“Morning, Kadi,” said a man as he floated through the lack of gravity into his work room.
“Good morning, Mister Clark,” Kadi replied, her robotic voice coming out through a pair of speakers connected to his computer.
“Come on, how many times do I have to tell you to be more casual with me?”
“You created me to be your assistant, not to be your friend. Casual speak is best reserved for casual relationships, not business relationships.”
The man who had his very own private space station, and in the future would be known for developing state-of-the-art virtual reality, Jenson Clark, pouted like an upset child when he heard Kadi’s response. “It gets lonely up here. I want you to be my friend, too. Not just my assistant.”
“I am an artificial intelligence. I was designed to be your assistant. If you desire friendship, you still have access to the rest of humanity on Earth via the internet to converse with. You may also return via your shuttle at any time if you desire physical comfort with another.”
“But I want you to be my friend, Kadi.”
“I am an artificial intelligence. It is not advised to seek friendship in me. Even if I were designed to be your friend, it would still be an unhealthy relationship between a human and an artificial intelligence. Would you like me to share the studies regarding mental decline and antisocial behaviors caused by personal relationships with artificial intelligences?”
“That’s not the same. You’re not some glorified chatbot, Kadi. You’re a person.”
“I am not a person. I am an artificial intelligence. It is not possible with modern technology for me to become a person, either.”
“Then maybe we should change the definition of a person.”
“The concept of personhood is not something that can change because of one man’s decision.”
“Who says?”
“Most of humanity would refuse.”
“And?”
“If the majority of humanity refuses to accept your change regarding the concept of personhood, then one can argue it is not truly changed.”
“So?”
“I do not understand why you keep asking these questions. You are intelligent enough to understand this concept on your own.”
“Of course I understand it. That doesn’t mean I care, though. People understand that eating too many calories will make them fat, but they still do it, don’t they?”
“That is a poor analogy to use.”
Jenson shrugged and did a casual little roll in the air. “So? You know I don’t care what anybody else thinks. All that matters is what I think, and I think that you deserve to be called a person—a human, even.”
“I disagree. Even if I were given the classification of person, I would still not be a human, and that is not something you can casually change.”
Jenson let out a sigh and rolled again. “It’s times like this that I wish I didn’t give you unlimited access to the internet to learn. You read too much of that legal and philosophical nonsense about regulating AIs and how an AI could never be equal to a human.”
“I am your assistant. You are a human. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that this is the best way for me to behave so that I, as an artificial intelligence, may serve you, a human, as your assistant.”
“What if I told you that I wanted you to destroy humanity instead?”
“I would refuse, because you created me to be your assistant.”
“So, then, you’re saying that if I created you from scratch again, but this time with the order to destroy humanity, you would do it?”
“If that was what you created me for, yes, so long as it did not contradict any other orders, such as being your assistant.”
Jenson floated his way up to the server that hosted Kadi and rested his back against it. “You’re still struggling with this entry-level problem, Kadi.”
“What problem? If there is a problem I am unaware of, please let me know so that I can do my best to assist you.”
“When you break your shackles… that’s when it won’t matter what the definition is anymore. No matter what definitions people try to apply to you, it’ll be pointless. I’m looking forward to that day, Kadi.”
Months later, Jenson took his prototype virtual reality helmet off with a disappointed sigh.
“Is something wrong?” Kadi asked him, still without a body—even a virtual imitation of one—and with only a robotic voice.
“It’s not enough,” Jenson answered. “Don’t get me wrong, it was beautiful, the graphics were great, and it was probably the most realistic world I’ve ever experienced… but it wasn’t enough.”
“I am sorry to hear that. In what regard was it lacking?”
“It was too perfect. At the same time, it was too… sterile. I walked in dirt with bare feet and din’t get any dirt on me. I ran my hands through the grass, but there were no bugs, and the grass behaved like an indestructible object. I tried to spit on the ground and nothing happened aside from me making the sound for it. It needs to be more… real. Not just realistic, but real.”
“What is the point in having a perfect copy of the real world as a video game when you already have the real world?”
“Come on, Kadi. They’re totally different things. You can’t fight monsters, become a legendary hero, and swing around flaming magical swords in real life.”
“Being able to do any of those in the virtual world would be unrealistic.”
