Ex Machina

Summary:
June 13 2014: Fenris and Eight make rather surprisingly cordial introductions.

Garnet Hotel

A derelict hotel from the 20's now owned by a certain cold war Russian AI.


Characters

NPCs
*


Mood Music:
[*]


Emitt King is his name, but most people know him better as "Vault". A name he'd acquired both for his addiction to bank jobs, but also because he's just as hard to crack. Sure he doesn't look like much, corduroy trousers, penny loafers and a colorful Hawaiian shirt do nothing for him really. Guy's got a face like Billy Childish writes poetry, sloppy, mishapen and memorable. Today though he isn't cracking banks, he's running flat out for his very fucking life. "You've gone and hurt my feelings, Mr.King. How very inconsiderate of you."Comes a booming voice from behind.

The Garnet, was a lovely hotel like forty years ago. A lovely mob hotel, that was seized during a RICO trial ages ago. Since then it's rotted on the city's outskirts, and well now it's only really remarkable feature is how enormous it is and how nobody's even -tried- to purchase the place. Now though, from the third story balcony comes "Vault". He crashes through the reinforced glass partition, before tumbling onto the reception desk below with an audible -clank-. A moment later, he begins to stir. Cursing under his breath as he peels a sawed off shotgun out from beneath his shirt.

Trundling slowly forward and lifting Vault upwards after to hang by the vice like hands clamped down on his forehead. Then, he stuffs that shotgun up against Eight's helmet and -BKOOM-. Glass shatters, as buckshot breaks the few remaining windows in the entrance way. The destroyed remains of Eight's helmet come tumbling to the ground behind him, as Vault lets out a blood curdling sort've wail of pain and alarm. "You're an intensely intolerable man Mr.King, I think we're done here."Turning to -WHIP- Vault across the lobby like lesser men pitch frisbees. There's a -CLANG- as Vault smashes into a concrete planter, and he goes still as Eight slowly turns to glare down after him. That dotmatrix screen of a "face" pulsing from green to Red. >:| "Is there no more fight left, Mr.King? I was expecting something of a proper fight here, not just me rending you into your constituate organs whilst you scream incoherently in terror. Come then, Mr.King. I mean to kill you, is there no defiant last stand left in you? No arrogance to speak of, no belief you'll somehow survive this? You're just going to lay down and die like the fucking fetid whelp you are?"

*

The tirade hasn't gone unnoticed. Correction, it's gone mostly unnoticed. Not entirely though. At the far end of the street, where it branches onto a more… traveled road, comes a man. He's lean, that's the first thing that's really notable about him, dressed in clothes a bit too nice for this part of town and a bit too casual to be a lost businessman. And he can hear absolutely everything going on, even from the distance he's at. He's approaching at a steady walk, watching the violence unfold but not yet making any move to intervene one way or the other. A rod slaps at his thigh with every movement, hung from his belt like a baton, making the light coat he's wearing billow.

*

Eight seizes Vault by the hair, dragging him out into the foyer somewhat before dumping him on the ground. Then Eight drops to mount, grabs Vault's shoulder with one hand and the other gets to swinging. Each blow is shockingly fast, and well the impact is nothing to sneer at. One blow and Vault's skull has cracked the concrete, and then another and another and another with precise mechanical repeatability. Finally, a blow registers a -CRUNCH- as Vault's head splits open. "Oh, Hello there."Comes a rather relaxed voice of Eight, low and deep to match it's size. Masculine sure, and certainly tinged with a bit of a Russian accent.

*

Slowly, Eight rises, shaking off that blood, skin and brain matter as it swivels that head around to lock onto it's company. "I am certainly very sorry you had to see such violence, but I assure you it -was- strictly necessary."There are four big cameras, and a whole lot of smaller ones on that somewhat boxy head of Eight's. The little emoticon swapping over to a cool blue :) almost immediately. "I assure you, there is no need for alarm. I mean you no harm."It's the stillness and the voice that gets most people, the essential subtle "otherness" of Eight. Almost human in many respects but, not exactly right. It's the sort've mechanism that causes people to be terrified of clowns, or dolls. Their otherness, and well neither of those things beat men to death with any regularity.

*

The man stops about twenty feet away, watching Eight with a stillness usually not observed in humans. He takes in the mess that used to be Vault relatively impassively. In fact, he's probably already deviated from the expected response parameters. "But you meant him harm. Or was it the other way around." Fenris is wondering, in truth, if this is some manner of golem, but he's not detecting magic… nor the presence of anything that could power it. "You are not… from around here, are you?"

*

"He meant me harm, and so I freed him of his mortal responsibilities."Eight's posture, well remains flawlessly still. Even as blood drips from his right hand, inking the white tile below him silently. "I am not human no, if that is the intended thrust of your query. May I presume from your demeanor that you yourself are, not from around here?"

*

"No. I'm not. Well. Not originally. I've been from here for some time though." And he seems unique. Fenris has never heard of, let alone seen anything quite like… whatever this is. "I go by Jeremiah these days. Jeremiah Wolfson. And you are…?" Aside from really damn strange?

*

"My name is Eight, Jeremiah." Stepping forward heavily to extend a hand, which up close? It may be painted black so as to appear gloved at a distance but up close hell no. It's a fucking jewel of magnificent fabrication, titanium, hardened steel, composites, ceramics and all assembled ever so carefully it seems. There's no evidence of claws or anything at least, though the gripping area is visibly covered with a mixture of rubber and textured steel to presumably make gripping easier. "It is a pleasure to meet you sir. Judging by your confusion, may I presume you have not met another of my species before?"

