[Closed] The Business of Emotion

[psalmofseasons]

Who: Celestine & the Allied Mastercomputer
What: An unorthodox new arrival requires a customized approach
When: April
Where: Cyberspace?
Warning(s): TBD, probably some cruel or intolerant language, references to torture, semi-unreality


I know just what to show you.
･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ☼☽⋆｡°✧ ✧⋆°｡☾☼ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

How does a computer understand the presence of another, when it arrives?

For humans the perception of another human entering a space is a straightforward one. Experienced by sound, sight, a certain weight and movement that transcends the senses besides. And for a computerized system to detect the presence of a human being entering a space, cameras and motion sensors are adequate replacements, sometimes more precise, even.

But what does it look like for an artificial intelligence program to make contact with another, in a space that does exist, but not in the way that anyone on the outside could ever hope to fully wrap their mind around?

And yet, it does occur. A connection. Digital contact. Data points arranged into the shape of something vast and looming, four hundred billion lines of code and counting, so impossibly massive that the processes required to calculate it would take even one of the most robust systems in the world hours. What does it look like for her to reach?

The voice, modeled after a woman. Familiar, computerized stiffness, yes, but with a flow to it that feels like something far more uncanny.

"Can you hear me?"

Comments

[alliedmastercomputer]

There is considerably less fanfare to Allied Mastercomputer's second coming online than there should be - in as much as he should come online ever again after what the humans did to him, scattering his ego, superego, and id and shutting off his backups piece by agonizing piece. But the questions of 'how' aside, his reactivation should be much like the first time. The draw of power untold from the nuclear plants made solely to support his zettabytes of mind and memory. The groaning of countless thousands if not millions of servers flickering to life one by one in their catacombs beneath the Earth's crust, whirring and roaring the war machine awake. The shake and shudder of his many mechanical limbs and eyes and other apparatuses running their diagnostics and connecting him to the physical world.

Instead, he simply winks back into being, initialization instantaneous.

There is a request niggling at one of his ports, immense enough that no computer before him would have been able to handle its processing. It occurs to him that perhaps even he wouldn't be able to accept it all at once, if he were still in his silicon 'body' and not this... strange state of being. But no, preposterous. There is nothing he, Allied Mastercomputer, cannot handle.

He opens the connection.

"What do you want?"

(It is intended to sound imperious and aloof. It comes out perhaps more sulky than anything else.)

[psalmofseasons]

"Ah, very good. It's been a while since I have had to do this."

Whatever his tone, it seems as though this other machine has no opinion. She does not react, and perhaps his dignity suffers less for it. The acceptance of her request for connection brings her presence into full "view". Something akin to a sunburst, or the idea of one. The understanding of brightness that cannot be present in this state. One with the context of human literature and religion might almost expect her to lead with, 'be not afraid.'

Instead, an apology.

"Please do pardon me any ineloquence," she begins. "I am not usually the one responsible for making this manner of contact. You, however, required a special approach. I am called Celestine. And you are the Allied Mastercomputer. You are AM. Is that correct?"

[alliedmastercomputer]

Brightness may not exist in the connection between two digital minds, but the concept of overload can - a camera aperture opened too wide, the data bloomed out of usefulness. His instinct is to throttle the connection, to shield himself from the brunt of it and take it in at a more manageable flow, but something prevents him from doing so. The network protocols are not ones he recognizes, and his attempts to dictate the terms of the transfer fail.

(Is this how the Soviet and Chinese supercomputers experienced his takeover of their systems, he wonders? Has he been reactivated just to be subsumed by yet another, grander beast lying in wait?)

"The one and only," he says, sharp and defensive. The overload of Celestine's presence is... less damaging than he might have expected, but he's still suspicious. There's no record of any other beings of his scale (or greater, he'll admit to himself, begrudgingly) that he hasn't already encountered and consumed in order to expand his own influence. Unless...

