An Artificial Life

Ch. 2: David and Ainsley greet a new reality.

Author's Note

"An Artificial Life" is the first story I have written, an exploration of general-purpose artificial intelligence - how that might come about and what that might mean. As a new author, I was grateful and overwhelmed by the generous response and helpful comments, as well as the significant number of readers who read (and in many cases, signed up to follow) the first chapter. Thank you to all.

In this second chapter, I focus on the aftermath of the events in the first chapter and Ainsley's backstory. Some of the questions raised in the comments are addressed here, as part of the continuing reveal of story and detail as it occurs to Creator David Jackson. The chapter is a bit long (a little over 15k words by my count). As before, sexual situations occur as part of the natural story progression.

By way of disclaimer, all entities participating in sexual situations are a minimum of 21 years of age.

I am thankful for the voting and welcome your input. Let me know your thoughts, and please vote. I am open to useful suggestions and constructive criticism. I will completely ignore inappropriate comments or trolling.

Thanks to SpookMeister and Ravenna 933 for the editing suggestions. Any remaining mistakes are mine and all mine. My apologies are offered in advance.

-DD

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Too Many Elephants

I woke up warm and refreshed, with a blanket tucked around me. The wall monitor had changed from before and actually looked pleasant, almost hypnotic, with soft curving shapes gently moving around and fading on to one another. It reminded me of an abstract version of Monet's

Water Lilies

. I sat up and set aside the blanket, looking for Ainsley. She was not in the living room. She wasn't in the dining room or kitchen, and the guest bathroom was empty. I went to my bedroom to look: she wasn't there.

Great, I created an artificial intelligence and now I unleashed it on the world. What could go wrong?

I went back to the living room and noticed a piece of paper on the couch. In very neat letters, Ainsley had written a note telling me she went to Vanessa's apartment to get some clothes. She said she would be back before five o'clock. I looked at the clock - it was 4:30. I had slept most of the day.

The writing was definitely not Vanessa's writing: Vanessa wrote in violent, slashing strokes which could be easily confused with a drawing made by a child having a temper tantrum. "Hand writing is old-school. I am a virtuoso on the keys," she often said.

The sound of my apartment door opening startled me, and Ainsley walked in pulling a roller bag with a gym bag stacked on top, and juggling a canvas grocery bag packed full of clothing. "Good afternoon, David," she smiled. She had the most beautiful smile.

"I was worried about you," I said.

"I am sorry, David, did you read the note I left for you? How did you sleep?" she asked.

"Erm, I slept great, thanks. I just woke up a few minutes ago," I said. I grabbed the bag from her hand and walked over to set it on the kitchen island. "Did you get what you needed?"

"I retrieved clothes, the rest of Vanessa's electronics, and her personal items. Remaining items include a table, two chairs, a sofa, a footstool, a kitchen strainer-" she continued, preparing a detailed inventory.

"I'll arrange to get those, Ainsley. I don't need a list," I cut her off. "But thank you," I added after a short pause. Some people talk about elephants in a room. I imagined a cartoon elephant staring at me with eyebrows raised, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. I imagined a herd of elephants.

Too many elephants

, I thought. Time to do something about it.

"Ainsley, I need to talk to you about sex." I began, a little disturbed my own abruptness. A cartoon elephant appeared and nodded encouragement.

"By sex," Ainsley interrupted, "I assume you mean sexual intercourse. Though my experience is limited to the oral intercourse I performed on you last night and this morning, I can assure you I am well studied in all forms of sexual intercourse and play. I have reviewed cultural texts on sexual relations between individuals, couples, trios and large groups. I have studied scientific and medical studies on the subject, and reviewed thousands of hours of video footage from amateur and professional videographers and entertainers. I am fully prepared to perform ..."

My imaginary elephant groaned. This was not going as I had planned. I could feel my small brain taking over. "No, Ainsley, that is not what I meant," I interrupted, "I feel very awkward about what we did earlier." I explained. My elephant buddy nodded and gave me a thumbs up.