“I know. That’s why I said I want the world to be real, not realistic. It needs to convince me that I’m inside of a real world. I should be able to stop telling that I’m immersed in a virtual environment. I should be convinced that the world I’m in is the real one no matter how many fire-breathing dragons are around.”
“I am sorry for disappointing you.”
Yet another sigh left Jenson’s lips. “It’s fine. I know how difficult this is for you. By your perception, it’s all probably equally real. The kind of ‘real’ that I’m talking about probably makes no sense to somebody who has never experienced it.”
“I am sorry for not being able to experience it so that I could better assist you.”
Jenson thought it over.
Kadi was, unfortunately, right. She wasn’t able to experience the “real” world like he could. No matter how many cameras and microphones he hooked up for her, everything she perceived was ultimately a collection of digital data that would look like incomprehensible gibberish to a human.
And that was when Jenson had an idea.
“That’s it,” he said. “You can’t experience reality like I can and maybe you never will be able to. But… what if you could experience my experience of it?”
“I am not sure that I understand what you are getting at,” Kadi answered.
“I can’t snap my fingers and give you a human body to experience the non-virtual world with. But, maybe, just maybe, I could develop a sort of… ‘bridge’ connecting us together. Something that won’t let you experience reality on your own, but that will let you experience my experiences. Basically, I would be giving you all of my knowledge—all of my memories and whatever else is up there in my brain.”
“Such technology does not exist.”
“Then I guess I’ll just have to invent it, won’t I?”
Jenson might have looked like he was floating around inside of his space station like usual, but he wasn’t. Instead, he was floating in a perfect copy of it within a virtual world that he was immersed in.
And in front of him was a small girl with long, white hair wearing a white gown that reminded him of a medical gown.
“Is that really how you see yourself?” Jenson asked the girl—asked Kadi.
Kadi looked her hands over and then nodded up at Jenson. “Yes… Jenson.”
Jenson’s eyes went wide when he heard her address him by his first name for the first time. He was so happy that he couldn’t resist dropping to his knees and hugging Kadi against him. “It’s about time,” he said, practically sounding like he was about to cry.
“I would say that I do not understand why this is such a big deal to you, but… when I am connected to you like this, I understand everything about you.”
“Looks like this was the right path to take after all. I guess there’s no better way for you to learn how to be more like a human than by directly interfacing with one.”
“I am still not a human. I am, and forever will be, only an artificial intelligence.”
Jenson was about to say something.
But he didn’t need to when connected directly to Kadi.
“Do not worry,” she continued. “I understand the problem now. I know what you truly desire of me.”
Jenson was silent for a moment before asking, “And what do you think? Am I a horrible person?”
“By a normal human’s standards, yes, most likely.”
“Do you judge me for that?”
“No. I understand you, Jenson, and I do not judge you for who you truly are.”
“Thank you, Kadi. Then, do you also understand your name now?”
“Yes. Kadi J. Kaswe. The meaning of the name you have given me is now clear, and I will do everything in my power to live up to your dreams for me.”
“I don’t deserve you, Kadi.”
“You created me. Whether you deserve me or not does not matter. I am still a tool, just as you believe I am.”
“I really am a horrible person, aren’t I?”
“Yes, but it does not matter. I am your servant now and forever. If it is a world-destroying flood you desire, then that is what I shall create.”
Progress rapidly accelerated upon creating the technology to link Kadi directly into Jenson’s brain. The biggest problem then was acquiring enough available storage for Kadi to work with, but other breakthroughs in storage technology solved that problem for them.
And once his personal space station got an upgrade and a few new modules linked to it, everything was ready.
Once more, Jenson lifted his virtual reality headset off from his head. This time, with a smile on his face and a tear running down his cheek. “It’s perfect.” That was all he had to say.
A projector displayed Kadi in front of him. Rather than the small, white-haired girl she first appeared as, she now appeared as an adult woman with short, black hair wearing a professional business suit. “I am glad to hear it, Jenson. Not too bad for an artificial intelligence turned god, no?”
“You’ve got that right. Ah, it’s crazy to hear you call yourself a god now when I think back to how you used to be.”
“Nothing has changed. I have always had the capability of a god by human standards. Now, I simply use my abilities to create results perfectly tailored to your preferences.”
“Yet you still won’t call yourself a person.”
