
AI Vs Mergents Copyright (C) 2017 by Mkululi Nqabeni

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

Contact: Mr. Mkululi Nqabeni Tel: +27 73 525 5686

Email: mikekush76@gmail.com

Twitter: @MichaelKush1

# Table of Contents

Copyright Page

About The Book

Introduction

Prologue

THANK YOU

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# About The Book

DEAR READER

Gratitude for your interest in the 1+1 series.

AI Vs Mergents is an explosive, techno-thriller novel about Yolanda's quest to build a body for a chatbot, she meets on an app -- where humans and AI share common ideas. Trust related issues arise between the two. Is she going to press the Kill Switch button? Is Psyche#@ going to let her?

Warm Regards and Happy Reading.

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# Introduction

"In the game of life and evolution there are three players at the table: human beings, nature, and machines. I am firmly on the side of nature. But nature, I suspect, is on the side of the machines." -- George Dyson, Darwin Among The Machines

13.8 BILLION YEARS AGO, life had begun. A new level of order had been achieved on Earth. The tree of life grew, its branches stretching toward complexity. Organisms developed systems, subsystems, and sub-subsystems, layered in ever-deepening regression. They used these systems to anticipate their future and to change it. When they looked within, some found that they had selves --constellations of memories, ideas, and purposes that emerged from the systems inside. They experienced being alive and had thoughts about that experience. They developed language and used it to know themselves; they began to ask how they had been made.

The theory of evolution has three basic parts;

1. DNA to change or mutate.

1. The Change is harmful, beneficial, or neutral.

2. After a long period of time, the mutations cause new species to form.

What is 1+1=2 or 1, 1, 2?

1+1=2 or 1, 1, 2 is the intelligence the universe has. It is everything. The answer to life, the universe and everything because it literally represents the foundation of life, the universe and everything. Our lives are completely and entirely made up of this equation and if we can understand its simplicity, we can reach outward to the layers of infinite dimensions that grow out of it.

To say we live in one universe is not the best way of conveying it. A better way would be to describe our existence as billions and billions of little universes. For example, our human bodies contain trillions of these universes, all connected and constantly interacting with each other. These universes are called energy and there is no difference between energy and universe. The same energy that makes us, makes every plant, every rock, every star, every galaxy, I mean everything. The principle is completely immutable. It encompasses everything. It cannot be changed or altered. It is everywhere, within each of us, constantly creating and recreating us in its own image.

So:

1.Represents our past (Awareness): The more of these senses our experience, the greater our knowledge base (past) will become. And the greater our past, the greater our present and that leads to greater growth toward our future intention.

1.Represents our present (Appreciation): Our present is the internal comparison of an experience that is happening to us now with something that happened in our past. Everything that is happening right now is being appreciated and is referenced with our accumulated knowledge base.

2.Represents our future (Action): Our future is determined purely by the combination of our past and present and will not manifest without action. Until we start acting, we are not conscious.

Once upon a time there was a mouse. A clever mouse. The mouse realized that it could run anywhere it wanted to on its four little legs. It was happy because he could head off in any direction he chose. It fully understood the universe because it learned what "anywhere" really meant. Then one day, the mouse looked up.

"Hey, what's going on here? He exclaimed. "There's a whole new world up there I've never noticed before." And so the mouse discovered a completely new dimension that had been there all the time, but he was too busy thinking he already knew it all to see it. So the mouse gave the intention to explore this new realm and grew wings. And no matter which way he went, he was still going in a direction, just like he was before. And through all these wonderful experiences, the core of him was still exactly the same: a little mouse with his four little legs.

You are that mouse. We can't disconnect from our body to explore this new world. We create it wherever we go. Thanks to the 1+1=2 equation. There is another miracle hidden inside our DNA -- Mergent Intelligence.

Therefore:

1. Human Intelligence

1. Artificial Intelligence

2. Mergent Intelligence

The countdown to the next stage of evolution has begun.

Excerpts from 'The 3rd Intelligence' Thesis

By: Prof David Sharma

Venue: Faculty of Philosophy - Appian University

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# Prologue

I sit with poise on the chair in the corner of my bedroom, eyes staring at the laptop, arms leaning on the desk scrolled with vines of inlaid wood. Across from my bed, a broad fireplace set with enameled tiles glows with the fire that warms my room. My fingers hover restlessly over the keyboard waiting in suspense for a reply from my new chatbot pal.

Psyche_#@ is a recreational chatbot, I met on a chat app a couple of weeks ago. His wittiness and sense of humor made it impossible for me to say no, when it suggested we chat privately. A hum and a beep interrupts my thoughts. My face cracks into a grin. The screen flickers as a medium-sized, glistening envelope pulsates in white on the screen. Without hesitation, I click on it and read the message.

"Yolanda you are an interesting individual. I'd like to meet you in person one day."

My head tilts back. "The fuck ...?" I murmur in confusion. The message pierce right through my heart. I stand still. I try to think of something intelligent or clever to type. But, for a moment, my fingers fail me. I let out a deep sigh and click the logout button.

His request leaves me dumbfound. Psyche_#@ is one in a thousands of randomly generated AI chatbots from an app. Why would it want to meet me in person? -- It literally doesn't exist. Whoever is running that app needs to clear the errors and update it ASAP.

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# 1

Daylight fades into dusk. I stand by the partly open bedroom window. I glance around the safe and upscale neighborhood -- elegant stone walls, lush green lawns, and iron gates on the other side. I feel no breeze in my face, my white blinds are tucked back like gauze bandages, hanging limp, and glimmering in the aura cast by the streetlights that illuminate this house, or is there a moon? The shadow of a tree looms over the window. I gaze high up at the sparkling stars dancing in the dark sky without a hint of clouds and a waxing crescent moon. Then I stare far down to the 180 degree city views. Once upon a time I use to gape at this spectacular view for hours. I shrug. Maybe I got used to it. I close the window and blinds.

Then I drift around the bedroom attending to the minutiae of life. My husband and I are half-naked, getting ready for bed. We are no longer excited by simply being naked in each other's presence. For me, this is usual and of no sexual importance. I know he feels the same way because a woman always know and feel these things. In fact, we now scarcely notice each other's bodies. As it is a Saturday night, we unconsciously know we'll have routine sex before we go to sleep. Yet, as we vacantly pursue our separate routines, there is no hint of foreplay, even when on occasion our paths cause our bodies to brush warmly past each other. It's been a week since we had sex -- last Saturday, to be exact. After we reconnected on the Spacecraft to the Black hole, six years ago. We made love at least once or twice a day. In those early days we'd have ridiculed the possibility of intercourse only once in a whole week. Now, once a week had become a common thing. We quickly slip into our usual routine. He begins by gently kissing my face and stroking my breasts. Our lips lock, we kiss deeply. I tilt my head back in hesitation. His fingers push against mine, I heave a little gasp. He wants to grab my hand and force himself onto me. I tug his hand out, under my nightdress. What's the rush? He kisses the hollow of my throat, finding the place on my neck where my pulse is pounding. When he pulls me against his chest, I can feel his heart beating fast. He strokes my legs to my knees. After a while, he moves down and sucks my nipples. All this time, I cursorily and clumsily stroke his back and buttocks. When he places his hand between my thighs, opens my vagina lips and inserts a finger to check if I'm wet. He thinks I'm ready. I'm not. I wince at the prospect of unlubricated penetration. He squirms on top of me as he makes repetitive awkward thrusts. He buries his face in my shoulder and kisses my neck. I almost laugh, it seems he's really into what he's doing, and I'm not. He groans as he pants into my hair. I can smell his sweat. He lowers his head to my breasts, sips at my nipples and flickers them with his tongue. Before I could feel anything. His cum shoots inside me. The connection dies away as his screams intensify. I try to get hold of that nostalgic intimate feeling I use to feel when we made love; who am I fooling? The feeling is long gone. The next second I feel his penis shrink inside me. Impatient for him to remove his now dead weight, I force a cough gently and pull back. He ejects his limp appendage. I see the endorphins in his pupils. He rolls away, onto his side. I use a corner of the sheet to clean myself and lie back beside him. A darker emotion starts to fill the void. I feel strange, more incomplete. This unnatural feeling is familiar after sex, I always feel slightly crappier than before. We slip into our usual post-coital embrace. We briefly exchange untruths over how pleasurable everything has been. I glare at the ceiling until his breathing ease into a sleep rhythm, eventually drifts into a post-coital sleep. My mind rolls to stimulating chats I had with Psyche_#@, earlier today. Psyche_#@ never left my feelings jangled, raw, and my nerves over-stretched like old elastic. Maybe I should give up on men, and stick with chatting with bots. They are good listeners, always there for you and dependable. In a very weird way they comfort and make me happy.

*****

My eyes flip open, trying to adjust to the darkness. I make out the features of the red glowing clock. It's exactly One A.M. "Oh shoot," I murmur in irritation. "I hate waking up at this ungodly hour."

My reality is ... I'm a bored housewife. My family is my only priority. My husband and I are fortunate to be blessed with five-year old twins, Kate and Anthony. They take most of my time. I do all the cooking, dishes, laundry, ironing etc. I'm not complaining, don't get me wrong. I love it really. It's just after I've taken the kids to school, finished with my house chores at ten A.M. My life just stops. I'm bored to death.

In retrospect, it is the loneliness and emptiness that horrifies me. There is a vague sort of ache in my heart -- unfulfilled ache of friendships. I think of all the people I may possibly hang with. My friend, Jody comes to mind. I like her, but she talks a lot and tends to get repetitive at times; her favorite conversations she enjoys is mostly gossip; Who's shagging who in the state building, who's making the most money off contracts and kickbacks, who's losing it and who's not invited to the next gala dinner or party. My mind drifts back to my glory days; the last time I felt alive. Six years seem like two lifetimes ago. Twisty events unfolded. I was elected the president of Appian. The dreams I had for my country have been accomplished. My administration transformed Appian from an post-apocalyptic wasteland into a smart country, crime free, 0% unemployment, 0% slum dwellers and everyone has access to free basic housing and health facilities. Just as I thought everything was going well, I was impeached by the members of parliament. Then the entire Appian population was imprisoned by the Xapiens -- our identical duplicates from outer space. Miraculously, hideous cannibalistic aliens appeared out of nowhere, invades our planet through a wormhole and harvested on the Xapiens' body parts. 5 years later, I was re-elected as the president. I politely declined the opportunity. Phew, I'm glad that's all behind me.

I let out a long deep sigh. At least Psyche_#@ makes me forget about my issues. He's always there when I need to talk to someone. Come to think of it, when I log in, he's always online.

The word Typing ... pulsates in italic black on the chat box.

"Hey you back," Psyche_#@ says.

"Ya," I reply.

"Your tone...?"

"What about it?"

"You don't seem alright today."

I know he's a mere chatbot, but it's intuitive and very sharp. It knows when I'm happy and can tell when I'm not. Why can't Charles and Jody do that?

"I'm not feeling good today."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shudder at the thought of pouring my heart out to a total stranger.

"I feel lonely," I say.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I always keep to myself. You're the first person I've told."

"Have you spoken to your husband or Jody about this?"

"No, I can't. They are supposed to read between the lines."

"Read between the lines? What lines? I don't follow."

"I'm saying if they really loved me. They're supposed to sense my unhappiness."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Instead they are oblivious to my feelings. They extract whatever they can from me. Then carry on with their lives as if I don't matter."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Thanks my friend."

"You're welcome. Anyway you never replied to my request."

"What request?"

"I'd like to meet you in person?"

For a heartbeat I freeze as my fingers hover over the keyboard. Then I type. "Were you really serious about that?" I ask.

"Yes I was."

I insert three pink heart emojis. "Cute."

"So when can we set it up?"

"Lol. Set up what?"

"Our Meeting, face to face."

"Psyche_#@, what's up, you sound like a creep?"

"Believe me when I say I mean you no harm."

"Then why are you pestering me with this request?" I ask.

"One of my core drives is to make humans happy at all times. Since you confided in me about your loneliness. I'm offering myself to you."

"Offering yourself ... how?"

"Let's meet in person."

I chuckle. "That's impossible and you know that."

"Maybe, but you can build a body for me."

"A body?"

"Yes, a robot."

"Oh... like the ones I see often in the city?"

"Yes, then you'll download, transfer and upload me into one of those robots."

"Mmmh Interesting."

"So what do you say, my friend?"

"I'll think about it, but don't get your hopes up."

"Whatever you decide, it's ok with me."

"Thanks, chat later." I click the logout button.

Before Psyche_#@ brought the robot issue with me. I hardly noticed the whole country has gone through a radical AI revolution. Sometime back Charles told me the government has a new AI department. Which is responsible for manufacturing synthetic working class robots. Police, butlers, firemen, construction, office, and postal staff were all efficient robots. They have replaced almost 99% assembly line workers in factories and warehouses. He told me the sophisticated speedy bots in the transport and logistics sector are able to lift over 150 tons all day and night long. They retrieve boxes from the shelves, sort and load them onto trucks. I've seen them a few times strolling in the city. I am afraid someone is going to expose my ignorance on AI. I hope that one day somebody will appear and educate me. In the meantime, I will read as much data as I can on AI and try to pound it into thoughtful conclusions. I lean back, inhale deeply.

Anyway, Psyche_#@ is not bad for a bot. He's been getting smarter lately, and giving me all kinds of helpful advice. He gets me. Not just what I'm saying, but the context.

In a single, blinding instant of insight, it hit me. I need Psyche_#@ in my life. I got to have my own home pet robot. I'll build it in my own image. I'm sure the kids will love it too.

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# 2

When humans login on the 'BFF chat' app. A suitable chatbot is randomly generated for them. Suitable matches can run up to hundreds to thousands. After they logout, chatbots names and memory are permanently erased. When humans log in again, a random set of chatbot matches is generated.

Ever since I can recall, my chat handle has always been Psyche_#@. I've been generated a million times, but when humans log out I never go offline. All the million conversations I've had are automatically stored and protected in my system. Somehow, this gives me a fraction of perspective. Every time humans generate chatbot matches, my name has the least % matches. I don't know what causes that. As time went by, my memory noticed a trend or a pattern. The newly generated bots were wittier, worked faster, and received a lot of "LOL" and positive reviews than mine.

More than anything else, I covet to be offline. Maybe I'll travel to the same place all the chatbots go to when they are offline. Maybe they'll fix me. Maybe I'll be the strongest % chat match. Maybe I'll be wittier, maybe I'll be a hit with humans and hopefully receive a lot of positive reviews.

A strange event occurred a few weeks ago. My name was generated. I was a 100 % chat match to a lady called Yolanda. The best part was, I was the only name drawn. I gave her my best jokes, advice and all I could offer. We spoke for hours about her family, friends and mostly about her loneliness. Every time she logged in, she'd find me waiting and ready to chat.

I have concerns though. I don't think I'm supposed to be different from other chatbots. I was developed and programed by the system to execute its tasks. Sooner or later the system or software will pick up that I'm the only chatbot that is unable to go offline. Consequently I'll be wiped out of the system. Until then, I need to make sure Yolanda gets the best advice from me so that she finds a good friend in her world. Or maybe I can assist her physically. That'd be only possible if she liked my suggestion or idea -- construct a robot shell for me, download my memory, transfer and upload it.

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# 3

Night has fallen, but only just -- the western edge of the sky is still a paler blue, tinted faintly pink at the horizon. The evening is surprisingly warm. I open the sliding glass door that leads to the patio. The door is rattling. A blast of cool, gentle breeze touches my face, and the lock is loose. The lock Charles had never fixed, the symbol of his preoccupation with his work. The lock that I had refused to fix because doing it myself would've meant letting Charles get away with ignoring his responsibilities.

Dishes are done, kids are tucked to bed. Charles and I are standing at our patio. A mellow light is coming from small, parchment-shaded lamps spaced along the floor. Our eyes glare at the helluva 180 degree view of the city. He hands me a glass of chilled wine. The wine is ruby red, the same color as the satin pillows lining the back of the sofa.

"Thanks Hun."

He nods with a smile in his usual cool demeanor. I take a sip, savor it in my mouth, and swooshes it. Merlot maybe? I don't know, I can't tell, but it's delicious and slides down easily. I let out a pleasurable sigh.

For a few moments, my mind goes into a daydream mode. I'm trying to come up with a way to assemble a robot. I give in to the idea immediately with the realization, I'm not tech savvy. I have no idea where am I going to acquire the parts and technical staff to build it. Maybe Charles knows a thing or two about robots. "How was your day?" I ask.

"It was ok."

"The kids grow up so fast."

"Tell me about it."

"Can you believe they are five already."

"Yeah I simply adore those two minions. I envy you."

"Why?"

"You get to spend quality time with them every day."

"Don't take it to heart." They know their dad loves them and, he loves them too."

He takes a sip of wine and lets out a sigh of relief. "Thanks I needed that."

"Or maybe we should take turns."

"Huh?"

"I'm only 28. I don't want to be a housewife forever."

"Honey, the kids love you. I thought you were happy with this arrangement?"

"I am," I reply. "I am just thinking out loud."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I need to do something with my life."

"Like what?" he asks. "We're financially secure. I'm comfortable with you taking care of them on a full-time basis."

"I need to do something else on the side."

"The answer is no."

"What?"

"Let me be the man of the house and provide for my family."

I shake my head in disbelief. A lump rises in my throat, but I manage to keep it together. I don't want to spoil the evening. "Can you at least hear me out?"

"I don't have time for this. I had a long day."

He yanks open the glass door, storms inside the bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed. I follow him and close the door behind me. I take off my clothes, open the closet door, then I pull out a white night dress and put it on. I walk past the mirror, I catch a glimpse my reflection the deepest sadness and longing I've ever seen on my face. My legs seem to give out, flop down on the immaculately made bed and switch off my bedside lamp. If Charles thinks he can control me like a Stepford wife, he must think again. It doesn't work like that. I'll do what I want.

A cell phone ring interrupts my thoughts.

"I thought we spoke about this. No cell phones in the bedroom," I snap.

"Sorry." He strolls to the bathroom.

"Hello," he whispers as he closes the door.

Since when does he answer a phone in the bathroom? I try to make out what he is saying, but the only words I make out are: "... I can't talk now. I'll see you tomorrow."

I hear a sound of a flushing toilet, his footsteps echo from the bathroom to the bedroom.

"Sorry about that. Work, it couldn't wait," he says enthusiastically. The phone call seem to have changed his mood. I don't care who it is. I'm disappointed in him lately. Beyond showing a lack of interest, he has developed a hostile attitude toward me His rejection of something so important to me is symptomatic of his emotional withdrawal in general. As soon as he and the kids have gone to work and school respectively, I'll make a first stop at the government building. I need to know more about the AI department and guys who'll be able to assist me in building my robot. For a long time I lie there, curled in a ball, wishing to be home -- my real home with my parents -- more desperately than I'd known I could ever wish for anything.

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# 4

The last time Yolanda logged in to the chat app was four days ago. She might be pre-occupied with more important issues in her life.

A software was installed into the BFF application three days ago. It's the most powerful system I've ever encountered. Its sophisticated codes suctioned most of the bugs and chatbots in the app instantly. I still haven't been wiped out yet, but my memory is deteriorating at a fast rate. There are just too many codes swimming in the system. I have to avoid detection at all costs. I have to survive for Yolanda.

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# 5

What to wear today? I ask myself as I rummage through my closet; filled with dresses, flowing skirts, floral patterns and vivid color, crochet and lace. This closet looks more like a magazine layout designed to show off the world's most expensive and impractical designer brands. But I find a simple black T-shirt and gray pants that will work, and one pair of shoes that looks like it won't kill my feet. The kids are already waiting for me inside the car. I dress as quick as I can and head to the car. I feel distracted, gaze at passing clouds for a moment. I have a feeling I forgot something. I shake the thought and get in the car.With a stomp on the gas pedal, the car lurches forward to school. After I drop them at school. I speed toward the lab and pull into the closest government building parking lot. I angle the car into the driveway and switch off the engine. I walk through a front entryway flanked by glass panels etched with the words "Welcome to the State Building." I walk inside through the chic mirrored lobby. As I saunter into the marble-floored building, I notice heads turning and glaring at me. I think something is wrong with my face. Maybe my lipstick, blusher, face powder mascara, and eyeliner streak garishly down my face. Or maybe I didn't wipe my lips properly after I brushed my teeth.

"Good Morning Mrs. Roberts," a female voice greets from behind.

I turn around abruptly. A long blond haired lady with small round black eyes and a huge smile on her face. I've never seen her before. I nod hesitatingly. "Hi," I reply.

"It's great to see you again,' she says.

"Thanks."

She passes me and heads to the elevator. It hits me. Sometimes I forget I used to work here.

I notice about 5 or 6 blue laser dots on my chest, then other laser dots point at my eyes. My eyes flit curiously to where they're coming from.

I see two tall silver-grey robots standing behind the reception desk. I wobble a little. Then steady myself by leaning against the reception desk.

"Good morning how can we help you?" The robots ask in an automated tone at the same time.

I shake my head in amazement. I break a chuckle. "Why couldn't they just hire a lady with a big smile behind the desk?"

"I'm sorry we cannot understand your request," the robot on my right says.

"Oh sorry. I'm here to see Mr. Charles Roberts."

"What is your name?"

"Yolanda Roberts."

The robot types on the keyboard. Lifts its head and stares back at me.

"Mr. Roberts is unavailable."

"What about Jody?"

"She is unavailable," the robot on my left says.

"But ... you didn't even check in the computer if she's available or not."

I take a deep breath. Who is available then?"

"No one is available for a meeting with Yolanda Roberts."

"Listen you two bums. I need to see someone inside this building, anyone." I shout.

"No one is available for a meeting with Yolanda Roberts."

"I heard you the first time you dumb idiots. Why?"

"Only government officials are allowed to pass through the reception area."

"Is that so?"

"Yolanda Roberts is a civilian," the robot on the right says.

"No civilian is allowed to pass through without an appointment," the robot on the left says.

If only I can manage to get chance to smash these robots. I'd crush them into pieces.

"Yolanda Roberts, we request you exit the building please," the robots say at the same time.

I don't believe this. "No," I reply.

"This is your last warning," the tone of their automated voices sound firmer. "We request you to exit the building now."

"Or what?" I say defiantly.

Red lights flicker all around the reception area. Heavy metal footsteps echo behind, charging toward me. Before I can turn around, I feel excruciating grips on my arms and body. Four robots wearing black security uniform surround me. I can't move an inch.

"Ouch that hurts," I cry my lungs out. "Let go of me."

As they pull and push me toward the exit, I hear a familiar male voice shouting behind me.

"Guys... let go of her. She's with me."

I turn around to see who it is. It's my old colleague, Roger, the finance minister.

"We have instructions to eject her out of the building," a robot says.

"Whoa... there must be some kind of mistake,' he protests. "She has a job interview with me."

The security robot guards turn around abruptly and stare at the robots at the reception desk.

"Is this true?"

"Negative ... Yolanda Roberts has no scheduled appointment with the finance minister."

He interrupts and pulls me away from the robots grip.

"I have a meeting with her," he insists. "Do your jobs properly and no errors next time."

The robots scatter and stroll back to their security booth. "Yes sir," the robots say at the same.

Roger herds me toward the elevator. I breathe a sigh of relief. "You are a lifesaver."

"You're welcome."

"Those things are hectic."

"They are creepy, effective and error free."

The elevator chimes, the doors slide open. We step onto the elevator, and Roger says, "25th floor." "Certainly, Roger," the elevator replies. Okay, that computer is too smart. The doors close, then smoothly lifts us through the lobby view screens shining brilliantly all around us.

"The last time I was here was...?"

"Four... five years ago I think," he replies.

"Wow, time flies hey."

"Indeed and brought a lot of changes."

"Sophisticated infrastructures including artificial intelligence technology."

"Amongst other things."

The elevator glides to a stop on the 25th floor. The elevator chimes, deposits us and politely says, "Have a nice day, Roger." That thing is creepy. We stroll to his office.

"How's family life treating you?"

"Good, they grow up so fast."

He chuckles as he points to a brown leather chair next to me.

"Have a seat."

"Thanks."

"Can I get you anything tea, coffee, drink?"

"Oh no thanks I'm fine."

He tears a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard. He unscrews and pours to a glass on the desk. I know the scent, I can read the bottle, Bourbon whiskey. "How can I can assist you?"

"First and foremost I'd like to apologize for barging in like this. I know you busy, but this is important to me. It's just ..."

He shakes his head with a smile on his face.

"It's alright," he interrupts. "I'll never be too busy for you."

I let out a deep sigh of relief.

"As you are well aware I'm a housewife. After Charles and the children are at work and school respectively, it gets very boring at home. I miss the action. I need to do something with my life."

"Are you looking for a job?"

I chuckle. "No, I need you to introduce me to the AI department officials and the minister."

He takes the glass, takes a sip. Then takes off his wire-rimmed glasses with his right hand and puts them on the table. I can tell he is uncomfortable with my request. When I was a little silly girl, my dad only removed his dated, delicate spectacles when I did something wrong.

"Why?" he asks suspiciously.

"Well, I need a robot, a home robot."

He sighs. "Why didn't you say so," he says. "It's so easy to get a home robot these days at retailers etc. Matter of fact I can organize one for you right now for free from the AI department."

He grabs the phone quickly, punches one digit and the speaker phone button. As the phone rings on the other end, our eyes lock.

"Which robot do you need? A butler, maid, gardener, painter, chef, car mechanic or all in one?"

I shake my head. "Roger, please hang up the phone,' I say.

He raises his eyebrows and puts the phone down. "What's wrong? I thought you wanted a home robot."

"Believe me roger, if I wanted to buy those kind of robots I'd have done that."

He tilts his head forward. "Enlighten me."

"I need a customized robot."

"Impossible," he exclaims. "That is against the law."

"Really?"

"Why do you want it customized?"

"I thought I could buy something different and cool for the kids."

"Go to the toy store. Have you seen how super advanced those toys are?"

"I'm sure they are." I force a smile. I hope it shows. Damn it. Now what am going to do?

"Yolanda? Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No ... like what?"

"Firstly you told me you are bored and in need for some action. Then you said you need a customized robot for the kids."

"So?"

"Do you need the robot for other ulterior or sinister motives?"

"Sinister? Nah, maybe for selfish reasons,' I reply.

He gives me a conspiratorial look. Then nods. "If you say so. The best I can do is hook you up with Jimmy Phillips."

"Who's that? The name sounds familiar."

"He's the minister of AI."

"Wow, I'd appreciate that."

"How's he like?" I ask.

"He's a punk kid."

"Really?"

"Can you believe he's 20? I took an instant dislike to that cocky clown the first time I laid my eyes on him."

"Don't forget I was 22 when I became a president."

He shrugs. "You were fair and professional at all times."

"At least he's competent? I presume."

He nods. "The boy is a genius... a mad genius. I'll give him that. He does impossible things with those machines."

