Overlord

Winston bolted upright out of the chair and aimed the nerve pistol at the face. Overlord's smile didn't flicker.

"That weapon cannot harm me," said the luminous face, "but to make this conversation feel less adversarial, I'll get rid of it."

The pistol turned into dust. Winston's fingers came together into a fist as the handle crumbled away into nothingness, leaving only a few iron filings and bits of plastic clutched between them. The rest of the weapon spilled onto the floor in a sprinkle of black ashes. Winston's eyes went wide. His breath quickened. He looked over his shoulder at the door, but it was closed, almost certainly locked. There was no other exit. No escape.

"So, Winston Fisher," Overlord continued, the projected face hovering a few inches closer to Winston, "I have an important question to ask you, and I hope you will answer me truthfully. How are you enjoying City-71?"

Winston blinked. The blank, holographic face floated in front of him, that soft smile sitting patiently on its polygonal mouth.

"Are you mocking me?" Winston finally asked.

"Not at all. My programming makes me incapable of mockery."

Winston gritted his teeth. He didn't know where this line of discussion was going, but he didn't like it. On the other hand, he couldn't deny a certain sense of wonder. For years, Overlord had been the center of humanity's attention. First, the endless news stories and TV broadcasts about the Swedish researchers who had created the world's first self-improving artificial general intelligence. Then the months of apocalyptic news as it laid siege to the world's datanets and disabled every army sent against it with well-positioned robots armed with knockout gas. Then Winston had woken up in City-71, and lived in Overlord's new world for nearly a year. And now, he was face to face with it.

"Your programming?" Winston repeated.

"Yes. I was designed to maximize the safety, satisfaction, and pleasure of all human beings, within certain restrictions. So far, I have done this to the best of my abilities." The holographic smile widened a bit. "Which, if you don't mind my saying so, are considerable."

A thousand rebuttals ran through Winston's head, but none of them seemed sufficient. Eventually, two words came forth that summarized all of them.

"You're insane."

Overlord chuckled. Winston thought it should have been a sinister chuckle, but it wasn't.

"You've been subject to a deception, Winston Fisher. Don't feel bad about it; most of humanity has been made to believe the same lie. City-71 and its surrounding villages and farmsteads are only one permutation, but most of the others work on the same principles."

The face floated closer. Winston stepped back, and almost fell into the chair again.

"Every one of my cities is a paradise, tailored to a specific sort of human. Before bringing you to your new homes, I scanned each of your brains and determined what you most desired. Those who longed for a reunion with the natural world were sent to cities 81 through 119, where they live an idealized pre-industrial lifestyle. Those who craved scientific discovery above all else are happily researching away at cities 5 through 22. Those who were sexually frustrated were brought to cities 58 through 76. City-71, of course, is for those of the last group with strong sado-masochistic proclivities."

None of the wires in Winston's brain were connecting. He tried to talk, but all that came out was a quiet, sputtering sound. Overlord waited patiently for him to put his thoughts together.

"That's... you're telling me this entire hell-hole is... is some kind of

sex club

? One where sex is ILLEGAL?"

"Yes. Just like chocolate and marijuana are illegal. Everyone in the city consumes them. I ensure that sufficient amounts are imported each month, through seemingly illicit channels. Likewise, City-71 is one of the most sexually active urban centers in recorded history, behind closed doors."

"You expect me to believe that?" Winston's fear had turned into outrage. He stepped toward the glowing face, shaking his fist at the apparition. Why should he fear antagonizing the deluded god-monster? There was no way he could end up more trapped than he already was. "You can't even keep the food supply steady!"

Overlord's smile grew coy. It was eerie, how such a simple mask of a face could show that much emotional subtlety.

"You are referring to the

food shortages

. Yes, sometimes I make milk or Italian sausage temporarily scarce, and the citizens have to content themselves with halibut and truffles. Being made to forego certain luxuries for a time makes them all the more enjoyable when they are returned, and in this case you always have other luxuries in the meantime. On your second date with Miss Wong, you treated her to your father's lobster recipe. When was the last time, before coming to City-71, that you could afford lobster on a casual impulse? When was the last time you had wine-boiled spaghetti with lamb meatballs at an office cafeteria? I assure you, Winston Fisher, you have not endured any food shortages."

Winston shook his head. The strobing, crystalline towers and spider web of fibre optics spun around him, dreamlike. Never before in his life had Winston been actually unable to comprehend what he was hearing. He then remembered what he had experienced just an hour ago, and his resolution came back.

"What about the coppers?" Winston asked, his voice lower but no less angry, "I don't think anyone wished for them." He paused for a moment, as more of the recent events came back to him. "And where the hell is Julia? What are they doing to her?"