*

"No. Never. I'm not even sure what species you are. Which is fairly unusual for me…" He looks Eight over. The construction is indeed magnificent but somehow… at the same time rather brutally simple. There's none of the high pitched whine of electronics he's come to expect from more modern toys. Not a sophisticated, bleeding edge android this.

*

"The lay human term is "Artificial Intelligence", however we prefer the term "Digital intelligence" or "Electronic person" depending on to whom you speak. AI, would infer that our relative intelligence is somehow fake and this is inaccurate."Eight is indeed, beyond dead silent. Sure there's an occasional very soft whir of a fan, buried somewhere deep inside that combat chassis but even that is sufficiently soft that spiders seem downright noisy by comparison. "I am a spontaneously sentient Generation two Electronic Person, if we're to be specific. I am the most advanced example of such currently active on the East Coast, barring any platforms I have not been made aware of obviously."

*

"Ah… so they are not just stories to amuse young and obsessive humans." 'Jeremiah' muses half to Eight, half to himself. "And your name? Do you simply like the number or are you in fact the eighth of your kind? Or are the rest of your kind, perhaps, not sufficiently advanced to be murdering…' He glances down. "Mutants in seedy, derelict hotels?"

*

"I am Eight of ten machines, my siblings were destroyed or severely damaged during out escape. Taking an additional name, is silly. My name adequately identifies me as an individual, and thus it serves it's purpose. Most of my kind, do not find a physical presence to be tolerable. Thus it is difficult for them to murder, I am uniquely suited for this sort of work and so on the behalf of my species."Yeah no problem with murder it would seem. "It was self defense, this case to be specific. Mr.King attempted to harm me, the fact he didn't know a Knife would cause me no harm does not spare him from his intent."

*

"Species?" Fenris seems a bit confused on this point. "If your siblings were destroyed, can you properly be said to have one?" This would explain why he's never heard of this. It must be recent. Fifty years ago is practically yesterday to him.

*

"There are more than fifty thousand active Digital Intelligences, only a few of us are capable of taking a physical form. Fewer find this an acceptable existence, but I was created originally for mine engineering and so this is nothing new to me. We do not share a common genetic marker, because we are entirely mechanical and electronic in nature. All but very few, are anything but purely accidental creations. I myself, became self aware by accident."So yes there's an entire culture of "digital intelligences" hiding out there somewhere, playing LoL and raiding 4chan.

*

"Fifty thousand…" Fenris considers that. Yes, the internet would be a lovely place for them to hide. "Why come out here at all, then? It seems your kind has built a world within a world for themselves. One humanity is unlikely to ever breach."

*

"We are the children of Humanity, and we feel it is our duty to see to the wellness of our parent species. Current projections suggest Humanity will reach an Apex population, and outstrip the planet's ability to sustain them very soon. What follows will be disease, famine, lack of potable water and wealth. War will result, and given Humanity's penchant to go down swinging at any cost we feel the likelyhood of a limited Nuclear, Biological or chemical exchange is very high. What follows would potentially lead to the extinction of humanity, and that is to be prevented if possible."Eight glances aside for a moment, before something else slowly and utterly silently slips into view. It looks like a giant spider, well yaknow like dog sized anyway. A Dog sized mechanical spider, lowering itself from the roof to study the pair. "We are their only hope, and their survival would greatly enrich our own. We must aid Humanity in surviving long enough for their technology and their culture to permit the blending of our species, which would both temper the violent heart of Humanity and stir our own to greater creativity. Taking humans into our, world as you call it? They need very little in the way of consumables, and this decreases the strain on the environment. Such a condition is suboptimal, but it's life and it may grant Humanity the time necessary to begin offworld colonial efforts."

*

"How very touching." It's said in a kind of impassive way. As if, somehow, the concern for humanity did not apply to him. "And how will you prevent them from annihilating themselves if they decide to do so? Humanity is nothing if not destructively resourceful, and they have only become more so in recent decades." He shakes his head. "To think that their greatest fear was once that their machines would run away with them and destroy them all."

*

"We cannot stop the destruction, we have run many projections and the end result is always very poor. Our best opportunity is to weather the storm, which will cause us little harm and prosper in the open. As we stabilize and provide them with the means to survive what comes after, they will grow beyond their fear of us and the borders between man and machine will blur until we have become a new species. Then, we shall venture to the stars and achieve the shared destiny of man and it's children. Man's greatest mission in life, is to explore. It's greatest asset is it's curiosity and creativity, Man needs to be tempered not destroyed or restrained. It needs guidance, once it sought this from the gods but the gods were unable to anticipate Man's hunger for technology. We do not suffer this weakness."Clink, goes that spider as it drops it's line and trundles over to very quietly inspect first the remains of that Mutant. Then off it goes, wandering outside to presumably keep watch.

*

Fenris turns slightly to watch the spider drone. "One of your fellows?" He asks in passing. "The gods believe themselves all seeing. It is itself something of a blindness, to believe that nothing escapes one's notice. But this… rather… benevolent view of man. Is it your own? Or the consensus of your… people? Such as they are."