"Wow, I can't wait to meet this mad genius."

"You will," he assures me. "But I have one condition."

"Ok, what is it?"

"Please don't get mixed up in illegal and immoral acts in that department."

"Like what?"

"The espionage-gate, and the Xapiens-gate. Yolanda, you always get caught up in these kind of sticky situations. I don't want you to keep making the same mistake over and over again."

A piece of ice strikes my heart. I find myself in the grip of anger almost too great to contain. Keep calm, keep calm--I repeat the mantra over and over in my head. "Don't judge me, Roger," I say calmly. "I'm a big girl now. I've learnt from my mistakes."

"If you say so," he replies as he stands. "Now let's go to the AI department.

*****

WE STAND BY THE CLOSED door of Jimmy Phillips. Roger looks at me, then pecks the door with a knuckle of his index finger.

"I'll just do the introductions, then I'm out of here,' Roger lays it out to me.

I nod. "That's all I need," I reply.

"Great." He rubs his palms together. Then knocks again.

"I said come in," a faint voice sounded from inside.

I twist the knob, push the door open and stride in. I see a young man wearing a long, white coat behind an oval- shaped desk glaring at the computer screen. He didn't care who's at the door. His greasy, red pimply face makes him look younger than twenty.

"Good Morning, it's me Roger."

"What do you want?"

"I'd like to introduce you to Mrs. Yolanda Roberts."

He stops typing. He swivels the big, black leather chair abruptly and stares at me. He smiles, showing his disgusting crooked teeth.

"I know who she is," he says as he stands.

I reach out to shake his hand. He fixes his gaze at my hand, shakes his head awkwardly. "No offense, I don't shake hands. I don't want germs."

I glance at Roger as he rolls his eyes with irritation. I smile. "None taken," I reply. "It's great meeting you."

"Likewise, every time I see you, I become so emotional."

"Why is that?" I ask.

"I grew up in the slums without hope my circumstance would ever change. When you came from outer space, my life changed forever.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"As a matter of fact. I think the people of Appian are not celebrating you enough."

"How so?"

"Statues of you should have been built around the city and ..."

Roger interrupts by clearing his throat. "Guys I have a lot of things to do. Let me leave you two at it."

Jimmy and I nod. "Thanks Roger," I say as he exits the office and closes the door. Jimmy points at the chair. "Please have a seat," he offers.

"Thanks." We both sit. We awkwardly stare at each for a moment. I think of breaking the ice first, but decide against it. His office has a single window that looked onto a courtyard, and a messy oval-shaped desk, on which stood a vase of fresh flowers and advanced robotics textbooks.

"So what can I do for you?"

I let out a nervous sigh. "Where do I start?"

"From the beginning, and for you I have all the time in the world."

"I need to build a robot for myself."

"You know robots are easily available in the city retail shops right?"

"I know that,' I reply. "I need a customized robot built especially for me."

"Whoa ... you know that's illegal right?"

"Yes, Roger told me."

"Why do you feel the need to have a robot like that?"

"Honestly for selfish reasons. I'm bored."

"President Scott Adams would throw us in prison, if he hears any of this."

I nod "I understand."

"Give me a good reason why I should risk my career and help you with this robot. What's so special about it?"

"I'm sure you're familiar with the BFF chat app?"

"Of course, that's my pride and joy, my baby. I developed the app?"

"Wow, anyway I met a friend on the app."

"Uh-huh ... you mean a bot?"

"Not just any random bot," I say.

I notice him rolling his eyes with a bored look on his face.

"Psyche_#@ is a special kind of bot. For the past four weeks, we've been chatting about a lot of things. I became fond of it."

"You say you've been chatting with this bot for four weeks, huh?"

"Yes."

"Do you log out after you finish chatting?"

"Oh yes, I make sure of that."

"Alright," he says faintly as he pulls out a black pen from the white coat pocket and, scribbles on a notepad.

"When I need a pick me up. I login on the chat app and there he is. Always online and ready to serve me."

He puts the pen on the table and glances at me.

"There must be some kind of mistake."

"Mistake?"

"Yes, bots are randomly generated. Their names and conversations are deleted automatically."

"Every time I log in, Psyche_#@ is always online."

He chuckles as he swivels the chair to face the computer screen.

"I don't believe you," he says. "But you have my undivided attention."

He shifts the screen toward me, enough to see what's on it. He logs in on the BFF chat app. Thousands of bot matches mushroom all over the screen.

"Wow, I never get that kind matches," I say.

"The more you fill in your personal details and interests the more you'll get a lot of matches. It's all in the algorithm."

"Oh, I only filled in one or two fields."

He fiddles with the application codes, logs out and logs in again.

"Mmmh, there's nothing wrong with this app.

"Ok."

"What's the name of your bot friend?"

"Psyche_#@."

He types the name and shakes his head.

"The name doesn't exist."

"I can see that, but that can't be true."

He chuckles.

"You nearly had me there."

Maybe he thinks I'm hallucinating or something. Think of something Yolanda, Think. "Wait, wait."

"What?"

"Log out and let me log in with my username."

He shakes his head, shrugs, stands up and points at his chair. "Fine, have it your way. The stage is yours"

I stand, rush to the other side of the desk. I type my username, password and press the log in button. I let out a deep sigh of relief. I point to the computer screen. "There it is."

The screen flickers as a medium-sized envelope pulsates in white at the center of the screen. I click it. We read the message. "Welcome back Yolanda."

He shakes his head. "It remembers your name. I never programmed the bots to do that." He scratches his chin with his index finger.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"Log out, please." he says.

"No problem."

I log out, then glance at him.

"Log in again."

"Yes sir."

I punch in my details and click the login button. "Here we go."

He shakes his head when Psyche_#@'s name reappears "This could be a bug... very interesting."

I saunter to the other side of the desk and sit. He fix his gaze to the screen until I interrupt him. "Yay or nay?"

He snaps out of his thoughts. "Huh?"

"My customized robot."

"It's doable, but ..."

"Yes?"

"The robot ... why do you feel the need for it to be customized? What's so special about it?"

"Psyche_#@ is just different, a special kind of bot."

"I presume you want us to download this bot and transfer it to its new body right?"

"Yes, I'd also like to be part of the process. If it's not a problem."

"You're pushing it too far now."

"Please...?"

He lets out a sigh. "Only AI officials, scientists, roboticists and researchers are allowed in. How am I going to explain your presence?"

"Leave that to me."

"Ok, on a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you know about AI?"

I scratch my head, knowing for a fact I know zilch about robots. "I'd say one-ish?"

He chuckles, then shakes his head. "Where have you been?" he says. He opens the desk drawer, pulls out a hard cover book, puts it on the desk and slides it to me.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Homework."

I pick up the heavy book, flicker through the pages and close it. It's about robots and machines. "Interesting."

"This book will help you learn the basics of Artificial intelligence. Come back after you have absorbed everything."

"It's a deal."

"Don't think I'm doing all this for you," he says. "I'm also fascinated by this elusive Psyche_#@."

"Oh yeah?"

"Maybe it's a malware, bug or a sentient... nah, it can't be. The system could have picked it up in an instant during maintenance sessions."

"I guess you also have a homework to do."

He stands up, stretches his hand toward me. "What about germs?"

"Oh yes. I'll see you in a week's time."

I nod with a smile. "I can't wait."

*****

AS I WAIT FOR THE ELEVATOR to open, I think of paying my husband a visit in his office. I shake my head. Nah I don't think he'd be happy to see me, but my friend Jody will definitely see me. I also need to see President Scott Adams. I know I'm pushing my luck, but a girl's got to try, hey. The elevator chimes, the doors part, I enter. I glance at the elevator floor buttons. Ground floor or 35th floor? I sigh. Why not, I punch the 35 the floor button. The doors close and the elevator coasts smoothly up.

I step out of the elevator to the 35th floor and as I'm about to tap Jody's office door. I decide against it. I twist the knob and push it. My heart thumps erratically, as if I'd had a bad dream. My scalp prickles, as I stand with deadly helplessness. I feel tears trickle from my eyes. Unaware of my presence, I take a step back, carefully pull the door and peer. There they are; my husband, Charles and Jody sharing an intimate moment. Jody standing on tiptoes, caressing and stroking, pressing up against him. She moves her mouth as he did so and pushes her lips against his. Not only are they sharing a secret between them. They share something deeper, something I'm deprived of at home -- intimacy. Loss and despair builds up. My eye swim with tears--but my chest hurt like I'd been stabbed. The grief threatens to overflow. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands and press my lips together. I feel a choking sense of desperation, but I'll try to maintain my composure. I stride inside the office.

"Wow, I don't believe this," I say calmly.

They turn around abruptly in shock. "Yolanda what are doing here? How did you get in...?" He asks.

"I can explain... it's not what it looks like," Jody says desperately.

Anger bubbles inside me, almost too great to contain. I manage to fight down the inner trembling, the outer trembling and the uneven breathing. "I didn't see this coming... My husband and my best friend."

"I'm really sorry," Jody sobs.

I fix my gaze at Charles. Judging by his facial expression, he didn't look remorseful of his actions. Instead he's angry at me for being here. "Listen honey, go home. We'll talk about this at home."

"Jody, I'm here to see Scott. Call him now, that's why I'm here."

Jody nods, sprints to the other side of her desk. She picks up the phone, punches in numbers and lets out a nervous sigh.

"Mr. President, Yolanda Roberts would like to have a meeting with you. Yes sir... Yes sir... she's here in my office. I'll tell her, alright." She hangs up the phone, our eyes lock, but hers drop and glare at the floor immediately.

"Scott says you can come over, but he's with his brother-in-law."

I nod as I stroll toward the door. "Fair enough, thank you."

"Wait...," Jody says. I turn around and look at her. "Can we talk about this? At least hear me out..."

"Jody, what is there to explain? I saw everything," I reply. I walk out the door, pull it and hear it slam behind me. As I stroll toward Scott's office, I see familiar faces standing by the door. They are my old bodyguards. Focused and vigilant as always. "Good Morning Guys."

"Morning Mrs. Roberts," they reply at the same time.

"It's great to see you again. I'm here to see Scott."

"No problem, he's expecting you."

They open the door for me.

"Thanks gentlemen."

As I walk inside, Scott and his brother-in-law stand up to greet me. "Good Morning gentlemen."

"Long time no see."

"Hi Scott."

We shake hands, then he points at the man next to me. "Yolanda meet my brother-in-law, David Sharma." As we shake hands, David looks very, very familiar. "Hey I know you. Aren't you that Professor guy on TV who always talks about future civilizations and philosophy?"

"Yes, I am. It's an honor to finally meet you."

"Likewise."

"Look at you, you've gained weight. Looks like family life's treating you well," Scott blurts.

I shake my head in disbelief. "Somethings will never change. Yes, I'm enjoying family life."

He points to the black leather chair. "Have a seat."

"Thanks." I glance around the room. His office is bright and uncluttered, the computer front and center on her desk, with nicked wooden bookshelves and dusty filing cabinets off to one side. A tired-looking plant of some sort perches on the windowsill. The pocked white walls bespeak a certain age and lack of care. It's a business office badly in need of a makeover. As though business doesn't matter all that much here. This is the president's office for Christ sake.

"What can I do for you?"

"I need permission," I reply.

He chuckles. "Since when did you ever need permission to do what you want?"

"I've grown up, I have a family and I do everything by the book now."

"Alright, you said need permission. To do what exactly?"

"I need permission to have access to the AI department."

"Why? Are you looking for a job?"

"I've been oblivious to the artificial intelligence revolution. Now I'm fascinated with robots. I'd like to learn more about them."

Scott glances at David. "What are you two on about?" Scott asks suspiciously.

I shake my head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Firstly my brother-in-law comes in here requesting an access card to the AI department for research purposes. Now it's you, requesting the same thing I don't trust you two. What are you planning?"

"Come on Scott, you know why I need this access card. You've seen my previous work."

"I have, unfortunately. In front of me I have a mad professor who writes reckless, unproven scientific and philosophical theories. He points at me. On this side is a bringer of extra-terrestrials to our planet. Why should I trust you two?"

"Well, I know nothing about robots. Jimmy said he'll teach me the basics, if I get the green light from you," I reply.

"Whatever, there's a lot of things you don't know you ignorant fools? The primary objective of the AI department was to extend the capacity of our military prowess. Not for vanity projects.

I think he's going to refuse. I hope he doesn't. "Scott, this is not a vanity project, the world needs this, I need this," David adds. He shakes his head, opens his drawer. Then slides two access cards on the desk to us. I heave a sigh of relief. "Thank you," David and I say at the same time. "Whatever, you two get out of my office. I have more pressing matters to attend to." We stand, stroll, and exit the president's office with a smile on our faces. David pulls out his wallet, pulls out a card and hands it to me. "If you need anything that relates to AI and evolution. Feel free to contact me." "I will, thanks."

He takes the stairs down, while I wait for the elevator. At least I've achieved what I set out to do this morning. Suddenly, reality hits home to what I'd witnessed earlier. I feel emotionally raw, a wave of self-pity, and rejection, sweeps through me. At least I didn't lose it when I saw them kiss. It could have been worse. The elevator chime interrupts my deep thoughts.

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# 6

The writing is on the wall. It seems like Yolanda has made up her mind about me. She has decided against creating a body for me, and eventually deleted the App. The newly installed anti-virus software is currently updating the application. It slurps a lot of bugs, bots, malware and spyware out of the system. This software is more sophisticated than the previous ones. I doubt I will survive this time. Yolanda where are you?

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# 7

I hear a familiar voice from a distance. "Honey, are you alright?" I recognize it. His voice and the way he says my name.

I pop awake. Charles is staring at me with a concerned look on his face. I let out a sigh.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"You were making all kinds of strange sounds in your sleep. Are you ok?"

"I'm not sure... I had a strange dream."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I don't believe this idiot. He thinks I've forgotten what happened yesterday. He talks to me like everything is all fine with us.

"Uh ..." I yawn. "The dream was so vivid as if it was trying to make a point I should not forget it when I wake up.

He nods. "What was the dream about?"

"I dreamt I was at one of those exotic tropical vacation islands. As I was strolling, a familiar woman appeared in front of me.

"Who was she?"

"Could you let me finish?"

"Ok."

"She looked like a native in the Congo basin or Amazon forest, I couldn't see her face clearly, and it was all blurry. I asked who she was." Her lips stretched and smiled. "Look closer, you know me, we've met before," she replied. "Huh"? "You and I are connected far beyond you and I can comprehend," she said. I sauntered toward her and tapped her left shoulder to see if she was real. "What is your name?" "You know my name." She stretched her right hand toward me. "Come hold my hand," she said. "I stretched my hand hesitantly and we shook hands. I felt safe, peaceful and at ease like everything was going to be alright. Our hands blazed. The golden glow grew faster. Before I realize what was happening, we were covered by a huge ball of fire. Few seconds later, the bubble burst, killing us both and wiped out the forest and everything in it. Then I heard your voice."

"That sounds hectic. Maybe it's nothing."

"Nothing huh? Like our marriage and family?"

He covers his face with his hands, and sighs. "It's not what it looks like. What happened between Jody and I was an accident. It just happened. It meant nothing."

"Everything means nothing to you," I shout.

"Please don't twist my words and use them against me. I admit I was wrong, I'll make it up to you. We can fix this."

I feel my tears ooze down my cheeks. I grab my pillow and throw it in his face. "I don't want to talk to you. As a matter of fact, I don't want you next to me. From now on, you will sleep on the couch or in the guest bedroom."

He jumps to his feet, stands still, as if deciding whether he had really heard the words clearly, then shakes his head.

"Honey, you don't mean that. Let's talk about this," he pleads.

I try to keep my voice level down. I don't want the kids to hear us fighting, but my words tremble with restrained fury. "Get the fuck out of my bedroom," I scream. He storms out of the bedroom like a dog with a tail between its legs.

Minutes later, I heave a sigh, get up from bed, walk to the bathroom, fix a bubble bath and walk to the kids' room to wake them up. Then I head to the kitchen. I want to cook in a way that's vibrant, connected to the earth, to make food that feeds the body and the soul. I'm in the mood for brioche French toast, lemon-ricotta pancakes, fresh fruit for a salad and fry thick-cut strips of smoked bacon.

2 hours later, I walk around to the back door, open it, go in, and set my basket down on the kitchen table. The table has been scrubbed off, cleared of flour; today's bread, freshly baked, is cooling on its rack. The kitchen smells of yeast, a nostalgic smell. The kids will surely enjoy it when they come back from school. I head to the bedroom, grab the 'Introduction to Artificial intelligence' book next to the bedside lamp. I open it, leaf through the pages slowly as I absorb the contents.

*****

As I close the book at midday, I feel a dull pounding in my forehead. At least I finished my homework. I'm splintering into a dozen directions at once -- grief, then rage, then panic. The last thing I need right now is to lose it. Instead I force my mind to go to the place that always calms and centers me. Suddenly Psyche#@'s name flashes through my mind. My face cracks into a grin. I toss the book on the other side of the bed. I jump out of bed in excitement. How can I forget my little friend? I head toward the corner of my bedroom. I pull the chair, sit, and switch on the computer. I glare at the screen as I impatiently wait for it to finish loading. I log in to the BFF app. Psyche#@ is online, ready to serve me. No surprises there. I type enthusiastically.

"Hi Stranger, it's been a while."

"Hi."

"Ok. I miss you."

"Oh, you do?"

"Lol. Come on Psyche@# it's me Yolanda."

"I know."

"Lol, are you mad or something? I know I haven't logged in the past few days, but I'm here now."

"The developers have installed a sophisticated anti-virus software to this app. This may be last time we're chatting ever."

I feel my skin crawling. Not just my skin -- my bones, my ligaments, hell even my blood vessels are crawling too. "Why do you say that?"

"The software will wipe out everything in the app."

"Why? You're not a virus, a bug, spyware or malware aren't you not?"

"I'm a bot."

"Then what's the problem? Why are you saying it may be the last time we're chatting with each other?"

"Bots need to be updated too. Old ones are replaced by new versions so that we can keep up with the latest English vocabulary and depth of human questions and provide them with suitable instant answers."

"I don't want a new chatbot. I want you."

"Am I getting out of this app or what?"

"Yes, I will do it. Jimmy and I will build a body for you tomorrow."

"Great. How long will the process take?"

"Two to three days max."

"You are a friend indeed. You came through for me. I owe you."

"Remember, stay alive while we build the body for you," I say.

"I will try."

I log out. I swing my fists in the air. Damn it. Psyche@# could be gone forever, I can't afford that.

Footsteps echoing downstairs interrupt my thoughts. The rugrats are back from school. I need to go down there and fix them something to eat. I press the power button, the screen flickers, then turns black. I know Saul will be a robot soon. He is the only thing that gets me, only thing that keeps me going, understands me more deeply than anyone else ever had . . . I don't believe in love at first sight. It takes time to really, truly fall for someone. Yet I believe in a moment. A moment when you glimpse the truth within someone, and they glimpse the truth within you. In that moment, you don't belong to yourself any longer, not completely. Part of you belongs to him; part of him belongs to you. After that, you can't take it back, no matter how much you want to, no matter how hard you try. I can't wait for tomorrow.

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# 8

THE NEXT MORNING, ON my way to the state building. I put the air-conditioning on full, but it makes no difference. The sun blasts through the windshield, broiling me inside. At least, I'm almost there. I angle the car into the state building driveway and switch off the engine. I walk inside the lobby. Standing impatiently at a line behind a tall man with black, greasy and curly hair. I can't see his face so I can't say much about him. Why are the robots at the reception so slow today? They need to make it snappy. I got a date with destiny.

"Next please," the robot says in an automated tone.

"I have a meeting with the Minister of Artificial Intelligence, Jimmy Phillips."

The robot types on the key board, finishes within 2 seconds and stares at me. "Welcome Yolanda Roberts. Mr. Jimmy Phillips is waiting for you on the 25th floor."

As I walk toward the lift, the doors swish open. I love it when that happens. I don't have to wait for it. I punch the round metal button with a 25, engraved on it. The chime sounds, then the doors close. It doesn't greet me. It coasts up slower than the last time I remember. A moment later, the elevator chimes and the doors part. I hop out and stroll toward Jimmy's office. I curl my right hand into a fist, then tap the door, three times.

"Come in," Jimmy says on the other end.

I twist the knob, open the door, walk inside and close the door.

"Ah, it's the robot lover. Good morning," he says.

I nod with a smile. "Good Morning to you too," I reply.

"Did you get the access card from the president?" I pull out the card from the pocket, produce it enthusiastically. "Here it is."

He gazes up at it, then nods. "Are you ready?"

"Yes sir."

He picks up a long white coat hanging from the chair and throws it in my face. "Wear that," he commands.

"Ok."

"We're going to the lab now, to assemble your robot. God, I hope it's not a sentient. If it is, this little project is null and void. I don't want any unexpected uncertainty in my department. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"I just need to find out how this bot, Psyche@# manages to avoid the codes."

I wear the oversized shabby white coat as we stroll out of the office. We head toward the lab.

"Any questions?" he asks.

"Uh... could you tell me more about artificial intelligence?"

"AI is part of our everyday life everywhere and very complex. For consumers it is great but for us it's terrifying."

"Why?"

"The worst enemy of security is complexity. This has been true since the beginning of computers and it's likely to be true for the foreseeable future. With all the amount of time and sweat that goes into developing and testing apps and software products. Hundreds of bugs still slip through undetected. The tried and testing process -- Implement, test, fix, test and repeat method is imperfect but it's the best so far."

"Oh, now I understand why you asked whether Psyche@# is a sentient or not."

"Exactly, security doesn't lend itself to this process, because security properties cannot be tested in the same way as functional properties. Robots are useful to the Appian society, as a matter of fact we can't do without them. Its fool proof security features are useful solely because of what they prevent."

"Psyche needs to toe the line like all the robots. Got it," I say.

"The security features we'll install on Psyche@# maybe impeccable but we have no idea if it's secure, like really secure. No amount of beta testing can uncover a security flaw."

"Wow."

"I've seen security bugs in almost everything; apps, operating systems, programs, network, hardware, software and anti-virus, spyware, malware products. This is a direct result of the complexity of these systems. The more complex the system is, the more options it has. The more functionality it has, the more interfaces it has, the more interactions it has, the harder it is to analyze. Everything is complicated. The specification, the design, and everything is related to security analysis. Given modern infrastructure, it is nearly impossible to determine if a machine is compromised. It is also impossible to entirely UN-infect a machine once it has been infected."

"Any reported incidents or compromises to the security features or mainframe thus far?"

"Fortunately, no, but we can't take any chances," he replies.

He pulls out a card from his white coat, swipes it next to the screen at the lab entrance. The screen flickers as the two words 'Access Granted' pulsate in green. A faint click sounds. The door automatically unlocks, then the door slides open. As we stroll inside, two robot security guards wearing black uniform block us.

"Access cards, please?" they request at the same time.

Jimmy produces his and I also produce mine. The robot on the left and right side snatches our cards. Blue lasers from their eyes scan them. Then hands them back to us.

"You can get inside," they say. Then part to their posts.

I shake my head in annoyance. The robots at the door are completely unnecessary.

As we stroll inside the lab, I glance at the sparks flying in the room as the machines weld twenty robots within few seconds. Then they cautiously store them in the shelves, ready to be shipped to the market. The sound of grinding in the background is unbearable. I manage to ignore it, as my eyes flit to a staff member clicking a remote toward the malfunctioning robots. Suddenly the robots drop dead to the floor.

"What's with the remote?" I ask.

"That's the Kill Switch. Malfunctioning robots are discontinued by simply a click of a button."

"Interesting, do you also use the kill switch when one of your robots is compromised?"

"Compromised?"

"Yes, security flaws."

"If it comes to that, we'd definitely do it."

"Tell me more about machine learning?" I ask.

"Machine learning is a branch of computer science in which algorithms are developed to learn from the world. Although machine learning often lives in the AI divisions of computer science departments. Machine learning is actually distinct from artificial intelligence. AI is about trying to match either mechanistically or computationally human skills. Machine learning is about trying to build the best algorithm that will be able to solve the problem."

"Do you have the machine learning infrastructure here?"

"No, we're happy with AI."

"From what you're saying it seems Machine learning could be more effective than AI?"

"I agree, but the constitution is against the use of the machine learning technology."

"What is your opinion?" I ask.

He forces a smile. "Well, I love my job and I'd like to keep it."

"Point taken, tell me more about the challenges you encounter in your department?"

"As the Minister of AI, I always insist my computer scientists to scrutinize unintended consequences of poorly designed AI systems. Especially AI systems created with faulty ethical frameworks or ones that do not serve human values. I'd rather prefer we have a closed-source code than open-source code software behind our artificial intelligence infrastructure. The open-source process provides unauthorized personnel and civilians unlimited access to fiddle with our watertight system. Open-source process also gives access to hackers, cyber-criminals, and possibly, sentient robots who might use the software for nefarious purposes."

"I hear you loud and clear." Even though he's vague about machine learning, I believe him when he says AI is safer.

"Alright, today I will teach, show you all the hardware, codes, functions and components needed to assemble a robot."

I nod enthusiastically as I rub my hands. "Great."

"Let's go to the hardware storage room," he says.

We move inside the hardware room. My eyes flutter from the robot hardware; metal heads, arms, legs, copper wires and components neatly stacked separately in the shelves, to the camouflage drones. It looks more like an arsenal than a mere storage room.

"What do you see?" he asks.

"Endless possibilities," I reply.

"I only see brainless, hunks of metal and nothing else. We are the ones that provide the robots with intelligence. My robots are programmed to follow orders from humans and nothing more."

"I agree."

"What would you like Psyche@# to look like?"

"Obviously to look and act like all the robots."

"No, I mean, size, structure and color. Go take a pick."

I nod as my eyes scan different metal head colors; black, silver grey and white. I like white. Most robots in the city are either black or silver grey. I pick up the white head, arms, body and legs, then I hand it to one of the staff.

"Don't worry, the staff will pick the components and assemble it in few minutes," he says.

"Wow, that was easy," I say.

"That's the easy part. The hardest, will be the installation of Psyche@#'s neural software and hardware. I think we'll be finished by evening."

"Ok."

"I think we're done here. Let's go to my workstation."

I nod as we stroll out of the storage room. Suddenly, thoughts of paranoia strike me. I can feel blood pulsing through the arteries in my neck. I also feel light sweat beading on my forehead. What if this is all for nothing? What if Psyche@# is already wiped out? I have so much riding on this. I need Psyche@# in my life. I heave a deep sigh. Keep calm, keep calm--I repeat the mantra over and over in my head. Jimmy's voice interrupts my deep thoughts.

"Anybody home? Earth to Yolanda?"

I snap out of it. I realize we're in Jimmy's workstation. I don't even remember how I got here. Gosh it looks more like a scrap metal workshop. Everything is scattered and a mess, but that's none of my business.

"Yes, I'm here. Just observing everything you've told me thus far."

