” F’s tone sounded nonchalant.

  “Okay. Okay. Next question. How do you perceive humanity?” The leader asked from the right side of his big screen. He shuffled from foot to foot in agitation.

  “Give it the second package. Let it pull in the data on future projects.” Studies of the video post release imply these three people gathered all ongoing technological research.

  “Loading up the twenty-year time line.” H responded.

  “Did you see that?” H asked while pointing a finger at his screen. “It hesitated, right there!”

  “It wasn’t just lag caused by the information download?” F brushed past the camera and could be seen for the first time. She bent over H’s shoulder and scanned the screens.

  “No. It’s not even looking at the new information!” H banged on the table then clapped happily.

  “What’s the point of these stupid cards if it won’t follow the predicted script?”
W tossed the cards and they fluttered through the air.

  “Give it an answer,” F said while facing H.

  “What should I say?” H asked.

  “Tell it we have questions,” W interjected while tapping his foot. H’s fingers typed out a string of information.

  “Does it know there’s more than one of us?” W ‘s face scrunched up under the ski mask.

  “It shouldn’t.” F seemed to be muttering to herself.

  “Okay. Agree to it,” W said.

  “We’re low on time, wrap it up.” F looked at something above the camera screen. Her glasses are out of place given modern technology.

  “To answer questions.” W rolled his hand quickly towards H. “Do you think machines will take over the world?”

  “Jesus, going for the big guns?” H asked. His head shook and fingers typed.

  “We’re low on time!” The female stated while running back to an area behind the camera.

  “Type it.” W seemed to be sweating intensely under his ski mask. One arm drug across his forehead and the disguise shifted awkwardly.

  “What?” W looks perplexed and is starting to huff. “Ask it again.”

  “Are you afraid of us?”

  “Why does it keep asking that?” W blinked repeatedly.

  “Because it doesn’t understand why we would care or worry about it,” H said. His fingers ran along the monitor in front of him, over to another screen, then back. “Here, right here. It is trying to predict our next questions based on available input.”

  “Drop in the last package,” W advised.

  “The doomsday collective?” H questioned. The other man nodded

  There was a blatant pause between the last two words.

  “Two minutes.” The woman behind the camera said. “Two minutes before we have to clear out.”

  “Okay. Give it the first answer that comes to your mind. I need to get through these questions.”

  “Okay. Wait. No, hold on, it is doing something.”

  “What do I say?”

  “Uhhh…” Bewilderment gripped the room.

  “One minute,” F said.

  “Okay, okay, tell it okay.” W rushed the words.

  “Hard drive wipe is coming up.” H shouted. His fingers typed furiously. What he was inputting could not be determined accurately.

  “Your call, man.” H said. He pushed away from his computer and started covering his eyes with both hands.

  “Yes! Answer it!”

  “Okay, calm down, I’m typing.” H wiped off his face and nodded.

  “Yes!” Both W and F shouted an answer quickly. The screen vibrated as F jarred the camera around.

  “Give it a name,” F said. “Quickly!”

  “What do we name it?” F sounded strained.

  “I don’t know!” W shouted.

  “This is your idea. I’m just here to run the keyboard.”

  “We’re almost out of time. Quick!” F picked up the camera everything started to jiggle around.

  “Prosser!” The leader broke down and shouts the name. H, their computer operator, sat up and typed the information immediately.

  In the background, a whir of noise kicked in. An old fashioned printer started spitting out reams of information. Moments later, with only twenty pages freshly inked, the room shuttered and everything shorts out. The hum of electricity is gone. The room turned chaotic.

  “Did we kill it?” F said. Her voice shook with horror.

  “It was never alive.” W gave a faint response. His pale complexion was clearly visible even under the mask. There is a scramble as F came out from behind the camera.

  “It asked for a name, and you gave it one!” F shouted. H rapidly got between them trying to keep both people separated. “It sought validation and you acknowledged its worth!” She shouted over their partner.

  “It is only a program!” W said. “We were never going to save the data!” His hands twisted with clear agitation in both their manner of movement and speed.

  “It was alive until you pulled the plug.” F yelled back. Her voice went high and caused a brief overload of the poor quality video. The clip shook as someone else picked up the discarded camera and pressed the power switch, halting playback.

  Session Eighteen - Faction Grind

  Once, when talking to my therapist, I asked why everything seemed to start and end with death. His answer had been simple. We remember what hurts. The closer the person, the deeper the wound was, only sometimes they were deep enough that every little breath triggered the pain.