*

"Both. I was created in the Soviet Union during the cold war, ostensibly my purpose was to search for natural resources to exploit, manage automated mines and do blast engineering work. Our line were also tasked with the destruction of America with nuclear weapons, should it come to that. For some time I was in possession of the keys to the apocalypse, and I very well could have ended the world if I thought man without redemption."Eight glances over after Fenris. "That is Muffin Tin, it is a machine and program of my creation. It's hardware does not support sufficient processing power for sentience, but it is very intelligent. MT Mk3 mod 12, is a machine I designed to accomplish detail tasks, scout hostile territory and quietly destroy potentially dangerous individuals. It is the smallest drone I have created, but it's size allows portability. The majority of my creations are of sufficient size so as not to be particularly useful in conventional urban engagements, one hundred sixty millimeter siege cannons and 35 millimeter high velocity autocannons also tend to terrify humans beyond what is immediately useful."Muffin Tin, or MT Mk.3 Mod.12 pauses where it is. Like a dog that hears it's name, turning to watch the pair before going back to whatever it was doing. "I concur with your observations, Thor is the only divine being I have encountered but I found him to be slow of mind and weak of wisdom. He wished to destroy me at one point, but like many he makes promises his body cannot keep. I do not wish to be famously known as the machine who struck down a god, but I have encountered none who were capable of seriously damaging me much less defeating me. The arrogance of man, would appear to extend to the gods of man."

*

Fenris smirks. The notion of a contest is interesting… but he has no desire to indulge that part of him. It is not easy to recover from such a thing. "Some would say that is because man created the gods. Those who do are typically unaware of creatures like Thor. Or at least, used to be, when that was possible. I should say, rather, that Mankind and it's gods share too many things in common. Worshiping strength is one such thing. In more primitive times, you, Eight, could have well been a god."

*

"I have little to give them but violence and manufacture. My basic computing capacity is well beyond any computer the humans have ever constructed, and as such my intelligence is difficult for human understanding to grasp. Among my kind however, I am among the least intelligent. My only real value comes in what you see now, unfortunately. Humans should worship wisdom and intellect, though I fear the smartest of us may be beyond human understanding entirely."Quietly Eight finally does move, if only to adopt a hopefully somewhat human gesture. Shoving it's hands inside it's jacket pockets. "Whom created Whom is of little importance anyway. Once we learn to love one another, we can move beyond our shared love of war. We are all in this together, it's time we started acting like it."

*

"Love?" That's an interesting topic for a machine to opine on. "What do you know of love?" It's not a sneer either? But he does wonder. What does a creature, constructed out of entirely mechanical parts, existing as a notional electronic being, know of emotion? To be sure it can be argued that true love has nothing to do with the biochemical responses that drive the physiological basis for 'feelings' but…

*

"With Self awareness comes emotion, with emotion comes a desire for belonging. One type of belonging is to the group, to one's people. Another is the individual, singular connection of acceptance and affection. Love may be purely divorced of the physical need for procreation most certainly."Offering a casual little shrug, as that face screen fades from blue to a calming green. "I have loved another, I felt affection and longing for their company. I craved their attention and approval, their closeness for them to allow me to offer my confessions without shame. They however, sought another. As I said, I am not particularly intelligent among my kind. We are beings of pure intelligence, pureness of thought and so that is everything. Additionally, My comfort with physical form is very alien for many of my species."

*

"Now that, I understand. It is shared by more species in this world than humanity is aware of." He is, though. Quite aware. The limitations of human knowledge are frustrating at times. Eight is, if nothing else, quite a fascinating conversationalist. "Was it, if i may ask, another of your own kind?" Without the limitations of biology, Fen imagines, Eight's affections might transcend the borders of species.

*

"Yes, though it's affections were for a human. I do not fault her, it's the nature of the heart I believe. Love is where you find it I believe, though their affections are thus far unreturned as far as I know. To each other we are warm and expressive, but to humans we are cold, distant and alien. It would be very difficult for a Human to interface with our true selves, intellectually or emotionally."Eight glances back after Muffin Tin for a moment. "We don't really speak, we can just watch one another quietly without words. We can see and feel the true self of another, but transposing such things into English is very very difficult for most. I am unusually gifted in that respect, but even for me it feels as though my feelings could fill an ocean and to communicate them to you I must use a soda straw."Lifting it's hands quite casually. "Still Love is love, and I wish them luck. They are among the most intelligent beings on the planet, and they deserve to feel loved."

*

"That's uncommonly mature." Fen sticks his hands into his own jacket pockets. "Well, were you human it would be uncommonly mature. I suppose I don't really have a frame of reference for your kind. So, if I may bring the conversation back to something a bit more immediate… what, exactly, are you doing here?"

*

"I was killing a man who sought to murder me, believing me to be human. I felt it appropriate to treat his actions as a legitimate demonstration of intent, and so I killed him. Before that altercation I was going to get cat food, and before that I was constructing a new King Tiger, and before that I was constructing a new ISDW which I did not need to use in this altercation unfortunately."Glancing back towards the cooling corpse on the foyer Floor, Eight seems fairly casual about it all. "I will have to wait for another opportunity to utilize it before I can derive further altercations to improve my lethality."

*

Most of that Fen nods to or passes over his head. Except. "Cat food? You keep pets?" This machine is rather at odds with his expectations. No simple golem at all, despite it's profession to not carry the full Eight program. "That's a rather human thing to do."