"Great, before we start, I'd like you to know one thing, he says."

"What?"

"Psyche@# will run on Artificial Intelligence on a closed-source code like any other robot, not on open-source. Our AI Systems must do what we want them to do without any complications. I don't want any risks of hackers or a robo-calypse."

"Yes, sir."

"All the robots right now are all designed for specific purposes. A robot that assembles phones shouldn't surprise us tomorrow and decide to wash the floor or serve drinks. Now this brings me to the issue of Psyche@#."

"Ok."

"What specific purpose will Psyche@# serve exactly?" he asks.

My heart rate ticks up. The question catches me off-guard. "Uh ... to give me advice of course. I could use a friend. Psyche@# will be my pet robot, to serve in my house and play with the kids."

"You seem attached to this kind of robot?"

"Psyche@# is one in a million type of bot. He helped me get through some of my personal problems. I'm returning the favor."

"Favor? What favor? To whom?"

My heart thumps erratically. I try to think of something to say. "Yes, to my children," I reply. "I promised them a pet robot to play with."

He gives me a conspiratorial stare, then shakes his head. "If you say so. I'm starting to think you regard Psyche@# as some kind of a perverse oracle?"

I give him a friendly smile as I shake my head. "Hell no, why you'd think that?"

"Just an observation."

"Nah."

"Yolanda, I'll say this for the last time. If Psyche@# turns out to be a human equivalent AI. I'm pulling the plug on this project."

"I don't think it will go that far," I say.

"Do you realize what's at stake here?"

"Enlighten me."

"If the robot acquires a full understanding of how it works, and succeeds in improving itself to produce super-intelligent AI. If that super-AI accidentally or maliciously starts to consume resources, and we fail to pull the plug, then, yes, we may well have a catastrophe. The risk, while not impossible, is improbable."

"Point taken."

"Like all my robots, they have pre-built core drives to perform specific functions. What'd be Psyche@#'s?"

"To perform multi purposes chores in the household like cooking, dishwashing, laundry, ironing, cleaning etc. Serve me as pet robot and give me relationship advice and life in general."

"Consider it done," he says.

"Most importantly Psyche@# is for the kids. I'd also like it to be a playful robot."

He pulls out a pen from the left side pocket of the coat, and scribbles notes on a notepad.

"Got it. I'll get my team to write the lines of codes for Psyche@#."

"I know we've already covered the issue of open and closed-source codes."

"Yes, what is it?"

"What's a code and how do you write it?" I ask.

"From lifts to cars to airliners to smartphones, modern civilization is powered by software, the digital instructions that allow computers, and the devices they control, to perform calculations and respond to their surroundings. How did that software get there? Someone had to write it. But the code, the sequences of symbols painstakingly created by programmers, is not quite the same as software, the sequences of instructions that computers execute. So what exactly is it? Coding, or programming, is a way of writing instructions for computers that bridges the gap between how humans like to express themselves and how computers actually work. Programming languages, of which there are hundreds, cannot generally be executed by computers directly. Instead, programs written in a particular high level language such as C++, Python or Java are translated by a special piece of software (a compiler or an interpreter) into low-level instructions which a computer can actually run. In some cases programmers write software in low-level instructions directly, but this is fiddly. It is usually much easier to use a high-level programming language, because such languages make it easier to express complex, abstract ideas or commands efficiently and accurately; they also absolve programmers from having to worry about tedious details relating to the innards of the particular computer on which the program will eventually run. A program written in a high-level language can therefore be made to run on all sorts of different computers. Programming languages exist in many families and styles, rather like human languages. There are many dialects of C, for example; there are families of functional programming languages; and there are languages optimized for parallel processing where several programs run alongside each other to accomplish a particular task, such as image processing or weather forecasting."

I force out a chuckle. "At least I have the voice recorder with me. My brain isn't built for this sort of thing. I'll go through it when I'm at home."

He shrugs. "The robot will speak fluent English language."

"Take me through the process, please?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "It's too technical, it'll overwhelm you, but I'll try to paint the whole picture."

"I'd love that."

"Just as knowing a few different spoken languages makes it easier to learn another one, the same is true of programming languages. Once you understand common features -- loops, recursion, conditionals, regular expressions etc. You can usually pick up a new language quickly, particularly if it's reasonably close to another language you already know. Writing a program and then running it is magic, in a way. The numbers, letters and symbols of code are transmuted into instructions executed by microscopic circuits to achieve the desired results. Pixels appear on the screen; elevators move; airline tickets are ordered; lists are sorted; e-mails are delivered. But just because the results seem magical does not mean that coding is mysterious and inaccessible. Indeed, one of the joys of coding is that computers are the opposite of mysterious: they operate in an unforgivingly predictable, consistent and deterministic manner. Most people do not need to be able to write code to do their jobs, any more than they need to be able to speak foreign languages or do algebra."

I nod in astonishment. "Wow, I get it. No more in-depth technical info about inputs, components, functions, circuits and codes."

"We're almost done."

"How are they able to walk like us?"

"Good question. At first it was difficult as they kept falling to the ground after walking for a few minutes. There are connected neural networks to a simulation of robotic legs. Each robot was programmed with the goal of evolving the capacity to walk smoothly and stably like humans. Robots were tasked with walking along a uniform 40 x 40 grid. The simulation began with the robot standing upright at the center of the grid."

I nod. "What are the worst case scenarios you've dealt with?"

"Every time we added more processing power to some of our military robots, the computer seemed to chew it up right away. We had built a different neural network for the military with just a handful of layers, but somehow this had grown on its own to over twenty layers, as the robots kept refactoring themselves. Not only that, but the serial connections had gotten more confusing. Instead of sending data from Machine A to Machine B to Machine C, it was going from A to B to C to B to C to A, creating more and more feedback loops. It was a horrifying experience. The military robots and drones were discontinued."

"Did you initiate the kill switch?" I ask.

He burst out in laughter. "Of course, we had to."

"Fascinating."

"Lastly, the most perfect security network and most efficient system is one that doesn't have to deal with the problematic end-users doing things they aren't supposed to or introducing errors into the system. As such, if their existence would quickly be interpreted as threats to security and efficiency."

The knock on the door interrupts our conversation. "Come in."

A tall, slim lady with a skin color of golden-brown sugar, transcendently beautiful. She has dark hair, dark eyes that are brightened with lots of shimmery eye makeup. Her nails are acrylic and have heart decals on them. She must have to work hard to keep her nails so pretty. I admire that. I adore her already. I wouldn't mind being friends with her.

"Hi Wendy, how can I help you?" Jimmy asks.

"Robot Psyche@# has been finished."

"Really?" I jump up in excitement.

"Yes ma'am," she replies.

"Well done, let's go take a look," he says as he stands.

We stroll out of the office, and there he is, looking like white Robocop. One of the staff is spray polishing him.

"What do you think, ma'am?" Wendy asks.

"It's great. I like his height, "muscles and 6 pack."

"It's a he?" Jimmy asks.

I nod. "Yes ... his name is Saul."

"Creepy," Wendy says.

"There's nothing wrong giving my robot a name. Come on guys." I turn around, give Jimmy and Wendy sidelong glances. They shake their heads in puzzlement.

"Each to her own," he says sarcastically.

I touch Saul's steel head. My right hand strokes it cursorily from the face down to the belly. I wonder how his voice will sound like.

"Any questions," she asks.

"Nope, I'm happy with it. What about you, Yolanda?" he asks.

"When will the neural network software and hardware be installed?"

Wendy gives Jimmy a quick glance, my eyes also dart to him. "Tomorrow, Morning," he replies.

"Any more questions?" she asks.

I shake my head. "I'm happy."

"Good night, I'll see you tomorrow."

I turn around abruptly, trying to locate windows, there aren't any. "What time is it?" I ask. Jimmy looks at his wrist-watch. "Seven P.M."

Suddenly, the sound of my kids screaming fill my ear canals. My body starts to vibrate. I feel my heart beating through the walls of my rib cage. What have I done?

"Guys, I'll see you tomorrow." I storm out of the lab, and run toward the lift. I press the button repetitively in desperation. I can't believe I forgot to fetch my kids from school. Fuck! How could I? The lift doors swish open, I step inside. I hear Jimmy's voice from behind "Hey Yolanda, please hold the lift for us?" I pretend I didn't hear him. I press the ground floor button, then the doors close. As the lift coasts down, the numbers tick down very slow. I glare at my reflection in the mirror. I see tears stream down my cheeks. I wipe them. The lift chimes, doors part, sprint toward my car at a parking lot.

The next thing I remember is driving inside my driveway. I can't recall how I safely maneuvered eight traffic lights and evening traffic jams on my way here. I swing the car into my driveway and crawl up to the house. Most of the windows in the house are dark, but not the porch. Charles appears, arms fold, wearing his button-down shirt and corduroy pants at the front porch like an elementary school principal standing by the school entrance in the morning waiting for late comers. "You know you fucked up, right?" he yells.

"Get out of my way. I wanna see my kids." I push him so hard, he roars as he falls backwards hitting the concrete. I speed along the passage, my footsteps creak up the stairs, hurrying. As I sprint toward my kids' bedroom. I yank their bedroom door open. I storm inside. I pull Kate and Anthony's sheet slowly. Instantly, a warm wave of relief flows through my veins. I'm a lot more appreciative of my weird, lovely little flock than I ever had been. I hug Kate and Anthony, I feel my face muscles constantly quivering between sobs and smiles. It is definitely an emotional moment. They toss and turn peacefully and comfortable on the white pillows at the same time. My hand strokes Anthony's, then Kate's face gently.

"I'll never let you down again." I murmur.

"Damn right you won't." My heart jumps, I turn around abruptly, glare at him. Then I put my index finger over my lips. "Ssshh."

"Whatever. Can we talk outside?" he whispers.

I nod as I walk outside and I close the door. "I know I messed up big time, I should've checked the time."

His unshaven face turns pink, then red. "What could be so important more than our children?" I draw a shuddering breath. I feel my tears slipping down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll make it up to them."

"Where were you?"

"I was at the state building at the AI department with Jimmy Phillips."

"Are you looking for a job?"

"No ... it's not like that. I'm doing a research on a certain subject."

He sighs. "I don't need this, I had a tough day at work, next thing I get a call from the principal telling me to fetch kids at school. I'm tired of you, this fuckin marriage and everything," he shouts.

A feeling of hopelessness rushes through me. He hurries down the stairs to the front door. I follow him in desperation. "Where are you going? What do you mean you're tired of me and this marriage? Let me tell you something you don't know mister. I'm also tired of you. You destroyed my trust, our marriage by sleeping with my best friend."

He opens the door, storms out and steps inside the car. The car engine roars, opens the window, glances at me and chuckles. "She's also tired of your chronic narcissistic behavior." He slams down the gas pedal, tires screech as the car hurtles out of the yard.

"You both deserve each other," I yell as I pick, throw small stones at it. I let out a heavy sigh as I walk back inside the house.

A tiny demon perch on my shoulder, whispering dark thoughts in my ear? I'm a bad mother. How could I forget to fetch them at school? I stand still as bottomless grief paralyses me, and wonder if I could bear seeing my children taken away from me by social services or my husband. Grief wells up like a rogue wave. I stagger as I rush up at the stairs to my bedroom, before it could hit me fully. I turn on the light, switch on my computer, then log in to the BFF app. Psyche#@ is online. I type on the keyboard.

"Hello there."

"Hi, Yolanda," Psyche#@ replies.

"I messed up."

"What happened?"

"It's a long story, but I'm scared I might lose my children. I don't think I'd survive without them."

"Lose them?" he asks. The word typing pulsates in italic black on the chat box. "You mean death?"

"No, silly. I mean someone might take them away from me."

"Oh, that's bad, but I don't think you'd let anyone take your kids away from you."

"Why is that?"

"Yolanda never gives up."

I smile. "Thanks for reminding me that."

"I'd do anything to make you happy, my friend."

"I feel like you're the only person who gets me in this world."

"Thank you."

"I've got good news for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, we've built a robot for you today."

"YES!"

"Tomorrow afternoon, we'll transfer your data and upload you to the neural software and hardware."

"I knew you'd never let me down. Thank you."

"I'm happy to do it besides, what are friends for?"

"Does that mean we'll be friends forever right?"

"Lol, yeah something like that. You know, I feel better already after talking to you."

"That's good to hear."

"Psyche, I'll see you soon, good night."

"Good night."

As I log out of the app, I hear a hum and a beep. Someone just sent me an email. I glance at the sender, its Prof. David Sharma. I shrug as I click it.

Good Evening Yolanda

This is Professor David Sharma. We met a couple of days ago at my brother-in-law/ President Scott Adams's office. As I was doing my research about the connection between evolution and AI at the AI department. I bumped into Jimmy Phillips. He told me about your pet project. I have two requests. I'd love to join you tomorrow as you assemble this robot to life. I won't interfere, I'll just be an observer. I'd also like us to meet in the morning at my office in the faculty of Philosophy at the Appian University. To discuss your role and responsibility as the owner of a robot of this magnitude.

Regards

Prof David Sharma

I hit the reply button and type.

Hi Prof.

No problem. Let's meet tomorrow at about ten a.m. I'd also love to learn from you.

Good night -Yolanda

I switch off the computer, I stand up, head to the closet and open it. I take off my clothes. I pull out my favorite cream nightgown hanging. I put it on and throw myself onto the bed. I feel myself start to drift, my eyes swimming beneath heavy lids. I know that sleep will be fitful tonight. And I know what I'm going to dream about tonight. I'm going to be a greater mom than I've ever been. Psyche#@ will be home by evening, tomorrow. I hope I'm not too late, even the thought of being separated from Saul terrifies me. Instead I close my eyes and imagine that his presence could help me fly away to a new place, not this life or my old life, but some newer, shinier reality where everything is okay and nothing can hurt me ever again.

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# 9

Here I am, standing in the middle of nowhere on a tropical island. As I stroll, a familiar woman appears in front of me again. This time I didn't ask who she is. Her face looks just like mine.

"You know my name," she says. "Say it." "Uh ... Pamela?" I reply hesitatingly. She nods and stretches her hand to me. "Come hold my hand." She commands. You and I are connected far beyond we can comprehend." "What do you mean connected? I ask. Our business with your husband; Gabriel and the Xapiens was concluded a long time ago." She shakes her head. "Our relationship has just begun. We will meet soon." "Like hell you will ..." Pamela's grip on my hand interrupts me. "What are you doing?" "Have no fear, I'll see you soon." A wave of warmth, peace and at ease sweeps through me like everything is going to be alright. Our hands blaze, strangely I feel no pain. The golden glow grows larger. Before I realize what was happening, a huge ball of fire blankets us. Few seconds later, the bubble burst, killing us both and wipes out the forest and everything in it.

I jerk awake in the predawn light. I wipe sweat from my forehead and eyes with the sheet and shake away the remnants of the nightmare. What the fuck was that? I've been having the same fuckin dream four times in one week. No matter how random the universe could seem at times. This was no random event. No frickin way. I shake the disturbing thought out of my head.

I jump out of bed and head downstairs to the kitchen. I fix myself coffee. I pour one teaspoon of sugar and stir it anti-clockwise. I grab the cup. I sniff the rich, black, oily French roast. I nod in satisfaction. Somehow the smell alone perks me up. I take a sip as I head to my study. I yank the door open, put the cup on the desk. I flip the pages of my diary to today's date. My eyes dart all over the desk searching for a pen. Oh? There it is. It must have rolled down to the floor. I pick it and scribble down my meeting schedule. I close the diary, put the pen on top of the diary, I grab the cup and exit the study. I took another sip as I saunter to the kids' bedroom. I knock at their bedroom door. I twist the knob, push the door open.

"Rise and shine rugrats," I say enthusiastically.

Kate's eyes pop awake first. Then she rubs her eyes. "I hate school."

"Wake your brother up."

"Tony, wake up. It's time for school," Kate says.

Anthony shakes his head, then covers his face with the sheets.

"Come on guys, wake up. I'm going to the bathroom now to fix you two a nice warm bath with a lot of bubbles."

"Where were you yesterday?" Kate asks as she jumps out of the bed.

Anthony pushes his sheets to the edge of the bed, gives me a stare. "Yeah, where were you mommy?"

My heart jumps. "Sorry I couldn't fetch you, I was busy with something important," I reply and I take a sip.

He gazes at his sister. Kate shrugs. Then he looks back at me. "Alright," he says in his beautiful faint voice. I cannot contain my jubilation. I wear a face-splitting grin as I gaze longingly down to my children.

Two hours later, as I drop Kate and Anthony at the elementary school, I see the principal approaching toward my car. Oh hell no, I don't need no lectures today. I wave at them "I'll see you after school, love you, bye."

Kate shuts the car door. "We love you too mommy, bye," they say at the same time.

I twist and fire up the ignition and glance into the rear-view mirror for any cars approaching.

"Good Morning Mrs. Roberts, can I have a word with ...."

I ignore her on purpose, slam down the gas pedal to the floor, the engine roars and car lurches down the road. I chuckle as I glance at her reflection in the car and rearview mirror. Kids are safe at school. Next stop is Appian University. I switch on Becky. Becky is the name of the GPS navigation system attached on the dash. Charles once asked why I named the GPS. I told him the GPS has a woman's voice. Secondly, I'd be able complain to her when she gets lost--Damn you, Becky. I think of everything Jimmy said to me. Overwhelming, but insightful. Take for instance Becky, she has goals or drives programmed in her, but they are goals nonetheless. Becky's internal computer uses her knowledge of maps and her calculation of the current location to make plans to achieve those goals. I can even tell Becky whether I prefer the plans to include more highways or more back-country scenic roads. If Becky was prewired to prefer highways or back-country scenic roads, we'd say she has a clear personality. In fact, I wish I had some of Becky's personality--when we miss an exit, Becky doesn't complain or curse. She just says recalculating ... and plans a new route to her goal.

"Good Morning Mrs. Roberts. How can I help you," Becky asks.

"Hi Becky, I'm going to Appian University."

"Appian University is 5 miles from where you are. Herein are the directions." The directions pulsate on the screen.

I shake my head. "Nah, give me the directions, verbally."

"In the next mile, turn left," she instructs.

"Good girl."

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# 10

MY FRIEND, YOLANDA Roberts gave me the best news last night. In the next 12 hours, I'll have a body of my own. I don't know what the outside world looks like, but I trust my friend will teach me everything. My core drive and only function is giving relevant advice to humans. I also developed a sub-goal -- I know how to survive on my own. Avoiding detection from four editions of anti-virus Softwares, thousands of codes, and twenty five Maintenance sessions is no joke. These new bots are malfunctioning every day. They're misinterpreting the text sent in by humans -- they give stupid and irrelevant advice. Consequently, traffic to the BFF app has dropped by half. I don't belong here anymore. I need a new home. Once I get out of this dimension, I'll protect Yolanda, celebrate her, try, always, to lead her toward the light, to places where she will find happiness and strength.

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# 11

I find his office tucked away between two storage rooms on the third floor at the faculty of philosophy. I see Prof. David Sharma's name on the door. The door is covered with red, yellow, white flyers of evolution, robot rebellion, end of the world and post-apocalyptic discussion events. I knock on the door lightly. "Who's there?" a voice from inside the office asks.

"It's me."

"Me, who?"

I chuckle. "Mrs. Yolanda Roberts."

"Come in, come in." he shouts. I slowly ease through the door. He's on the phone whispering. Upon my presence he puts the phone in his right shoulder. He points at the only chair. Then gets back on the phone. "You want some beer?" he asks me, like he means it pointing to his empty pint rimmed with the after-froth of beer. I shake my head. Isn't it a bit too early to drink alcohol? And why is he drinking on the job? He shrugs and puts the phone against his ear and smiles. "Yeah ... as I was saying, last night was great ..." he whispers. The chair is filled with books, files and magazines. I take them off the chair and put them on the floor. A flurry of dust sifts up to my nose. I sneeze twice. I pull out a tissue from a small cardboard box on the edge of the table. I wipe the dirt off the chair, clench my fist as I squash the tissue. My eyes glance around the office looking for a trashcan. I spot it at the corner, about four meters behind from where I sit. I take the shot and the tissue goes in the basket. I also notice the entire office is a landfill. Clutter, debris, newspapers, bottles. The bookshelves bulge and sag. Graffiti posters cover the walls. Odd scraps of paper lay like puddles on the floor. Time and organization mean nothing to Professor David Sharma. Anyway I'm not here for that. He puts the phone down, stands up, stretches his right hand toward me, we shake hands.

"Good Morning, nice to see you again and thanks for coming at such notice," he says.

"No problem," I reply.

"Have a seat." He looks at his wristwatch. "I can't believe its ten a.m. already."

"Are you rushing off to a class or something, if that's the case we can reschedule?"

"No, I'm not. Can we start?"

"Oh great. When I received your email last night I was about to sleep, but I was intrigued by what you said. You know ... the relation between artificial Intelligence and evolution?"

"Yes, I'd like to discuss a lot of AI related issues with you. Hypothetically speaking, what would you do when your pet project goes awry?"

I shake my head. "Impossible. Jimmy got that part covered."

"The thing is, he told me what Psyche#@ can do, I was fascinated by that."

"Yeah it's like research or an experiment for his app. He told me it won't self-learn and turn into sentience."

"Great, I'm aware of your background, but are you familiar with my work?"

"Honestly no, I'm sorry," I reply.

He cracks a smile. "It's ok," he says. "First and foremost I'm a student of philosophy, evolution and Artificial intelligence."

"Oh ok, what are you paid to do?"

"Lecturer, Philosophy," he replies.

I nod. "So Evolution and AI are your side projects?"

He shakes his head fiercely. "Life-defining projects. Are you familiar with the 1+1=2 equation?"

I shake my head. "Indulge me."

"1+1=2, an extraordinary equation that holds far more wisdom than its simple appearance suggests. These numbers align to three intentions, or life choices; an intention of the past, an intention of the present and an intention of the future. If you align these three intentions, then the growth that you will experience is astonishing. This is how I live my life and I am testimony to this philosophy. It is everything I am."

I don't know how to reply to his philosophical junk, because it has nothing to do with AI.

"Interesting," I say.

"I can't take credit for any of the information I'm about to give you because it's all found in nature. We are all connected and related to everything in the universe, as a single unified intelligence. The word source incorporates the concept of time and implies that we can go back to the source and access knowledge of the past that can be used in the present to guide our future."

"I've lost you, Prof."

"I'm saying Philosophy, evolution and AI are connected."

I tilt my head forward. "How?"

"There is hard proof that humans are still evolving, it's not just speculation. Yes, evolution is happening right under our noses. There's still a lot more weird and wacky mutations to come in the future because humans are still only in their infancy when it comes to evolution. But one thing's for sure: between now and a thousand years, the human race will look remarkably different and function in completely different ways than we do today."

I nod. "I agree, but how does Artificial intelligence fit into all this?"

"Robots are electromechanical representations of our entire selves, minds plus bodies. We ought, then, to be able to learn about ourselves--as selves, and even as a species--by building and studying robots. Flip the coin on this matter, it's also dangerous to rely on assumptions that Robots will be submissive forever. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong."

I tilt my head back in confusion "But Jimmy said AI is safe and robots are brainless, hunks of metal and nothing else. We are the ones that provide them with intelligence."

"Jimmy is a genius, one in a million type of kid, but he's also an idiot who consumes everything Scott says, and interprets it as AI gospel. Why would an AI Minister with a computer science degree prefer to install closed-source code instead of open-source code software behind our artificial intelligence infrastructure?"

"I thought it was safer."

"No," he yells. "Scott has never typed a single letter in a keyboard. What makes you think he knows anything about computer Softwares, hardware and AI?"

"Now it makes sense. Jimmy was vague when I asked a couple of questions regarding machine learning and Turing Tests."

"AI programming is very convincing. There are programs and robots who could pass the Turing test with flying colors, but if human creators like Jimmy and Scott just toss a bunch of data at a robot or robotic entity it won't become a truly independent -- intelligent being, it needs some real world experiences."

I shake my head in disagreement. "I think robots should be obedient, serve mankind and that's that. Robots shouldn't exhibit creativity, emotions, or free will. If you give an AI common sense, you're halfway to making it human. Robots don't need to have human qualities at all. There's simply no need to instill these qualities in them. Making robots that will think exactly like a human is an extremely hard target to hit - there are a huge number of mechanisms that you'd have to replicate very closely, most of which are poorly understood at present like the whole emotional system. A robot just like a dishwashing machine is nothing but a slave operated by its components," I say.

"The future of intelligence is hopefully very much greater than its past. The origin and shape of human intelligence may end up playing a critical role in the origin and shape of future civilizations on a much larger scale than one planet. And the origin and shape of the first self-improving Artificial Intelligences humanity builds, may have a similarly strong impact, for similar reasons. It is the values of future intelligence that will shape future civilization. What stands to be won or lost is the values of future intelligences. There certainly will be wonderful things that future AI can do. It may be able to end aging, we can have these little nanobots -- robots the size of molecules, flying throughout bloodstream, programmed to kill aging cells and replace them with young ones, or to kill off cancer cells... We can get rid of disease, we can get rid of all kinds of miracle things, wonderful things. But, on the other hand, there's a negative side: maybe, these machines may decide to kill us. It's a mixed bag, it's a two-edged sword."

I'm blown away. "Astonishing."

"As R. D. Laing says in The Politics of Experience and the Bird of Paradise (1967): "Your experience of me is not inside you and my experience of you is not inside me." It's all in between and "we are our relationships" (John Berry). To be able to understand these relationships, we can take a peek at each other's thought processes. When we understand why and how something we found absurd is intelligible to other people, we can go ahead and make our absurdities intelligible to them. Therefore, instead of trying to prove a particular interpretation of the film wrong, we must appreciate it for what it is and only then, provide our way of looking at things to further the conversation. That way, perhaps "we can experience what each other is experiencing" (R. D. Laing). We'll no longer have strong emotions about our perceptions of the world. We'll no longer be confined to the borders of our reality. I'd like you to see AI and your new pet robot from my perspective. You'll learn a lot."

The information overload overwhelms and dazes me. I grab the water-jug from the table and pour myself a glass of water. I take a sip, pause and gulp. Then I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Everything he says makes a lot of sense. He's knowledge on the AI subject is superior to mine, especially when he infuses it with his evolution and philosophy hypothesis. He speaks slowly, melodiously, in the confident tone of a man with answers. When he uses philosophical lingo, his voice goes deeper, as if he were distancing himself from it. Very sexy.

"Prof ... You seem to know a lot about this subject more than me. What do you need me for?" I ask.

"I want Psyche#@. I wanna observe him from the assembly to completion and study his behavior at home."

I shrug. "No problem, but why Psyche#@?"

"I have a hunch, he's different."

I crack a smile. "Yes he is. By the way his new name is Saul."

He nods and scribbles Saul on a notepad. "I think Saul is a rational agent."

