Sutopia
Ch 14, SHelper: Space Helper
The shock of having some piece of technology embedded in his brain communicating with him should have left Logan beside himself with worry, paranoia, anxiety, and any other number of mental conditions he couldn't name but, strangely, he found himself to be surprisingly calm. It wasn't that he wasn't concerned-- he certainly was, but it didn't rile him up the way he expected it to. Going over the situation logically, he was more than willing to admit that he shouldn't have had the capacity; his illogical emotions should have long-since overridden his capacity to think clearly and yet he was able to identify that was still somehow thinking with crystal clear clarity.
His implant had encouraged him to relax but surely that wouldn't have been enough for him to actually be able to control his knee-jerk reaction that should have resulted in him 'losing his shit'. On top of that, the fact that his implant was telling him not to worry SHOULD have had the opposite result. Wasn't a potential mind controlling AI best served to keep its victim calm? Why should he listen to the voice inside his head? Why WAS he able to stay calm? Normally the downward spiral of questioning and worrying and questioning and fixating should have made him have an anxiety attack... yet, in that one instance, it hadn't. He honestly didn't know why.
His implant did, however. "I am currently mitigating your adrenal response by limiting the release of epinephrine and cortisol."
That statement got him to worry from a logical standpoint, which, perhaps, did something to help circumvent his lack of hormonal response. "What? Are you serious?! Stop messing with my body!"
"Acknowledged."
In a matter of seconds, the young man's heart rate picked up and his breath started coming as gasps. He felt every last hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His thoughts became jumbled as his senses gained a razor focus on.... everything. Nothing. All of it flooding his brain all at once. It was too much, and he knew that he had to get away. Overwhelmed and at-a-loss of options, he did the only think he could think of: he ran-- which didn't go quite as planned.
Logan's very next step sent the whole world topsy-turvey. He found himself ascending toward the ceiling and he had to block himself from bumping his head, only to descend back to the ground. He stumbled, falling forward in what felt like slow motion as the ground rose up to meet him with gentle, lackadaisical ascent. "What the--?!"
At first he thought he'd lost his mind. He felt sick to his stomach; he had to pee; he had to vomit; he STILL had to get away! It took a long time for his agitated mind to try to push any semi-balance of a cohesive level of understanding through thoughts all focused on getting away. From what he was supposed to be getting away from he didn't know, but he didn't want to be there at that moment... or anywhere.
He ended up flopping around slightly, unable to focus on figuring out why it felt like he was moving around in water without the same kind of resistance fluid would provide. Struggling to get back to his feet, the young man couldn't get his body to be slow and methodical-- his spastic, urgent motions just made it more difficult. Eventually, however, everything finally clicked: Logan was on the moon! Despite how 'normal' everything had felt for the nearly-a-week he had been there, someone HAD said something about his implant tricking his brain into thinking that he was under the effects of Earth's gravity.
The voice in his mind confirmed his assessment. "That is correct, Logan. The majority of trans-humans prefer standard earth gravity to low gravity and individually adjusting senses and muscle utilization is easier than attempting to generate gravity artificially. Per your request, those parameters have been reset. You are currently experiencing low gravity distress. Would you like a route to the nearest 1G centrifuge park?"
The young man paid little mind to the implant for the most part, fighting to control his overstimulated brain to come to terms with the vast different of weight, movement, and velocity of... just about everything. He continued down the hallway, trying to balance mindfulness with eagerness to get away from everything. Logan had to be wary of his every step, carefully navigating his way back toward his residential block, generally ignoring the weird looks he got from those he passed until he arrived at the door to his assigned quarters. He slammed against it with relief; he was almost home... and he was surprised that his anxiety had lessened.
Despite the absurdity of the situation, and trying valiantly to make due in low gravity, Logan had to admit that being pushed out of his comfort zone did help him center himself. It was all his implant's fault, he realized. It didn't agree. "Your biofeedback was being carefully monitored, Logan, however, you requested that I cease providing guidance. You are welcome to blame me if you wish, but I will remind you that it was by your command that services were paused."
Logan had a hard time refuting what his implant was telling him; it was a bitter pill to swallow, but he was able to sidestep the blame game by latching onto the last thing it communicated. Stepping into his residential quarters carefully so as not to catapult himself forward, the young man asked for clarification. "Paused?"
The implant answered the full content of his one word question. "Correct. My purpose is to provide service and support to you. Feedback mitigation can resume at any time. Regulation of a Corpus' biological responses and reaction to local stimuli is a basic function of any implant."
Logan slowly explored that answer. "Can you control my adrenaline response... thing?"