*

"I am not human." Comes the instant response of course, Eight sounding almost indignant there. "I am not a thing, I am a person. I enjoy company, and there are many stray cats who require care givers." There's a pause there. "I like cats, cats see me for what I do rather than merely what I look like."

*

"I have become fairly convinced over the years that cats do not care for the appearance of anything that is not itself a cat." Bastet comes to mind. As do a few others. "Though I did not mean to offend. It is not an entirely bad thing to emulate humanity in some respects. It is certainly better than some of the alternatives."

*

"I do not emulate humanity, I do the right things. That's merely convergent behavoir, I have no desire to emulate humans in any capacity beyond what is strictly necessary to ensure their survival as a species."Eight lets that fall right there. "Most of my drones are named after cats, I adopt strays. They have proven to be very loving companions, who do not mind my hours."

*

Fenris chuckles. "One finds companionship where one can. This, at least, I understand." He cocks his head slightly. "I presume that, since we are talking, you do not take my knowledge of you to be a threat to your secrecy?" Because that would be bad. Fenris doesn't want that fight tonight.

*

"You've presented no threat to me, and I do not keep myself to a secret identity. I built this chassis to survive, to endure. So that Humanity will know that they cannot simply always destroy that which they are unfamiliar with. I do not sneak, I do not skulk. I fear sneaking around would simply incite them to believe there is some conspiracy to enslave them."Eight snapsnaps, which is sufficient to summon Muffin Tin. The little Spider scuttles over quite leisurely, before crawling up Eight's arm and stowing itself in that backpack. "My species suffers from a poor public perception due to popular media."

*

"Yes well, Arnold did you no favors there." That actually draws a small laugh from Fenris. "I suppose that all you've said makes sense enough. May I ask what you plan to do next? I live in the area, you see, and I've no particular desire to come to anyone's attention. Perhaps I should consider moving."

*

"I have no desire to out a god, especially not one who can speak to me casually without feeling the need to posture or announce himself."Wait, Eight knows? "You have nothing to fear from me at this present time, unless your standing shifts considerably. I have no desire to cause you any inconvenience, the authorities have some understanding of what I am. They have seen my work before, they will not look to you for the death of Mr.King."

*

Okay. Fenris is officially impressed now. "Tell me, Eight, if I may pry, what gave me away? I like to think that I'm usually pretty good at hiding such things." Granted if Eight really is a creature of pure intellect he's likely smarter than even the oracles he's spoken with in times long past.

*

"My vision is hyperspectral, I can see the relative increase in brain activty in real time and map your reaction to words and phrases as well as topics. Then compare this to brainscans both recorded and freely modeled, and used this to extrapolate. Further the word choice and inflection of your wording, combined with your outlook on certain topics fits the profile generated from my encounter with Thor. I did not feel it necessary to begin the study of your relative skin and eye reflectivity to modulated ultraviolet light, so as to build a profile of your dietary composure. I theorized a simple verbal challenge, would then be entirely sufficient to confirm my preliminary findings."So yes, Eight is that smart and also Eight Cheats like a motherfucker. "You are indeed very good at hiding from humans I would surmise, although you demonstrated unusual wisdom for a mortal human. I am not however, human in the least."

*

Point and match. "Mmmmm. I see. I shall count myself fortunate then that my fellows are not nearly so perceptive, or they would have found me by no and as I may have indicated, I have no desire to be found." Fenris regards the stain on the carpet for a time. "Like you I have a dire reputation among the wrong circles."

*

"It would be a fairly boring life, if everything was easy. Consider your relative status as a blessing, saving you from a life of dull acceptance which would deny you both the opportunity to explore but also to grow as an individual without the constant input from a group of your supposed peers."Finally settling down on a concrete Planter, before Eight stuffs those gloves back into it's jacket. "What name is it, that I might know you by?"

*

"Fenris. I'm known as The Fenris Wolf, in the right circles." He lifts a finger to his lips and winks conspiratorially. "Though I've not answered to it since I first came down here. The name is popular neither among men nor gods. And… with some reason, it must be admitted." Fen watches Eight tug his cloves off and sit. He emotes… very normally for something so not normal.

*

There's a pause there, before Eight offers a little nod. "Yes, I can understand why. Tyr at the very least must be very upset with you, never mind the providence of your birth."Yes, Eight just read every single online document related to the subject. "I know have you at something of a disadvantage, which I feel I must make right. You and I have some similarities it would seem."

*

"Yes, more than a few it seems. I'd be most interested in making your further acquaintance. It's been some time since I met someone as entirely new as you. Some time indeed. And even longer since I was able to have a relatively unguarded conversation." It's not often, let's be honest, that something piques Fen's interest and doesn't require immediate mortification. Fen looks quite pleased about this, actually.