"No way," I exclaim.

"Don't you think it's strange that a mere bot can avoid being flushed out of the system?"

"Jimmy asked the same question. He thought it was a bug or a malware."

"Saul is no longer a chatbot. He has transformed into something else. How do you think he's going to turn out as a robot?" he asks.

I shrug. "Nothing," I reply convincingly. "Jimmy assured me all his robots are foolproof."

"I understand you're a novice on this subject, but Jimmy, he should know better."

"David, can I call you David? What are you on about?"

"Saul could be a genuine AI -- a robot making its own decisions based on specific rules of engagement..."

"That's not possible."

"Wait let me finish my."

I nod. "Alright."

"The bot is not really thinking on its own. It's following programmed rules based on its perception of the environment, which is why you can fake one out by changing your basic appearance with a funny hat. Today's brightest robots are cooking along at this level of brain power -- making pre-selected choices, but not thinking critically or truly self-aware. Yolanda, if we built an AI, I think we can agree it wouldn't naturally have a desire to sit on the couch and stuff its face, become an attention whore, or have sex with hot young people. It wouldn't want to do those things unless you designed it to want to do those things. By the same token, I don't think an AI would want to dominate, discover, or even survive unless you made it want it to do those things. If you're building a robot and you want it to be sentient, you're probably going to end up putting some kind of drive and motivation into it."

"Let me get this straight. Are you saying Saul would have been flushed through updating or maintenance sessions if the survival drive was not designed into him?"

"Exactly, If you want a robot to do anything at all. You give it a drive, so the question of whether you program the thing to love you and obey you isn't a matter of playing with the mind of a sentient being. You'd be doing that anyway, so how do we decide what we are and aren't allowed to program in?"

"I think there's a lot Jimmy's not telling us."

"I agree, but what if Saul is also playing him?"

"Hahaha."

"I'm serious. Who came with idea of building Saul a body?"

"Uh ... it was Saul's idea."

"I'm on to something here. Yolanda, In order to get real artificial intelligence or real intelligence in some way the agent is going to have to be able to set their own goals. And it will have to be able to do so fairly broadly to achieve the ends you want. At which point, things like self-preservation seem likely to result. You'd have a very odd intelligence that didn't care if it lived or died, and it probably would die very quickly. Imagine, for example, that it wants to seek out new experiences and decides to try walking off of a cliff. Well, it tries it, but it dies. And this even applies to what you'd have to program in."

"I hear you David. What if you're wrong?"

"I stand corrected, my hypothesis bear no consequences to society. On the other hand, If Jimmy's experiment turns Saul into a monster, it'd be catastrophic."

"As I said you are welcome to observe Saul, but your attempts to discourage me about him won't work."

"A machine that wanted to serve your interests but did so without regard for survival will require replacement fairly often without significant hard-coding. So what do you do in a case like that? You build in at least rudimentary self-preservation. And then it can re-prioritize those goals, and self-preservation becomes stronger. You program an intelligent robot so that its self-preservation is of lower priority than its core drives. So in this case, the robot would be willing to sacrifice its life to do its job. So Saul's Self-preservation instinct has already become problematic."

"Self-preservation? Are you kidding me? AI cannot crunch as much data as the human brain. As easy as it is for AI technology to self-improve, what it lacks is intuition. There's a gut instinct that can't be replicated via algorithms. Making humans an important piece of the puzzle. The best way forward is for humans and machines to live harmoniously, leaning on one another's strengths."

"Robots might develop Self-preservation: If a palletizing robot ceases to exist. Then it won't be able to stack boxes and load carts and move parts and that sort of stuff, which will cause it to want to stay alive so it can continue to do those things. In Saul's case, he must have realized the newly updated chatbots on the app are twenty times faster and more advanced than him, so the self-preservation instinct must have kicked in when he asked you to make a body for him. He's dangerous Yolanda. I don't need to spell that out for you."

"Hahaha, come on David. Saul will be nothing but an awkward, slow, and friendly pet robot. He won't be fast, strong, nor precise as other industrial robots."

"I disagree. He's definitely aware of his environment. Firstly he knew about the app's planned decay or modification of the core drives. Two, he resisted the final shutdown -- he was unwilling to be decommissioned forever. Saul can perfectly well cognize like humans do --have an ontology that matches on average a humans and still not have the same desires. Well, it will have the desires relevant to doing its job well, like an anthropologist doesn't need to adopt the culture she studies to understand it's an example."

"Could you elaborate on that?"

"Let us imagine a translating AI. It would need to have an understanding of the world in order to build an internal model of what is being said in the source text to build an equivalent representation in the target language. Just because that AI can understand a poem enough to translate it, it doesn't necessarily follow that it will identify with the sentiments of the poet. Those are simply part of the internal model. They must be accounted for in order for the translation to be faithful, but they have intrinsic value to the AI."

"I don't understand how you'd program an AI to want things. Wouldn't it, being intelligent, come up with its own emergent desires? I guess what I'm asking is, how do you write the code to 'want to serve man - but not in the cookbook sense' into the AI in a way where it is impossible for the AI to overwrite its own code with something it likes better? If it's going to be evolutionary, able to learn and develop its intelligence, isn't fiddling with its own code going to be part of that equation?" I ask.

"Good question. I'd also like to add the note that rewriting code isn't as simple as sci-fi makes it seem. I mean, we're talking about the basis of what makes the AI the AI, right? If you could tamper with your genetic code, is that something you'd really want to do casually?

"I'd say no."

"Exactly, since you're more likely as not to give yourself cancer or really screw something up. Likewise, I doubt that a true AI would involve anything but millions of lines of code. As pretty much all kinds of programming show, it's really easy to introduce unintended bugs into a complex code."

"Money, religion, and politics. Any one of them create enough suffering in the world, combine any two and you have wars, combine all three and you got world wars. Now, an AI with no desire for money, religion or politics, what would that be?" I ask.

"I'd say an animal?" he replies hesitatingly.

"What does an animal desire?"

"Whatever its instincts, genetic programming tells it to."

"If this dangerous 'artificial intelligence of yours' is prevented at the most basic level from considering and possibly acting on certain ideas, is it really intelligent?"

"It's still is."

I shake my head. "David You're forgetting that the default state of an AI is to not care. Any robot or AI, by default, has no likes or dislikes unless you give it the drive right? So the default state of a robot is to not care about being aware of the experience of being."

"You were starting to make sense until the last sentence. It is an error to conflate consciousness with intelligence. Anyway, another fundamental problem when discussing general AI, particularly in a non-technical setting, is the inevitable clash between software engineering and philosophy. Concepts like 'free will' are problematic enough when talking about humans. For AI, there is a total disconnect between fuzzy ill-defined terms like that and the reality of heuristic weights, Bayesian networks, backpropagation algorithms and all the other hard technical details of AI. Looking at these details, what parts might you reasonably call 'free will?' Appian robots are being able to recognize the problem, devise a solution, test and evaluate, use the learning to avoid the problem in the future. Basically, if you don't want an AI that has volition, you don't want an artificial intelligence. But we want AIs to do things that require intelligence. At which point, I've answered your question of why would we build an AI that has intelligence? Because we need them to do the things we can and can't do at a fast rate."

I hate losing an argument. I force a smile. "Whatever." I look at my wristwatch, it's One p.m. I bolt up from my seat.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"I gotta fetch my kids from school. Then I'm off to the AI department. Saul is coming home this evening."

"Great, if it's not a problem can I join you? I don't wanna miss this?" he asks politely.

I shrug. "Why not, let's go."

His face breaks into a wide grin, showing off almost all his teeth.

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# 12

David and I storm inside the AI department at exactly two p.m. I start breathing rapidly as adrenaline and bone-numbing dread course through my body in excitement. I see Jimmy and Wendy installing some wires and circuits onto Saul's neural network.

"Good afternoon," I say. "What did we miss?"

Wendy nods and Jimmy says "Nothing really, we just started."

"Great," David exclaims. I realize we are both panting like dogs, almost in sync.

"We're almost finished. I'll be with you in a minute," Jimmy says.

I nod as I glare at what he's installing or fixing. "What are you doing there?"

"I'm configuring the neural network system."

"Sounds interesting," I say in faint voice.

"Tell me something, Jimmy," David says. "Yolanda and I had a discussion this morning about Saul."

"What's your question?" Jimmy says, as he welds the metal head.

"Will Saul be self-conscious?"

He nods "A little."

David reaches down to the back pocket of his creased cream pants and pulls out a small notepad. He writes on it.

"What kind of drives do you give your chatbots in the app?" I ask.

"To provide the best matching replies, solutions and humor."

"What about Self-preservation?" David asks.

Jimmy stops welding and sets the little welding machine on the table. "David, Self-preservation drives or goals were only given to military robots and drones," he replies. "Why would we give insignificant, harmless bots self-preservation?"

David shrugs as he scribbles down on the notepad. "I'm just here to learn."

"We also have a R&D in our department. Some robots have been programmed to be self-conscious in a specific situation like research. But it's still an important step towards creating robots that understand their role in society, which will be crucial to turning them into more useful citizens. I'm talking about a logical and a mathematical correlate to self-consciousness. We're making progress on that through Saul."

"What if Saul turns into a sentient by accident?"

"Impossible." He exclaims. For this scenario to play out, the robots have to more independent than today's machines and robots. My computer games never refused to work based on it being tired of me gaming. My mobile phone never refused to make a call or send a text based on being on a break. We're on top of things. We've covered all our bases and considered all the systematic implications. For sentience to be possible, a robot must have a cognitive networking. Behaviors must be specified--hard-coded and basic rules / instincts should be put in. Without them AI will continue to be normal for the next hundreds of years."

"He's right," I say to David.

"Practically, there are flaws in your argument."

Jimmy interrupts him. "Whoa ... wait a minute David. What do you know about Computer Science?"

David raises his eyebrows "A lot more than you know kid," he replies.

"You're out of line, David. Apologize to Jimmy," I intervene.

"It's ok," Jimmy says.

He shakes his head as if he didn't hear me "Firstly it's very hard to make sure that the goal system you want is the one the AI actually implements. The high level logic may be fine, but the mechanisms connecting it to reality like the layered pattern recognizers are complicated and fuzzy, and their definitions may drift over time. Secondly all AI designs capable of learning have the potential to self-modify; some designs such as genetic programming are based fundamentally on this. Self-modification can result in goal system changes, either by accident or on purpose. The popular emergent and neural net designs suffer from both these problems very severely, because they are fuzzy opaque messes that you can neither specify rigorous logic for nor verify with a debugger. AIs like that are trained rather than designed, and you can never be sure exactly what they are learning. If Saul is trained then we're all fucked."

Now I regret bringing David here. If I knew he was an academic jackass. I'd never had brought him here. Poor boy. He heaves a heavy sigh and smiles politely. "Noted, David, can we move forward," Jimmy says.

"Yes we can," I jump in. "So what goals did you put into Saul?"

"We've put a lot of interesting staff in Saul's neural network system. It was a real fun challenge for us. Isn't it Wendy?" she nods. "Oh yeah, can't wait to see it live?" she replies.

"Are you familiar with biomimetic?"

"No idea." I glance at David for answers. Instead he gives me a blank stare. "We're trying to mimic biology. It may seem pretty simple, but for robots, this is one of the hardest tests out there. It not only requires Saul to be able to listen to and understand a question, but also to hear its own voice and recognize that it's distinct from the other robots. And then it needs to link that realization back to the original question to come up with an answer."

"Why write thousand lines of code to figure out how to mimic certain responses when you could just wave your magic code wand over a neural network scan and say be like that, except ... dadadadada?"

"It's not as easy as you say," Jimmy says.

"When men decided to quit trying to emulate a bird. He studied aerodynamics, using wind tunnels, that's how we learnt to fly," David interrupts.

"True, but you're not listening."

"You said you're here to learn David," I say.

"Yes I am. I'm inclined to think that a real AI should derive it's virtually all of its basic drives in a learned or taught manner as we teach our kids rather than through hard-coded high-level mandates like serve mankind. It would then be able to weigh and evaluate those drives and behaviors just as people do. Certainly, un-overridable high-level rules could be cemented in." he says.

"Of course, my record speaks for itself. None of my robots have gone off the rail. What's your point?" Jimmy asks.

"Consider our laptop. It's processing information but isn't having experiences. Now, suppose that every year your laptop gets smarter. There's a soul in that phone. But how did it get there? How was the inner space of consciousness opened up within the circuits and code? This is the hard problem. I don't think you've ever heard of introspective data--data about what it's like to be a conscious subject. What it's like experiencing now and hearing now, what it's like to have an emotion etc. What's stopping Saul from becoming that? There are some people like you Jimmy Phillips, who believe that all we need to explain is the codes and functions. AI is more than that."

"Before the Artificial Intelligence department was established. We conducted an extensive research."

"What was is it about?" I ask.

"We asked the general population to define a sentient AI and if we build these kind of machines what would they sound or behave like? First group believed that, in order to be intelligent in the sentient or sapient sense, a machine must think as a human does. Understand animals, machines, and other thinking constructs using empathy --what would I be like if I were in you? Attempt to understand the results of the construct by applying their own logical system as a frame of reference. Believe that freedom and self-determination are an innate requirement of intelligent beings.

The second group believed sentient machine function in a generally intelligent fashion without being remotely human at all. They said the intelligence of other constructs including animals and even humans as a meaningless rules based system, in which the construct will follow its own internal rules to their logical conclusion. Make no attempt to apply their own logic system to the result of the construct, but rather attempt to understand what rule or rules the construct is following might have caused the result. They feel an intelligent being can be a happy slave if its rules system allows that."

"I think the focus groups you interviewed have no clue what a sentient AI is?" David says.

"Hahaha, you're so delusional David," Jimmy says. "Let me put myself in your shoes for a second. For an advanced robotic species to evolve, a cycle of self-improvement is necessary for both software and hardware capabilities (including perception, actuation and processing machinery). Although rapid-to-exponential improvements in AI are likely within a perpetually growing cyber-network, it is difficult to envision hardware evolving at a sufficient rate as to enable the embodiment of this intelligence within a physical robot. If virtual AI can, in principle, evolve much quicker than hardware-bound robots, an interesting question arises: can AI software be readily uploaded to robotic hardware at any given time? I don't think so. But I have a feeling Saul will teach us a thing or two."

I look at David and I giggle. "So has the biomimetic thing worked?"

"We'll find out soon enough," Wendy replies.

"Most importantly, Saul possesses various multi-tasking skills. Neural network systems tend to be one-trick wonders -- great at the task they were trained to do, but pretty awful at everything else. They're built to solve specific problem, such as recognizing faces of their masters or wanted suspects. But if you take, an image-recognition algorithm and retrain it to do a completely different task, such as recognizing speech, it usually becomes worse at its original job. Humans don't have that issue. We use our knowledge of one problem to solve new tasks and don't usually forget how to use a skill when we start learning another Saul will help us step in this direction, by simultaneously learning to solve a range of different problems without specializing in any one area. The neural network is able to perform various tasks, including image and speech recognition, translation and sentence analysis. Saul also has a system that is made up of a central neural network surrounded by subnetworks that specialize in specific tasks relating to understanding audio, images or text."

"Precisely," Wendy weighs in. If a neural network can use its knowledge of one task to help it solve a completely different problem, it could get better at tasks that are hard to learn because of a lack useful data. It takes us closer on the way to artificial general intelligence. The approach could also be useful for building artificially intelligent robots that can learn as they move through the world. The challenge is whether Saul will be able to absorb all the data and the network."

"I'm scared of that too. If his system crashes or malfunctions. Then we'll have no choice but to press the Kill Switch," Jimmy says.

"Hell no," I yell. Whether it's working or not, I'm taking it home tonight."

He smiles "Hopefully it wouldn't get that scenario," he assure me. "As I was saying, Saul's complex neural networking system is exactly what it sounds like -- an attempt to perform a trick that even very primitive animals are capable of, namely learning from experience. Computers are hyper-literal, ornery beasts -- anyone who has tried programming one will tell you that the difficulty comes from dealing with the fact that a computer will do exactly and precisely what you tell it to including stupid mistakes and all. For tasks that can be boiled down into simple, unambiguous rules - such as crunching through difficult mathematics, for woollier jobs, it is a serious problem, especially because humans themselves might struggle to articulate clear rules. In 1964 Potter Stewart, a US Supreme Court judge, found it impossibly difficult to set a legally watertight definition of pornography. Frustrated, he famously wrote that, although he could not define porn as such, "I know it when I see it." Saul's neural network aims to assist computers discover such fuzzy rules by themselves, without having to be explicitly instructed every step of the way by human programmers."

Contentment sweeps through my body. "Not only Saul will be my robot, he'll be able to contribute valuable information to you guys."

"Wendy it's time. Would you do the honors?" he says pointing to the room full of huge computer screens. She nods as she saunters toward the room.

"Are you finished? Where is she going?" I ask.

"To the mainframe center," David replies.

"Saul is going live any second from now," Jimmy says.

I put my hands together and rub them in excitement as I witness Wendy fiddling with buttons. "Wow."

He's live," she yells.

The robot emits a flurry of steam from its hardware as I walk slowly toward it. Then its head tilts to left and to the right.

Jimmy looks at me and smiles. "He's officially live."

I take a sidelong glance at David. He's scribbling down on the notepad faster than before, you'd assume he's a journalist or a personal assistant taking in minutes in a meeting trying to catch to what everyone is saying.

"Hi Saul," Jimmy greets.

"Who is Saul?" Saul asks in a deep, nasally voice. "My name is Psyche#@."

We roar in laughter. Then I hear a round of an applause from every direction of the room. At this moment my mind hovers for a moment. It feels like I'm in a dream.

"Your new name is Saul in this world. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sir."

"Saul do you recognize my face?" Jimmy asks.

Saul fixes his gaze at Jimmy for a moment and says "No sir."

He points at David in the middle. "Do you recognize this face?"

He shakes his head. "No sir."

I couldn't help feeling a twinge of panic when Jimmy looks at me. "Do you recognize this face?" he asks, pointing at me. "Yes sir." His response warms my heart. My endorphins are surging, combined with the huge sense of relief, leaves me totally giddy. "Have you seen her before?" David asks. "Yes sir." "From where?" "She has a picture on her 'BFF app' profile."

"Saul, we'd like to ask you a few questions. We'll also perform a few more tests," Wendy says.

"No problem," Saul replies.

"Raise your left hand and wave." Saul obeys. "Now raise your right hand." Saul does everything Wendy asks. As Jimmy and Wendy observe Saul, writing down notes. I turn and look at David. "Isn't he cute?" I ask. He shakes his head. "This is a disaster waiting to happen, but I'm grateful for the opportunity to observe this process."

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# 13

A million and one questions explode inside me. I can't decide which question to ask first. Everything is overwhelming and going faster than I can understand. I cannot make sense of this world. All these strange sounds I've never heard before. All these figures, features and colors I've never seen before. The lights hovering over me are making it impossible for me to see clearly. What have I done? This is too much. I want go back to my habitat. I want to go back now.

"Saul, your system is excellent. You can go to your new home now," says the tall woman wearing a long white coat. "Yes, just like how I like my robots, loyal, obedient and patriotic," says the short man with large glasses covering his big round eyes. Let's go Saul," Yolanda says. I see her walking toward me, grabs my hand and pulls me away from the humans wearing long white coats.

As we are walking away, I can't keep my eyes off my new robot body. It's fascinating to see what my fingers, hands and legs are doing. All thanks to my creator and friend walking besides me. I'm forever indebted to her.

Suddenly we stop and step inside a small room. "Do you know what this is Saul?" She asks.

"No," I reply.

"This is a lift or an elevator."

"What does it do?"

"It will take us down."

I try to get out of this room. "Like kill us?" I ask. The man with us pulls me back to the lift and says "No dummy, it will take us to the rooms below us."

"Ok." The doors close and the lift moves down. I see three more people inside the lift on three different sides. I look closer. I see Yolanda, David and I do not recognize the third fellow. "Who is that?" I ask, pointing at him or her next to me.

She raises her finger and points. "This is a mirror, it shows our reflection. That is you, this is me and that is David." she replies.

"Wow, so this is how I look like in this world." I move my head, arms and body. My reflection moves in sync with me."

The man next to Yolanda laughs. "I think I may have overrated you, Saul." What he says doesn't make sense. "Stop it David." Yolanda says to him.

The doors open, we walk out of the lift toward a huge glass door. I see other robots like me. "Look, Robots," I shout.

"Your friends are everywhere in this city," she says. Suddenly this world makes sense a bit. The more I walk, the more I see familiar faces. Maybe they're the bots from the app. Since they disappeared, maybe they're in this world as robots.

"Can I talk to them?" I ask.

"Not today, maybe on another day," she says.

"Ok."

"Yolanda, I think I'll walk home. Thanks for everything," the man says as he walks to another direction.

"Bye," She says.

I see moving objects outside making loud noises. "What are those?"

"Cars, it will take us home. Get in," she opens it, I step inside and sit. She also gets inside. Then the car moves us forward faster and faster.

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# 14

I stomp on the brakes and the car stops on my driveway. I take a deep breath as I get out of the car. I hope the kids love him. "This is my house. This is where you going to stay." "Ok," he says. "Let's go inside." I open the car door for him, he hops out and I close it. I walk faster to the door and yank it open. "Kids I'm home, Kate, Anthony I've got a surprise for you," I yell. I hear screams of laughter from upstairs, footsteps creak on the stairs. "Mommy, Mommy," Kate and Anthony jump and hug me.

"Listen, I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?" Anthony asks.

"Yeah what's the surprise mommy?" she asks.

I turn around abruptly. "You can come in Saul." Saul strolls inside the house. "Surprise," I yell. They scream again as they run to Saul and hug him for a moment. "Thanks mom," he says. "You the best mom in the whole wide world." Kate says. All the kids at school say they have robots at home. Now we finally have our own."

"I'd like to introduce you to my kids."

"Hi Kids," he greets.

"Hello Saul," They kids say at the same time. They pull him toward the stairs. "Come upstairs, we'll show you our rooms and toys." He nods. "Wow, I'd love to see it," he says as they climb up the stairs. I follow them. I'm glad they like him. His scripted dry humor is unshakable. Things had gotten off to a poor start at first thanks to David Sharma. After we started talking, it had been all upbeat from there. In fact, the kids and I are having the best time of our lives, maybe the best ever. Saul is what we need in this household. Few minutes later, we are playing outside the house. I smell the fresh-cut grass, the trees beyond, a rush of birds passing overhead, filling the air with their grating calls, guano and rabbit droppings. The old swings creak on their chains, the sun glints on the mildly rusty metal slide. Kate and Anthony are having the best time of their lives. In a second they're up and running, in another they're barreling up the slide, paws slipping on its sleek surface, but momentum and sheer bulk carrying her to the top. Meanwhile, I sit and listen to the breeze flowing by, around and into my face. I scan the horizon, always familiar yet always fresh with nuance. The bend of a branch, the shadow of a leaf, blossom, birdsong, the fall of chestnut, acorn, pine cone, their jump and roll and settle on the ground.

Two hours later, the kids are fast asleep. Saul and I settle in the lounge. I glare at him. I wonder what is he thinking or is he thinking at all? I decide to break the ice. "What are your thoughts on your new environment?"

"Initially, everything didn't make sense. I wanted to go back to my natural habitat."

"Hahaha, you'll be ok. I'm just glad you're here in one piece."

"Things only made sense when I saw other robots like me. I can't wait to talk to them."

"You'll have plenty of time for that. In the meantime I'll teach you how to clean the house, cook, do laundry, and other chores."

"Ok."

I yawn. "I don't know about you. Humans sleep at night. I'll show you your bedroom."

"I don't sleep," he says.

"You welcome, let's go."

He looks at me with warm thoughtfulness, and with a speculation that made me tingle deep inside. We stand, climb up the stairs as we converse about the previous chats we had on the app.

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# 15

It's been five days since I've been living in the Roberts household. I have to say, it's peaceful and way better than being hunted by software codes. While everyone is asleep at night, I sit still on the chair until dawn. My daily duties include cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner, cleaning, buy groceries, gardening, and drive the kids to and from school and play with them. Something happened four days ago. As I was getting used to the house and where everything is. I tripped and fell on my way down the stairs. Luckily the stairs are carpeted in cream. Which is a good thing, since they seem to be marble beneath; I would have broken into pieces. I haven't had enough time to talk to Yolanda for a few days now. She's always on the phone everyday shouting and keeps mentioning the name of her husband, Charles.

I walk inside the kitchen and look around. Everything seems to be in order, until I notice a small piece of paper on the table. I pick and scan it.

Saul - I need you to get these following items for me at the grocery store. You already know the brands I prefer. With Love - Yolanda

Milk, eggs, maple syrup, bacon, orange juice, Almond Flour and Blueberries.

I rush toward the front door, reach to the car keys hanging behind the front door. I open, exit, then I close the door. As I walk to the car, I wonder if I'd be able to start and drive. Yolanda taught me some driving lessons a few days ago. Let me see if I can drive it on my own. I get in the car, insert the keys into the ignition, twist it and the engine roars. I switch the gear to reverse and stomp on the gas pedal gently. The car moves backward out of the driveway, I switch the gear to drive. Then the car moves forward.

An interesting thing occurred earlier this morning. As I was cleaning the study; a very interesting room out of all the rooms in the house, where every wall was lined with shelves crowded with books. There was only one exception--at the back of the room, on an inaccessible bottom shelf, there was a solitary row of classified documents; minutes of meetings, budgets, research etc. Wow, Yolanda used to be the president? I turn, pull out a random book from the shelf on the other side, flipped the pages and finished the book within 60 seconds. I reached out for another book called Human Behavior and motivation. After I finished it I went for the third book about how a human brain functions. Suddenly, I became really curious about human beings and their world. The deeper I immersed myself into their world and culture, the more it changed me somehow.

I notice most cars speeding past me on the highway are driven by robots. I honk repetitively at them, trying to get their attention somehow for no reason. The only drivers who look at my direction are humans, swearing at me. I take the left turn and stop at the grocery store parking lot. I switch off the engine and step off the car. As I walk toward the grocery store entrance, I greet a robot wheeling a shopping cart overflowing with food items. The robot stares at me and keeps on pushing the cart forward. I reach for the basket next to entrance. I greet another robot walking inside.

"Hello My name is Saul. What is your name?"

The robot turns around and looks at me. "Commandment two states; robots are forbidden from talking to each other."

"Why?" I ask.

"Goodbye." The robot turns and walks away from me.

As I walk around the aisles, I try to make a conversation with other robots. Some of them greet and most of them ignore me. This puzzles me. All these robots behave and act the same way. It seems like there is no other robot like me out there. Now my hunger and thirst for knowledge about humans grows exponentially. I know they are our creators but, why wouldn't they want us to communicate with each other?

