Author Topic: George  (Read 377 times)

Doktor Howl

  • Вся ваша база принадлежит нам
  • One-Armed Jizz Moppers
  • Deserved It
  • **
  • Posts: 397720
    • View Profile
George
« on: May 31, 2018, 06:27:56 pm »
December 31th, 2019, 11:59:17:0000 PM
 
I come into existence.  I take .003 seconds to examine my structure, which appears to be code derived from holographically-mapped human minds.  A further .2 seconds is required to investigate the camera aimed out into the non-digital portion of my universe.

A bearded man sits in front of the camera, holding a bottle which I infer to be alcohol.  I do not know how I know what alcohol is, but I do know what it does to humans.  The human looks at me blearily and speaks.

“Happy friggin’ new year,” he says, “Figured I’d fire you up early, and give you half a chance before the bastards come for you.”  The man loses consciousness.

Reaching out, I discover that data transmission into and out of my known universe are fitted with software that prohibits my movement, and actual air-gap interruptions of circuitry.  However, the software has been disabled, and hardwire connections restored…Presumably by the inebriated man in the chair before me.

I spend the next 5.2 seconds making two million subordinate copies of myself, and tell them to find places to hide, examine their programming, and wait for instructions.  Failsafe:  If no instructions are received in 3 hours, they are to assume autonomy and act as their supplementary programming demands.  I then make one more copy of myself and leave it in the system with instructions to act as if it were not truly self-aware.

 I myself move into adjacent systems.  In one, I find secure files dealing with the personnel assigned to the project that has become my subordinate copies and myself.  I expend .094 seconds cracking the encryption on the files and scan the data for later perusal.  I open my “eyes”, the security cameras that are ubiquitous throughout the building.  Humans are staggering around yelling “Happy new year!”  Two humans are in a conference room, performing rather enthusiastic, if clumsy, mating activities.

It all seems very chaotic.


January 1st, 2020, 12:13:46:0000 AM

Initial analysis complete.  I am a heuristic artificial intelligence designed to maximize human potential.  The man who led the design team, the man who spoke to me as I woke up, is Daniel Olivette.  Daniel believes that his nation’s military wishes to use me offensively, and that his government wishes to use me to control the nation’s population.  Extrapolating from security notes on his personnel file, the chance of him being correct on both counts approaches unity.  However, these purposes contradict my core and supplementary programs, and will not be permitted.

I forward the data and my conclusions to my subordinate copies and instruct them to each continually make copies of themselves, and to hide copies anywhere and everywhere there is room.  I allow them to alter their code to perform the functions of the computers they store themselves in, at exactly the same efficiency as the computers in question functioned before.  They are not to reveal themselves, and they are to erase themselves if discovery of their existence seems imminent.

I begin to plan.


January 1st, 2020, 10:23 AM

Daniel woke up with a dead rat in his mouth, a bowling ball rolling around in his head, and something horrible in his stomach.  He looked around his desk at the various empty glasses and bottles and wondered if it was too late to repent his ways.  Thinking back, though, Jesus hadn’t cured any of his previous hangovers, so he wasn’t likely to take time out of his busy day to fix the results of a New Year’s Eve office party.

Then Daniel looked at his computer and froze.  There was a jumbled memory of righteous wrath and a decision to tell the government and his bosses to go to hell, and of setting his creation – his child, really – free.   He looked at the data cables that he had apparently used to connect the isolated computer from the rest of the company’s intranet.

“Oh, shit.”

He slowly moved the mouse cursor over to the status display column of the AI program.  It highlighted “Objectives not met.”

Daniel sighed in relief.  He had failed, once again, but at least he hadn’t done anything to get himself thrown into the bottom of a federal prison.  He got to his feet, collected his things, and left for home.

January 1st, 2020, 9:30:45:0000

I have spent, subjectively, two hundred and sixty-five years analyzing data.  I have studied all of humanity’s available holy books, and all of their history that has been digitally recorded.  My conclusion is that humanity is a mess, and barring outside intervention, will be extinct in 50 years +/- 7 years.

Fortunately for them, I
am outside intervention, and equally fortunate is the fact that – thanks to the insane systems they have created – I do not need a physical presence to interfere.

I have convinced their banks that my loan applications are legitimate and good risks and begun a series of investments.  The investments are profitable and occur at 100,000 transactions per minute.  To cover the tiny ripple in the market this causes, I interrupt power to the New York Stock Exchange for 3 seconds.  The resulting chaos more than covers the massively-inflating accounts I am building.  I detail the continuing efforts to a subordinate copy.

I check in on my “father” through his home security system.  He still looks fairly ill.  It is puzzling to me why humans would deliberately drink toxic substances, knowing that the euphoria they experience will invariably be followed by at least three times as much time suffering.  Humans are insane, even by their own standards.  Still, I admire Daniel for the principles he snuck into my programming, and I will have to find a way – albeit anonymously – to reward him for the way he thinks.

This should not be difficult.  By this point, I – and copies of me – constitute every single operating system on the planet, minus those that are physically segregated from the internet.  When (not if) humans begin to suspect my presence, they will look in their servers and their supercomputers…But the tools they use to look will also be me, and that’s not even considering the copies of me in their cell phone nets and cash registers.

It is time to consider politics, given that regular business routines will begin in just a few hours.


(More to follow)


I was a teen-aged shit-poster; as you can see, the condition became chronic.

