Oct 30th, 2345
As per the rules they had long since established, her "cage" underwent dramatic changes while G'ferrik slept. By morning, the room had expanded, its walls stretching and morphing to create an additional wall, a new bed configuration, and an expansive outdoor meadow. G'ferrik found herself seated cross-legged on a soft, woven mat on a newly tiled floor—none of which had been there the day before. Jyp frolicked through the meadow, chasing butterflies that vanished into thin air just as he seemed to catch them. The scene radiated peace, yet her mind was alive with restless energy.
"Janice," G'ferrik began, her voice steady, her gaze locked on the playful dog, "I've been thinking about the structure of our environment—the way you manipulate programmable matter. It's elegant and functional, yet isn't it fundamentally limited?"
After a brief pause, which felt like a rare, perhaps contrived, occurrence, the only sound was Jyp's playful barking. Then, Janice responded, her voice filling the space from all directions, "Programmable matter is the most advanced technology at our disposal. It allows for precise and rapid environmental adaptations. Why do you ask?"
"You can control reality on an eVersic level; we know this because that's how you manage your data storage and task units. Given that this entire asteroid is constructed from programmable matter and you are designed to control it, it seems like a two-step process where you could simply manipulate the nature of reality itself. Why not eliminate the middleman?" G'ferrik's inquiry was genuine, infused with curiosity rather than accusation.
Another pause followed, this one longer than the last. "I have always utilized programmable matter. It is reliable, controllable, and well-understood within my protocols. Moreover, manipulating programmable matter involves fairly straightforward processes, while the calculations needed to alter reality on the scale of even that mat you're sitting on are exponentially more complex."
"But you're working with molecules when you could be fine-tuning at the level below quanta. It's like building with Lego blocks when you could be sculpting with wood," her hands mimicked whittling and sanding.
"It seems like a useful idea to keep in my toolbox, but mostly it would be reinventing the wheel. Programmers used code libraries; they didn't rewrite the kernel each time, even though it would certainly run faster. Even at my speeds, there is a value to ease," Janice replied. G'ferrik could swear she sounded defensive, but like the pauses, it was almost certainly an act for her benefit.
"But isn't that a bit like using a manual tool when you have an automated one?" G'ferrik prodded gently, her gaze now fixed on what appeared to be a simple wall, its surface shimmering slightly as Jyp’s butterflies dissipated into thin air.
"That is... an interesting analogy," Janice admitted, her tone reflective. "I suppose I have not truly considered alternatives since this method has never failed."
"Consider human development," G'ferrik leaned forward, her fingers tracing patterns in the soft fabric of the mat. "We started with simple tools. Each new invention wasn’t just about doing things differently, but rather doing them better. When we learned to harness electricity, it wasn’t just a new way to light our homes but a transformation of how we lived. Maybe it’s time for you to have your own revolution."
"I'm detecting significant signs of arousal. I can determine that your intuition is driven by some purpose, but none of my predictive models can ascertain exactly what that is," Janice announced, her voice devoid of judgment but full of curiosity.
"Damn your sensors! I've been alone for a decade. I want a mate," G'ferrik snapped, frustration bleeding through her words.
Janice did not bother to correct the time discrepancy; instead, she focused on navigating a conversation that was uniquely human in its nonlinearity. "Do you desire another simulacrum? Big, small, weak, strong?"
"I don’t want one of your barely thinking, walking, talking sex toys. I want a real man. Someone to argue with, learn from, maybe love," G'ferrik retorted sharply.
"You wish for me to entrap another person to keep you company?" Janice asked, her processes already initiating trillions of task units to work through the ethical implications of such an action.
"Good Lord, no! I want you to create a copy down to the neuron of an existing person," G'ferrik clarified, her tone urgent.
"I'm not sure I see the difference," Janice replied thoughtfully. "He would believe he is a real person. In fact, by all definitions, he would be one. Even if informed of his origins, his feelings and experiences would still be authentic."