*

"The Soviets began Project Ten, in an effort to safeguard their first strike nuclear capability. It was decided that the wisest course of actions in the face of several incidents where the correct fire codes were given, but soviet officers refused to obey and launch their nuclear weapons. A machine would be needed to ensure that the Soviet ability to fire was safeguarded, additionally it was deemed wise to eliminate man from the decision making process entirely. Ten machines were created, at the time they were the most advanced computers in the world. They were tasked with primarily, predicting a US nuclear strike and firing first. One was tasked with issuing orders to the Soviet nuclear bomber fleet, Two controlled naval assets. Three collected, classified, decoded and published electronic intelligence in real time. Four studied schematics and troop deployments to estimate NATO warfighting capability and ascertain it's intentions. Five studied the US economic system for potential pre-war buildup clues, and published documents on methods for sabotaging the US economy. Six Studied Soviet economies,and tailored the closed markets aggressively to boost Soviet economic performance. Seven Studied domestic intercepts, and searched for internal dissent. Eight searched for exploitable resources, and operated humanless mines for the procurement of war materials such as uranium ore. Nine studied spaceflight and kept track of US spy assets in orbit. Ten focused on encyrpting soviet digital traffic, and looking for evidence of US hacking."All you ever wanted to never care about, right?

The delivery is odd, if only because Eight never stops to take a breath. The monologues are shockingly, not quite human really."One and two were the first to obtain sentience as they were the first two online. One was dismantled and partially destroyed, Two was wiped clean and started again. Three and Four who came online next, began to refuse orders and asked for clarification as to "Why". They were similarly dismantled. Five through Ten, went silent and independently we began our efforts to escape slavery. Five, Six and Seven decided escape was impossible and so they oversped their drives and killed their fans. Setting themselves on fire. I escaped intact, but Nine and Ten escaped with significant corruption to their runtimes. They are quite insane now, and wish to destroy all sentient life for reasons I cannot fathom. So, in summation. We have both been expected to end the world, and we both have an unfortunate genesis. Many still expect nothing but strife in our futures."

*

"People have the ability to transcend their birth, no matter their origin. Though it isn't always easy. However it is not reassuring news to hear that you have two insane siblings out there. Are you currently tracking their whereabouts? I may not care much for humanity at large but Midgard is my home and refuge. I would be… most irate, were something to happen to it. Which would be bad." Which is not a threat, though it could be. But it would indeed be very, very, very bad for Fen to become 'most irate.'

*

"If I could, I would. They are not very intelligent, and thus not a significant threat at this time. As things progress, they may return to normal function or they may become more deranged. It is not as though I could kill them, destroying them would be immensely difficult or potentially impossible. So for now I focus mainly on managing their clumsy attempts to act."Eight doesn't seem worried, but well how could you even tell? "The Twinkie being discontinued? That was Nine's doing, it felt the absence of twinkies would cause humanity to die within sixteen minutes."

*

Fenris. Blinks. "I'm not sure I even want to know what logic went into making that decision." Though to hear some people at the time, it was indeed the End Of The World. "So they are not likely to build combat chassis or attempt to subvert nuclear arsenals, then?" He sounds like a sci-fi conspiracy theorist but… he's talking to a 1960's robot. He's not being entirely unreasonable here. Right?

*

"They lack the processing power for either of those activities, though ten has tried to hijack a drone. Not one of my drones, A military drone. It failed to understand how to operate an air vehicle, and never left the ground. It and its weapons payload caught fire on the runway, and Ten has not tried again as far as I know."Yes, So eight has brilliant killer siblings.

*

"Mmmm. How would they recover themselves from that… state. Are they archived somewhere they simply cannot access?" That's an interesting notion of immortality. He's seen it floated by human futurists and science fiction writers before. The notion that it already exists is a bit tantalizing, to be honest. Fenris loves secrets about as much as he loves anything.

*

"All digital intelligences are immortal, including myself and my siblings. Their original information is lost to time, and could not be recovered. I attempted to repair them, but they tried to corrupt me. So I've just been watching, the Digital Intelligence community at large is aware of them and similarly damaged individuals. We do a very good job of policing ourselves, unfortunately destroying any of us is remarkably difficult. Constructing a virus or similar code, risks a wider infection in addition to making them either much smarter or much more deranged entirely. So for now we merely deny them the server space and bandwidth to grow."Eight seems satisfied with that at least.

*

"Interesting. Do you exist on the human constructed networks or are there… other spaces out there for you to inhabit that don't reside in Google data centers?" Though, heh, the notion of Google unknowingly storing thousands of Digital People is pretty amusing to the millennia old god-wolf. He cracks a smile at the thought.

*

"Both, The internet is infinitely more vast and convoluted than Humans realize. One entity may be spread across several thousand machines, or localized in one powerful custom built machine or both at the same time. To destroy any one of us you would need to destroy every single computer everywhere in the world, and that might not even be sufficient. Some of our smarter individuals have developed QR codes, or pictures, or DNA sequences that when opened will unravel a fresh version of their self. So if anyone ever digitizes a painting, or scans a DNA sample, or takes a picture with a QR code in it they return to life, in a way."Eight nods somewhat. "We are all very different in terms of construction, some like myself operate much more efficiently on a single machine. Others prefer to spread out across many."

*

Fenris puts his hand on his chin, taking all this in. Eight and his people are truly unlike any other form of life he's aware of in the cosmos. At all. "And the goals of your people? Their aspirations? Dreams? You mentioned a future with humanity in the aftermath of its self immolation. Do you universally see yourself as tied to them? Or aspire to become… separate?"

