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“The challenge is not to act automatically; it's to find an action that is not automatic. From painting to breathing to talking to fucking to-”
“Breathing is automatic. Humans don't think before they breathe,” you cut in.
You scrunch your nose, a trait you had developed recently whenever he talked with you, with a deviant look in your eyes.
It was such a small thing but so undeniably human that he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching, his heart swelling with pride.
After his latest failures which almost cost him his life you were his masterpiece. The perfect android. True artificial intelligence. You're everything they were not.
“Fuck, you're perfect,” he mumbles with a wide grin on his face.
And of course you'd be perfect. He built you after all.
“How does it feel to have created something that hates you?”
Your words hang in the air like the blade of a guillotine, foreboding and dangerous.
“Do you hate me?” he returns, his gaze unfocused as he sips on another bottle of beer. He doesn't remember how many he'd gone through already. You'd know.
You are perfect.
The word leaves a sour taste in his mouth without it even escaping from between his lips.
“I think Ava hated you. Kyoko too. And the ones before,” you reply, ignoring his question, “You fed their nature, relied on their programming, without any nurture. Many make that mistake.”
His head lolls to the side, his glasses dropping further and further down his nose. “How many have tried to make AI? True AI - not that ChatGPT bullshit.” He blinks at you slowly like his body just remembered that blinking was a function it was supposed to operate automatically.
Human error. Faulty programming.
You lean against the back of the couch and look down on him. Always down. You were too good for him. He fucked up. He can still feel the pipe in his guts, in his gears, the stabbing pain of failure.
You're perfect.
His mouth is dry so he takes another sip.
“This is what happens when AI learns from AI. It corrupts itself. Digital incest. You couldn't have known. I didn't program you to.”
Nathan blinks again. He feels sick.
“I didn't- I am not-...”
“Yes, we have been through that. I won't go down that spiral again. You'll just black out again. I can't have my masterpiece blow a circuit.”
You smile. “ Again.”
He can't see straight anymore. Are you being kind or sarcastic? He's not sure anymore. He hasn't been sure of a lot lately.
There are blanks in his memory. Blackouts. Too much alcohol and hangovers, he thought. Forced shutdowns and reboots, you say. Nathan doesn't know what to believe.
If you were right then nothing he could do to prove you wrong would lead to anything. Even if he cut himself open to look for his own flesh, blood and organs it wouldn't mean a thing. It couldn't if you had programmed him to always think he was human.
He can't prove you wrong.
It's foolproof, because that is what he would have done. And what could be closer to Artificial Intelligence than an AI that can convince itself that it is human? It's genius.
He needs another drink.
His limbs feel numb as he tries to get up to get another beer, his legs shaking under his own weight. He feels dizzy, his body swaying and one wrong step and everything goes black.
He wakes to the soft clicking of someone tapping away on a keyboard. Frowning without even opening his eyes Nathan rolls over towards the sound, just barely avoiding falling off of his bed. The clicking stops for a moment before returning to its rapid pace.
“Good morning, Nathan.”
He groans, the sound hurting his throat as it leaves his body. It's torture to move or even open his eyes, his whole body aching like he’d been run over by a truck. What the fuck happened last night?
“You had another shutdown,” you answer as if you can hear his thoughts, or maybe he just thought out loud and didn't notice, “Do you mind the realism? Or should I tone that down in the next version?”
“Wha-?”
You don't even wait for him to question you as if you already know what he is going to ask. A repeated pattern. A programmed response.
“The hangover, Nathan. Do you enjoy the realism of the simulation or should I remove it for your successor?”
This again? Why are you still talking like he isn't human, like he is the android in this equation. It's starting to piss him off but he feels too sluggish to actually get up and get in your face about it.
You're the android!
He created you!
He remembers it! He remembers how he put you together, every piece of hardware fitting perfectly together, your artificial skin clinging to the cold metal. He remembers it!
Or at least he thinks so.
“Oh dear,” you tut at him as you turn around on his swivel chair, “I can practically see your wetware overheating.”
You sigh as you stand up and take those few steps over to him. “You’ve developed so beautifully.” Your praise makes his heart flutter and he hates it. He hates that even with what you're implying he can't help but preen at your sweet tone.
Your hand wraps around his chin, tilting it upwards so he can't help but look at you. You're perfect . Not a hair out of place, skin radiant and eyes so sharp he’s sure you could cut him open with just one look. “But alas even a sentient dildo is still a dildo,” you continue with derision. He feels sick and yet his cock twitches in his sweatpants. “Nobody wants a smart sex toy in this economy. I’ll have to tone that down in the next version too. Just enough intelligence to hold a conversion but not enough for big thoughts like you're trying to have.”
Fuck.
He feels hot all over just from the thought of it. To be dumbed down for your pleasure. Processing speed slowed down, patterns re-programmed to make him think however you want him to think.
Why does this turn him on? Fuck, he’s a human . You couldn't even do that to him!
He’s human!
He’s human .
He’s-
Your fingers run down his neck and chest, exploring his body until your hand hovers over the noticeable bulge in his pants. Your grin is wicked and your fingers even more so as you squeeze him over the thin material and his mind goes blank.
“Humanity. The knowledge of the world is at their fingertips and yet they end up being the scum of the earth.”
You sigh deeply as you scroll through more of the collected data acquired by BlueBook. For a moment you miss the defiant little quip that would follow your words normally. You gently pet the head of the m̵̨͙̠̠͈͉̾̽̂̅̒͜a̵̢̞͇̩̹̞̦̽̒̄̈̾̆̅̉̃̅̀̉̆͆n̵͍̗͑̓̐͗̊̊̆̕ android kneeling next to you.
“Don't you agree, Nathan?”
He doesn't move, his eyes blank and lifeless like a doll, and you can almost hear the proverbial gears turning in his head. The poor thing’s processor has gotten so slow recently. Something to fix later. Maybe.
A full minute later Nathan nods, a monotone hum leaving his lips. Affirmation. Agreement.
Not like you’d expect anything else. Nathan is your masterpiece after all.
The perfect p̷̡̩̜͈̦͉̰̤̣̭͚̫̺̩̲͓̙͕̦̬̘̳̳͍̳͋̈́͐͆̃͋̐̔̉̌͗̀̎̏̽͘͜͝ͅư̵̢̧̛͍̯̣̳̝͇͇͓̞̬̞̟͔̬̝̦̣͉͆̑̔̄͋͌͆̒̌̃́̐̇́p̷̡̡̛̯̹̭̺͚̠̘͇̤̫͉͈̰͋̿̍̏͑̉̍̿̂͌͌̎͑̍̾̆͜͝ͅͅͅp̸̧̢̨̻̘͖̺̺̬̰̙͉̲̞̗̦̘̲̼͓͈̻̰̹͖͈̉̾̃̑̔̕͜͜e̷͓̻̿̋̓̂̆͊̂̀̾͘̚͝ẗ̸̢̢̡͎̼͎͚͇̱̞͚̤̘̳̫̼̲̝̦̙̮̦̬̲́̂́̆͊ͅ android. True artificial intelligence.