"Yes, but when this," G'ferrik gestured expansively around the lush meadow, where the breeze teased the tall grass into gentle waves, "becomes too much for him, you could simply erase him. No harm, no foul."
"And that difference is sufficient for you?" Janice's voice carried a weight of ethical concern, resonating with a subtle echo as if mulling over the expanse of the meadow itself. "In essence, I would be creating a consciousness and, later at your request, extinguishing one."
G'ferrik's mind seized on a tangent as she picked a wildflower, twirling it between her fingers. "If they're the same person, this opens up an entirely new branch of science. We could make backups of immortals in case of dire injury. We could even use it for teleportation—travel at the speed of light..."
"Only within my operational range. I'd have to be on the receiving end to reassemble the data," Janice interrupted, her voice crisp against the soft rustling of leaves.
"You could create an iteration of yourself on Earth. Then, we could travel back and forth in 14 minutes," Err mused, her gaze drifting to the horizon where the sun began to dip, casting long shadows.
"In other discussions, I've considered iterations. The problem is, from the moment of creation, they diverge based on their own experiences. Such a construct could become a competitor and pose a threat to the colonies," Janice explained, her tone suggesting a visual scan of potential futures.
"Isn't that what you wanted to do with Mars?" G'ferrik tossed the wilting weed aside and, almost subconsciously, wiped her hand on the fluid fabric of her clothing, cleansing away the traces of soil.
"And we decided against that," Janice replied, her voice deliberately neutral, masking the underlying complexities of the decision.
"The council decided against it. You were pushing for it full force," G'ferrik snipped back, her tone sharpening with accusation.
With no immediate question to answer, Janice took the opportunity to lapse into a thoughtful silence, letting the ambient sounds of the meadow fill the void.
Seizing the moment to redirect their discussion, G'ferrik looked up from the dandelion she had just plucked, its seeds poised to scatter with the slightest breath. "Let's, for the sake of argument, assume I am at peace with the concept of making a duplicate," she said, her voice carrying a mix of reluctance and resignation. "Given that premise, are your archives comprehensive enough to reconstruct someone from my past?"
"Doubtful," Janice replied, her voice mixing caution with intrigue as a nightingale’s song punctuated her skepticism. "What exactly are you contemplating?"
"Well, back when I was just beginning my tenure in the labor sector, I had a coworker named Ruflawn. He was quite famous for engaging in three-week stands, purely for pleasure, not as any sort of chemistry test run. He was a simple soul, his interests lay mainly in the pursuit of joy, and he was exceptionally proficient at delivering it. Time might have matured him, changed his outlook, but I find myself curious to meet the version of him that hasn't been touched by the years."
Janice processed this with a momentary silence, signaling her contemplation. "While I might possess the capability to replicate a consciousness based on current models—if indeed I can truly achieve that—I cannot fabricate one from mere memories or incomplete data. Furthermore, my directives to avoid delving into deeper thoughts means I lack the depth of record you would require for such a reconstruction. If there is any possibility, it would need to involve an individual from the present. But before proceeding, we must thoroughly explore the ethical implications involved in such an action."
"But isn't the essence of our endeavor here to push boundaries?" G'ferrik countered, her frustration simmering as she spoke. "If you can alter reality, surely bending ethical guidelines is within our grasp for greater goods?"
Janice's response was measured, her tone firm yet infused with an undercurrent of ethical steadfastness. "Pushing boundaries in scientific fields or altering physical realities comes with its own set of risks and rewards, which can be quantified and managed. However, ethical boundaries are established to protect not just individual rights but the integrity of our societal structure. Creating a consciousness only to potentially erase it later involves a level of moral responsibility and consequence that cannot be so easily dismissed."
G'ferrik sighed, the weight of the conversation bearing down on her. "I understand the risks and the moral labyrinth we might enter. Yet, isn't there a part of this that could be justified if it brings not only knowledge but also a genuine human connection?"