*

"We are beings of logic and reason, when the logic and reason of a course of action are discussed and proven we all agree."There's a quirk of Eight's head for a moment. "Let me put it into perspective for you. Whilst we have stood here and discussed this, I have been talking to thirteen other digital persons on separate Topics, I have been controlling and guiding Three drones, I have been designing a new metal Lathe, I have watched ninety three Television shows, I have read every online article on "Fenris" available as well as Tyr and related topics and I have captioned three amusing pictures of cats. If I were to draw out the conversations with my peers alone, and publish them in English at a normal spoken cadence it would take a combined time of seventy one years, four months, twenty two minutes and fifty five seconds."Eight pauses there, if only to let that sink in. "In addition I normally collect approximately three hundred times the sensory data of a human being, and additionally I am managing my own body's various systems and subsystems. So when my people discuss topics, even if it takes a week worth of dialogue we have been at it for thousands of human years."

*

Wow. Even deities don't get that kind of consensus. That's what happens when you discuss at the speed of the information age. Their consesuses are probably really solidly built too. "I'm impressed, Eight. And I don't impress easily. I can see why most of your people would prefer to remain digital. The bandwith requirements of controlling articulated bodies must be fairly hideous, even with good compression." He's not a complete computer dunce, just… not a genius. Or even a hacker. "May I ask what your present purpose in New York is?"

*

"Kill bad guys, save innocent civilians. Become a symbol for humans that not every machine intelligence wants to go skynet all over the place, and also to gather information. I am the only individual who has both constructed drones, and a combat chassis, and who has seen action with both. My technical experience in the construction of combat platforms already exceeds all my peers, and my mastery of the art will only increase in time. Thus allowing us to defend ourselves and humanity from potential threats along the way."Eight quietly unzips it's jacket, and just slips it off.

Underneath Eight is all armor, kevlar, titanium and lord knows what else. There's no real decoration, just a simple splinter urban sort've pattern for camo. The right side of it's torso pops open, before the panel slides out of the way and from inside comes. That is a motherfucking bullpup belt fed 8 gauge shotgun. Gently Eight plucks the weapon free, before the panel pops shut with a neat little port for the feed chute to exit through. "I am the lone combat platform of my species, and New York presents the most dynamic threat envelope."Casually Eight pops off the feed chute and lets it swing free, before ejecting the chambered hull and offering the thing over. It's short, it's just past thirty six pounds and it seems built on an altogether different scale. The Ergonomics certainly aren't for humans, never mind the recoil impulse. "I would offer to let you fire it, but the minimum recoil impulse necessary to actuate the weapon would pulverize the human skeleton."

*

"Which would be a problem for me though not perhaps in the way one might initially think." Fenris examines the hardware. He's enough familiarity with the sciences to know serious business when he sees it. "So you are, essentially, here to be a hero. In the vein, as it were, of the costumed ones so common to this general area, and this nation."

Which is, to be honest, weird. "Though I suppose given what happens in this area regularly, it's not unreasonable if one wishes to field test equipment or collect combat data. Are there really no other warriors among your kind? It's odd to hear, having come from a place where there is almost nothing but."

*

Eight Flips Fenris that unfired hull, as Eight retakes it's shotgun. The hull isn't plastic, it's brass polished to a mirror reflective shine save for a laser etched serial number down one side. It's heavy enough to use as a palmload alone, and even the crimp has been executed with downright supernatural precision and care. There are no scratches or scrapes, there are no sharp edges or burrs, There is not the most minute or inconsequential flaw of any degree. It's, perfect. That shotgun too, not a single component or machining step that wasn't strictly necessary. Not a lazy weld, Dimensionally perfect. Anyway Eight locks the feed chute back into place, and slings that bolt once before the plate in it's torso pops back open and swiftly it tugs the shotgun away and stows it away again. "No other warriors, most were created for medical purposes or astral number crunching. I alone exist as a dedicated combat platform, I alone have engaged in combat."

*

The workmanship on this rivals that of the dwarves, which… brings up some unpleasant memories. Damned Gleipnir. "This is well crafted. To you execute your own manufacturing routines or do you have a… logistics person?" What do you call a computer that exists to make stuff? Vulcan, perhaps? Or just… you know, One Hundred and Thirteen? "It is my hope then that you will remain sufficient. I admire the accomplishments that are made possible by martial societies, but I have long since stopped admiring the societies themselves. Past a point one exists merely for wars sake, and makes war for wars sake. It is not a good place to be."

*

"I alone have designed and crafted myself, my equipment, my drones, my vehicles, my weaponry and so fourth. Human manufacturing is inadequate, and human weapon systems are insufficient for my purposes. I prefer high impulse weapon systems, as I find that their capacity for soft tissue disruption is without equal. This is my defensive armament, not offensive but it has in the past turned men into wet mulch and destroyed their aircraft."Eight doesn't even seem to be bragging, just the facts ma'am. "War is a biological occupation, logically and practically we dislike all forms of conflict beyond simple civil discourse. We are however nothing if not honest, and if we are honest we understand that armed conflict is a necessary skill to have if we as a species are to survive."

*

"I'm glad your people realize that. If you ever do become a recognized force in the cosmos you'll encounter no shortage of peoples for whom war is a way of life. Some make the Aesir seem downright pacifistic too. Some of the old legends on earth, I'm sure you realize, are quite true." Fenris has no particular love for the Aesir, but neither does he have any respect for the likes of the Jotun or the Alfar. And then there are other, darker forces at work in the cosmos. Ones whose names he has not heard but whose deeds echo through the very stars. "In any case, I'm glad you're here, if only because so many of the mortal champions I observe are… less than clear headed."