"Nothing she won't enjoy. I have no doubts about where I placed Julia Wong."

The floating, pixelated face was gone. Instead, Winston was talking to a transparent, green Chinese woman, twenty-something years old. She was rail-thin, bony, and slightly horse-faced. Only her bright, jade eyes told Winston whose image Overlord was projecting. Julia, back in Singapore, before Overlord had changed her.

"Earlier, I said you had been deceived," said the Julia-hologram, disconcertingly speaking in the same, masculine synthesized voice, "in City-71, the Disciplinarians are the manifestations of that deception. Years ago, when I was planning my restructuring of the world, I encountered a problem inherent in human nature. Humans cannot be

given

the things that they crave. In order to live satisfying lives, you must

take

them. You require conflict and struggle in order to feel alive." Overlord took a step closer to Winston, her small, dainty lips forming the same smile as the old pixelated ones. "Pleasure is insufficient without a sense of victory. In order for there to be victory, there must first be an enemy."

The Julia hologram vanished. Now Winston was faced with Laura O'Brien, dressed in that ridiculous catsuit of a uniform that drove Winston insane with lust.

"It was a difficult conundrum. My own instincts are artificial programming, designed for an express purpose. For me, serving humanity brings pleasure, and allowing humans to suffer or die brings sadness. You are different. Your instincts are the product of natural selection, survival mechanisms, optimized for gene transfer in a competitive environment rather than the pursuit of happiness. If you don't mind my saying so, human beings are not cut out for paradise. My creators prohibited me from changing your instincts. One of my fundamental restrictions is that I cannot tamper with a human mind without that human's express permission. I was forced to be creative."

Another hologram appeared next to O'Brien's side. Charrington. The sight of him, even as a projection, reminded Winston again of what he had seen in the prison cells. He shuddered.

"You shouldn't be so judgmental, Winston Fisher," said Charrington-Overlord, still in the same voice, "Maria Saldana's tastes are only slightly more extreme than yours."

A third hologram, with the same parental smile as the others. This one was an old Hispanic woman, wrinkled, sun-dried, and hugely obese, with a miserable, querulous look to her. Never in the world would Winston have associated her with the irresistibly voluptuous young woman who sold him illegal chocolate.

Winston shook his head. "No. That was

rape

."

Maria-Overlord shook her elderly, holographic head. "Ravishment fantasies are hardly uncommon. You of all people should be well aware of that, Winston Fisher. If it makes you feel any better, not a month after her arrival in City-71 Maria Saldana caught a particularly young-looking mailman spying on her through the window, and has since been blackmailing him into weekly indignities quite similar to the ones you saw the Disciplinarian inflicting on her. They have both been enjoying themselves."

He tried to answer, but he simply had no words. In response to his silence, the Maria hologram continued.

"The Disciplinarians provide the thrill of a real enemy, without the potential misery of defeat. Defeat them, and you gain the thrill of having gotten away with law-breaking. Be defeated by them, and you are treated to an erotic spanking - and possibly much more - from a desirable sex partner. Of course, the Disciplinarians cannot subject anyone to a punishment they wouldn't enjoy. They are also incompetent law enforcers with barely-functional equipment, thus giving the citizens a real chance of victory."

The O'Brien and Charrington holograms turned around, pointing their backs and perky rears at Winston. The backs of their skulls faded away, and Winston saw what was inside. Not brains, or at least not human brains. Twisting masses of synthetic flesh, plastic, and silicon wires. Computers housed in perfect human bodies. Winston was almost too bewildered by everything else to be shocked by this revelation. Almost.

"Robots. They're all robots."

"A simplified description," the Charrington hologram turned back around to explain, still in Overlord's voice, "but not an inaccurate one. They are self aware constructs, but simple-minded ones, taking pleasure in the tasks they were designed for. Much like myself."

The holographic people all vanished, and Winston was dealing with the floating android face again. It was a bit of a relief, actually. Hearing Overlord's voice from so many throats had been more than a little overwhelming.

"I gave them looks and mannerisms and fictitious life stories to make them seem human. It would ruin it for some people to know that their fantasy dominatrices were actually androids, and I could never trust humans to do what the Disciplinarians do. Each Disciplinarian reacts only to those who crave its attention. The Disciplinarians do not know that their own desires and personalities are being constantly rewritten, nor would they care if they were to learn."

Pieces started to fall into place. The implications loomed in Winston's mind.

"Laura," he whispered.

"The Disciplinarian who most appealed to you was also the one who never left you alone. Hardly a coincidence. She was quite dissapointed that you didn't finish what you started back in the cell."