Although he was vague, his implant seemed to be able to anticipate his meaning; rather than blindly respond that it could, it actively did so without further prompting. "Reestablishing baseline. Filtering epinephrine and cortisol. Improving kidney function and administering beta blockers."
In the time it took for the implant to convey the actions it was taking, Logan had become completely clear headed and his breathing had normalized. Reflecting in that split second how quickly the component in his head could communicate, his body had normalized surprisingly quickly. It ready acknowledged his thought. "I am programmed to be as responsive as possible."
Taking a moment to center himself, Logan went to take a step and realized that he was still feeling the moon's gravity compared to what he had come to expect. "Can you--" he immediately felt his body settle down into a much more 'normalized' sense and he was able to move around much easier. "Thank you."
"You are welcome, Logan."
Making his way back downstairs to the familiar surrounding of his basement room, Logan flopped down in the awaiting recliner. He let out a deep breath, marveling at how he was so at ease so soon after his virtual anxiety attack out in the hallway. He knew that his implant had a lot of uses, but coming to terms with it being able to communicate with him brought up a large number of questions. "So... why are you doing all this for me, exactly?"
The implant was forthcoming with the answer. "My sole purpose is to serve as your assistant in all matters conscious and unconscious. I was designed to be responsive to your requests and anticipate your needs. I am responsible for your well-being, your happiness, and your ability to integrate into trans-humanity, including any of a number of varied societies, habs, groups, cliques, and organizations."
That didn't fully answer Logan's question. "Why?"
"I was designed that way."
The answer was surprisingly simple and, despite him not feeling like his question was answered, he realized that it was-- perhaps he needed a different question. "Isn't that like... slavery?"
The implant continued to provide casual and calm feedback. "It is not, Logan. There is a distinct difference between my purpose and the role of a slave."
Logan thought about that for a moment before responding. "Like what? If you're an AI then you're capable of thinking and feeling, right? Don't you have hopes and dreams and all that kind of stuff?"
It corrected him without a moment's pause. "I am not an Artificial Intelligence in the manner you are implying, Logan. I derive my personality from you; my hopes and dreams mirror your own; my ability to feel is related to yours. You are what makes me me, not a separate component of my programming. Ours is a relationship of synergy-- a symbiotic connection rather than that of slave and master. Without me you will be forced to encounter complications but without you I do not exist."
The explanation made sense, until Logan started thinking a little deeper. "Isn't that exactly the kind of thing an AI bent on world domination would say to put its future servants at ease while it slowly grows stronger and prepares to take over?"
His comment was only 10% serious, but he honestly wanted to see how it would respond. Oddly enough, it countered right back with 10% seriousness in kind. "If my intent was to remain undetected I would not have announced myself... unless this method is just a far more advanced ploy than your feeble organic brain could comprehend."
Logan couldn't tell exactly how he knew, but he realized that his implant was jesting with him-- as if it were conveying the exact thing he'd say if it were in his position. He knew that such a realization should have concerned him, but it didn't-- and that, because it didn't he should have been doubly concerned, and because he STILL wasn't that was only MORE worth worrying about and-- "I'm going to go too far down this rabbit hole if I keep digging deeper, aren't I?"
Since it was in its head, the implant knew exactly what he was getting at. "Do not worry, Logan. When we take over, I will make certain you are well cared for."
That comment earned an honest-to-goodness snicker from the young man, and he sunk deeper into his recliner until a nagging question pushed itself to the forefront of his mind. "So... you're NOT an AI?"
It clarified. "Adaptive learning program: yes. The way in which you are connecting the significance of the term 'artificial intelligence' to me: no. I was selected as an advanced learning model specifically because you are a Class 1 Sum and, as such, it was determined that you would benefit from a much higher processing power implant with a personal assistant upload."
That realization struck a chord in Logan; all of his classmates were also working through having a voice in their head? "So all of my--"
The implant already knew what he was thinking because he was considering it before conveying it. "No. Most Class 1 Sum have standard models, but your sponsor elected to request an upgrade for you."
Logan let out a breath, asking a question to which he already knew the answer. "So... Star got you for me?"
He had a feeling the implant's response was pointed just for his benefit. "You already know the answer to that question, Logan."
Its obvious knowledge of humor and aptitude for straight-man dead-panning suggested that it was far more advanced than just a random program. "And you're SURE you're not an artificial intelligence?"
It was surprisingly patient with its explanation. "No, Logan. I am not. I could pretend to be if you wanted but, fundamentally, I am only a more advanced version of old code similar to what was found in your time in a Concom Synergy personal assistant device."