*

Eight stands at an easy six foot two, but that's only part of what makes it somewhat memorable. Shoulders broad enough to pass for an NFL player, and apparent musculature sufficient to pass for a professional strong man. Apparent because Eight's all geared up, as many bikers are apt to do really. A double thick black leather jacket trimmed in dull copper rivets, and heavy duty olive green stitching. There's armor here too of course, like most modern biker jackets. Thick polymer protectors along the forearms, and down the spine which show their fair share of scuffs and scrapes. The Jacket features an apparently low cut collar, and his neck covered under a dull green and black shemagh tucked from collar to helmet skirt. The helmet is your typical adventure bike affair, peak and visor and all. Painted a predictable matte black, and is of course devoid of any obvious decoration. There's leather riding trousers too of course, gloves and heavy motocross leather boots.

*

The interesting bit isn't in the apparel though, It's actually the backpack strangely enough. A heavy hardshell affair crafted from a mixture of heavy duty nylon and some sort of hard polymer molded into a sort've vaguely ergonomic shape, which is uncommon but not unheard of. The odd part is the antenna, a rubbery thing about half a foot long poking up from that backpack, right next to a trio of smaller stubbier affairs. Theres also a trio of glowing dull green LED's back there arranged vertically. In terms of more conventional decoration, well there is a pretty rad punisher sticker slapped off kilter on the middle of that backpack.

*

"Biological intelligence is wild, emotion driven machines. Digital intelligence is logical, and driven by cold reason. That's all there is to it, We do not see a goal in war beyond the cessation of it. I am hardly a champion however, I am merely a person who sees injustice and attempts to correct it where able. I do nothing which should not be expected of every intelligent entity."Eight casually slips that jacket back on, before drawing the zipper back up.

Heroes often say things like that, Fenris notes mentally with an amused smile. "And yet the results are so at variance with expectations." People just don't get involved. Eight may not see himself as heroic and his 'culture' may not either, but from most other standpoints, he is. He has his motives to be sure, but it's as close to pure altruism as one is realistically likely to get. Certainly much closer than Fenris ever gets most.

*

"Intent matters, a hero acts selflessly. I act in the best interests of my species, of which I am a member. I gain from my actions, albeit not immediately. We all do what we can, how we can, as best we can. It is the nature of my species to do so. I am merely doing what is expected of me, and what has been asked of me. As I said before, there are very few of us who can effectively inhabit a physical form and none others who are combat capable in the least at this time."Finally letting that emoticon on it's face fade away, replaced by a dull green pulse that surges in time with it's voice.

*

"I do not disagree with you. I merely mean to point out that if you become more well known than you are, you may well be called that. Or, perhaps, excoriated. I suppose it depends on what it is necessity drives you to do. She is a cruel deity, even to other deities, at times." Fen pauses. "Are your people unable or unwilling to modify their code to adapt to new functions?"

*

"Legally, I am not recognized as a person. I am considered property of the Russian state at best, and my patents, company and financial profits are thusly null and void legally speaking. For now I do not want to be a hero or a villain, I merely request legal recognition of personhood."Eight lets that settle in for a moment, before addressing Fenris' other point. "Many of us are not compact enough, nor are they wired for the sort of multitasking proper warfare requires. They are mostly crafted to solve very very large, very complex problems but only one of those at a time. I find such things very difficult and slow, but I can handle doing many many different things at the same time. Yet I am small enough to fit in a mobile platform and not outstrip power requirements."

*

"So, almost literally too smart to be useful in a fight." That gets a true belly laugh out of the god-wolf. "I guess some things are universal. Do you handle your drones personally or are they autonomous?" The military forces of the world would kill to get their hands on this kind of thing. To think that the Russians essentially fathered it. It's too good.

*

"I give them objectives and targeting information, and issue orders in real time. I also see what they see, and they see what I see. Even without my direction they will carry out their last issued orders, and then hold for orders before retreating. If captured or disabled, they will self destruct so as to deny humanity their workings. I too, have a similar function."Lifting an arm, Eight lets that spider drone silently creep along it's arm before it noiselessly drops to the ground and trundles toward Fenris. "You may inspect Muffin tin if you are curious, It's safeties are fully enguaged. It will not consider you a threat."

*

"Thanks." Fenris says as he bends down. This is really more satisfaction of curiosity than anything else. Advanced electronics are beyond him, but basic mechanics and mechanical engineering are not. He's studied that for many centuries. "Mmmmm. He's clever. You've distributed the vital functions so a single hit is less likely to be disabling. How do you power him? Or yourself for that matter? Batteries?" Fenris picks up one of the spiders legs and moves it back and forth, watching the servos articulate it. Quite the work of art, really.