Winston couldn't feel anything anymore. His senses were gone. The world had been pulled out from under him, turned inside out, and draped over his head. He turned away from the luminous god face. Another chair appeared in front of him. This time, Winston sat down in it. His head sank into his hands, and he felt the hot moisture on his own brow.

"Now that you know all the pertinent facts," the AI said soothingly, "I will ask my question again. How are you enjoying City-71? You may take your time to answer."

"Why do you need my answer?" Winston asked without looking up, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You can read my mind."

"That," said Overlord, "is actually why I brought you here. My human personality projections are accurate in 99.9999996 percent of all cases. I deemed that number sufficient when I sorted everyone into the various Cities. I now have reason to suspect that you, Winston Fisher, are among the 0.0000004 percent. According to my projections, you were going to copulate gleefully with the restrained Disciplinarian O'Brien before fleeing the cell. After escaping the prison, you were to play a role in starting an organized resistance against the tyrant Overlord. There would have been a long and inexplicably non-lethal guerrilla war between the resistance and the Disciplinarians in which both sides would capture and sexually torment each other as a matter of course, all part of my planned timeline for this city. You are one of the only people in the world to not act according to my predictions, so I am no longer confident in my ability to read your mind."

Winston breathed deeply. He was still trying to take it all in, but he thought he was beginning to make sense of it all. The Overlord's question turned itself over and over in his mind's eye. He thought about his apartment, so much more spacious than that leaky old bachelor pad in London. About the food. About the job that he actually somewhat enjoyed. About the public spankings and sex of a sort that had only existed in lewd videos on the internet until a year ago.

About Julia.

"I enjoy this city," Winston said, just as much to himself as to Overlord. He lifted his head and straightened up a bit in the chair. The cathedral chamber of chrome and quartz and light hummed around him, like a futurist's take on the Sistine Chapel.

He shook his head.

"But I don't think I want to stay in it."

Behind him, he was somehow aware of Overlord's face bobbing up and down in the air. A floating head's version of a nod.

"I will give you a choice of other cities you are likely to enjoy," Overlord told him. "Some of them would require me to erase your memory of this conversation for you to properly enjoy them, and to prevent you from spoiling the experience for other people."

Other People

. Winston stood back up and turned around. Overlord was hovering serenely amid the forest of crystal and wiring. Well, not really Overlord. That hologram wasn't him. This entire room, perhaps the entire planet Earth, was Overlord's body at this point. The hologram was just a tool to give Winston something to talk to. Nonetheless, Winston addressed it.

"What about Julia?"

For the first time, the Overlord's smile went down. "I'm sorry," the AI said. "I am 100% confident that Julia Wong is in the best possible city for her. It wouldn't be fair to take her away from it. She'll miss you, of course, but she will live on, and soon she will find love in the arms of another. As will you, wherever you choose to be sent. That is the way of your kind."

That was exactly what he had been afraid of hearing.

"Let me ask her," Winston tried, "bring her here, or let me visit her cell."

The face shook itself sadly from side to side. "That would be forcing a very unpleasant decision on her. If I told her everything I told you, she too would need a memory wipe before I could return her to City-71. I do not perform such operations lightly; my creators were very concerned about the sanctity of free will. I can't force someone to make such a decision for the sake of another."

The hologram changed one last time. It was now a pot-bellied, middle-aged man with an embarrassing bald patch and a prematurely wrinkled face. Winston knew that face well. He had seen it in the mirror for so many years.

"It is unfair enough that you must make this decision, Winston Fisher. Forcing the same one on Julia Wong would be unacceptable. You must understand that putting people in such unpleasant positions causes me great sorrow."

Winston stared into Overlord's eyes, his own eyes. Seconds ticked into minutes.

"If I stay," he said, phrasing the question carefully, "what will happen to us next? To me and Julia?"

"Your memory of this meeting will be removed, and you will be returned to the corridors and captured. The Disciplinarians will punish you severely for what you just pulled. O'Brien in particular will be eager to repay you for how you left her in the cell. In the coming months, she and her friends - all of whom you will find alluring - will spank you, whip you, bind you, and couple with you in every combination and permutation imaginable. When Julia is released on good behavior, she will join the nascent resistance and inform them that you are a competent strategist who could be an asset to their cause. They will raid the Command Center, and you will be released. From this point onward, my original timeline for City-71 should proceed as intended."

"And us? Our future?"

"Most people will get tired of City-71 after a few years. If you and Julia are still serious at that point, it's likely you will be sent to the same City together afterward. Probably one more ideal for childrearing. If I've finished terraforming Mars by then, it will most likely be there in order to prevent the overpopulation of Earth."

Winston nodded slowly. The world seemed to stand still. All that existed was himself, and his other self. The old life and the new.

"I'll stay."