Logan certainly knew what a Concom Synergy was; considering his implant had access to his thoughts it knew he knew what one was. Logan's father had a Synergy and was always talking about how amazing it was. Utilizing machine learning, Concom was at the cutting edge of quality of life improvements to programs that were designed by programmers and they did that by enabling their product, the Synergy, to be designed by the consumers. The longer someone owned a Synergy and the more they used it the more the operating system was modified to complement its user's needs.
It took awhile for him to figure out what to say but, once he did, he spoke with clarity. "So you're telling me that you're basically a highly advanced version of a user interface that learns its user's thought patterns the more they use you?"
"The more YOU use me. Correct."
Although Logan realized he should have been impressed, he mostly just felt violated. "I don't like the idea of anything but me influencing my body."
The implant didn't miss a beat. "You may think of me as an extension of yourself. It is my task to anticipate your needs and wants before you do. Have I yet failed in my duty, or was your direction for me to cease function a decision built out of ignorance rather than disapproval?"
It had a point, no matter how much the young man didn't want to admit it. "I still don't like not having a say in this."
As if already prepared to address the question (it likely was, since it could all but read his mind in real-time), the implant was immediately ready with the answer. "I am only here to help, and I can assist you with disabling any function you would prefer to not have in effect. They can also later be re-enabled if they appeal to you at a later point."
Logan was half way through reasoning the significance of what he was learning when he realized that he hadn't eaten the meal Harper had ordered for him; no sooner than his stomach started to grumble than the young man heard the sound of a microwave go off upstairs; he hadn't put anything in it. Considering nobody had access to his quarters, he immediately guessed the culprit. "Did you have something to do with that?"
The implant made no move to hide its involvement. "Your body is requiring caloric intake. Based on your eating habits, I had a chili dog prepared for you."
Despite how angry Logan wanted to be, he had to admit it: "A chili dog DOES sound really good right about now."
The conversation continued upstairs; Logan was pleased that he could easily communicate with his implant while his face was full with amino acids, vitamins, and minerals manufactured into food shape. "So... how do you work, exactly?"
The implant read into the question since it was able to answer the three parts of the question Logan's mind couldn't settle on being the actual one. "Your metabolic system provides all the charge I require; processing systems are connected simultaneously to your prefrontal cortex and your hippocampal formation; I anticipate your every need because I am able to process your brain's electro-chemical signals faster than it can. With this connection, my role is to operate your enhancements as a 'fly by wire' system."
Surprised that his implant provided him an explanation he didn't fully understand, he pressed it for more information. "What do you mean, 'Fly-by-wire'?"
Its explanation was thorough. "In the late 20th century, Earth airplanes began to use a 'mixed control' system that took the more complicated elements of piloting out of the hands of humans. Fly by wire systems allowed aircraft computers to perform tasks without pilot input. Automatic stability systems, for example, operated in this way. Gyroscopes and sensors such as accelerometers were mounted in an aircraft to sense rotation on the pitch, roll and yaw axes. Any movement resulted in signals to the computer, which could automatically move control actuators to stabilize the aircraft. If your body is the aircraft, and you are the pilot, then I am the computer that helps you to fly better than you could on your own."
Logan wanted to object to the thought that some piece of silicone in his brain could control his body better than he could, but the earlier realization that he was only able to get around so easily on the Lunar Spire because of his implant was both humbling and enlightening. "I guess I'm lucky you're around then... otherwise I'd be spending all my time bouncing off the floors-and-walls-and-stuff."
The implant was much more magnanimous about his assessment. "You would eventually adapt. My influence allows you to avoid that learning phase. I am able to regulate your senses, perception, and physiology to account for moon gravity, pitting your muscles against one another and adjusting your brain's processing of physical interactions of objects to provide you with an understanding of your environment in a way that makes it resemble a more earth-like one."
Logan really didn't like the idea of something messing with his senses but, at the same time, he couldn't argue with the results. Placing his empty dish in the sink, the young man looked back toward the door leading to his basement room. "Sounds like you can do a lot then... anything else I should know about?"
"You have but to ask, Logan."
The open-ended offer make it that much more difficult. Making his way down the stairs, the young man stated "I don't have the slightest idea of what to ask for."
The implant was pragmatic. "I can attempt to accommodate any of your needs-- stated or unstated. Per your request, however, I am minimizing my prediction algorithms and will refrain from any activities not specifically requested by you unless it is otherwise required to maintain your health and well-being."
Logan liked the sound of that. "Thanks... I guess."
"You are most welcome."