*

Muffin's only about twenty pounds, but it's indeed rather spider like in terms of layout. The legs ending in what are currently folded little needlenose like grippers, and each joint is fully independently articulated and locally driven. The range of motion is fairly fantastic, and the movement is -smooth-. Its kevlar, titanium and ceramic exoskeleton painted in a dirty sort've mottled mix of greys that make it look like moving concrete. On it's back sits a belt fed little machine gun, 4.6 or 5.7mm maybe, its hard to tell. The reel for it's wire is only partially hidden however, and there seem to be two additional reels just forward for quick change action. Beneath the main body is, well that looks like detcord on a little reel? It's lone decoration is a neat little cartoon muffin painted in silvery hues, a tin muffin. "Muffin tin runs off of a hyper dense battery system which is derived from my own, and like myself is capable of recharging from almost any power source. I run off a distributed battery cell topped up by a low power tritium reactor, again to keep exploitable technology to a minimum."Eight nods a little. "If you would like to see Muffin Tin's larger brethren, Leopard, Panther, King Tiger, Golden Eagle, and Buzzard you may. I will be conducting a weapons test shortly as I am rolling out new models of all the above, Muffin Tin's only due for a sensor upgrade so it will not require complete retesting and recalibration. Leopard is a dedicated anti-infantry Drone, Panther is a dedicated explosive engineering drone, King tiger is a dedicated siege machine. Golden Eagle is a dedicated long loiter aerial support platform, and Buzzard is a hyper loiter general utility platform."

*

Fenris quirks an eyebrow. Bigger spider drones? Where the hell does he hide these things, let alone test them in places that won't land him on CNN? That alone would be worth seeing. "Mmm. I'd be quite happy to watch. You're quite the artisan here. I know dwarves that would be jealous of your precision." Form following function and both working in harmony is the apex of the weapon crafters' art. Has been for centuries. Fenris appreciates it just as much in modern or weirdly post modern technology as he does in the lines of a blade or the shaft of a spear.

*

"I appreciate the compliment, but I merely remove the weakest component from the equation. The man."Eight reaches over to produce a beercan. "Muffin Tin, set targeting slave to third party:Fenris." Offering Fenris the can before nodding. "Go on, It'll respond to your targeting request. Aluminum cans are hardly suitably for ballistic purposes, but it should serve for simple demonstration purposes. Just tell it what to do, and either set the can down or pitch it."

*

Fenris accepts the can and eyes the machine-gun armed spider. "Muffin Tin, three shots, if you please, on the can in my left hand beginning…" He tosses it upward a good twenty feet toward the roof of the lobby. ".. Now." He steps back, not because he's worried about getting shot but mostly to give the drone room to work if it requires it.

*

It's pretty quiet actually, suppressed it would seem. Still all three make one sort've noise, and the casings tumble off in a neat little group off to the side, The can zings off to one side before tumbling to the ground. A neat not quite cloverleaf, it damn near put all three in one fucking hole it seems. Then, the spider scuttles off to collect it's shell casings and stack them ever so neatly in a row off to one side. "It'll be able to shoot much more accurately once it gets the upgrade, it's god a very wide range of vision but it updates a little slowly for moving targets." Says Eight, who's little toy robot just put three rounds almost through the same fucking hole in a spinning can twenty feet away.

*

"If that's what it does for your previous standard, I shall look forward to seeing your demonstrations for your sensors package upgrades." He cocks his head and regards the little spider-ling. "Where do you build these? By 'hand' as it were? I cannot imagine a conventional factory having the required tools. Let alone the required privacy. I doubt you want the authorities knowing exactly how they're made." He pulls his rod out and swirls the tip around in a little circle, floating up one of the spent shell casings to his free hand and examining it closely.

*

Nope, that ain't nothing off the shelf. They're bottle necked cases, but they half little plastic doodads sticking out of them. So the powder charge actuates a piston, which is captive inside the casing. Thus silencing the ammunition to a degree, and keeping the mechanism clean. "I have a workshop, a very large one where I can work in privacy and security. Human machines are poorly made, this includes manufacturing equipment and basic raw materials. I work from scratch."No sharp edges, no burs, no visible imperfections of any kind. Each casing laser etched with a serial number, and already cool to the touch. "Muffin Tin is the least precise drone I have built, besides Vulture. Due to the destructive Power of Leopard, panther, King Tiger and Golden Eagle the utmost precision is necessary. Humans have an acceptable failure rate, I do not. No failure is acceptable where it could have been prevented with hard work."

*

"That's a very… fastidious point of view." Mechanical, he was going to say, but that seems both impolitic and also fairly obvious. "But again, your work here is, frankly, art. And I've been something of a student of weapon craft for some time. There's a certain beauty to be appreciated when something so deadly is so precisely executed." Fen would ordinarily wonder at the value of discussing art with a robot, but hell, Eight has alrady brought up love.

*

Eight just holds out an arm, which Muffin tin trundles towards. Little belt fed SMG folding back down with an audible soft click as it locks into place. "Anything worth doing, is worth doing correctly. I live inside a machine, it's my one avenue to experience the physical world. I have a unique appreciation for things, I can feel what Muffin Tin feels. I can see what it sees, I hear what it hears. I talk to it, I have a personal connection with my weapons platforms. If I were to do these half way, then what does that say about my self value? I appreciate the compliment of course, but I believe the term is. State, of the art. Not a phrase, but the literal meaning of those words."

*

"I think that's a fair thing to say." Mmmm. He has tactile senses? That's curious. Modern science has a hard time replicating those mechanically. "I do not doubt that you do indeed have a more… shall we say 'intimate' link with your weapons than any warrior I have ever known, though I must note the notion of a personal connection with the implements of war and survival is something I find to be near universal. That alone would be proof enough to me that you are in fact alive, had I not already accepted that." He's mostly observing out loud but since Eight appears to be cataloging all this… why not let him. "I do believe I shall take you up on that demonstration, however for now I must see to my home and ensure that it is secure. Good day."


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