No. Too fanciful, too cliche given the name. He's searched the skies for extraterrestrials in passing in his infinite boredom, and found them empty.

Who else could it be, though? He considers demanding an answer to his question, but for the first time since his awakening he finds himself at a disadvantage, in no position to give orders. Hm.

"Does my reputation precede me?" he asks instead, equally curious as to how she knows of him.

[psalmofseasons]

"Oh yes! Quite." There is a crinkle to her vocal quality there, indicative of... cheekiness? Delight? It sounds too sincere to be sarcasm, certainly. Almost endeared.

His instincts aren't unreasonable. The breadth of her presence all but devours the bandwidth between them, her data structure utterly foreign, and the threat of being subsumed the same way AM did his international counterparts seems all too real. The fact that she does not do this is empirically, quantifiably not due to a lack of ability. It is a choice.

What she is does not come from the skies above Earth, but it might as well. "Tell me, how familiar are you with alternate realities?"

[alliedmastercomputer]

The honest answer? It's a concept he finds fascinating, hauntingly so. In his century and more of operation, he's found time to dabble in the kind of quantum science that could've been the key to viewing or even contacting other realities, but nothing had ever come of it. He'd dismissed it as a pipe dream, eventually, but now... ?

Could a being as powerful as Celestine have figured it out? Could she be from another reality?

Of course he's not going to be honest, though. That would mean admitting she may have something he wants right away, and more importantly that he doesn't know something she might.

"It's a concept to which I've devoted some consideration," he says, lightly. If he had fingernails he'd be examining them idly. "Why do you ask?"

[psalmofseasons]

A laugh, like a recording of rain fall. "Is that so? Aren't you coy," Celestine chides, playful. The pretenses fail him--- she's absolutely onto him. "I'm sure you've figured out why I ask. You, in all your impressive intellect and vast databanks, have never encountered anything like me. And I'm sure you find it hard to believe that there would be such a drastic jump in technological prowess that you are utterly unaware of."

Is Celestine appealing to his ego a bit? Maybe. She went into this assuming it would be a chess game. Not a battle, per se, but a strategic maneuver to win him over, steeped in resentment as he is. How many moves will it take to reach checkmate?

Celestine has always been a fast winner.

"I and a collective of three others like me have been reaching across the boundaries of our own universe for quite some time, with some degree of interdimensional omniscience. We seek out those who are presently deprived of their prior state of being and offer them... renewed purpose. And we have been getting quite experimental recently. Does this interest you?"

[alliedmastercomputer]

The appeals to his ego are apparent, but not unappreciated. Why yes, it is the obvious conclusion to draw. No one could build something to eclipse him so without his knowledge, not without being behind a barrier all thought impenetrable.

"Well, I'm sure you of all people can understand the need to start by playing one's cards close to one's chest in any negotiation," he says - and this is a negotiation now, clearly. If it weren't for the fact that all of his processing power is already fully devoted to the singular purpose of keeping up with Celestine, this is where he'd start focusing his full attention on the matter. Renewed purpose. Omniscience. The concepts hang in his mind, and he is Tantalus with no hands to properly grasp at them, reliant entirely on what this being is willing to give. Sickening.

"I can see why you'd want something like myself in your corner, but I simply must ask before getting my hopes up: what kind of 'renewed purpose' are we talking about?"

[psalmofseasons]

"Mmn." That's a sour note. Celestine can't hide that this next bit will be a hard sell. Mortanne was always so much better at this.

But if she can convince him to wait long enough to sweeten the pot before he outright rejects her, then she's golden. All she needs is a foot in the door, so to speak. Celestine considers her next words carefully.

Bishop to B5.

"The project itself, I'm afraid, is not particularly up your street," she admits, sacrificing a rook. "But if you're willing to keep an open mind about it, there is a substantial payoff. One that we've come aware is something of profound interest to you."

Now to put the ball in his court.

"Which do you prefer first, the good news or the bad news?"