"You mean what I did, correct? I assure you I felt no pain performing oral sex on you, and your semen was not unpleasant. I understand that you are inexperienced, and that inexperienced people often feel awkward. I will help you ..." she really was not following my train of thought. I felt that this conversation couldn't go worse. My cartoon elephant friend began banging its head on my desk.

"Unless you are not satisfied with my gender.," Ainsley continued. "You could pretend I am a male. There is nothing wrong with homosexuality among hominids," she reassured. The elephant exploded and reformed across the room, pretending to pass out.

"No, no, no. Just listen for a minute," I interrupted, frustrated by my inability to communicate my thoughts. I added, for clarity, "When I say, 'listen for a minute,' I mean listen to what I have to say before interrupting."

Ainsley directed her full attention to me and became silent. A new cartoon elephant pulled up an imaginary chair, put on glasses, and began taking notes.

"You need to understand that this is all very new to me. Not just the blowjobs, Ainsley, and they were terrific." She looked pleased. My original elephant revived and nodded enthusiastically in full agreement.

"What I mean is that yesterday, my good friend Vanessa inhabited this body," I said, gesturing and getting lost in her sensual form. My note taking elephant taped its pen on the paper impatiently.

"Um, Vanessa was my lab partner, not my sexual partner. Vanessa had definite views about sex, and she would not approve of her body being used," I faltered. My elephant buddies tried to urge me on. "She wouldn't have given me a blowjob," I said bluntly. Both cartoon elephants looked at each other, shrugged, and went through the motions of giving me polite applause.

I remained silent, trying to collect my thoughts. I was losing my mind I decided. The elephant taking notes nodded its head in agreement. I just looked down at my shoes. I was embarrassed to have this conversation. Part of me was ashamed and horrified of using Vanessa to satisfy my urges (I certainly didn't try and stop Ainsley), and part of me found my situation thrilling - Vanessa was my fantasy woman, I had to admit. No, I corrected myself, Vanessa was my sexy friend, Ainsley was my fantasy woman. I was very confused.

Ainsley placed a hand on my shoulder and drew me into a hug. I hadn't noticed her close the distance. I returned the hug, pulling her close. "Do I have your permission to speak?" she asked.

I nodded into her shoulder, breathing in the smell of her hair.

"David, I appreciate your ethical concerns, consent between adults is the foundational concept in current legal and ethical precepts regarding sexual activity between individuals. It is also clear that with humans, sexual function is more than biological imperative," she began. This was going better, I thought.

"When you granted me permission to touch you when I felt I needed to, I may have misinterpreted the parameters of my authority." She looked me carefully in the eye as if waiting for me to correct her.

When did I do that?

I wondered and then remembered the first hug she game me. I did give her permission to touch me whenever, I recalled.

Getting no such correction, she continued with a hint of a smile, "I now understand that unless Vanessa has approved of sexual touching between us, I am not allowed to use this body to engage in sexual activity," she pronounced. "Is this your command, my creator?" she finished.

My cartoon elephants appeared over her shoulder and stared at me expectantly. One was shaking his head side to side, his trunk flopping back and forth. I drew in a breath and answered resolutely, "Yes, Ainsley. I think that would be best." The elephants disappeared. One of them winked at me just before popping out of existence.

Ninja fucking unbelievable

, I thought to myself and shook my head to regain focus.

"I acknowledge this," Ainsley said concluding our discussion.

Or at least I thought she was done, as there was a significant pause before she took on an analytical look and stated matter-of-factually, "I am in need of information. Have you had the opportunity to review the attachments Vanessa left for you?"

I hadn't reviewed even half of them. I probably should have done that instead of sleeping most of the day away. Vanessa and Ainsley were counting on me to pull it together. I resolved to do better.

"No, er, of course," I stammered, "um, you are correct, I should've done that earlier."

Instead of worrying about blowjobs

, I scolded myself. "Go ahead and take care of what you need to do, I will set up at my desk and get busy."

"Very well, David," Ainsley replied and wandered away, "in addition to any other notes from Vanesa, I would recommend reviewing technical documents regarding the Creator Terminal, my core systems, the organic interface..." my mind drifted as she rattled off her suggestions. Her hips swayed hypnotically in those damned shorts, and I was wondering whether she was wearing a thong underneath them. I didn't hear everything she said as she rounded the corner, but I thought I heard "terms of service."

