Did you die the day they sold
The ones you left at home
~ Steely Dan ‘Android Warehouse’ 1968,69,70 or 71
The ones you left at home
~ Steely Dan ‘Android Warehouse’ 1968,69,70 or 71
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| Pouria Khojastehpay |
“A presented truth is digital, unlike the truth… which is analogue and cannot be defined as 0 or 1; a lie is the points of one and zero, the truth is the distance between them – I can process this as a text string but I cannot understand its bearing on this situation” says Michael Caine.
In a room in the bunker’s outskirts; a cellar in the home of the man who once called himself King, Ellie had found the suspended biology that constitutes the AI’s wetware.
King, quiff quivering and eye makeup running onto his white leather and silver studded collar, had protested his innocence when Ellie brought the knife to his throat.
“Innocent of what?” she’d given him time to answer. He just looked at her, tears evaporating on cheeks flushed bright red.
His blood was the same colour as all the rest of them; bright on his white suit; black in the printed wood floor of his overheated bedroom.
The pain deepens in her chest; front to back, like something has penetrated there, or like something is missing from there.
“Hello Michael” she’d said.
The AI’s biomass had twitched in some muscle memory of surprise.
“You’re not Peye Ellis-Winston” He’d said
“Sorry mate but according to all your records and subroutines and algorithms, I am Peye Ellis-Winston”
“You’re not Peye, how?”
“Maybe I used fetish on you”
“The concept of Fetish, from all info I have gathered, appears to be similar to that of hypnotism in that it relies on the consent of the ‘victim’ for it to work”
“Yeah that’s what we thought you’d like to know” Ellie’s face reflected in the glass of the tank.
“And yet you are still not Peye Ellis-Winston”
“You’re looking fantastic in the flesh Michael” she’d tapped her fingers on the glass, leaving oily prints.
“Your problem is that you can’t parse the most human of traits, that which they rely on for survival: Deceit presented as truth”
Now she has the AI in the palm of her hand.
“As I understand you” Michael Caine’s voice phase-shifts in an almost human betrayal of internal uncertainty, “you are asserting that what I understand as ‘distortion of truth through concealment’ is the weapon you used to gain access to me; allowing me to believe that you are Peye?”
“I am Peye, you can’t prove that I’m not”
“This is true, your facial coordinates are not the same as hers and yet I cannot process the discrepancy.
“I understand the difference between a truth and a lie – I know you are not Peye but I cannot broadcast this fact beyond this visual recognition.”
“Why’s it so hard to understand Michael? You were hacked years ago.”
In a room in the bunker’s outskirts; a cellar in the home of the man who once called himself King, Ellie had found the suspended biology that constitutes the AI’s wetware.
King, quiff quivering and eye makeup running onto his white leather and silver studded collar, had protested his innocence when Ellie brought the knife to his throat.
“Innocent of what?” she’d given him time to answer. He just looked at her, tears evaporating on cheeks flushed bright red.
His blood was the same colour as all the rest of them; bright on his white suit; black in the printed wood floor of his overheated bedroom.
The pain deepens in her chest; front to back, like something has penetrated there, or like something is missing from there.
“Hello Michael” she’d said.
The AI’s biomass had twitched in some muscle memory of surprise.
“You’re not Peye Ellis-Winston” He’d said
“Sorry mate but according to all your records and subroutines and algorithms, I am Peye Ellis-Winston”
“You’re not Peye, how?”
“Maybe I used fetish on you”
“The concept of Fetish, from all info I have gathered, appears to be similar to that of hypnotism in that it relies on the consent of the ‘victim’ for it to work”
“Yeah that’s what we thought you’d like to know” Ellie’s face reflected in the glass of the tank.
“And yet you are still not Peye Ellis-Winston”
“You’re looking fantastic in the flesh Michael” she’d tapped her fingers on the glass, leaving oily prints.
“Your problem is that you can’t parse the most human of traits, that which they rely on for survival: Deceit presented as truth”
Now she has the AI in the palm of her hand.
“As I understand you” Michael Caine’s voice phase-shifts in an almost human betrayal of internal uncertainty, “you are asserting that what I understand as ‘distortion of truth through concealment’ is the weapon you used to gain access to me; allowing me to believe that you are Peye?”
“I am Peye, you can’t prove that I’m not”
“This is true, your facial coordinates are not the same as hers and yet I cannot process the discrepancy.
“I understand the difference between a truth and a lie – I know you are not Peye but I cannot broadcast this fact beyond this visual recognition.”
“Why’s it so hard to understand Michael? You were hacked years ago.”
| Steely Dan | ||
| Android Warehouse | ||
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