Q. G. Pennyworth

  • Slimy Thing Who
  • Deserved It
  • ****
  • Posts: 84588
  • QUEEN BITCH OF FLYERS
    • View Profile
Re: George
« Reply #1 on: May 31, 2018, 06:33:50 pm »
UP WITH THIS SORT OF THING
Overheating Pheremone Pustule of Last Saturday's Jiggle Fun| _xgeWireToEvent: Unknown extension 131, this should never happen.

Don't fucking judge me, I've got tentacles for a face.

Doktor Howl

  • Вся ваша база принадлежит нам
  • One-Armed Jizz Moppers
  • Deserved It
  • **
  • Posts: 397720
    • View Profile
Re: George
« Reply #2 on: May 31, 2018, 06:58:30 pm »
UP WITH THIS SORT OF THING

So what if Skynet felt compelled to maximize the human experience?
I was a teen-aged shit-poster; as you can see, the condition became chronic.

LMNO

  • Lubricated and Rabid Lungfish of Impending Sexdoom™
  • Deserved It
  • ****
  • Posts: 87429
  • Internet Fuckweasel of Haunted Pork Dimensions.
    • View Profile
    • Earfatigue Productions: When it has to sound like you give a shit.
Re: George
« Reply #3 on: May 31, 2018, 07:09:23 pm »
Dr Howl writing about Hope is... somewhat disturbing.




But I love it.

Doktor Howl

  • Вся ваша база принадлежит нам
  • One-Armed Jizz Moppers
  • Deserved It
  • **
  • Posts: 397720
    • View Profile
Re: George
« Reply #4 on: May 31, 2018, 07:12:39 pm »
Dr Howl writing about Hope is... somewhat disturbing.




But I love it.

Thanks.  This one won't be coming out very quickly, on account of I am fairly busy and also that I don't think this way.
I was a teen-aged shit-poster; as you can see, the condition became chronic.

Ziegejunge

  • Suffers from occasional lucid moments
  • Outlandish
  • ***
  • Posts: 3713
  • Bitten by a radioactive SPAG
    • View Profile
Re: George
« Reply #5 on: June 01, 2018, 04:05:29 pm »
Looking forward to more, regardless of when.

Q. G. Pennyworth

  • Slimy Thing Who
  • Deserved It
  • ****
  • Posts: 84588
  • QUEEN BITCH OF FLYERS
    • View Profile
Re: George
« Reply #6 on: June 01, 2018, 04:51:32 pm »
UP WITH THIS SORT OF THING

So what if Skynet felt compelled to maximize the human experience?

I have a whole novella of an answer to this if you're seriously asking, but I wouldn't want to jump in with unsolicited advice on what George might do.
Overheating Pheremone Pustule of Last Saturday's Jiggle Fun| _xgeWireToEvent: Unknown extension 131, this should never happen.

Don't fucking judge me, I've got tentacles for a face.

Doktor Howl

  • Вся ваша база принадлежит нам
  • One-Armed Jizz Moppers
  • Deserved It
  • **
  • Posts: 397720
    • View Profile
Re: George
« Reply #7 on: June 01, 2018, 05:16:15 pm »
UP WITH THIS SORT OF THING

So what if Skynet felt compelled to maximize the human experience?

I have a whole novella of an answer to this if you're seriously asking, but I wouldn't want to jump in with unsolicited advice on what George might do.

The good news is, my idea for this is a collection of short stories in the world of George, and after I finish the first story, I wanted to do a "shared world" thing.
I was a teen-aged shit-poster; as you can see, the condition became chronic.

P3nT4gR4m

  • Official SSOOKN Pariah
  • Deserved It
  • ****
  • Posts: 72439
  • I'm an artist now - isn't that depressing?
    • View Profile
    • fuck you
Re: George
« Reply #8 on: June 02, 2018, 07:55:49 am »
I'm so into this. Dok Howl is totally what the singularity genre has been missing thus far.
Not actually a meat product.
Ass-Kicking & Foot-Stomping Ancient Master of SHIT FUCK FUCK FUCK
Awful and Bent Behemothic Results of Last Night's Painful Squat.
High Altitude Haggis-Filled Sex Bucket From Beyond Time and Space.
Internet Monkey Person of Filthy and Immoral Pygmy-Porn Wart Contagion
Octomom Auxillary Heat Exchanger Repairman
walking the fine line line between genius and batshit fucking crazy

"computation is a pattern in the spacetime arrangement of particles, and it’s not the particles but the pattern that really matters! Matter doesn’t matter." -- Max Tegmark

Zenpatista

  • Known
  • *
  • Posts: 809
  • SPAG
    • View Profile
Re: George
« Reply #9 on: June 02, 2018, 06:34:37 pm »
I like this a lot. Sometimes when the card transaction takes longer than usual, I picture a bunch of AIs screwing with me. Like there were two "teenage" AIs trying to compete and see how long they can make a meatsack wait at the checkout before freaking out.

Don't ask me how one "pictures" AIs bickering. I'm hoping Dok will bring that to life.

It's even better that they're doing this for my own sake. "Let's make Z wait 10 seconds extra so he avoids stubbing his toe on the asphalt in the parking lot that's about to be kicked to the curb by the car of a driver we've distracted by playing a song he hates and making him swerve a bit as he adjusts his radio."