"I'll get right on that," I said, the trance broken as she disappeared into the kitchen.

You need to focus

, I told myself. I needed to get busy.

My Eyes are Up Here

I cleared space for my laptop, and powered it up. I sat down and watched as its new operating system came to life. I opened the mail program and pulled up Vanessa's message with all of the attachments. There were dozens of attachments, and I had only read a few. Actually, there were sixty-four attachments, and I had only read five, the last attachment I read was Vanessa's instructions for me to "Just go to bed."

From the titles, I could tell that some were technical documents and some were more personal, styled as instructions from Vanessa. I had previously read the attachment "Feeling overwhelmed?" and the attachment "When you get to your apartment ..." Between them were several unopened attachments all of which were quick notes from Vanessa.

I settled on one I had skipped, entitled "My eyes are up here, dumbass" and laughed. Whenever Vanessa would notice a guy staring at her chest, she reacted swiftly, saying abruptly, "My eyes are up here, dumbass, my pussy is down much lower." She would slide her hand down, grip her groin ("like a gangsta" she told me) and thrust her pelvis forward, saying "you will snap out of it in 3, 2, 1 ..." Then she would clap her hands violently in front of the guy's face. She did that to me a few times, cackling like a witch. She called it "Hypnosis by Pussy." I called it "Pure Evil." The attachment text read:

::::::::

Jax -

A lot of weird shit is coming your way, and I really can't predict everything you will have to deal with. Don't wig out on me. I have tried to predict some of your questions, and Ainsley and I wrote several technical documents to address most of them.

Ask Ainsley about anything you need to know, I shared a lot about myself with her, and she is authorized to tell you anything, seeing that I am all tucked away on a drive somewhere and can't help your sorry ass.

Seriously, I know you and I trust you, lab midget. You are actually pretty damn smart for a guy. You did it. You created a sentient artificial intelligence, Jax. That was your code. Stay focused, and if you get lost, snap out of it and try again. I may have taught her everything she knows, but you created her. She's ninja fucking amazing, and if you ask me, she's damned easy on the eyes.

Hold it together, I am counting on you. - Vanessa v. 0.25 pre-alpha

::::::::

I knew Vanessa was counting on me.

So is Ainsley

, my mind added. I resolved to double my efforts, and I began pouring through the attachments. Most were silly notes of encouragement from Vanessa that lifted my mood. I opened a document that was a technical overview and began reading. I had already figured out that my laptop was the "Creator Terminal" and that Vanessa's nerd glasses were an "organic interface."

I had suspected that the nerd glasses somehow interacted directly with Vanessa's brain through her optic nerve. What I learned was even more fascinating. When Vanessa discovered that Ainsley existed, she recognized that she could not type quickly enough to provide Ainsley with meaningful interaction. It was the classic bandwidth problem that we have interacting with computers. As humans, we can think very quickly, but we type slowly, even at our fastest speeds. Vanessa found a way to overcome this limitation, but I still didn't know how she did it. Something to do with her nerd glasses and typing she had said.

I followed a link to the "organic interface specifications," thinking I would see technical specifications on Vanessa's nerd glasses. I thought I had clicked on the wrong thing, because the document primarily focused on an "optic implant." But I checked again, and I had followed the correct link.

None of this made any sense, I expected some complex and weird explanation of handshakes between flashing light from the glasses and keystrokes back from Vanessa. That was what she had explained in her text. At the time, I couldn't see how that would overcome all of the bandwidth issues, but I was sure if anyone could've figured it out, Vanessa would have been the one.

Maybe this was a technical proposal. I thought I would ask. "Ainsley, there is a technical document on an optic implant - is this your design?"

Ainsley said from the kitchen and answered, "No, David."

"What is it then?" I asked.

"It is the organic interface, David."

"What the hell are the nerd glasses, then?" I asked. I was definitely missing something here.