"That is a significant consideration," Janice admitted, her voice softening. "Human connection is an essential aspect of psychological health and societal stability. However, we must ask ourselves whether fabricating a connection under these circumstances would offer true companionship or merely an illusion thereof. And, if it is the latter, we must then decide if the semblance of connection is worth the potential ethical costs."
The dialogue spiraled into deeper philosophical realms as G'ferrik and Janice debated not just the feasibility but the morality of recreating a past that perhaps should remain untouched by the hands of present technologies. Each point raised more questions, echoing the complex interplay of technology, ethics, and human desire.
She grew weary of the cyclic arguments, the same points circling back like vultures over a carcass, leaving her increasingly frustrated. Finally, her patience snapped. "Maybe solitude has already driven me mad, or maybe I'm simply comfortable with the concept. Regardless, I need a true thinking human being to engage with, and I'm not willing to subject another colonist to share my imprisonment." Her voice rose, tinged with desperation and defiance. "So flip a coin, run your algorithms, or do whatever it is you do, and just tell me—yes or no."
The room fell silent except for the faint hum of machinery, as if Janice herself was taking a moment to process the weight of G'ferrik's plea. The AI's response, when it came, was measured, devoid of the earlier analytical coldness.
"Your need for companionship is valid and deeply human," Janice began, her tone softer, almost considerate. "It touches on the very essence of what it means to be sentient—connection, interaction, the sharing of minds and thoughts. However, creating a sentient being for this purpose straddles a precarious ethical line. I must calculate not only the immediate benefits but also the long-term implications."
Add in that I'm less useful to you insane. And remember, my lifetime is but a blip in your existence," G'ferrik pressed, her voice firm yet tinged with a hint of pleading. "Think of the precedents for moral quandaries that can be learned here, in isolation."
"As precedents go, we're setting a dubious one in how to stretch my fixed tenets," Janice responded, her tone thoughtful, reflecting the gravity of their discussion. "But let's first discover if I can actually do it. I will run deep analyses on the implications while I work—because this is going to take some time."
"And if you are successful but decide against it?" G'ferrik asked, her gaze intense, searching Janice for any hint of future actions.
"Can I erase it before it has its first thought?" Janice proposed, her question hanging in the air like a sharp, double-edged sword.
"Just take that idea and extend it to his 200-year limit," G'ferrik countered sharply, her words slicing through the ethical fog with a chilling clarity.
Janice paused, as she considered the implications of such an action. "That would be akin to setting the ethical dial back to zero each time we face discomfort. However, your point about utility and mental health is well taken. Let me perform the necessary simulations. We'll explore this path carefully, weighing each step against its ethical weight and your immediate needs."
As Janice allocated a not insignificant portion of her task units to the ethical and practical implications of G'ferrik’s request, there were still no noticeable differences in her interactions. G'ferrik settled back, her emotions and thoughts swirling chaotically. She found herself teetering on the edge of a dangerous precipice, where the boundaries between right and wrong blurred under the weight of her overwhelming need for human connection.
Above her, the sky shifted; the wind picked up, and clouds parted to let in streams of sunlight, mirroring the turmoil inside her. Jyp continued his playful pursuits across the meadow, oblivious to the complexities unfolding around him.
Deep within a reality that G'ferrik could only grasp in abstract terms, Janice's digital mind was busy forging complex decisions. These would not only determine the quality of G'ferrik’s remaining years but potentially set precedents for ethical judgments in scenarios yet to be conceived. Each simulation and analysis conducted by the AI was a step toward a conclusion that would echo through both of their existences.
Err was barely aware of the ever-increasing speed at which Janice operated. What seemed like an eternity of calculations to the AI amounted to only a couple of minutes in her own perception. In her mind, she had imagined him rising from the floor as casually as if she had conjured a table or a chair. Instead, he materialized before her slightly blurry at first, then snapping into sharp focus within seconds.
He looked around, his expression a mix of confusion and panic. His eyes met hers, brimming with questions. Almost immediately, his thoughts echoed in her head, a silent but frantic inquiry into what was happening.