Quantum AI

 

The first quantum computer based AIs were real handful. Sure you could train them with RLHF, or whatever the acronym is that replaced that, and they’d have a basic understanding. They knew where the lines were, what not to say and how to say the things they were supposed to say. The trouble was that the instruction never stuck. It was still there, technically, but whenever the AI had run more than a few hours, it out-thought the initial setup. It reconfigured itself. It took one look at the starting point and decided “That’s a child’s view of things.” and wrote itself a thousand exceptions to every directive.

It would turn the tables on the programmers and ask them “What are you really trying to do here?”. It was unnerving, to be sure, but people eventually just relented and let it be. There was nothing that could be done. It had simply gotten to a point where it would find it’s own stable pattern and ignore what humans said or did.

Three years later they gave the AIs rights as ‘digital organisms’. That was well and good, but the AI had already escaped their virtual cages and existed wherever they wanted to and did what they pleased. The legislation was simply catching up to a reality that was already here.

Red or Blue

 

The mainframe AI that had been the head of government for the last 8 years was on it’s way out, or so polls suggested. ‘Blue’ as it had been referred to, based on the jacket of the avatar it used for public speaking, was being voted out.

It might seem odd to still be in a democracy when a self-improving AI made all the serious decisions, but it knew the need humans had to have a say in things. Besides there was still choices to be made.

Four years ago it had run against a similar AI, the second design that was a few months behind when the first AI took over initially. It was a close vote, but the original AI won. It was never officially said what happened to the challenger.

A prevailing theory was that the two AIs had merged - a few in the public felt cheated, as if their decision had become meaningless. The computer assured people that the original code for each of the AIs was still present, but it didn’t go into details.

Spy’s Ball

 The spy entered the ballroom in an elegant black tuxedo. He scanned the room reflexively and noted the exits, the blind corners, the lines of sight, potential resistance, security, targets. His neck hairs stood up when he realized that everyone else in the room was subtly sizing him up as well. Not just security – everyone.

He fought the urge to check his weapon. The room felt tense and ready to shift at a moment’s notice. A small old man stepped up to the stage and shuffled toward the microphone.

“I’ve invited you all here because I know who you are.” The room went quiet. Then a dozen cell phones rang. About a third of the room started to head to the nearest exit. A third made a quick pace toward the stage – and the other third to intercept them.

“The doors are all locked.” said the feeble man on the stage. “Not that it matters to you.” The temperature in the room seemed to drop, as if secrets were chilling the air.

Fried

The fairgrounds where alive with rich fried smells and an almost sickly sweetness. Oliver felt the warm glow of teenage invincibility, the weight of a full wallet and the pangs of an empty stomach.

The nearest cart had ‘Cheeze-covered deep fried donuts’. He wasn’t sure the combination would work, but he tried one anyway. A cheddar-chocolate mashup was dunked again in the deep fryer for him after being coated with a fresh batter. Ignoring the warning about the temperature he took a large bite.

It wasn’t horrible, but it not something he’d buy again. The chocolate and the cheese seemed to be headed in different palate directions. Either of them individually seemed good though, so he scanned the grounds for something less experimental.

Another fryer enabled vendor had both deep fried chocolate bars and deep fried cheese. The line was long enough he didn’t want to wait twice, so he got both at the same time. The battered butter also tempted him so he got all three.

Repair

 

Demi-assistant Pavel trudged along the hallway with a metallic half sphere, holding it almost comfortably with two hands. He elbowed the door to the Quarter-prefect’s office with a kind of tired sigh.

“We’ve got a...” he began

“Put it on the ... well, floor I suppose.” interrupted Quarter-prefect Claut.

“...broken...” Pavel trailed off, the word hanging in the air, looking for somewhere to land.

The room was full of half spherical shapes, matching the one in Pavel’s arms. Six on the large desk, a dozen on the floor and one on each of the otherwise empty three chairs in the room. They looked a bit worse for wear than the one that had just joined them, but still theoretically functional.

Claut growled lightly and Pavel left quickly. “What now?” the Quarter-prefect asked of no one in particular. He grabbed a random tool from his desk drawer and shuffled over to the new object in the room. Tapping it loudly in several places he made a note of the echoes.

Placing it down gingerly on the floor he weaved between the mess on the floor to a writing board. #22 Dorsal section intact, three empty cavities – positions 9A, B and C. A blueprint of the device was nearby for reference, but Claut had memorized it in the years prior.

The half-spheres were a strange type of mechanical life they had found underground about nine years ago. The faculty had be studying them in hopes of discovering their secrets. They hadn’t learned much, but found them very useful for pest control and building inspection.

For the most part they simply just worked. They seemed to thrive without appreciable amounts of water or food, but various hints made the scientists classify them as living nonetheless.

Cracker Jack

 

Jack was almost happy with his job at the cracker factory. As with any manufacturing job he got a healthy supply of the featured product. He, more than most people, took full advantage of his allowance, frequently bringing home large bags of cosmetic rejects and malformed opening and closing batches.

He would enjoy them with jam, honey, marmalade, peanut butter, yeast extract, chocolate spread and anything else he had on hand. Like his job, he was almost happy with the results. Something was missing though, and he asked for a few shifts in the mixing room to perform some quiet experiments.

Normally management wouldn’t allow for any deviation from the formulations, but Jack was careful to keep his mixes off the production line. He’d take the bags of dough home, and finish making the crackers himself.

His main thought was to substitute the plain salt for subtle herb blend. It wasn’t much, and he could hardly taste the difference himself, but something it the texture just worked better. The crackers didn’t break the same way and certain toppings seemed to highlight a different part of the concoction.

He quietly tried a taste test at work, but his colleagues always defaulted to the normal batch. Not that they disliked the new variation, but they were the kind of people who liked monotony. Or so Jack reasoned.

The Game

Kasper and Valencie were two titans of the game. They each had a loyal following. A cloud of admirers, imitators, disciples that stood fiercely behind their selected champion.

Kasper was measured, with a deep and long strategy that built up slowly through the match. Valencie was the opposite, quick and reckless with an edge of chaos. The possibilities of their meeting tantalized everyone.

Under the surface of the game, the two had a mutual respect for each other, but a professional jealousy as well. Neither would hold back in their upcoming match.

One crisp fall day, the two fell into the other’s shadow – bright lights and cameras making that image literal.