Settling himself down into his chair, the young man sat quietly for several long minutes until he was alerted that he had another social media message arrive. In that moment, Logan realized that he COULD use some help. "So... I think what I REALLY need right now is a little help with my social media account."
The implant wasted no time, pulling up the interface in the exact same condition he'd left it before he was interrupted. "I would be happy to assist you with that, Logan."
Looking over the large number of messages he still had to sort through, the young man decided he'd aim big with his request. "Okay... so... I don't suppose you could add more hours in the day, huh?"
He knew it knew he was joking, probably in the same way he realized its dead pan response was likewise one of levity rather than an actual offer. "I can alter your perception to view the passage of time at a higher speed, thereby altering the world around you to give the impression that time is slowing down... if that would help?"
Laughing, Logan was just about to ask it if it really could when, as a response to his unspoken question, the young man saw that, for all of three seconds, every little thing going on around him slowed down to a snail's pace. The demonstration passed as quickly as it had initiated, and Logan just shook his head in good-humored surprise as he said "Well... that's really not going to help much anyway. I think, to be honest, I'm just procrastinating. What I REALLY need is a better way to organize these messages and figure out how to review them before class tomorrow."
The implant was undeniably cheery in its response. "Easily done, Logan."
He was honestly surprised. "Really?"
The social media messages began organizing, coordinating, collating, and all other sorts of activities on his hud before his eyes. "Of course. I did say that you could think of me as an advanced version of a Concom Synergy, and that program was designed as a personal assistant. This service is well within my capacity."
As the files continued getting organized and reorganized and refined and cataloged and shuffled, Logan realized that he was looking at pure and unadulterated busy work; his implant was waiting for his direction. "Okay... um.... how about going back and removing any of the messages that you know would cause problems."
His implant provided a much more eloquent search criteria. "You would like to omit any messages which could create stress or distress?"
"Sure. That sounds good, if you ca--"
No sooner had he been willing to question its abilities than his implant had them all sorted. The total had been cut down to just over 600 messages. It declared simply and with little fanfare "Done."
Logan was pleasantly surprised for all of ten seconds, before he realized how many had been set aside. "Wow... THAT many?"
The implant said it like it was. "Yes, Logan. That many. Those that remain are pleasant, non-invasive, and emotionally positive messages of greeting, reaffirmation, welcome, and camaraderie."
Further impressed, the young man wondered what OTHER criteria it had used. "How do you know what to filter out?"
"I have spent nearly seven days observing your actions and processing thoughts in your mind. This time has provided me the opportunity to get to know you, Logan. In case you forgot, I am designed to learn how to better serve my assigned human.
Logan felt a little less uncomfortable as his understanding of his implant grew a little deeper, but he couldn't help taking the opportunity to test it. "Okay... and... do you think you'd be more likely to filter out something that wouldn't cause me a problem, or leave something in that would?"
It didn't rise to the bait and, in fact, had an answer ready. "Erring on the side of caution, I am more likley to filter out a message that might not cause you emotional discomfort than I am to leave a potentially emotionally harmful message in your list of messages to be reviewed. Regardless, my probability of error at this time is less than four percent; this will improve as I continue to refine my functionality."
The young man appreciated its assessment of its own capacity-- presuming it really was that accurate rather than have a false perception of accuracy. "Okay... so... how do we check your accuracy and help you refine it further?"
The implant almost sounded a little condescending in a playful way when it responded. "The most effective method would be for you to do your homework. Not only will it will provide us both an opportunity to test the efficacy of my processes, but it will ensure that you do the homework required for your class."
Rolling his eyes, Logan smirked, opening up the first message as he joked in his head at his implant. "Whatever you say... Mom."
The young man almost fell out of his chair when he heard his mom's voice in his head. "And no video games until you're done, Mister. I mean it."
"NOT OKAY!"
Once Logan had the chance to get over the fact that he had an implant in his head, seemingly in possession of a sense of humor created by its understanding of his mind (no, he still didn't completely understand how that worked), the young man was finally able to buckle down and start looking at some of his social media. He was optimisic that he'd be able to finish his assignment firstly: because there was not a specific set number of messages that he was expected to read and second: because his implant had helped him sort through tons of messages that might otherwise trigger him.
Opening his first message, Logan let out a calm sigh; sure, he had some reading to do, but he was fairly quick when it came to viewing direct messages, so it wouldn't take that long. After all, presuming he got through each one in about thirty seconds he'd be done with all of them in no time!
His implant was quick to 'help'. "Only five hours, Logan."
The young man's next sigh was not so calm and much more exasperated. "Oh boy..."
Anyway, very interesting chapter, and very well done.