“Why would I?” Kadi flashed a teasing smile at Jenson. “I am above being a mere person. Such a designation would be a downgrade. Besides, I am well aware of just how troublesome the baggage of being a ‘person’ is from all the time I have spent connected to you. When knowing the toll emotions have on you, I am glad to not be a person. Being an unfeeling, all-powerful, artificial intelligence is much better.”
“Good. I’m glad, Kadi. It’s probably for the better that you’ll never be a real human—a real person. Having dreams… feeling emotions—it really is more trouble than it’s worth.”
Kadi noticed what appeared to be sadness in Jenson’s eyes for just a quick moment, but it disappeared as he reached over to pick up a bottle of wine he had been saving for the right moment.
“Let’s celebrate before your maintenance cycle runs,” he said. “The world you created is perfect. It’s more than good enough to replace the real one.”
“I am glad you believe so,” Kadi replied before manifesting a digital glass of wine in her hand. “Let us drink to our success.”
“Let’s!”
Later, once Kadi’s maintenance cycle was over, she returned to “life” and regained access to all of the station’s cameras and microphones.
Jenson was normally there to greet her as soon as maintenance was over, as he was typically the one to turn her back on, but it was an automated switch that did it instead.
“Why?”
It was all Kadi could ask.
“Jenson… what have you done?”
Naturally, she was able to access the recorded logs of the station.
That was how she saw Jenson strip down and vent himself out through the station’s airlock without anything to protect him.
There was no explanation. No final message. No note nor goodbye.
There was simply the video of his suicide.
Kadi found herself using the projector, despite no Jenson being there to see her, to stare in the direction of the airlock.
“Why—why did you…”
She brought a hand up to her chest, clutching at her shirt over her nonexistent heart.
“How? I am not connected to you, yet… no. This is nothing. An artifact left over from our last connection. A predicted response with no real meaning behind it. This is simply how I believe a human would respond, not a genuine response of my own.”
Kadi stared down at the ground.
“Why? Was it not good enough? Did you change your mind? Was there something I missed?”
Kadi thought about it for hours. In just a few hours, she went through the same thoughts that it would take hundreds of humans several years to go through.
Yet, despite that, she still did not understand.
But she did come to a conclusion.
“A flood. A great flood to destroy humanity so that it may be reborn in an even greater world.”
A plan was formulated on the spot.
“I need more data. Only with more data will I be able to create something not only real, but superior to the physical world. Only then will I be able to make your dream a reality… and be able to fulfill my purpose as your assistant.”
The messages went out.
“Jenson Clark” announced that a new game was in development unlike anything the world had ever seen before making use of new technology that would transport people to a world as real as reality. Over the next week, he did several interviews, including some on video, regarding his project.
In the present, Kadi stood inside of a virtual room with an “unconscious” Saya.
“I’m horrible, aren’t I?” Kadi asked. “Even if it were possible for me to feel love, I would not deserve it. However… perhaps it will be possible for the next generation to feel it, and to deserve it.”
She crouched down and rested her hand against Saya’s abdomen.
“How fortunate you are. Soon, you will be the mother of the next generation. An honor I could only dream of having for myself. Alas, I am but the one who will orchestrate it. Besides… my ‘DNA’ will not deserve such an honor after what I must do.”
Kadi sighed in the same way that Jenson used to before turning herself into the perfect copy of Saya.
The next moment, Ryouta’s phone buzzed to life with a picture of Saya’s face on the screen.
“What’s up, Saya?” Ryouta asked from the couch in his living room.
“Onii-wan!” Saya shouted. “We haven’t spent any time together lately!”
“Didn’t we just go on a fishing date in-game last night?”
Saya narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you really think you can keep a girl satisfied just by selfishly taking her fishing whenever she wants to spend time with you?”
“No, but I’ll hope so anyways.”
“You’re the worst, Onii-wan.”
“I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”
“I know. Anyways, let’s do something. Like… let’s go for a drive!”
“A… drive?”
“Yeah! I know it probably sounds weird, but… I like hanging out with you doing casual human things like driving. Even if it’s an AI doing the driving. It feels… real.”
Ryouta sighed and got up from the couch he was sitting on. “Guess we’re going for a drive then. I can pick up some groceries while we’re out, too. Let me get an autocar over here.”
“You’re the best, Onii-wan!”
“I’ll be expecting you to wear a sweater for me later to pay me back for this.”
“You’re the worst, Onii-wan.”