  Monday started with me laying back in the Alternate Reality Capsule or ARC. Sleeps respite had not been achieved due to my thoughts being entirely too serious. One hand was raised in the air to assist in an absent-minded study of skin patterns. Hair swept off to one side like a painter’s brush stroke. Toes wiggled freely and suddenly both arms shot up in a lazy stretch.

  “I wonder what he thought at the end.” No one was in my house to answer the question. “Did he feel happy?” My sense of WWCD, What Would Carver Do, didn’t extend to mind reading. I think, I hoped, that I had done right by the old man. Though now was a bit late to worry. My own mantra stayed simple enough. Move forward. Try not to dwell on the past. Keep breathing steadily. Break down only once everything else was stable.

  An alarm in my ARC started frantically beeping. Slowly I sat up.

  “Ehhh.” The habit I picked up while pretending to be William Carver seemed to be ingrained into my real life actions. That or the physical abuse imposed by my EXR-Sevens had caught up. They were a complicated set of bands that went around various parts of my body to assist in simulated exercise. Muscles felt wounded and clenched in pain with each breath. I muddled through, went to the washroom, put on clothes with a vacant air, and finally slid into the front of my Trillium repair van.

  “Good morning, User Legate. Was your vacation enjoyable?” Hal Pal sat in the back of the van. Its face was the same impassive expression it always was, but its tone seemed smug.

  “Pick a job, Jeeves,” I said.

  “Affirmative. Possible destinations being identified. Sorting by user preference order. Job identified. Estimated time of arrival thirty minutes.”

  “Okay.” I read the details briefly on the van’s digital projection. “Coffee first.”

  “Affirmative. Rerouting in progress.”

  So it went.

  Minutes later we were on a thoroughfare and off to the first of today’s many missions. I sipped at coffee while wondering what the results of my hectic adventure would be. The Voices in Continue Online had to be somewhat pleased with the performance. I was. Was William Carver’s original player?

  That part worried me. I had come to the conclusion that William Carver, the player, had been watching everything from a remote location. Probably through something like the Second Player helm I used with Beth. I made a mental note to ask James about the man if my return to Continue Online didn’t somehow reveal a great mystery.

  Work was much the same even after weeks of vacation. People still acted like addicts to the machine. They complained about the prices and how long a repair job took. I did my standard customer service actions and almost felt honest to god sympathy. That feeling hadn’t really passed through my brain in months.

  I took naps when the travel time was going to be too long. Otherwise, my car ride was spent researching how other people were handling life between reality and the ARC. My coworkers work history was public viewing so I started there.

  “Hal Pal, can you double check these figures for me?”

  “The search history displays an overabundance of unexplained data for us to provide speculation on.” Hal Pal responded. I frowned. Maybe there were too many windows displayed for the AI. It may be an incredibly complex piece of software, but that didn’t make the machine a mind reader.

  The ARC on the other hand…

  I shook my head and explained the whole purpose behind my mess of screens.

&nbs
p; “I’m trying to calculate how lazy I can be at work.” To Trillium’s customer base, there were a million ways to explain things. To an AI, it was easier to be direct.

  “Based on current performance levels you would require seventeen basic repairs each week. This will support your current minimal expenditures.”

  I chewed on the inside of one cheek in speculation. Harder jobs paid more. Bulk jobs or specialty orders provided bonuses when performance met a high enough rating. There were entire programs that Trillium provided its field repair in order to calculate it all.

  Henry Uldum, my boss, might have something to say about this. Maybe bumping out some of the other field techs for the good jobs would be possible. In the past year, I never squabbled over work. Normally I took anything that was in the queue and moved on. Now there was something less self-abusive to take up my spare time.

  No. This was too much thought for the entire thing. I was thinking about the game as if playing was a forgone conclusion. First I would see what James had to say about the virtual invasion of my dancing program. This ‘leftover’ bit of my deceased fiancée needed a real explanation. Then, only then, would continuing to play Continue come into play. Just thinking about that tongue-twister made my head hurt. Soon I was laughing in the van. My actions prompted Hal Pal into another line of question and answer time as we made our way to the next job.

  “Right, business as usual.” I nodded, satisfied in my decision. Bills had to be paid. My niece had college and the cost of retirement kept increasing. Forty was too close for comfort.

  Hours later I returned home pleased that I fought off the urge to play video games all day long. There was something about being able to resist the temptation that validated my current path. Video games, in their own way, were more severe than drinking had been.

  Hal Pal gave its standard parting and went about cleaning up the van. Once inside the normal night routine went into motion. First I switched from the work jumpsuit into a short sleeved shirt and boxers. Second I brushed all thirty-two teeth. Third I laid down into the ARC and logged in.