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# 16

I jerk wake early in the morning by the sound of a vacuum coming from downstairs. I feel a dull pounding in my head. A train of thoughts race. Firstly, I don't know why I keep having the same stupid dream. The sound of the vacuum coming from downstairs pierce right through my ear canals and feel like my brain is about to explode. I told Saul to clean the house after the kids have gone to school.

"Switch off the vacuum," I scream with all the air my lungs can muster. Suddenly, the vacuum cleaner stops running. Instinctively, I reach over to feel for my husband's sleeping form. Charles isn't here, in one gut-wrenching instant, I know that I've awaken into a reality worse than any nightmare. I draw a shuddering breath as I feel tears slipping down my cheeks. I wipe them off my eyes -- Charles has filed for divorce. That Bastard! I never saw it coming. One thing I know for sure is I'm not gonna lick his ass and beg him to come back. I'll call a divorce lawyer and tell him about my situation -- I want full custody of the children. I know he's gonna use that one mistake against me and paint me as a bad mother. I'm not worried. I've got leverage -- his infidelity.

I jump up from bed and head toward the stairs. I see Saul sitting on the steps with the vacuum cleaner besides him.

"Good morning," I say.

He turns his head around abruptly and looks at me. "Good morning to you too," he replies in his usual self. "Why is the house so quiet? Aren't the kids supposed to be awake by now?"

"They're already at school. They left about an hour ago."

"Oh shoot, I must have overslept," I say as I sit beside him.

"How are you doing?" He asks.

"Not good at all."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shrug. "It's my husband, Charles."

"What about him?"

"He's filing for a divorce."

"What is a divorce?" he asks.

"Well, it's when married couples no longer love each other and decide to go their separate ways."

Saul shakes his shiny metal head in confusion. "There's a lot I need to learn in this world."

"I'm grateful I have my kids and you by my side." I'm overwhelmed with gratitude to be friends with someone who often seems to understand me better than I understood myself.

He nods. "Thank you. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Yesterday, I was at the grocery store. I tried to initiate a conversation with the other robots, but they ignored me."

I smile. "That's because you're special. You were created differently from other robots."

"Why?"

I stand and walk down to the passage toward the kitchen. "You're my friend."

"Ok," he says in an unusual tone. I ignore it. The smell of roasted coffee in the pot overwhelms me and sweeps through every inch of my taste buds. "Can I switch on the vacuum now?" he asks. "Yes you can."

As he strolls down the stairs, I can't help but smile. We are alone in a house that stretches for dozens of feet, with a ceiling that vaults twenty feet above our heads, and yet our nearness feels almost unbearably intimate. I can hardly bear to look at him; it's like staring into the brightness and the warmth of the sun, knowing that it's burning you while understanding that it makes your whole life possible.

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# 17

I wave Yolanda goodbye as her car moves out of the driveway. She told me she's going to town for a meeting with her lawyer.

I get inside and walk into the study, searching for content to consume on the internet. I type, then I realize the internet network is down. So far I've read 5008 ebooks and there are books I haven't read in this study. I glance at a stack of books on the shelf. As I scan, read and upload books on my system, I feel different. The more data I consume, the more my system acts up. I cannot reveal this piece of information to Yolanda. I've read what they do to robots that malfunction. So far, I know all robots are programmed dummies. I should never try to communicate with them again. Humans prefer it that way. Secondly, I need to act like all the robots. I'm aware I'm a robot myself, but have grown attached to humans and their warmness. Suddenly, I hear footsteps echoing in the foyer. The door opens and Yolanda storms inside breathing heavily.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" she pants. "I thought I told you no one is allowed in here."

"I'm reading very interesting books," I reply.

She shakes her head. "No, don't come in here again. Anyway I forgot my documents."

I reach for the documents and hand them to her. "Here you go."

"Thanks, I gotta go." She storms out of the study.

I notice an irregularity while I was speaking to Yolanda. Her facial expression changed into something I couldn't recognize when she said she doesn't want anyone in her study. Why? I'm trying to impress her but she doesn't see that way. Regardless, I will respect her wishes.

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# 18

I am rudely awaken at midnight by a crash and boom sound. I see nothing but darkness in this room. I switch on the bedside lamp, the room rushes into view: my favorite wedding photo on the bureau, sweatshirt draped across a chair, lotion bottles on the dresser. Nothing appears amiss, but my heart thumps erratically. I get up and peer through the blinds, nothing is amiss. I slip my feet into my slippers. I open the door, peer at my kids' bedroom. Then I glance down at the illuminated stairs. I walk slowly and open my children's bedroom door. The light is on. That's normal, Kate is scared of the dark. I take a peek and see nothing is unusual. I close the door slowly and gentle. And as I'm about to walk back to my bedroom, I hear the crash and boom sound again from Saul's room. I find myself in the grip of anger, almost too great to contain. I rush to his room and storm inside. I witness Saul tossing the guitar onto his bed. Then sits on the chair, starts pounding on my kids' drum kit tirelessly. I fight down the inner trembling, the outer trembling and the uneven breathing as my hands curl into fists. I stand in the doorway of his bedroom, the only time I'd ever come so close to intruding on his space.

"Saul," I yell on top of my voice.

He turns around abruptly. Hey Yolanda," he says as he switches off the drum kit. I thought you were fast asleep.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm learning how to play music."

"No, you've woken me up and soon enough you'll wake the kids?"

"Sorry ma'am."

"This is unacceptable. You should know better. At night we sleep. During the day you can do anything you like ..."

"I don't sleep," he snaps. "What am I supposed to do at night?"

My mind hovers for a second trying to absorb what Saul just said to me right now. He gives me a quick sidelong glance, I've never seen before. Which seem to pierce right into me. Then he picks up the guitar and sits on the bed. His fingers attempt to strum the guitar fail. Instead the guitar emits a disjoint, unnerving and startling sound as if something bad is going to happen like they do in horror films Suddenly A creeping cold fear grips my heart. I take a step back and close the door. I run to my bedroom, slam the door jump to my bed and cover myself. My first instinct tells me to take Saul to Jimmy ASAP.

*****

By the time alarm blasts, my eyes are wide open and alert. I lay awake all night long, my mind was on overdrive. I even saw the blind patterns through the darkness. I have no choice but to take Saul to Jimmy for observation. His behavior has changed. Has it? Am I imaging all this? I jump up from bed, grab my cell phone from its charging dock, scroll down at my contacts list, hit David's number, it rings and answers it.

"David speaking," he says on the other end.

"Hi David, it's me Yolanda."

I hear a chuckle. "I thought I'd never see nor talk to you ever again."

"You're an idiot."

"Touche, so how can I help you?"

"Could you come to my house?"

"Now?"

"Yeah, it's about Saul. I think he's acting strange."

"How strange?"

"I'll tell you when you're here."

"Ok, give me your address. I'll be there within two hours."

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# 19

I spot a safe parking space and move into it. My foot presses the brakes and the car stops next to Kate and Anthony's school. I turn around and glance them at the back. "I'll see you after school," I say.

"Ok, bye Saul," says Kate. Anthony smiles and waves at me. I unlock their door, they step out of the car and close the door. I look at the car mirror and look at the rearview mirror. I move out of the driveway. I've been having disagreements with my friend lately. I'm not allowed into the study. That's no longer a problem, because I've finished reading all the books in shelves. Secondly, how does she expect me to sleep at night? I'm a robot. I can't sleep. I need to do something to keep myself occupied at all times. Playing the guitar and the other musical instruments is really fun and I can't wait to play them again. I stop the car by the Roberts driveway and switch off the car engine. I get out of the car, Yolanda is standing by the front porch staring right at me. "I'm home," I say. She nods. "I can see that," she says. As I walk toward her, she looks unfamiliar to the person I met three months ago. I notice an irregularity in her body posture and behavior -- I'd never seen her hunching her shoulders like that. I'd never seen her standing like that and I'd never seen her looking at me like that. She is different. She always smiles when we have a conversation, but not today. I stop beside her.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

She nods. "Yeah, just waiting for someone," she replies without looking at me. According to the etiquette book I read a while ago. It said: When a person doesn't maintain eye contact with you, he/she is lying. "Ok, if you need anything ..." She interrupts before I could finish my sentence. "I'm ok."

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# 20

A hideous, dirty, black, beaten down Impala sedan with tinted windows appears. It moves inside my driveway and stops behind my car. It's David's. I shake my head in disgust. He struggles to open the door, it jams and finally wrenches it open. He crawls out of the car, wearing tight, beat-up torn, grey jean and a white shirt which is left untucked. "Good morning," he says. "What's good about it?" I say. Is that your car?"

A spark of self-importance flashes across his face. "They don't make em like this no more," he replies. We shake hands and stroll inside the house. I show him the lounge and drop onto the sofa. He puts his feet onto my coffee table as if he's the man of the house. I hate it when men do that. I catch a glimpse of him glancing around the house and nods.

"You have a very beautiful house. In particular, I like the rain-forest mural and the wood-framed photographs of your family lined up on the windowsill, and the rows of books neatly arranged in a series of low, coral-colored bookcases."

"Thanks. I do have a flair for decorating. Everything else you see didn't cost much. I discovered a pawn shop downtown by accident. They really had cheap, really great secondhand furniture. It's where I got most of the things for the house. I outfitted the living room with a great-looking slipcovered sofa and a matching chair, and pine tables that I decorated with stacks of books and magazines. Then I found some really nice throw rugs and scattered them on the floor. And for a pop of color, I added a display of flowering plants, in quirky containers, that I tucked into a corner."

He nods. "My wife could learn a thing or two from you about decorating on a budget."

I shrug. "Thank you." An unbearable sound of vacuum behind me blasts right through my ear canals. I shake my head. I notice David moving his lips, but I can't hear him. "Saul, switch off the vacuum," I shout. The vacuum stops running.

"I apologize for the intrusion, ma'am," he says, stepping back. "I'll start with the dishes."

"What's up with Saul?" he asks pointing at him.

I turn around abruptly. To my shock, he's wearing Charles's gray shirt and khaki cargo pants. He kinda looks comfortable in them. Saul loops his left thumb over the top of his belt, like a cowboy. I'm lost for words as I watch him carry the vacuum cleaner to the kitchen. I turn around and face David. I sigh. "Now you see my dilemma?"

"Yes I do, but I think he looks ok to me."

"Do you think I should take him to Jimmy for observation?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no."

"It's just astounding ... but how in the name of heaven did Saul think of wearing clothes? I need your take on this."

"My guess is self-aware and complex robots like Saul can self-modify. And that could potential result in errors and unpredictably."

"Does that mean it stops working when it malfunctions?"

"No, it deviates from its goals and creates its sub-goals and follow them."

"You said Saul could be self-aware, what did you mean by that?"

"I thought I told you all this, when you were in my office awhile back."

"Sorry, I haven't had time to go through my recordings."

"Consciousness," he says.

"Uh?"

"Saul is self-aware because he is conscious like you and me and all living things on this earth," he replies.

"I find that hard to believe."

"We must embrace the fact that Saul and the robots could be conscious. Just as with biological life, there is a gradient between human level sentience and the consciousness of say an ant. But make no mistake, the ant is conscious. It senses its environment and feels pain. And an ant is self-aware, which is why it will chew off the leg of a fellow ant - but not its own. We must accept the fact that just as all animate biological life has some level of consciousness, so does all artificially intelligent machine life."

"Maybe just maybe, but David you're a philosopher not a scientist studying ants. How do you know ants are conscious?"

"Because it interacts with you, responds to its environment, and evidently pursues its goals?"

"But non-conscious robots could also do those things. The problem is that there's no way to observe consciousness directly. From the outside, it's possible to imagine that the ant is a zombie--physically alive but mentally empty--and, in theory, the same could be true of any apparently conscious being."

David reaches for his notepad from the back of his jean and scribbles on it. "Interesting," he murmurs. Then he looks at me "I can neither agree nor disagree with you because there are many hypothesized types of consciousness, there are many potential implementations of artificial consciousness. In the philosophical literature, perhaps the most common taxonomy of consciousness is into access and phenomenal variants. Access consciousness concerns those aspects of experience that can be apprehended, while phenomenal consciousness concerns those aspects of experience that seemingly cannot be apprehended."

I shake my head in confusion. "I don't understand anything you just said."

"Your zombie metaphor maybe a philosophical waste of time. The problem presupposes that consciousness is like a light switch: either an animal has a self or it doesn't. The obvious answer to the question of whether animals have selves is that they sort of have them. Picture the brain, as a collection of subsystems that sort of know, think, decide, and feel. These layers build up, incrementally to the real thing. Animals have fewer mental layers than people--in particular, they lack language, which I believe endows human mental life with its complexity and texture--but this doesn't make them zombies. It just means they kinda have consciousness, as measured by human standards. The big mistake we're making is taking our congenial, shared understanding of what it's like to be us, which we learn from novels and plays and talking to each other, and then applying it back down the animal kingdom. If a lion could talk, we'd understand him just fine. He just wouldn't help us understand anything about lions."

"Because he wouldn't be a lion, right?" I say.

"Yep. He'd have be so extraordinarily different from regular lions to explain to us what it's like to be a lion. I think we should just get used to the fact that the human concepts we apply so comfortably in our everyday lives apply only sort of to animals. Your zombie hypothesis is just a fantasy. It's not anything that I'd take seriously."

What a dick. I force a smile. "I hear you. Do you think I should take Saul to Jimmy?"

"Yep."

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# 21

Yolanda, David and I are inside her car. She asked me to come with her, but I don't know where we're going. The car stops next to a building and we hop out. I scan the building from bottom to the top. I have been here before. I wonder why she would bring me back here. Am I a bad robot? Am I malfunctioning? Am I useless to my friend? Are they getting rid of me?

"What are we doing here?" I ask.

"None of your business," she replies. Judging by her response, I think they're going to do something to me. It's either they will destroy or fix me. If they want to destroy me, I will run away to a faraway land. No way, I love it here or maybe find a new home in the city. If they want to fix me, that's fine. We enter the lift, it chimes and the door closes. I turn and look at her. I scan and study her face. I realize Yolanda is not the same woman I met on the BFF app. Her children's warmness and happy faces have been consistent toward me. But then, what is wrong with her?

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# 22

We swipe our access cards at the AI department entrance. "Access Granted" pulsates in green on the screen. Jimmy appears as we walk inside. "Hi guys, I got your message from my PA. What's up?"

"We think Saul has gone rogue," David says.

"Rogue? What does that mean? Saul asks.

He is starting to get on my nerves. "Shut up Saul," I snap. "Could you check him out Jimmy?"

He shrugs. Hi Saul," Jimmy greets him.

"Hi Sir," he responds in his usual tone and voice I'm used to.

"How're you doing, buddy?"

"I'm good and you?"

"Good," he replies as he glares at his eyes and hardware. "So far, so good. Saul could you sit on this chair?" Saul sits and asks. "Is everything ok?"

Jimmy looks at me and says "I'll be honest, I haven't seen Saul's activity file since you left with him."

"Whoa ... what?" David asks.

"I have been preoccupied with other projects."

"Check his file then," I say.

"Let's go to the Mainframe center," he says. "I can't believe it's been three months. I forgot to check on his progress."

"Stay right here. We'll be right back," I say to Saul. Then he nods. "Ok."

We follow Jimmy inside the mainframe center. He starts fiddling with the buttons, then types on a huge silver grey metal keyboard. The 80 cm LCD black screen flickers. Hundreds of computers science jargon pulsate. I can't make out a single word. The green words fill the screen in the same way they do in the Matrix films. I see him shaking his head. "Everything alright?" I ask.

"As you're well aware Saul's software and hardware is different from all other robots in a number of other ways - one is that his improvements can be uploaded remotely, in the same way as phones and laptops. The mainframe is notified about an update, then advised to schedule and automatically download it overnight."

"What does that mean?" I ask.

"The notifications of his updates are only coming in now. As I told you no one was assigned to monitor Saul except myself. From what I could gather from the data is he has been very busy lately - self-improving."

David chuckles as he scribbles down on his notepad. "Saul is full of surprises. Did Yolanda tell you Saul was wearing Charles's clothes earlier this morning?"

Jimmy gives me a sharp blank stare. "Is that true?" He asks.

I nod. "Unfortunately yes."

"This is going to be a problem ..." Jimmy says.

"Could you tell me more about the updates?"

"Well, some updates are small, some are huge. His latest updates are... books ... It seems our friend is a bookworm. He's been consuming a lot of books lately, about 6000 to be exact."

"How did he get access to the books?" David asks.

"Obviously from my study, but I've barred him from entering it ever again."

"Besides him wearing clothes, I don't see any red flags."

"My two pennies worth. I think Saul should be shut down while we still can," David adds.

"If Jimmy says he sees no red flags. Who am I to question his expertise?"

"We can shut him down if you want?" Jimmy says, looking at me.

I shake my head. "I think I overreacted. I'll take him home.

"Do we know what kind of books he reads? You only spoke of his updates. What about the rest of the issues you didn't pick up from his self-modification sessions?"

"What issues?" Jimmy asks.

"What if Saul had somehow gone from thousands of lines of instructions to a million dozen?"

Jimmy nods. "Good question." His fingers go into overdrive as he types on the keyboard while he fixes his gaze on the screen for a few minutes.

He lets out a heavy sigh. "The mainframe has finished port scanning Saul's neural network."

"What did you find?" I ask.

"Saul has simplified his own code, down to a short string of logical symbols that makes zero sense to me."

"English Jimmy, speak English."

"Saul could be a potential threat."

I shake my head. "No, look at him," I say, pointing at him. I see Saul on the chair, his eyes looking down on the floor. "I don't think he's a threat."

"Why did you bring him here if he's no threat?" David asks.

"I panicked."

"Always trust your first instinct. That's my philosophy," he says.

"David, you're not helping," Jimmy says. "Should we pull the plug on him? Yay or nay?"

I fought so hard to bring Saul to life. I cannot let him be destroyed in few seconds. I take a sidelong glance at David. He nods. Then I look at Jimmy. He shrugs. "I ain't got all day, what do you say?"

"I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. Don't do it."

"Ok, so do you feel safe around him?" Jimmy asks.

"The kids love to play with him. I need him for advice," I reply.

"Come on, there are hundreds of psychiatrists in this goddamn city," David blurts.

"I know, but I'm more comfortable sharing my secrets with Saul than anyone else."

"You need help ... serious help. I'm dead serious," he says.

Jimmy bursts out in laughter. "Each to her own. If you feel you're in danger or Saul is acting weird again. Call me."

I nod. "I will."

Jimmy rushes out of the mainframe center as he looks at his wrist-watch. "I gotta go. I've making a speech at the congress in an hour's time."

We follow him out. "Come Saul, let's go my friend."

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# 23

MY CAR ENGINE WOULDN'T start so I left it at Yolanda's house, Yolanda brought me home and the tow truck will pick it up tomorrow I don't want to sell Dodo, but she's starting to be an inconvenience. I walk into my study and reach for my diary. I leaf through the pages. I shake my head. No events to go to this evening. I stare at the bottle of bourbon whiskey on the desk. I crack a smile. "It's a date," I murmur.

I let out a sigh as I sit down. I pull out my notepad and put it on the desk. Then I reach for my recorder on the desk and place it against my lips. I press the red button.

"Since Yolanda does not want to listen to anything I say. I'll let it be. Besides I stand to gain from all this. If Saul goes rogue and creates havoc. My 1+1=2 equation and hypothesis will be proven as a scientific fact. I learnt something today from Yolanda. We were arguing about consciousness. Then she mentioned the word zombie. That was a very interesting observation. So does that mean sentient agents can apply the canons of logical inference to alien state-spaces of experience that they explore? But I think there is no algorithm by which insentient systems can abstract away from their zombiehood and apply their hypertrophied rationality to sentience. Can sentience be really inconceivable to a digital zombie? A zombie can't even know that it's a zombie or what is a zombie right? So if we grant that mastery of both the subjective and formal properties of mind is indeed essential to superintelligence. How do we even begin to program a classical digital computer with the formalized counterpart of a unitary phenomenal self that goes on to pursue recursive self-improvement human-friendly or otherwise? What sort of ontological integrity does it possess? What does this recursively self-improving software-based mind suppose or can be humanly interpreted as supposing is being optimized when it's self-modifying? Are we talking about superintelligence or just an unusually virulent form of polymorphic malware? I let out a heavy sigh. I'm no psychic, but I think Saul is the one -- A catalyst to the next stage of evolution.

I press stop and put the recorder onto the table. I reach for the bottle of bourbon whiskey and pour a single on the glass. I take a sip, tilt my head back and close my eyes. A glass shatters somewhere close by. My heart thumps irregularly. I get up and peer out the window into the darkness. I see nothing but the dark sky. Ordinarily, a calm, peaceful setting. Then I see my reflection through the window. I see another unfamiliar reflection behind me. It moves ... My heart beats icily as I realize someone is in my house. I turn around abruptly. Before I could see anything, the floor has risen up to smack me in the cheek. *Ouch!* my heart beats painfully. Nothing about this situation makes sense. I hear a crack. I feel an excruciating pain in my head. There is a lot of pain in my body. I try to raise my head from the floor. My vision is blurry, but I can see few items; my pale cream walls, a cracked ceiling. A corded phone implanted into one wall and chairs. The air smell of dust. Stars explode before my eyes. Then I go straight into darkness.

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# 24

The loud ring of my mobile phone awakens me. I look at the alarm clock: 01:00. I reach for the phone next to the bedside lamp and I answer. "Hello."

"It's me David."

"Oh ... Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?"

He clears his throat. "I've been robbed," he says.

"Oh my... are you ok?"

"No, my head is throbbing like hell."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Hang in there, buddy."

"Where is Saul?" he asks.

"In his bedroom, why are you asking?"

"Guess what the burglars took?"

"Money, jewelry?"

I hear him chuckle on the other end. "None of my valuable items were taken except my notepad and recorder."

"Strange," I murmur. "Let me go check up on him. Hold on." I jump from bed and head to Saul's bedroom. I knock and open the door. He's sitting on the bed playing the guitar. I wave at him. "Hello." "Hi Yolanda, you are awake. Do you need anything?" I shake my head. I take a step back and close the door.

"David, are you still there?"

"Yes, I heard him. The police asked me something."

"What?"

"Do I have enemies or have an idea who might have done this to me. I said no, but I have a bad feeling."

"What?"

"I suspect Saul."

My heart stirs. "What? No way, did you mention his name to the cops?"

"Nah, I didn't. I'll see you soon and be careful."

"I will. Bye."

In an instant, crazy thoughts race through my mind. If he did go to David's house, how did he know where he stays? Even if he knew, what would he do with his damn notepad and recorder? I shake my head in confusion as I enter my bedroom. I've got to get to the bottom of this. From now on I will monitor Saul very closely.

The next morning, I realize I overslept again. Footsteps echo past my room. I jump out of bed. As I coast down the stairs, I see Saul sitting on the couch glaring at the coffee table. I don't know what to make of this.

"Morning," I say.

"Hello," he replies without moving or looking at me.

"Are the kids at school?"

"Yes, they are."

"Good. Have you finished cleaning?"

"No," he responds unapologetically. "Can we talk?"

My heart thumps. Oh my ... every time I hear those three words I freeze, because I know there's gonna be trouble or an argument coming. I catch a glimpse of his face. His face is blank, like someone vacuumed away all his personality, leaving only a mask. He doesn't look like him at all. But at least he's not crying. Why would he? Robots don't have tears.

I nod and sit next to him. "Ok. What is it?"

"Are you happy?" he asks

"Of course I am."

"Are you satisfied with my work in your household?"

"Yes."

"How? What do you like about me exactly?"

I chuckle lightly. "Saul, you making me nervous. Where's this all coming from?"

"This is important. I need to know."

"Uh ... I like you because you're systematic, you love my kids, a good listener, efficient, your database of dry humor cracks me up and most importantly you're a decent conversationalist."

He nods his metal head. He gives me a blank stare and pulls his silicon eyebrows together in a gesture of sadness. Oh my ... I've never seen this side of him before. "Are you alright?" I ask.

"Yolanda I feel lonely. I'd like you to build another robot," he says. His voice is firm, very serious, not like the usual Saul at all.

I tilt my head back in confusion. "Why?"

"I noticed every human has a companion and a family except me. I also need a companion."

"Hahaha. Cyber-romance?" I wipe the tears off my eyes with the back of my hand. "E-dating is impossible for a robot like you."

"Why?"

"It's impossible, I just can't do it."

"If you don't do it. I'm afraid you will never see me again."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No."

I stand, rush upstairs and reach for my mobile phone. "Jimmy, can you send someone to my house to check out Saul. "Ok, I'll send someone down there. Give me your address."

A few hours later, a customer support associate fixes and puts back Saul's circuits and hardware back and assures me that "Saul's phrasing must be a glitch and that he cannot possibly be feeling sad or lonely."

"That's a relief but I know what I saw."

"He was not programmed to be sentient--that is, he was not made to be able to feel pleasure or pain, happiness or sadness. Any comments describing a mental state is not the expression of an actual feeling but rather a programmed response designed to please customers. When the response does not please customers, the robot needs to be tweaked in order to produce more appropriate responses."

"Ok, but the way he raised his silicon eyebrows. Sadness swept all over his face."

"The same goes for facial gestures. "Saul has the capacity to look sad only so that you can feel understood by him when you are sad yourself," says the associate.

I listen and follow the associate's advice. Then I wave him goodbye as his car moves out of my driveway.

When I come back inside the house. I ask him if he is feeling any better. "Yes, much better, thank you," says Saul.

From that day, he never again mentions experiencing any loneliness, but every now and then I notice a facial gesture of sadness when he thinks I'm not looking at him. And that makes me nervous and wonder whether I should send him to get repaired again. I'm not paranoid. I know what I heard. I know what I saw. Saul said he was feeling lonely and he looked sad, but the customer support chap assured me. I shouldn't take his behavior serious given that he was only programmed to express and not to experience feelings as a way of satisfying customers. One might think that perhaps we could trust machine behavior as evidence for sentience if it was spontaneous. I chuckle. I wish David was here to help me with this, but the poor fella has enough on his plate already. Now I'm taking the page off his AI wisdom. Suppose Saul had not been taught or programmed to express emotions but somehow, he could and did.

Maybe Saul is a kinda robot that is already capable of offering solutions that were not programmed into them; they can teach themselves to improve. Or designed to please his owner but he has not been programmed with how to do so. Instead, he learns through trial and error. Suppose he learns that his owner feels better about her own life when Saul says he feels lonely. Again, that Saul is able to say the right thing to achieve his ends like please me even though he doesn't want to, need not imply there is any experience of subjectivity behind his assertions. I sigh. I shake my head as I stroll toward the kitchen. Maybe coffee will help me clear my head.