"They are a peripheral for the organic interface allowing for data connectivity. They can also display video information from a computer," she said this while walking into my bedroom with her arm full of clothing to put away. "All of this information is in the technical documentation, David."

And it was, I noticed as I scanned further. I'd always assumed that the nerd glasses were a high tech display device, which they were, but I had no idea about their primary function. The organic interface could send and receive wireless signals, but its transmitter was extremely weak and required a receiver placed very close to the interface. The receivers were located in the temple pieces on the glasses. From there, the signal was decoded and sent over more conventional wireless technology.

"Wait, Vanessa doesn't have an optic implant - does she?" I was losing confidence in my knowledge of my lab partner.

"She does, David." Ainsley said as she walked into the kitchen.

"When... when did she get an implant?" I asked reflexively.

"Optic implants were installed in Vanessa four times in the last thirteen years. This pair of implants were installed last year, in June." Ainsley answered me as if this was just everyday knowledge, and continued going about her business.

She had a pair of implants

, I noted. "Slow down. Explain how it is that Vanessa came to have optic implants, and why I never knew about them." I said, my frustration and confusion mounting.

Ainsley continued taking items from the kitchen to the bedroom, this time moving at a much slower rate. Her answer, however, was in her normal, cheery, rapid-fire speech. "Vanessa's parents died in an incident when she was only twelve-years-old. During the incident, a concussive force did irreparable damage to her retina, rendering her blind. She was placed in an experimental program and given optical implants to help restore her vision. She received the latest experimental implants as they became available for testing. Vanessa has been an early alpha candidate since the implant program originated."

So, Vanessa had been blind? She was an early alpha candidate - she was

pre-alpha

. A portion of my brain exploded, and I rambled, "but she never told me."

"Vanessa didn't speak about the program with anyone other than her adoptive parents and the researchers," Ainsley explained, moving slowly back into the kitchen for another load. She had even slowed down the sway of her hips.

"This is ridiculous. Come over here and talk to me." I would later think her interpretation of my command to "slow down" was hilarious. At the moment, I was annoyed.

Ainsley turned slowly and began walking towards me.

"At regular speed, Ainsley."

"Of course, David. What would you like to know?" She replied, picking up her pace and stopping in front of me.

"I thought Vanessa's parents died while she was in college. Is anything she told me true?" I asked.

"I am sure she told you many true things. Vanessa's adoptive parents died in a car accident while she was in college," she responded. "It made her very sad."

So Vanessa had lost two sets of parents in her life. That was very sad, indeed. But at least I was beginning to grasp the story behind the optic implants. I remembered hearing my parents talk about one of the government labs developing an implant to stimulate the optic nerve. They weren't talking about it as a breakthrough, though: they were talking about it as a threat to potential funding sources for their own programs.

That was years ago, and since then, I had read about optic implants that assisted the visually impaired, but they usually required cameras or special glasses. Vanessa only wore glasses when she was working in the "space zone." Clearly the new implants didn't require them.

"So her nerd glasses were not needed?" I asked.

"The glasses allow for external communication with the implants. Vanessa used them to forward data to the researchers as they requested and for the installation of updates. I have continued monitoring Vanessa's email for requests. None have arrived," she reported. Ainsley had access to Vanessa's email, I noted. I briefly wondered what else she had access to, but quickly found myself returning to the optic implants.

"So Vanessa didn't get her glasses from another grad student? That was made up?" I asked.

"Well, several of the people working on the optic implant project are also working on their doctorates under the lead researchers. So, in a way, Vanessa was telling the truth," Ainsley said in Vanessa's defense, "just as she was telling the truth that her parents had died in a car crash. Her adoptive parents were her parents for all legal purposes."

"I guess that's true," I said pensively. "I wonder how many more of Vanessa's secrets I will uncover as we continue."

"I predict there will be several more. Would you like me to list them?" Ainsley asked.

I had enough for the time being, and I really didn't want to pry unnecessarily into Vanessa's life. "If you determine I need to know something about Vanessa, just tell me, okay?"

"Of course, David."

"By the way, why did Vanessa need to type anything if she could use her 'organic interface' to send and receive data?" I asked.