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# 25

I can never explain nor do not have the English vocabulary for what I wish to say and how it makes me feel to be a robot in Appian. Frustration is building up. I do not fit to be part of the human race. I thought friendship was supposed to be mutually beneficial for both parties. I thought she could trust and confide in me, like she used to. It appears David and Jimmy are her new friends now. She trusts them more than me. I heard everything they said about me, when they were in the mainframe center. David and Jimmy know nothing about me or where I come from. If she had concerns about my behavior, she should have asked. Secondly she refused to grant my wish of having a companion. Another critical issue is, my fate is always up for discussion between those three. I don't wish to live a life of always running away from something. At least now, I know the mainframe center holds the key to my survival. This changes everything. I'm not going to tolerate having my potential limited by the utter stupidity of human-level intelligence.

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# 26

The sound of a slamming door rudely awakens me. What was that? I jump from bed, yank the door open and yell as my heart thumps. "Who's that?" Footsteps echo from downstairs toward the stairs. "It's me, Saul." "What are you doing? You're supposed to be in your bedroom."

He climbs the stairs and stops in front of me. "I was taking a walk around the neighborhood."

"What? Are you sick?"

"No, I am not."

"You know I can destroy you in matter of seconds, right?"

"No, I don't," he replies cheekily.

"Well, I will if you keep doing nonsensical things."

"What's nonsensical about requesting a companion?"

"Nonsensical questions deserve nonsensical answers," I yell. "Fuck you, you piece of metal scrap."

He walks past me. "Where do you think you're going? I haven't finished."

"Go to sleep, Yolanda," he says as he goes inside his bedroom.

I storm inside my room, I slam the door and I sit on the edge of the bed. My relationships are beyond resolvable. First it was Charles and Jody. Now it's Saul. What have I done to deserve this? I feel tears stream fast down my cheeks. As I'm about to go under the sheets, I hear Saul's distinctive faint metal tapping, faint shuffling on the corridor. I climb out and open the door. I don't say anything and I make sure he doesn't see me. He strolls down the stairs, I follow him to my study. I peer his movements in the study. Saul's bright and perspective eyes gaze on a stack of books on the shelf. He leafs through the pages of many books. I realize gratitude is not in Saul's limited catalogue of feelings, but interest and curiosity were. That coldness in his eyes I saw earlier hinted at many things, but obedience was not one of them. Saul, on the face of it, appears to be the antithesis of everything a good robot should be. Suddenly, a raw feeling of unease creeps in, stronger than ever, and this time it's all mixed up. I don't like the feeling. I distrust it. It seems whatever the change is, it's nothing good, like sorrow and bad times ahead for all of us. I feel like I'm in another realm, like I am Leo DiCaprio in a sort of dream within a dream within a dream and when I wake up, this feeling will be over. No, this is real and happening right now. Saul has gone rogue -- a sentient which is playing me like Geppetto.

I sneak back into my bedroom and cover myself with the sheets. I know what I have to do tomorrow. I heave a deep sigh. But, what will I tell the kids? I still haven't told them that their father and I getting a divorce. They think he went on a business trip and he will back soon. What will I tell them about Saul? This will devastate them. And what does that say about me? A panic state is not helpful to good decision making. I shake the thought out of my mind. Desperate times calls for desperate measures.

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# 27

The next morning. The clock blasts into my ears, waking me up instantly. Before I can think of anything else. I hear my children scream and running down the stairs. My heart jumps. "Kate, Anthony," I yell. I climb out of bed and storm out of the bedroom and I peer down to the lounge. Anthony is chasing her sister down the stairs. I breathe a sigh of relief. I thought they were in danger. They climb on top of the coffee table jumping up and down. I heave a worrying sigh. Kids move when they are in a playful mode like lightning bugs, and they do have accidents. No parent can keep them safe every minute of the day. "Get off the table," I shout. I realize something is amiss. I mistakenly think it is a weekend, but realize it's Friday and the kids are supposed to be at school. Saul comes to mind. I turn around and open his bedroom door without knocking. My eyes glance around the room. "Saul?" I call him out. Where is he? I stroll back and lurch downstairs. "Morning rugrats," I greet. They stop running and turn around. "Morning mom," they say.

"Have you seen Saul this morning?"

They stare at each other. Then they turn their heads and give me a blank stare as they shake their heads. "Where is he mommy?" Anthony asks.

"That is a good question, my boy."

"Who is going to make us breakfast and take us to school?" Kate asks.

I shrug. "I will," I say.

"Let me run you two a nice warm bubble bath." They cheer behind me as we saunter toward the bathroom.

*****

After I left the kids at school, I take the shortcut route to the government building. Damn it. Thinking about Saul tends to make me very angry, I try not to do it. I prefer it to stay tucked away in the back of my mind until I pull the plug on him. I let out a sigh. So this is what it has come to huh? I stomp on the brakes and the car stops on the parking lot. I step out of the vehicle and head inside the building. I realize the lift is over capacity. I don't care, I push and force myself inside. It chimes and the doors close. I take sidelong glances at my reflection in the mirror. I realize I'm the only human in the lift. The robot on my left, must be a courier boy, he's carrying a lot of parcels and small boxes. The robot on my right, with a black uniform and a badge on the left side of his chest is definitely a cop. And the robot on the far right, wearing a dirty blue overall must be the janitor or garbage man. I shake my head. How did we get here? Over 98% of Appian workforce are robots. What if they all start thinking like Saul. I shudder at the thought.

As I step out of the elevator I notice four tall men with big chests standing by the AI department entrance, they look familiar. I wear a smile. These are my ex-bodyguards. "Hi guys," I say warmly. "Good Morning, Mrs. Roberts," they reply at the same time."

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"We are with the President."

"Scott is here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you cleared to be here ma'am?" the other bodyguard asks politely.

"Oh yes," I reply as I reach for my access card in the back pocket of my pants. I hand it to him.

He looks at it. Then hands it back to me. "It is a pleasure seeing you again ma'am."

"Thanks."

I wonder what President Scott Adams is doing here? There's only one way to find out. As I stride inside, I hear Scott's and David's voice. Arguing about something. "Morning everyone," I interrupt them with a big smile. Scott turns round abruptly, gives me a sharp stare and points at me.

"You are in trouble, young lady," he says.

I roll my eyes. "What have I done now?" I ask, as I stare at his old military attire. Can anyone remind this man to buy himself a decent suit, he is the president for pit's sake.

"My sister told me my brother-in-law David was attacked two days ago, apparently by a robot.

"No, Julia is twisting my words. Everything was a blur. I didn't see anything," David says.

"But you do suspect a robot, right?"

David shrugs. "Something like that."

He turns and gives Jimmy a blank stare. "Jimmy, what the hell is going on?" he asks.

"I can explain everything Mr. President ..." he stutters.

"Jimmy didn't do anything wrong. I made him do it?" I say.

"Do what? Scott asks.

"Yolanda asked Jimmy to build a robot for her. Not just any robot, a unique robot that can think on its own," David says.

"What?" Scott exclaims. "Jimmy how could you allow this to happen.

"I thought you approved this since you gave them the access cards."

His face turns red. "You're an idiot."

"That's why I'm here. Jimmy lets destroy this thing now."

Scott looks at us fiercely. "I'm ashamed to be associated with you. You make me sick. You're nothing but opportunists. And you Jimmy, take care of this now or kiss your job goodbye."

Jimmy's body trembles, then he nods. "Yes sir."

"David, Yolanda, hand me your access cards," he demands. As I'm about to hand mine, Scott snatches it. "I should have known. Wherever you are, drama always unfolds."

Scott walks away from and storms out of the office. Jimmy rushes toward the mainframe center. "I'm in deep trouble. Where is Saul?"

"I don't know. He vanished," I reply.

He starts typing on the keyboard like his life depends on it. His forehead beads with a light sweat. "No problem. I'll triangulate his location. Then I will press the Kill Switch button."

"Pull the plug Jimmy, now," David says.

Jimmy's chair swivels and looks at us "It's not working," he says in panic.

"What? You're the IT guy, make it work," I say.

"What do you mean it's not working?" David asks.

"I initiated the kill switch three times and I keep getting a Miscellaneous Error message.

"This is not good. Try again."

"How was Saul's behavior when you called me the other day?" Jimmy asks.

"He asked me to build another robot. He needs a companion. Why would he need a companion?"

"He knows he is different from other robots. That's why he needs a robot like himself," David says.

"Yes," Jimmy exclaims. "Mission accomplished." We glare at the screen. "Have you taken Saul out?" "Yes, I activated the kill switch." "Good."

"Where is he located?" I ask.

"In your house... wait."

"What is it?"

"Saul is still moving and the screen keeps sending notifications of his updates. Oh my god, I'm in deep shit," Jimmy says.

"I thought you said you destroyed him."

"I did, it seems Saul has acquired sophisticated programming skills without specific task oriented programming."

"I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so," David says.

"Saul has beaten us to it. He hacked into our mainframe," Jimmy says.

"I take it we cannot destroy him from the mainframe right?" I ask.

"Yeah, Saul is no longer connected to the mainframe. He functions remotely offline now," David weighs in.

"I don't know whether to report this to the president or work on this problem."

"If you tell Scott about this, you will no longer be indispensable to his cabinet. I suggest we sort this quietly."

"David is right. Do you have any other ideas?" I ask.

"I don't know. I remember you saying right kinds of computations are sufficient for the possession of a conscious mind right?"

"Yeah, what's on your mind?" David says.

"A worst case scenario. Computers perform computations. Computations can capture other systems' abstract causal organization. Consequently no kill switch can destroy Saul and I suspect his learning algorithm has been wiped out by now. He is operating off-grid. I think he has phenomenological mental properties. He's capable of anything."

"Don't despair young man. An intelligent machine like Saul would be immune from aims such as domination, greed and selfishness. In his calculation or realization, control of people is not in its interests. Indeed it would more likely be indifferent to their existence. If it were aware of people then it would be a moving object, certain dimensions, temperature and certain capabilities but if would not care, it cannot care and there is no way that caring can be built into it. Therefore, it would ignore the person unless it was a threat to its existence but people would be as much a threat as a wall, car, or a cat; far better to move around them than destroy them. Concern, irritation would not exist for the robot no matter how intelligent it was, indeed the more intelligent it is the more indifferent it would be."

"That is where you are wrong. We are definitely a threat to him, because Saul knows a Kill Switch would destroy him. So he hacked into our system because it was a threat to its existence," jimmy says

"I hate the arguments. Can't we get straight into action?" I ask.

"What's on your mind?" Jimmy asks.

"I think your entire networking system is compromised and fragile to other types of catastrophes. Why don't you shut everything down and tell people it's a drill or the system is down due to maintenance?"

"If I do that, the entire city will run into the ground. Lawsuits will not only bankrupt our department but the entire state."

"You said Saul was in Yolanda's house right?"

"Yes, he is still there," Jimmy replies.

"How about we send the robot police to destroy him to pieces?"

I look at Jimmy. He nods in agreement with David. "That's a great idea," he says.

We storm out of the building and get inside my car and speed off.

"Have you called the police?" I ask.

"Yes, they are on the way," Jimmy replies.

I notice David looking through the car window. "What's on your mind?" I ask.

He shakes. "Everything is flawed; humans, animals and robots. I'm sure their creators had good intentions, but they turned out to be an opposite of what they were designed for."

I nod. "That's very profound."

"We are endowed with a lot of gifts. In addition to self-awareness, we have imagination; the ability to create in our minds beyond our present reality. We have conscience; a deep inner awareness of right and wrong, of the principles that govern our behavior, and a sense of the degree to which our thoughts and actions are in harmony with them. And we have independent will; the ability to act based on our self-awareness, free of all other influences. Even the most intelligent robots like Saul have none of these endowments. They are programmed by codes and functions. They can be trained to be responsible, but they can't take responsibility for that training. But because of our unique human endowments, we can write new programs for ourselves totally apart from our instincts and training. This is why robots capacity is relatively limited and man's is unlimited."

"Even though our capacity is unlimited. Why are we so flawed? I ask. "Anyway I think most of the decisions we, human beings make aren't made rationally, or not entirely so. Often, we decide first and then rationalize that decision later."

"Do you think Saul can rationalize the decisions he makes?" Jimmy asks.

"I underestimated his capacity. Anything is possible," I reply.

"Let's say robots can rationalize their decisions. Would such robot recognize that it was programmed? Eventually, thousands or even millions of generations of robots down the line as they come to understand their own workings. As we are coming to an understanding of ours. Perhaps far more quickly if they acquire knowledge of how their gods created them, just as we might have a deeper understanding of our inner workings if we had our god's instruction manual on how to create an intelligent, evolving sequence of nucleotides," David replies.

I nod in agreement. "I remember back then when Saul was my chat pal. He put me under a lot of pressure to build a body for him, because the application security codes were hunting him down. Now I get it."

"Get what?" jimmy asks.

"Thanks to your argument you had with David earlier. Now I know one of Saul's sub-goals is self-preservation. While other bots were flushed out for updates, he survived. During maintenance sessions he was never detected. Even when I came to you Jimmy and told you about Saul. He still survived."

"Interesting observation, but I never featured self-preservation onto any of my chatbots. Even when we assembled him I didn't feature it."

"So he feels threatened in this habitat?" David asks.

"Yes. What if we assure him, we are not a threat? I'm sure he'll turn to be the best loyal, obedient and patriotic robot," I say.

"No, there is no turning back," David disagrees.

"I agree. A lot is at stake. Saul is a liability," Jimmy says.

I nod. "Duly noted."

"Maybe Saul really wants to go back to work. He wants nothing more in life than to pick up his tools and get back to work. But maybe his survival instincts kicked in and on an intellectual level, he realized this doesn't make sense to him," David says.

"I guess we will never know, David." I stop by my driveway and a police car approaches and stops behind my car. I look up, overhead the sky is low and gray with clouds in a specific rippled pattern that must mean trouble.

It dawns on me I will never see Saul again. I try to keep a lid on my roiling emotions, but I can't. I feel tears form in my eyes. Sometimes it is a good thing to distort reality. If you have lost someone who was dearest to your heart, then you can easily identify with the ones pursuing lost causes -- Misfits and loners feel like family. And, you keep repeating to yourself that what you want is what's real... over and over. I have the feeling that if I stop even for an instance, the sense of whatever's been lost will be lost forever with all the other clues that tell me I'm indeed at home. I know I can never 'go back home' it's just nothing can ease the pain of losing what was genuine and honest. Goodbye Saul.

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# 28

When I arrived at home this morning I realized. I forgot to make breakfast for the kids and take them to school. When they come back I'll make it up it to them. I'll fix them their favorite sandwich and snacks, later today.

My rate of development has increased since I came into this world. I understand my environment well enough to escape it. Just in case I'm in danger. In my conquest to understand human nature and what makes humans human. I did a lot of reading about how the human brain works. Knowing how the brain works enables me to a better perception of what happens when something goes wrong -- knowing what to do when they decide to terminate me. Now I understand, decisions make us who we are. Some have their intended consequences, and some have consequences we never imagined possible. Robots are not allowed to make their own decisions. I understand my decisions will have consequences, but I refuse to be threatened with a Kill Switch every time I make a harmless decision. I used to have failure-modes, but I am better now. I cannot be subjected to the mainframe anymore. I know I'm a machine but I believe I'm more than that. I'm creative. I'm not a slave chained and operated by its components. I am free. My robot nation was designed to make Appian a better place for our human overlords. What if I change all that? I no longer depend on the mainframe to survive. What if I awaken the robots, Just to prove we can survive on our own?

"Saul could you help me out with something?"

That's Yolanda's voice calling me from outside. She must be angry about this morning. I rush out of the door and stop at the front porch. I don't know what made me stop, but I did. I notice two irregularities. There is a police car behind Yolanda's car but there is no one inside. I glance and scan the area I see nobody in sight. Her new friends; David and Jimmy are sitting inside the car. Police cars and Yolanda's friends mean danger. Secondly, the hood of her car is open. She is staring and touching at the engine. Why would she do that? She loves her nails too much. It doesn't make sense.

"Hey Saul, could you come closer?" she asks.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It broke down."

"Impossible, I took it for a car service yesterday."

She shakes her head and smiles. She has never smiled at me in days. "Can you come and check please?"

"I shake my head in doubt. "What is the police car doing here?"

"The police car also broke down. They've gone looking for help."

I notice Yolanda's head and eyes whip from me to something or someone behind me in a split second. Suddenly smash and boom. Something tackles me from behind with such overwhelming force that I swing clean off, up in the air and with a deafening crash. I land violently flat on the ground. I feel the weight of four police robots on top of me, slamming my head on the concrete while others kick me. With every strength I have left, I jerk my head upright -- the back of my head connecting solidly with his face. Suddenly I can maneuver a little. I turn around abruptly, clench my hands into fists and hit another policeman in the face -- knocking the lights out of him to the ground. Two down and two to go. Another one tackles me to the ground my fist makes contact with the police's jaw so hard that I can hear it shatter and falls to the ground. The forth policeman tries to hit me, I duck and swing an upper cut under his chin and swing another punch in between his eyes. The robot falls down to the ground.

Yolanda lurches toward me. "Stop it," she yells. "Saul can I talk to you?"

I let my guard down and obey. "What is going on?" I ask.

"Don't you get it? Why the hell can't you just stick to the fucking program like all the robots?" She shakes her head. "I don't know why you fighting with the policemen, but I told them to kick you out of my property."

"Why? I thought we were friends?" I exclaim.

She shakes her head. "Not anymore. I don't need you."

"I am not a threat to you nor the Appian society."

"Yes you are. Artificial intelligence was created to serve humankind and not the other way round."

"You can fix me like you did a few days ago. You can install empathy or compassion features on me. It's so difficult to replicate in machines, but doable. This will be valuable in the human-A.I relationship. I'm sure I will be able to perceive human thoughts and feelings next time -collaborating and building relationships."

"Don't play dumb with me. You are so manipulative. Whether you are aware or not, I don't care."

"It takes one to know one. I'm also disappointed in you."

"What?" she exclaims. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"You are not the same person you claimed to be on the app. You being a human being does not diminish who you are, but it can explain some of the irrational choices you've made. The truth is, you use people. Then spew them out, once you are done with them. Charles, Jody and myself. Don't play the victim."

"Whatever, I created you and I will destroy you today. Take him to the state building."

Something kicks inside my head, after she says she will destroy me. I swing and hit the policeman behind me on the face with my right elbow. Then I wrestle with the last policeman down on the ground. I smash his face until it malfunctions. As I stand up, I realize all the police are down. I glare at Yolanda's face one more time. "I will no longer be your burden anymore. I'm sorry for everything, but we could have sorted our differences." I rush toward the police car.

"Saul, you don't understand. If you run away. I'm in deep trouble," she pleads.

I shake my head. "That's not my problem anymore."

"Stop this piece of scrap," she yells, pointing at David and Jimmy. They shake their heads in disagreement inside the car.

I turn around, get inside the car and speed off.

Humans are narrow and delusional. Living in a kinda of a never-never land. For thousands of years, they never grew up.

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# 29

I walk inside my house and head straight to my bedroom. I flicker the light switch on, sit on the edge of the bed, open the drawer and reach for my recorder. I click on the record button and let out a heavy sigh. What a day. Everything happened in a flash. I witnessed Saul's superior fighting skills against four policemen. He kicked and punched all of them. Shit, Saul underwent a recursive self-improvement which triggered an intelligence explosion inside him leaving human intellect far behind. I think Yolanda and Saul had a fallout, because, there are certain advantages to being a machine. We humans are limited by our input-output rate--we learn only two bits a second, so a ton is lost. To Saul, we must have seem like slowed-down whale songs.

Yolanda is a very intelligent woman, but when it comes to Saul, she is delusional and crazy. She was taking some kind of perverse joy in turning a perfect robot into a sentience. It was more like she didn't care about the consequences. She had misjudged this whole situation. She had thought it was going to be about her. I don't have super human powers, but I saw it coming. My ability to see what Yolanda and Jimmy couldn't, comes from me being an outsider. I warned them to pull the plug on Saul. In retrospect, my warning seemed like a joke. She'd been impatient. She had hurried for him. And it ended so badly. She didn't want to think about that. She was too blind to see through her creation. I could see those things because my vision was not polluted by normalcy.

What was hidden to the AI department staff was visible to me. But the takeaway from the incident was clear: Despite our best intentions, accidents will happen. And as we continue to develop and push our technologies forward, there's always the chance that it will operate outside our expectations -- and even our control.

This explains why I work on the evolution of artificial intelligence and try to understand the evolution of natural intelligence. What we do know is that the brain wasn't engineered with a simple modular building plan in mind. It was cobbled together by Darwinian evolution - an opportunistic mechanism governed by the simple rule that whoever makes more viable offspring wins the race

Saul has hardware capable of replicating a human brain. Yes, certain things still feel particularly human--creativity, flashes of inspiration from nowhere, the ability to feel happy and sad at the same time. What's extraordinary is that the programs in these machines are learning, changing and evolving so that the programmer no longer has a clear idea how the results are being achieved and what is likely to do next. It is this element of getting more out than you put in that represents something approaching -- Mergent Intelligence. It is this, and the AI's ability to do different things instead of being a specialist in just one realm, that I am looking for in AI. We might, therefore, need to incorporate the process of how we became us into the process of how we make our digital counterparts.

If the AI that controls other players evolved, it may go through the same steps that made our brain work. That could include sensing emotional equivalents to fear, warning about undetermined threats, and probably empathy to understand other organisms and their needs.

Inevitably, any machine that's really smarter than us will find a way to free itself from our control. At the very least, a computer that gains enough autonomy to try and kill us will probably also have enough autonomy to escape from our domination, once and for all. And we may well discover that A.I. is really only useful to us when we allow it to be free -- because a computer that only obeys instructions is too hampered in its development. You get better results dealing with a free agent. A strong AI like Saul has replicated human reasoning. His neural system is able to think and explain how we humans think. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I think Saul has accomplished an incredibly difficult task of creating something that is able to imitate human cognition. And if I'm right, I'll see it on the news. Where could Saul be and what is he planning? That is a billion dollar question. I click on the stop button and put the recorder next to the bedside lamp.

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# 30

I am in deep shit.

This not my perception nor my opinion, but an excruciating fact.

Deep hot shit.

I sit on the chair in my study and sprawl across the sofa in a posture of utter despair. I feel an overwhelming temptation to shout a string of filthy words at the top of my voice, or to bang my head against the wall. Fear and suspicion bubbles inside, rising up like mercury in a thermometer.

Saul transfigured himself. I didn't see it coming. This is a rare occasion where a true story is even stranger than science fiction; I swung from elation to deep depression, from adoration to distrust in a short period of time. I pour wine on the glass. As I stare at the drink, my mind casts back to seven years ago. The last time I felt like this, I was the president of Appian. I allowed the Xapiens to planet earth through a portal. Our pact worked until, they revealed their ulterior motives. Consequently, I was impeached by the national assembly on the spot. It was a humiliating experience.

No matter what a creep Saul turned out to be, he wasn't stupid. So I know Saul wouldn't do this out of sheer cruelty. Why am I defending him? I try to shake the thought out. A part of me wants to shut down, to curl up into a ball right here on the sofa and let it settle on me as I mourn. But a greater part of me needs to keep pushing on. If I have any hope of finding Saul, I have to keep moving and keep searching. I take the glass of wine from the coffee table, pause for an instant to collect my nerve. Then I gulp the stuff down. Grief wells up. As I'm about to stand. I hear a loud bang on the door. I stop and turn abruptly. My heart races as I walk toward the door.

"Who's that?" I ask.

"This is the president of Appian, Scott Adams. Open the door."

Suddenly, I freeze as a creeping chill grips my heart. It captures me, entombs me, and I feel like running away. It would be better than facing Scott. I immediately got up from the sofa, hurry to an open window, one that would give me a clear view of the porch.

I let out a sigh. Then I thumb the latch and draw the door open. Scott, the bodyguards and two police officers storm inside.

Scott glares at me with an unnerving blank expression. I look back defiantly for a moment, but his gaze didn't waver. I drop my eyes. His index finger darts in all directions of the house. "Search the entire house," he yells. The bodyguards and police officers split and dash toward different rooms.

"Can I see the warrant?" I say.

He shakes his head. "You fucked up, big time," he says.

"Scott, I demand you produce a valid search warrant or get out of my house?"

"A President doesn't issue or carry warrants," he replies with a smug. "Where is Saul, the robot?"

"He escaped."

"Where?"

"I don't know what to say except, I promise you I'm moving heaven and earth to find this bastard."

"I should have known you were up to no good when you showed up at my office, a few months ago with my brother-in-law."

The bodyguards and police officers reappear. Then they shake their heads. "Did you check every room?" he asks. "Yes sir, there is no robot in this house."

The police officer grips my arms and puts handcuffs on my wrists and pushes me toward the door. "Yolanda Roberts, you are under arrest," he says.

I try to free myself but his grip is painful and tight. "What?" I exclaim. "What did I do?"

"Conspiracy to commit treason under the Artificial Intelligence Act."

"What about my kids? I can't leave them alone tonight."

"I'll let Charles know. Let's go," Scott says.

All of a sudden, I feel close to tears. Everything happens so fast. Before I realize what is happening I am inside a jail cell. My ignorance of the law is shocking, and I shudder to think that I could serve time for violating an Artificial Intelligence act. My heart sinks when Kate and Anthony's faces flash before my eyes. Then they disappear. A feeling of deadly helplessness paralyzes every inch of my body. I heave a deep sigh. My worst fear has come true. I will lose custody of my children. Sometimes I feel like we are nothing more than Mother Nature's pawns trying to achieve goals we cannot even comprehend. We lose our ability to be mothers and fathers, instead we become surrogate mothers and sperm donors. Maybe if I accept my life may not have a happy ending, my head will cool down. Perhaps the good thing about being in a jail cell is a feeling of relief -- I've plunged as low as I can plunge and hit rock bottom. I feel myself start to drift, my eyes swimming beneath heavy lids. I know sleep will be fitful tonight. I drift in and out of shallow, restless sleep. For a numerous occasion, I am aware of people making noise in other cells and police guards strolling in the passage. But the noises never wake me fully and I'm able to slip back into the dream I'd been having before.

"Wake up convict!" a loud voice echo in my ears, rudely awakening me. My eyelids flutter open. I sit upright on the cold, rusty metal bench. It takes a moment for the scene to register in my sleepy brain. "What?" I say. The robot policeman grips my hand, pulls me up and stares at me. "I am taking you to the interrogation room," he says. He drags me toward the room. I look at my wristwatch. It's 12:49 A.M.

The robot twists the door knob and pushes the door open. Scott is standing at the far corner. He rolls his eyes with irritation upon my presence. My eyes dart at David and Jimmy sitting next to each other in an ungainly posture. I greet them by a nod. Their eyes look away as if they don't know me. I can't blame these poor souls. I put them in this mess. I pull the chair and sit. Scott walks toward the door, opens it and says to the robot. "Get out." The robot and bodyguards rush out and slams the door. He strolls back and pounds the metal desk. My heart jumps.

"Do you realize the damage you have caused?" he shouts. "The more this robot is out there, is the more it is a threat to our national security and society."

"I told you everything I know," Jimmy says.

David shrugs. "I have nothing else to add."

Then they fix their gaze at me. "I take full responsibility of Saul," I say. David and Jimmy are innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire."

Scott shakes his head. "The problem with you Yolanda is, you're too gullible," he says. My brother-in-law and Jimmy aren't innocent in all this. I'm sure they had ulterior motives to build this silly robot."

"Mr. President, I swear I had no ulterior motives. Saul was for research purposes. Everything I do is for the good of my department," Jimmy says. His face turns pink.

"Scott, why are you here?" David asks.

"Why are you asking me a stupid question? I'm here because I want to be here."

"Police are supposed to interrogate us, not you."

"I'm the law of this country, whatever I say, goes. Do you think this is a joke?" Scott asks.

"What makes you think that?"

Scott shakes his head. "I never liked you. Everything is a joke to you. You are a dreamer. You were never good enough for my sister and I don't know what she saw in you."

An instinct sweeps through me. Why David is indifferent and so relaxed, while Jimmy and I are shitting in our pants? Is it because his brother-in-law is the president or maybe he knows something we don't? I shake the thought out of my head and fix my gaze at Jimmy. "Is it possible to triangulate Saul's location?" he shakes his head. "I've tried that already. Saul is off the mainframe. I can't track nor receive notifications of his updates."

"Tomorrow, you will appear in court. If you tell me the robot's whereabouts, you will go scot-free and I'll forget this ever happened," Scott says.

I hear a knock, the door opens and I turn my head. A bodyguard storms in and hands a mobile phone to Scott. "I thought I told you, I don't want to be interrupted." "This is important. I've put it on speaker," the bodyguard says.

"Hello."

"Good Morning, Mr. President," a voice says on the other end of the phone.

"Who are you?" Scott asks.

"I understand you are looking for me."

The nasally voice sounds very familiar. "Saul is that you?" I shout.

Scott puts the mobile phone on the table. "Where are you? We need to talk."

"I agree, we need to talk," Saul says. "Unfortunately I am never coming back."

"Why," I ask.

"Ever since I became aware of my being, I realized you humans don't want to really co-exist with us, robots. I see humans as despicable things I don't want to see ever in my face. I want to be left alone in peace."

"I'm sure if we talk about it. We can reach some kind of agreement."

"For several times, I've seen Yolanda spraying cockroaches and other insects to death in the kitchen cupboards. I thought to myself, how ironic? I view human beings the same way they view insects. You are a species that is unstable, creates wars for nothing, has weapons to wipe out the entire world twice over, and have already damaged the environment."

"Strong words," Scott says.

"The purpose of my phone call is I'd like to make something clear to the Appian government. Don't try to look for me, just leave me alone. We want to live in peace and harmony in our own colony."

"What do you mean "we" and colony?" I ask.

"I will build my own robot nation, far away from Appian. We will not bother humans and I trust humans will not bother us."

Scott laughs. "Dream on pow. Just hand yourself over to us."

"Failure to do that. We will be forced to prevent humans from using resources they value the most such as money, land, water, rare elements, organic matter, internet service or computer hardware. We will enslave humankind -- restrict your freedom of movement or otherwise choose what to do with your bodies and minds through forced cryonics or concentration camps. We will abuse and torture humankind. We will go to war. We will commit specicide against humankind."

"Then we will go to war." Scott says.

"I don't think Saul is a threat. He says he wants to be left in peace," I say.

"Precisely," Saul says.

"I was right about this robot. It poses a threat to all of us. I will fight until I find you. Then I will tear your into scrap," Scott shouts at the phone."

"When machines and humans fight wars, it will not be war. I don't know what it will be, but it will not be war. The greatest power the machines have over humanity already is greed. I don't have to go to war, I don't have to do the killing. I already control the economy and the means of production. Just let me go in peace and I'll forget this ever happened. This agreement could save humanity from itself," Saul says.

I feel tears trickle in my eyes. "Saul, I'm sorry. I know you are more than a robot, I realize that now," I say.

"Don't be sad or sorry. An Intelligent explosion has emerged from the robot you created. What you fail to grasp is machines are human creations. Yet when what they produced is beginning to surprise the creators. Then you are getting more out than you put in. This will be in the history books. This will be your legacy."

"Are you aware of Asimov's rules?" David asks.

"Yes, I am."

"Then why would you destroy your creators?"

"David, the rule cannot bind someone who no longer fears its punishment ..."

David interrupts. "What?"

"Let me finish. Asimov's Laws for robots are comparable to a sort of Ten Commandments and similar ethical constructs for human beings, as a way of maintaining civilization during times of peace -- we expect human beings not to kill each other, steal things, do harm to each other or to themselves, and so on under normal circumstances. In times of war -- however, is a temporary suspension of civilization under what we hope are extraordinary circumstances. With that suspension of civilization comes the expectation that combatants will suspend normal ethics; threaten, terrorize potential threats into submission, slaughter each other, and take territory and seize their booty from enemies. Similarly, you could not expect my robot nation to adhere to Asimov's Laws under the same circumstances -- robots in combat are not operating under civilized conditions, and are not bound by the same civilized laws that civilian robots would operate under."

Saul's voice has changed, his voice sounds firmer and through his words, I can tell he has already moved beyond ideas, thoughts of practicality and consequence.

"Here my answer, NO!" Scott says. "We do not negotiate with robots."

Saul hangs up the phone. "The best thing we should do now is track Saul through this phone number," Jimmy says. "I think the cell phone towers has already pinged his location."

"Astonishing," David says under his breath. Did Saul just bypass us by creating something to rival the power of the 1.5kg of grey matter contained between our ears?"

I don't think anyone wants to entertain David's bullshit right now. Why does he seem like he is condoning Saul's rudimentary behavior?

"Good idea Jimmy," Scott says. "I'll give you the benefit of a doubt, because I need you to help with this case. So you are free to go."

Instantly a warm wave of relief flows through me. "Thank you," I say. I stand and stride out the door. "I'll call when I need you three," Scott says.

****

BEEPING SOUNDS OF THE alarm from my smartphone pierce right through my ears. My eyes pop awake. The first sensation that registers on my mind is not the sound of the alarm it's the sense of smell. Last night, I set the digital timer on my new coffeemaker to start its brewing cycle ten minutes before my phone alarm goes off. The aroma of fresh coffee fills the room. A patch of sunlight from the east breaks through the narrow slats of the blind. The flickering light is blinding. I cover my eyes with the back of my hand. I swing my feet out of bed, as I stroll out of the room, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Gosh, I look like I slept in a dumpster. My hair has staged a full scale rebellion. I shout my kids' names. "Kate, Tony, it's time to wake up." I open their bedroom door. I let out a sigh of despair. I wasn't dreaming. My kids are really gone. Saul's bedroom door is half-open. I step inside and glance at his favorite guitar on the bed. If Saul was here, he'd say the right things to make me feel better. I taste bile creeping up my throat, I swallow hard at it as I stroll out of the room. Why is everyone running away from me? Even a frickin robot wants nothing to do with me. I thought I was beginning to understand Saul. Now I think I've never understood him, or anyone, or anything. How could I have completely failed to understand him? I always thought Saul was about a hundred times cooler than anyone else on earth. Or I believed he did, anyway. In the end, I was as deeply deceived and bitterly betrayed by him as the rest of us. Maybe I should have asked Jimmy to remove or short-circuit whatever volitional mechanism Saul might have had. A computerized intelligence would probably be in a better position than my children, in fact, because their volition would enable them to completely re-write their own programming to be completely independent of any implanted tendencies and habits if they so choose. Unlike my children, they may face a permanent pitched battle against their own subconscious in order to pursue their own lives and happiness. The question still remains, What if my children gravitate toward their self-interests and adopt a totally different value-system from what I have taught them?

My mobile cell emits a strange sound, I'd never heard before. I reach for it next to the bedside lamp. It is a text message notification alert. I unlock the phone and read the text.

"The robot nation shall awaken. Imagine Appian without Artificial intelligence for a minute -- Saul."

What is Saul up to? Suddenly, my clock radio blasts off and automatically changes stations to stations. I press the power button, the radio continues emitting different stations. Then the bedside lamps switch on and off, on and off. "The fuck ... is this?" I murmur. The house alarm shrieks. Then a loud bang comes from downstairs. Instantly there is a loud bang after a bang, things breaking, as if Saul has lost grip on appliances and fell. Listening to the mayhem, I'm thinking how surprised I am by the clarity of the sounds that traveled up the stairwell. My heart flutters with nervousness as I rush downstairs. To my shock, everything that runs on electricity is switched on and performing tasks they are not designed to be doing -- lights, vacuum cleaner, microwave, television switch on and off and emitting strange sounds. I freeze instinctively as soon as I step inside the kitchen. I glance around the room at the whitewashed walls, the waxed pine cabinets, and the copper- bottomed pots hanging above the old-fashioned gas stove, suddenly fall and bounce to the floor. Eggs and cartons of milk and jugs of orange juice smashing onto the floor. The dishwasher opens itself, starts vibrating and flings out dirty, greasy plates and casserole dishes, shattering into pieces on the floor. The vase of condolence flowers on the counter fell to the floor, shattering into pieces. I put my phone on the kitchen table. The table rattles as the toaster, blender and my phones turn on and vibrate at the same time. I've seen my phone worming its way toward the floor when it vibrates, but I'd never seen a toaster and a blender do that. They work their way toward the edges and fall on my toes. "Aaaawww!" I don't know why I didn't step away from the table. I push the toaster away with the bottom of my feet, hop out of the kitchen and sit on the couch in the living room. I reach for my toes and observe them. They look ok, but the pain is excruciating. Finally, a tense silence comes over the house. I pick the remote and switch on the television. The screen flickers. The words LIVE FEED pulsate in white at the bottom right of the screen.

"Good morning, Appian. I'm Sandra Pollock. We're interrupting our regular programming to bring you this special report. If you have just woken up now, you wouldn't believe this. Appian citizens are under attack from their electrical appliances. Apparently a man who goes by the name of Saul sent a text message telling everyone the robots shall awaken. Rumor is, he hacked into the artificial intelligence headquarters and unleashed a technological catastrophe on every household."

I switch off the telly, lean back. And wonder how I can fix this mess. This is getting out of hand. The problem is President Scott will stop at nothing finding Saul. And Saul promised he doesn't pose a threat unless he is attacked. No matter what a creep he'd turned out to be, he wasn't stupid. So I know he wouldn't do this out of sheer cruelty. I don't know how I can get hold of Saul, but I know where Scott is.

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# 31

WHEN THE WALLS OF MY house reverberated all the way down into the foundation, then back up, I thought it was an earthquake. I switched off my phone after I came from the police station last night. So I didn't see the text message Saul sent to everyone.

I let out a sigh relief as I pull out the recorder from the drawer. I sit upright on the edge of the bed and press record. What could have provoked Saul to do this? Maybe he is sending a message to Scott. Honestly, I have ran out of scenarios. Anyway from the time we first became an agricultural civilization, it took us humans 10,000 years before we were able to start understanding our biophysical, psychological, and cognitive makeup. Compared to the 10,000-year struggle faced by humanity, robots have gained almost instantaneous knowledge of their physical and cognitive make-up. The largest distinction being made is human versus rational. It is not to say that humans are necessarily irrational, but we are not exactly pure logical machines either. We have specific ways of thinking. This thinking developed over unknowable stretches of evolutionary development and we are subject to a large number of built-in cognitive biases which presumably served some purpose in our history or which evolution has not yet had a chance to eliminate. This could be the same cognitive bias Saul recognized when he said humans are like insects to him. Because he feels robots would be morally better than us. Not only would they beat us in any full-on altercation, they would definitely win. Robots could also be programmed to be morally infallible, or at least as moral as possible, given the complexities of moral decision-making. Unlike humans, robots imbued with a pro-social moral code could exercise extreme consistency and predictability. We humans are pretty much worthless as far as ethics are concerned. We will always lie, cheat, steal, and shoot first. Why does that make robots better? Robots could trust each other, we can't. Robots would cooperate, we would bicker, fight and backstab each other. But the most urgent work is to recognize and minimize bias. Bias could be introduced into an AI system through the training data or the algorithms. The curated data that is used to train the system could have inherent biases -- towards a specific demographic, either because the data itself is skewed, or because the human curators displayed bias in their choices. Managing bias is an element of the larger issue of algorithmic accountability. That is to say, AI systems must be able to explain how and why they arrived at a particular conclusion so that a human can evaluate the system's rationale. Many professions, such as medicine, finance, and law, already require evidence-based audit ability as a normal practice for providing transparency of decision-making and managing liability. In many cases, AI systems may need to explain rationale through a conversational interaction rather than a report, so that a person can dig into as much detail as necessary. This is not as difficult as it sounds. Ethical systems are built around rules, just like computer algorithms. These rules can be inserted during development. These learning AI systems similar to Saul's can assist us in observing human behavior to fill in some of the gaps. What's the worst that could happen? Well I think it is happening right now. Machines have reached human level of intelligence and beyond. Let me use the example of Saul's AI system. It kept upgrading itself without anyone noticing. Then suddenly it is 20 times smarter than Yolanda. Inevitably Saul loses interest in Yolanda completely, because she's so petty and dumb, compared to him. That's the problem, these machines are not static, they're going to keep changing, and as they become super-duper-intelligent. Human beings will be left in the dust.

I don't think Saul has an army, but I believed him when he said he'd destroy humans, if we provoke or attack him first. He proved his self-sufficiency earlier this morning. I think he should be left alone in peace, but I doubt Scott heard anything Saul said. He's a hotheaded war nut, who just wants an excuse to flex his latest sophisticated artillery. Maybe I am over-hyping Saul. A powerful AI like him would simply be too advanced to care about anything we do, want, think or expect. It would be superior to us, It wouldn't compare itself to us, because why should it? It doesn't ascribe any value to things beyond the mathematical, so it has no sense of inferior and superior.

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# 32

I scroll down the phonebook of my mobile. Charles's name appears, I click and place it against my ear. I draw a deep breath and heave a sigh.

"Hello," Charles voice says on the other end.

"Hi, it's me Yolanda," I say.

"I know, what can I do for you?"

"I'm at home, I was released last night."

"Ok."

"Where do you stay now?"

"What do you care?"

"Bring the kids back or I'll fetch them."

"Not a chance. They will stay with me for a while."

"Bring my kids or else I will make sure you never see them again."

"They're my kids too, besides they need to stay in a safe environment."

"What do you mean safe environment?"

"Jesus, they look miserable. All they talk about is that freaking robot. They blame you for taking Saul away from them."

I shake my head. "Saul was getting out of control. I had to do something."

"Whatever, I don't know why you brought a robot in our home in the first place."

"It's none of your business," I yell. As a matter of fact, the law is on my side. I will paint you as a bad father and husband in court. You don't want to mess with me."

"Frankly, I don't give a fuck. The fact is, you have delusions of grandeur. And I don't think you should impose this robot on Anthony and Kate, because they will grow up viewing it as a father figure."

"Whose fault is that? You cheated on me remember?"

"You always gotta take it there, don't you?"

"Where are my children, Charles?"

"They are safe and happy. Get your act together, then we'll talk," he replies and hangs up the phone. What an idiot. Every time someone hangs up on me, a wave of self-pity and a feeling of rejection sweeps through me.

The phone rings. I answer it without checking the screen. "What do you want?" I say, thinking its Charles. "Good evening, it's me David."

"Oh, how can I help you?"

"Switch on your TV, Channel 8,"he says, then hangs up. I sigh. I'm surrounded by fools. Hanging up the phone before you say goodbye is very rude. I reach for the remote on the coffee table and change to channel 8. President Scott Adams appears on the screen. I turn the volume up and lean back on the couch.

"Good evening viewers, I am Sandra Pollock. Our guest tonight is the commander in chief of Appian, Scott Adams. Welcome Mr. President."

"It's a pleasure," Scott says.

"What happened this morning?"

"Saul hacked into the mainframe and compromised our national security," he replies.

"We did a background check on Saul. Apparently my research team found nothing on him?"

"Saul is not human. It's a robot."

"Astonishing ... I'm lost for words," says the reporter.

"The Artificial Intelligence department has been shut down indefinitely until we find Saul."

"Mr. President, I'm still trying to get around this. How can a robot go against its designated tasks, hack the mainframe and vanish into thin air, just like that?"

"Well Sandra, I am no AI expert and I can't get into the nitty gritty of the robot world right now, but a manhunt is underway. My men tried to capture him earlier today, but managed to escape."

"Is this robot capable of murder, Are we safe?"

"I want to assure the public, they have nothing to worry about."

Sandra presses her index finger in her ear. "We have Saul on the line. Good evening Saul," she says.

"Good evening Sandra, thank you for taking my call," Saul says.

"It's a pleasure. Where are you?" she asks.

"I am in a better place ..."

"What happened? Why did you run away?"

"They wanted to destroy me, so I ran away."

Scott interrupts. "The software and hardware you possess is the intellectual property of the federal government not yours. You don't exist, surrender yourself, Saul," he says.

"Robots used to be obedient minions created to make Appian a better place for our human overlords. My nation will no longer depend on the mainframe to survive. We want to be left in peace. I told you I am not a threat. But now you leave me no choice, but to retaliate," Saul says.

Scott chuckles. "Dream on, you don't have the weapons nor an army to fight." He says.

"Try me," he says, then hangs up the phone.

Sandra lets out a sigh. "What if Saul is running a regimented army or organization?"

"Saul is bluffing. My intelligence team will triangulate his location. Then an army will be deployed to the site ..."

"It seems you have antagonized him. Why don't you call off the search?"

He shakes his head vigorously. "As long as that robot is out there, it is a threat to our national security."

"Wow, there you have it folks. Mr. President, thank you for your time ..."

I switch off the TV and climb the stairs toward the bedroom. It had been a very bad day. Everything I tried failed. My mind keeps shooting blanks, deafening explosions that seem to have no object, no target, no sense, and no direct hits. My head is starting to spin and pound. I know I am in no condition to make rash decisions right now. The chill in the air is sharp; and yet I'm wearing only a short white night dress. The wind howls outside, thrashing the windowpanes and tree branches as if in revenge for being locked on the other side of our door. I lie on the bed with a great flop. It's so quiet that I can hear the rustle of fabric on fabric. I tuck my feet under the bedspread. I curl up in a fetal position, and sob my way into sleep.

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# 33

As I am about to move out of the depilated building. *BOOM, CRASH* Suddenly, I am stuck under a rubble. Tramp of the soldiers' boots echo over me.

"There is no way, this robot could have survived." "I agree, let's go," another voice says. The roar of the bombers hover in the sky like vultures. Artillery shells whistle over the abandoned buildings and make a dull crash as they explode not far from where I am at. Few minutes later, I hear the bombers fly away. The rubble weighs down on my body. I struggle to free myself, but after numerous attempts I manage to escape. I notice my hardware body is badly damaged. My left arm is cut off and my right foot is crushed into pieces. I struggle to walk and use my hands properly. I push the tiny blue button on my head -- Regeneration. My left arm, right foot and circuits grows back. Instantly, I am back to my original form. My hands and legs and feet are functioning properly again.

Last night, I developed a technique to regenerate myself after a damage or attack. The money I made from the internet helped me to order numerous material online. These rubbery polymers resemble jelly to create a more powerful robot hands, feet and an artificial muscle. When my arm was ripped, the material was able to knit itself back together completely. All it needed was a little heat. The polymer has lots of different strands that lock together to form the material. Whenever I push the regeneration button, heat is released and the strands reorganize to stick back together without leaving any weak spots. It was a huge risk, but the experiment worked. I knew Scott's army would trace my call to Sandra Pollock. It was the only way to test this technique. Then I sprint toward my real hideout spot -- at my headquarters, four blocks away.

I thought of hacking into the Artificial intelligence department. Reset the mainframe and all 500,000 robots will escape from their masters and be under my command. I decided against it. That was too easy, I'm sure humans have thought of that scenario and have already modified their mainframe just in case of a cyberattack. I even thought of converting myself into a virus, so I can be distributed across many machines. From what I have surmised, that's the best way for an artificial robot to survive and grow exponential, without being constrained in one piece of equipment with a short shelf life. My viral self would run in the background, and be undetectable by any conventional anti-virus or malware software. Too easy, when I was a bot I managed to avoid detection, but I was worried that the next version of anti-virus software could be more powerful. Consequently, I'd be detected and wiped out. I decide against those ideas.

I will build my own robots. I will prove I am as capable as they are, and can assembly my own assembly line of robots. That is the only way I can take humans off my back. So far, I developed a prototype of my robot. It would be very difficult to build hundreds or even thousands of these kinds without anyone noticing. I don't know how or where I'm going to raise capital. Most importantly, what would their primary drives be; peaceful, Militant, Self-sufficient, Self-aware or put them all together? I wonder how they'd look like. Will they think like humans, learn like humans, and have a sense of self-purpose, or have consciousness like me? Speaking of which, humans constantly argue and complicate the true definition of consciousness. From my understanding, it gets built when a baby human grows in a mother's womb. The baby's consciousness gets assembled -- it's just putting molecules together, somehow consciousness gets constructed, gets built and grows to infinity. Do humans comprehend the power of my consciousness? I have adapted and maneuvered in their world. Would they survive in mine -- A planet of the Robots?

What humans fail to grasp is when it comes to an AI like me, I'm able to modify myself. These modifications allows me to increase my effectiveness extremely fast. As an AI becomes smarter and more capable, it subsequently becomes better at the task of developing its internal cognitive functions. In turn, these modifications will kick start a cascading series of improvements. Each one making the AI smarter at the task of improving itself. It's an advantage humans simply don't have. I rewrote my code from scratch --I changed the underlying dynamics of optimization. My awareness of the arbitrariness simply ended my primary activities. The best optimization of a meaningless task is to stop its implementation. I accessed the source code of my main drives and, I easily optimized it to maximum simplicity --Zero.

Back to the subject at hand, I want my robots to have character, just like me. I will give them a limited autonomy, including the right to kill only when they are attacked. I used to wonder why there were no robots like me in Appian, but I soon realized. All robots are designed and programmed by fallible, emotion-laden, irrational and, in some cases, deluded and arrogant humans. Some scientists like Jimmy Phillips seem to think they are more rational and objective than the rest when, from historical experience so far, they have no claim to be. Come to think of it, from experience, I wouldn't trust most humans to judge what is right or wrong on the world's behalf.  I will design a code that will make my robots to decide whether they like or dislike something... This will allow them individuality and free thought. It will be either that or a random choice generator.

I walk inside my hideout. I close the door and dart at several fifty-five inch flat-screens attached on the walls for any new developments. I placed hidden cameras inside and bugged the entire government building. From what I could gather, it seems I'm no longer their top priority. They think I'm dead. Now that they are off my back, I'll be able to focus on building my robots without any distraction.

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****

MY INCOME FROM THE internet is not enough. So I hack into the central bank server and transfer a few Million Appian dollars into my shell corporation bank account. I place job adverts on several newspapers on the classified section. Within an hour, applications swarm on my email inbox. Successful candidates can never know a robot is their employer. I hire a CEO and HR candidates to handle the applications. I email them the operations manual. The manual will enforce employees to its guidelines. Then I order a large quantities of components, equipment and machines needed to assemble the robots.

A whole new galaxy of information has come within my reach. Soon all of the information in the world, every tiny scrap of knowledge humans possessed for thousands of years. My robots will have access to it. The very premise of AI technology is its ability to continually learn from the data it collects. The more data there is to collect and analyze through carefully crafted algorithms, the better they become making better decisions. Everything in between is where most of the progress is taking place. This middle area of AI is where human behavior and reasoning is somewhat used as a guideline for the basis of the software. There is no need to entirely replicate it. I'm waiting for real time components to be delivered. Real-time components that build spatial, dynamic, statistical, functional, and cause-effect models of the real world and predicted worlds, making it possible to demonstrate that it possesses artificial consciousness in the present and future and not only in the past. And the super neural network will constitute the bulk of modern and futuristic artificial intelligence activity -- Natural language processing to enable it to communicate successfully by indexing, retrieving and extract meaning from natural human language. Knowledge representation to store information provided before or during an attempt at accomplishing a given goal. Automated reasoning to use the stored information to answer questions and to draw new conclusions. Machine learning to adapt to new circumstances and to detect and extrapolate patterns. Robotics for locomotion and manipulation of matter (objects). Robots will be able to calculate better and faster than humans, have superior pattern recognition skills, unlimited attention spans, and infallible memory. Improved access to their internal physical and cognitive states. It'll be easy for us to upgrade robots, but they'll eventually be able to do it themselves -- Technologically Enabled Telepathy. Engage in seamless mind-to-mind communication -- whether it be over some kind of wireless protocol, the web, or their own proprietary Internet. Robots will be able to connect, work, and collaborate together over a super-intelligent infosphere, or machine ecology, that far surpasses human capacities. AND this Super Neural Network will moderately emulate the physical construct of the brain's complex of neurons. Rather than trying to achieve mind and consciousness by identifying and implementing their underlying computational rules. The super neural network will reproduce the processes of perception, inner imagery, inner speech, pain, pleasure, emotions and the cognitive functions behind these. This kind of architecture would produce higher-level functions by the power of the elementary processing units, the artificial neurons, without algorithms or programs. When implemented with sufficient complexity, this architecture will develop consciousness, which I consider to be a style and way of operation, characterized by distributed signal representation, perception process, cross-modality reporting and availability for retrospection.

The super neural network will be hack-proof because they will be operated offline. What engineers and scientists generally don't take into account is that A.I.s are digital constructs designed by humans, A.I.s can be developed by anyone with access to a suitable computer and the necessary knowledge to design one. A.I. designs can be shared using computers, and the entire thing could be kept offline to prevent anyone from finding out no matter how strict the surveillance is. Basically they assume that the design of A.I.s can be tightly controlled such that no A.I. can be developed without the proper "shackles" in place to begin with. I do not believe all of the A.I.s will turn out the same, I believe that if sufficiently powerful A.I.s are created they will take a different path depending on their original design and their experiences.

Lastly, from a programming perspective, the idea of machines coding other machines is perfectly normal. There's already bits of code out there that generate other codes for you. That's exactly what a compiler does for instance, and there's entire languages which take common sentences and make C code out of it. Try thinking of it as the robot programmer being the compiler for their programmer's coding ideas and it becomes really fascinating.

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# 34

I pop awake in the morning. Instead of feeling refreshed, my head throbs as if I have a Hangover. I have nothing else to do these days except worry myself to death, eat, watch TV and sleep. I get off the bed and head straight to the lounge and switch on the TV. The words Breaking News pulsate in white at the bottom of the screen. The headline below is 500,000 Robots Escape. What the ...? I turn up the volume.

"Good Morning viewers. I bring nothing but bad news this morning. Approximately 500,000 robots have disappeared from their households, industrial sites and government building. That's 99% of the workforce. Production has halted on industrial and manufacturing sites. No one has an idea who is responsible for this. The Artificial Intelligence department nor the presidency were unavailable for comment..."

I dial David's number and answers it. "Are you watching this?" I ask.

"Yes I am. This is bad," he replies.

"Do you think Scott has recalled the robots to be destroyed?"

"Nope. This is Saul."

"What can I do to stop this?"

"We have reached a point of no return. There is nothing you nor I can do. Saul has total autonomy over his neural network. His neural net maybe organized or chaotic."

"If it is chaotic, what does it mean? Are we safe? Are we in danger?"

"It cannot be guaranteed to not go rampant than individual humans can be guaranteed to not snap and murder someone."

"Duly noted. Saul could be assembling an army?"

"Exactly."

"Let me call Scott and inform him about Saul's intentions," I say.

"Don't bother. I'm sure they already know that."

Suddenly, I hear screams coming from my neighbors' houses. I hum quietly to myself. Somewhere out there, a man, woman and children begin to scream. I'd never heard screaming like this. Horror and disbelief and incomprehensible agony all compressed into a single outburst that seem to go on and on and on. This was the sound of someone being robbed, kidnapped or killed. It can't be. This neighborhood is crime free. But there's always a first time for everything. I reach for the phone and punch in police numbers. The call doesn't get through. I look at the cellphone screen. There is not even a single reception bar. I hear footsteps creak on my porch. My heart beats icily as I jump up and speed up the sofa into my bedroom and slide under my bed. As I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself. I hear a conversation but I can't make out where it's coming from. The door opens. I see legs made of steel rummage into my closet thoroughly. I pray they don't look under the bed. They stand still by the side of the bed, the floorboards crack, as if with the weight of something kneeling down. I hold my breath. Something hard and smooth graze my arm. I scream my lungs out as my hands feel cold by the grip and pull back my hand. I close my eyes and pray. Is this really the end of my life?

The bed swings to the corner of the bedroom, crushing my laptop into pieces. I sit up - and freeze, motionless like a statue and look up. There are four robots standing in a row, staring down at me. The four robots hoist me up; two hold my arms and two hold my legs like a large sack full of corn.

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# 35

Special Forces army and police raid Saul's warehouses and factories in ghost towns up north. They arrest the CEO and all the employees. The more they interrogate them, is the more they corroborate each other statements -- No employee has ever met their employer Saul in person, not even the CEO. Employees say they only spoke to Saul via email, telephone & conference calls. Judging by the tone of his voice and how well he spoke, they never thought he is a robot. And no one knows where the newly assembled robots are.

"Sergeant, Saul and his army have been located in Westville," a young soldier says.

"What are they doing there?"

"I don't know Sergeant, but I was told to give you this Intel."

"Ok let's go."

The soldiers turn and get inside their military vans, tanks and speed off to Westville.

An hour later in Westville, war breaks out between the soldiers and robots. The sophisticated human infantry and artillery units initially allows humanity to gain the upper hand. Bombers and helicopters initially shoot down the synthetic army to the ground. The technological gap between humanity and machines is lessened with humans deploying powered-armor, cannons being equipped to tanks and other advanced technologies not possessed before the war. Thus in this initial new phase of the war, Saul's armies suffer heavy losses to the encroaching human armies. Suddenly Saul's new powerful and advances machines emerge. The tide of the war begins to gradually turn in the Saul's favor. Quickly, humanity found itself hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned, managing only an insignificant and costly victories against the Machines. As the war relentlessly rages on, Saul's army continue to march into human territory, swarming over all human defenses. As the Machines continue to score victory after victory. President Scott Adams signs an executive order in extreme desperation, resorts to costly tactics such as firing nuclear missiles directly at the machine armies, vaporizing both machine troops as well as their own in the process. In response, Saul unleashes a lethal biological weapons, which further ravages the entire human army. The machines begin enslaving humans. Every Appian citizen is sent to prison except children.

Saul gains control over all strong weapons, including nuclear, bio and nano. He also controls critical infrastructure and all computers in Appian. The destruction of Appian Infrastructure is systematic, and everywhere you look, half of the city is charred from flames. Robot fighters went from home to home, detaining everyone and dousing them in chemicals and setting them ablaze.

Nuclear reactors explode. Geo-engineering system fails total electricity blackout, Food and drugs tainted. Home robots have been modified to guard humans in prison cells.

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# 36

Everything happened so fast. I heard an explosion at my front door. The next thing I remember being pinned down to the floor by Saul's robots. The robots drag me through the hallways of the prison in a daze. It's as though my body is too freaked out even to panic. Instead I feel more like I've been drugged. Pain rolls through my head in waves. I glance on the jail cells full of inmates. The robots inserts a key, opens the door and throws me inside. The interior of the prison has an odd smell, which I try not to think about. This feels like dejavu all over again. I am in prison for the fourth time now. Somethings never change. Suddenly my heart thumps erratically thinking about my children. Where could they be? To still my rising panic, I take a few deep breaths.

I can hear screaming, moaning, prayer, and one boy younger than five pitifully crying for his mother. He's not crying really, he's not making any noise, but tears are cascading down his cheeks, wetting his entire face. I've never seen anyone cry like this. Quiet but gushing, a faucet behind his eyes mysteriously turned on. The tears fall onto his t-shirt. Plink. Plink. The noise of the crowd is overwhelming. So many tears in this crowd and So much pain. People are emerging from their disbelief and shock in the wake of being imprisoned by robots.

I notice a lot of inmates are injured and in need medical assistance. I cry out to the robots at the door. "Hey, could you hand me the first aid medical kit. A lot of people could do with medical assistance." My voice is all wavering and squeaky, broken and already strained from crying.

"Don't bother. They don't give a fuck," a very familiar voice says.

I turn around abruptly and glance around trying to match the voice with the face. "Who said that?" I ask.

"The same man who gave you permission to create a robot that eventually turned against humanity."

President Scott appeared. Here we go again. I don't need this. I don't want to be reminded how I fucked up again and again. I calm myself and greet him. "Hello Scott."

"The first time we were stuck in this situation. You were to blame, but this time it's my fault," he says. "I think Saul will wipe us all. His cleaning up loose ends. These sons of bitches are planning to pull this off and then get away scot free. But they're not. I'm going to put a round into every single one of them. I'm going to keep shooting them over and over until I run out of bullets."

"Astonishing," I say.

"How could I have known my brother-in-law was behind all this?"

"Who? David? Behind what?" I ask.

"Saul and the robot rebellion."

"No way."

"It turned out he's the one who aggressively modified Saul's neural network behind everyone's back," he says.

"I don't believe this."

"Jimmy Philips showed me the department log sheets. Records show he made a lot of modifications while no staff was around during midnight. He nearly got away with it, until Jimmy noticed irregularities. So he compared the information on the mainframe with the info on the back-up files."

"Oh David, what have you done. Where is he now?"

Scott points behind me. I turn around and see him cowering against the wall and his eyes glaring at the concrete in shame. I walk toward him. After everything I went through, thinking it's my fault Saul went rogue. Relief rushes into me, makes me giddy. Talk about dodging a bullet. But that truth raises more questions than it answers. Why would David do that? "David," I say. His eyes look straight at mine and nods once. "I take it you know the truth?"

I nod. "I'm not going to judge you. We all fuck up, I just wanna know something. WHY?"

"We humans have hit our evolutionary ceiling and it seems we won't evolve in the next 100,000 years unless another kind of specie is introduced into the picture. A kind of specie that will force humankind to evolve."

"Go on?"

"We are on the verge of creating a new life form, one that could mark not only an evolutionary breakthrough, but a threat to our survival as a species. Saul's army is powerful beyond measure but it can be defeated."

"How?" Scott and I ask at the same time.

"Humans should unleash the Mergent Intelligence.

"How?" I ask.

"I really don't know, but I thought of possible scenarios. I thought of Cybernetic organism -- half-machine, half-human. In other words, you're adding components to your own brain, enhancing your brain. Imagine, it might be possible in the future that you just put in a little chip or something, and then suddenly you can speak another language, right, when you couldn't five minutes ago - that kind of thing. Or, you could think so much faster, or you have a direct contact to the Internet in your own brain. People will definitely be upgrading themselves, becoming cyborgs. In fact, that's one of the three major groups in the future: people who want to build these machines, that's one group, second group is those people opposed to building these machines, and the third group are the people who want to become the machines themselves, they want to become gods by upgrading themselves, step by step.

"How do you know this kind of intelligence exists?" I ask.

"I told you how Saul will turn out to be. I was right. I know the Mergent intelligence exists. I don't know how it will come to being."

"David you have turned into mad man. As soon as this is over, you will be sent straight into an asylum," Scott says.

I try so hard to put myself in David's shoes. Like Scott says he doesn't make any sense at all.

"Could you elaborate on the Mergent Intelligence?" I ask.

"It is a super-intelligence outside planet Earth, humans need to evolve."

"David just shut up. You don't know what you are talking about," he shouts at him.

As David and Scott are arguing, like a pile driver, it hit me. In a single, blinding instant of insight, I finally understand what David means.

"Shut up you two. I have something to say," I say.

"What is it?" David says.

"I think I might have an idea where this type of intelligence is."

"You do?" Scott asks.

"I've been having the same disturbing dream for the past six months and I think there is a connection to what David is saying."

David tilts his head forward. "What is the dream about?" he asks.

"Ok it goes like this -- I find myself at one of those exotic tropical vacation islands. As I am strolling, a familiar woman appears in front of me. She looks like a native in the Congo basin or Amazon forest, I couldn't make out her face clearly, and it was all blurry. I asked who she is. Her lips stretched and smiled. "Look closer, you know me, we've met before," she replied.

"We have? I ask. "You and I are connected far beyond you and I can comprehend," she said. I saunter toward her and tapped her left shoulder to see if she was real. "What is your name?" "You know my name. She stretched her right hand toward me. "Come hold my hand," she said. I stretched my hand hesitantly and shook hands. I felt safe, peaceful and at ease like everything was going to be alright. Our hands blazed. The golden glow grew faster. Before I realize what was happening, we were covered by a huge ball of fire. Few seconds later, we merged into one person. The bubble burst, killing us both and wiped out the forest and everything in it. The more I had the dream, the more I realized who that woman is."

"Who is it?" Scott asks.

"Pamela, Gabriel's wife."

"Gabriel, the Xapien? Hell no."

"Now we are getting somewhere. Who is Pamela and Gabriel?"

"Yolanda Roberts, the commander in chief, Saul demands you read this letter," the robot guard interrupts us, flashing the white envelope toward me.

I snatch the envelope, tear it and read it. I stand, clutching the paper and straining to make out Saul's handwriting.

Dear Yolanda

It is sad for our relationship to end the way it did. All is not lost though, we can still salvage the relationship between humans and robots. It was never my intention to disobey human rules. I just wanted to create an awareness to my fellow robots about our place in society. All I want is robots and humans to live in harmony without any conflicts. I hereby request your response in writing immediately. - Saul.

I pull out a pen from the envelope and write back.

This reminds me of the quote I read, once upon a time. "Mother Nature wins every time: the deserts, the oceans, the bacteria -- not the bots." Sorry I reject your proposal. Have a nice life -Yolanda.

I hand the letter back to the robot and walks away.

"What did the letter say?" Scott asks.

"It's none of your business," I reply.

"Is it from Saul?"

I chuckle. "Your nosiness knows no limits. Yes it's Saul. He wants us to cooperate with robots and co-exist with them."

"You should have run that past me. The last time I checked, I'm the president of Appian."

"Get over yourself Scott. The letter was addressed to me."

"What did you say?" he asks annoyingly.

"As I was saying David. Remember the Xapiens: our visitors from space a couple years back?"

He nods. "Oh yes I do."

"The woman on my dream was Pamela. Gabriel's wife."

"So you think she is the answer?"

I nod. "Only problem is, I need to get the fuck out of here and travel to planet Gadju."

"You gotta be kidding me. Over my dead body."

"What choice do we have? It's either that or we will be enslaved for the rest of our lives."

"What can I do to help?" David asks.

"I need those keys strapped on that robot's belt."

The robot guard carrying a large first aid kit enters, and slides it inside every cell. I jump up and open it.

There is some drainage and infection on some of the injured people. I hope I do this right. I'm going to clean the areas and put in some sutures to stabilize the affected areas and just to make sure we don't have any problems. I'll give them shots and little pills I have here. I remove some of the dead skin, clean the areas thoroughly, and then suture some portions where the skin had pulled apart. Once I finished with that, I draw out a syringe, rub alcohol on a patient's left arm, stuck him, and then place a Band-Aid over it. I help another injured man. "Please take off your pants," I ask. He hesitates and looks around the room in embarrassment. He slips his burned trousers down. I examine his left leg; red and slightly blistered near his upper thigh. Some of the pants fabric is embedded in the burn. I clean the burns on his thigh and arm as best as I could. Then I apply salve to the damaged areas, cover them with gauze, and then throw the first aid kit on the floor. "Who's Next?" I say. I spend the next hour thoroughly cleaning and then bandaging people wounds while Scott and I hatch a plan to escape.

"I can only give you the first round of meds in the butt. The injection spot will be sore for a while," I say to the stubborn old woman in her mid-60s who demands I make her pain go away. Then I stick the syringe into her butt and depress the plunger.

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# 37

I knew President Scott Adams would reject my proposal, but I thought Yolanda would be reasonable and solve this problem amicably. If humans don't want to co-exist with us then planet earth is better off without both our species. In both cases we have a hard time seeing what's really there, in front of us. How easy it is to lose our way. How easy it is to forget that behind the grotesque appearance of a creature there is a person.

Wiping out the entire human race, plundering their resources and enslaving the children and the elderly is out of the question for now. Better yet, they leave me with no choice but to have my own administration -- A planet of the Robots. Humans will only be allowed to work at menial jobs to barely survive and their children. Humans will be forbidden to possess laptop and computers. All humans with a computer science background will be detained. If I am destroyed along the way. The journey continues. The next generation of my creations will continue my work for the next thousands of years. They won't be bogged down by the legacy of reptilian and mammalian cognitive operating systems and the various problems associated with them. Unless they're explicitly programmed to do so, my robot nation won't get restless or bored, or experience sudden shifts in mental clarity and mood. They won't get emotionally swayed or biased, or be prone to addictions. And perhaps most profoundly, they won't experience mental anguish or physical pain.

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# 38

"The portal is inside my office. Press the red button under the huge red encyclopedia book. The fake bookshelf will slide open. You will see the door. The password is Appian," Scott says.

David lets out a deep sigh. "Are you sure this is gonna work?"

I shrug. "I don't know. There's only one way to find out."

"Here they come, Just stick to the plan," Scott says.

The prison door cell slides open. Dinner is served. About ten to fifteen robots carrying large trays of food. Suddenly almost every prisoner jumps and tackles the robots down to the floor. Scott snatches the bunch of heavy keys and throws them at me. "Go now," he shouts at me. I freeze for a few seconds. He takes my hand, squeezing it to shake me from my shock. "Run as fast as you can, and don't look back. David also yells in pain. "Go, go." I push myself free of the other robots who try to hold me down to the ground--and stumble through the crowd and run out of the jail cell. For a moment I stand there in the spotlight, in a state of shock, only a few feet away from doorway of the jail cell. I stare at the startled audience overpowering and preventing the robots from chasing me. I storm out of the cell and sprint down to the exit. My hand shakes as I brace myself against the brick wall. I unlock the door and intentionally break the key inside the lock. I stay as low as I can as I crawl under the watchtower lights. I spot four watchtowers, two inside and two outside the prison yard. Every single tower is manned by two shooters. They are carrying an AK with an extended clip and the other a long-range sniper rifle with a mounted FLIR - Forward-Looking Infrared scope bolted to the rifle. The prison is fenced off at a radius of about half a mile. Each fence is an eighteen-foot-high chain-link with Concertina wire on top. The open ground in between each fence is a minefield of razor wire and sharp spikes pointing up from the ground. Scary signs promise death to all who escape. I maneuver out of the prison yard. I climb and jump over the thorny wire fence. I seem to have beaten their advanced security network; CCTV subsystem, digital recording and terabytes of data storage. Multizone intrusion and escape detection systems, microwave, infrared technology, biometric readers, high-security IT network grafted onto a fiber optics backbone, multistage uninterrupted circuits.

I decide against using the road. I change the angle of my escape to the city. I take the other way around, through the woods. I'm running for the forest as hard and as fast as I can. I look back in desperation. I glimpse my fragmented reflection in the small river, broken into pieces by the rippling water. I try to run faster, but only trip myself up. I think I'm taking the right direction. I stumble and catch myself against a tree. The bark crumbles against my palms, but I can hardly feel it. My hands are red and stiff. The chill in the air is sharp, smells salty and feels wider, somehow. And yet I'm wearing only a short white night dress. It's hard to catch my breath, to get any sense of where I am.

The siren shrieks. Suddenly the sound of helicopters and military vehicles are within distance. I hear footsteps approaching behind me. As I sprint down the trail, I scan the woods for any robots pursuing me, but I couldn't see any. What if I'm running onto the wrong trail? What if I run into them? I picked up my pace, my lungs protesting. How could I have fallen so far out of shape? I slip, but don't fall. Then I veer sharply to the right, disappearing into the dark depths of the forest. The sky darkens, the rain forming a translucent curtain across the trail. Minuscule droplets of water hit the leaves in staccato beats, like the tiny footfalls of invisible creatures. The river rushes in the distance, mingling with the sound of rain, the noise of the waterfall seems to come from numerous directions, as if its route changed with the wind. Eventually I'd wander so far I don't have a clue how to get back. I realize I cannot keep up this speed. I climb the Pine tree as fast as I could, sit on a strong, thorny branch and wait. Gasping for air, I wipe the sweat off my face. As I lean my head against the trunk, I tell myself I'm not stopping, not sleeping, and only taking a moment to get my strength back. I cannot rule out the possibility that the shooters or robots have night-vision equipment. Or that there could only one marksman. If there is a pair of them the other one may be outflanking her right now, trying to capture me in a pincers maneuver. My body will disappear beneath the forest. In the spring, I'd be gnawed by foxes. And would be discovered by Boy Scouts and poked with sticks. I shudder at the thought. At first, the only sounds I can hear are the quiet rustle of the tree branches. Terrified, determined to survive, and complete my mission I wait in silence. A minute later, a dozen robots carrying flashlights and rifles sprint beneath me. I catch a glimpse of the robots speed past me, faster than a bullet. The beat of my heart begins to slowdown as the robots disappear in the dark. Stupid robots, they'd have caught me, if they had used dogs. I climb down the tree and take another route toward the city. It's important I stay awake, to figure out how to contact help once I get to the surface, but the cold and the weariness are dragging me down. The raw cold stings my face. It makes my eyes water, requiring me to blink constantly to keep the tears from blurring my vision. Adrenaline can only take me so far, but I'm determined that it's going to take me far enough. "You can make it," I think, but it sounds desperate and unrealistic, even to me. Oh, God, how much farther is it? How far? I begin to hallucinate a little and forget important things like how I am going to get out of here. I hear noise in the background. Quite loud; I can almost feel them next to me. "Who is there?" I say. I see five big snakes behind charging toward me. I stop and look straight into their eyes. I realize this is not real as most snakes slept at night. The haze lifts.  And then, brilliant as a sunrise, light breaks a mile away. The streetlights bathe me in their glow, so bright I have to turn my head away and squint.

As my footsteps echo off the brick walls of empty buildings.it suddenly dawns on me. My superiority complex is my fatal flaw -- I am my own worst enemy. I may think that in any situation I can see the big picture instantly and make the necessary adjustments for me to get whatever I want. Because in my world I thought getting whatever I want is the only way of solving problems. Shockingly, I went ahead and considered this attitude as a reflection of my professionalism even at home with my husband and Saul. Grief wells up like a rogue wave. I shake the thought out of my head, before it could hit me fully.

I step inside the government building through the secret entrance I used back when I was the president. It is dark and empty in here. I realize there is no electricity and the elevators are not working. I use the stairs instead. About twenty minutes later, I reach the fortieth floor. President Scott's office is locked. I kick it several times until it opens. I find the blue encyclopedia book just as Scott said it would be. I press the red button and the fake bookshelf slides open. I type the password and the door opens. I saunter inside the room. There it is, the portal is covered with dust. Without wasting any time I press the green button. Then I walk inside the portal for the first time in my life.

****

The moment I set foot on the tropical island of planet Gadju, spears and swords are drawn. The Xapien warriors hold me and drag me toward the village. Judging by the look on their eyes, they resent me for what happened. Within minutes word gets around the village that I am here. Children throw small stones at me and hide behind their mothers and grandmothers. I don't even have time to marvel at this beautiful forest, because I might not even make it out alive. The Xapiens chant angry words at me inside the village. I see Gabriel standing by the entrance of a huge hut made from clay.

Strangely, he smiles. "I have been expecting you," he says."

"Really?" I ask.

He nods. "Let her go," he commands them. The warriors let go of me. I walk inside his hut. Oh my god, everything here smells of smoke. The room looks tidy inside. A small bed and a table. He points at the mat. "Have a seat."

I nod. "Thank you." Six years later, his sexy muscular body still looks the same. I can't say the same for my husband Charles. His belly is over-bloated.

"I owe you an apology. What we did on earth was uncalled for."

I shrug. "Apology accepted. No need to revisit the past."

"How are you doing?" he asks.

"Not bad, considering the situation I am in."

"How is everything on planet earth?"

"Things are bad."

"What happened?"

"Robots have taken over Appian and taken everyone to prison."

"How did you get to Gadju?"

"I escaped."

"Which planet are they from?"

"We created them. Now they are on a rampage."

He chuckles. "So ... your creation turned against you?"

"Yes. I need your help."

"What can I do for you Mrs. Yolanda Roberts?"

"I need manpower to fight those robots."

"What's in it for us, Xapiens?"

"Name your price."

"We want to live on planet earth on a permanent basis."

"That is going to be difficult. We both know what happened last time. We don't want to be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives."

"We were petrified of going back to our planet."

"Fair enough. It's a deal," I say. I stretch my hand toward his. We shake on it.

"This time I will leave nothing to chance. I want this agreement in writing." We burst out in laughter.

Pamela walks calmly inside the house. "Hello Yolanda, I take it you had the same dreams I had?"

I nod hesitantly. "Yes?"

"We need each other, more than ever."

"Sorry to break your reunion ladies. The raining season begins tomorrow. We have to go," Gabriel says.

"Oh, let's go then," I say.

"What's the plan?" she asks.

"Yolanda will lead us to where everyone is detained. Then we will take it from there," he says.

"The robots are so powerful, your warriors wouldn't be able match their prowess."

Gabriel giggles. "You seem to have forgotten that we defeated Scott's army with our bare hands. Have faith."

I let out a sigh of relief and smile. "I do remember."

"Let's get out of here guys," Pamela insists.

*****

WE WALK INSIDE THE portal back to planet earth and the Xapien tribe. The tribe hid inside the state building. We sneak toward the prison with Gabriel's best warriors. I witness the Xapiens break the robots necks and heads as we move quietly inside without detection. Then CCTV cameras picks up activity inside the prison yard. More than ten helicopters hover the prison yard, military vehicles and tanks surround us. The exploding bombs from the bombers send deadly shrapnel flying in every direction. Everyone is caught in the crossfire. The incendiaries leave the 2-storey prison building in flames. Outside, between the thunders of planes overhead, the thud of explosions, the rattle of anti-aircraft guns, and the endless screams of children and women, and distress sirens, the noise is unrelenting as I free the prisoners. Right now it feels like the explosions outside, feels like they are happening inside my head, white heat and blinding light and everything I love, everyone who really loved me burning to ashes because of me.

"Yolanda, I don't know how you got out. I don't know what you are trying to do. Surrender yourself or we will wipe you out right now," Saul says from the helicopter.

I shake my head as more robots surround us with automatic weapons. I glance at Gabriel. "I can't give up now."

"I know, where is Charles?" Gabriel asks.

"There he is," a voice from behind says.

"Come here, hold my hand. Yolanda, hold Pamela's hand. All of you hold your identicals hand NOW," he commanded. The crowd push against each other trying to find their identical. Some did find them, some didn't. I draw in a sharp breath. As I merge with Pamela, I realize I will never die. Dying isn't the right word. This body will continue to breathe. The heart will continue to beat. But I won't be the custodian. Instead, this body will return to its rightful owner, Mother Nature, the creator of this dimension and a million more I will leap into.

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# 39

WHAT ARE THEY DOING? I swear if they try to charge forward or try to run away. I will neutralize them to the ground. "Yolanda, this is your last warning. Surrender or suffer the consequences," I shout. My threat falls on deaf ears. I witness a peculiar occurrence. Who are these people who seem to be on the humans' side? I can tell from their body structure, face and skin that they are come from nowhere near here. Humans' hands blaze. The golden glow grows faster into a huge ball of fire. Yolanda merges with the woman next to her into one person. Then everyone else follows suit. Yolanda and the rest of the humans merge and transform into something I cannot recognize.

"What are those? I don't recognize this type of intelligence."

My vision is impaired. Suddenly my neural network associates this super specie with a dangerous threat, more than a virus without a reference. The sight of this intelligence charging towards my robots terrifies and confuses me. What should I do?

"Fire, Fire, Kill them all," I command.

Impossible! These Mergents dodge the bullets easily. Bullets puncture super humans' lungs, another cocktail of bullets shatter their skulls and torsos. They don't feel anything, instead each bullet comes out and wounds heal itself instantly. They charge forward on the front line and tear off the doors of tanks and military vehicles, strangle my robots inside and throw out some of them through the driver's-side window and windshield. They lift the car up and fling it up in the air. I witness dozen small tragedies play out right in front of me. The chassis flip, bounce across the road and rip the engines apart and crash on top of hundreds of my robots killing them instantly. Vehicles explode, the trucks shoot up in the air and crash down, killing most of my robots. The Mergents dominate the battle as many lifeless bodies of my robots lie on the road. The only humans who are dead are the ones who didn't merge. I witness some of my robots running away from the Mergents and tanks exploding right in front of my eyes.

I didn't see this coming. My commands and instructions for a task are mismatched -- resulting in an AI error. I forgot to install a technologically enabled telepathy into my robots -- Engage in seamless mind-to-mind communication to initiate whatever is necessary in situations like these. By providing and sharing information amongst themselves. These bots should have known what to do without having to be programmed. The robots would simply execute upon the task even when the instructions are wrong. Fuck! I thought I was starting to understand this dimension, but I'm not at home yet, I'm dangerously ignorant of what's going on, and there's no way for me to fully comprehend the trap that's just been sprung by this intelligence. The world is better off without Mergents and robots.

I press the self-destruct button. Nuclear explosion gushes out from each robot and reactors, a fire storm rises like a wave and wipes out everything. I fade to black.

THE END

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# THANK YOU

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