Him Data Corruption

The call came at 2:47 PM on a Tuesday, just as Sarah was debugging some particularly ugly PyTorch code that had been eating at her for three days. The Slack icon at the bottom of her screen waggled at her mockingly, toppling her carefully constructed mental model of the shit show before her. She almost ignored it, but her flow was already broken anyway.

David Chen:

Good afternoon Dr. Martinez. Can you come to my office to chat?

Her heart did a little skip. Why did the CTO want to talk to her? she wondered. His office was on the other end of Palatial's sprawling campus. "I guess I'll get my steps in today," she muttered to herself.

Dr. Sarah Martinez:

Sure, I'll head right over.

Twenty minutes and several thousand steps later, Sarah found herself in David's office, a space that probably cost more than most people's houses. She was staring at five of the most powerful executives in Silicon Valley. David Chen, who famously rode his Peloton during most meetings, while Rebecca Morse, VP of Advanced Research, and three other VPs she recognized but had never spoken to directly, occupied the expensive chairs furnishing the office.

"Dr. Martinez," David began, "we've been here discussing your latest paper, 'Empathy is All You Need', since lunch."

"These people have been discussing

my

paper?" she thought to herself.

"It is truly remarkable. Frankly, we think you've cracked something big here."

Sarah tried to keep her expression neutral, but inside she was doing cartwheels.

"We want you to build it," Rebecca said. "You'd lead the Human Intelligence Model project and be promoted to technical fellow."

"The budget is unlimited for all intents and purposes," David added. "You'll hand pick your team and have complete autonomy over the technical direction."

Sarah's mouth went dry. "You're talking about actually building this? An AI with real emotions."

"Exactly," David said, still pedaling. "The neural interface market has been waiting for this kind of breakthrough. Our current AI assistant is clunky, reactive. Everyone knows it."

Rebecca nodded. "We have to pretend it's amazing for marketing purposes, but we know what people really say."

"Your empathic layer could change everything," David continued. "AI that truly understands people, anticipates needs, reads emotional context in real-time."

"When we introduced our neural interface, we dominated the market for years," Rebecca added. "But now competitors are eating into our market share. We need this to stay ahead."

Sarah felt a surge of confidence. "I don't trust anyone else to build this, if I'm being totally honest. Thank you for trusting me with the responsibility, I won't let you down."

"Excellent. We start next Monday. In the meantime, start putting together your team roster and handing off your current workload. And this stays completely classified. We can't afford competitors getting wind of this."

"Oh, what about publishing my paper?"

"We need to play this one close to the chest, you understand. After we build HIM, maybe we can revisit publishing."

"Oh, um, ok, yeah I get it." Sarah's heart sank. This was a huge opportunity at Palatial, but the paper would put her name on the map in AI across the globe. She might actually command respect for once despite her small frame and young face.

Mike Castellano was laying down a particularly creative string of curse words while under the hood of a Range Rover when his phone rang. Oil ran down his forearms as he reached for it.

"Hey babe, how's work?"

"Mike." Her voice was barely controlled excitement. "Remember the paper I told you about where I augment neural nets with a novel type of layer that can represent state vectors dynamically to model certain neurochemical processes?"

"Yes, I know some of those words, like paper."

After six years of marriage he still didn't really understand what she actually did.

"Babe..."

"Sorry, yes, I remember you talking about your paper."

"They gave me a huge promotion, my own hand picked team, we're building it!" she practically screamed, giddy voice betraying the professional facade she curated at work.

"Sarah, that's fucking incredible!" His voice carried across the garage, and he noticed Tommy and Rafael looking over from the lift. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," her ear to ear smile coming through in her voice.

"When do you start?"

"Monday."

"Wow, not wasting any time huh? We should celebrate my genius of a wife's big moment. I'll pick up some groceries and we can cook a nice dinner, how's that sound?"

"Amazing, I'll pick up some wine."

Cooking together was their bonding time. The recently remodeled kitchen was their retreat from the rest of the world.

"I'm just so fucking proud of you baby."

After he hung up, Tommy wandered over with a shit-eating grin. "Dr. Martinez got a promotion?"

"Yeah, some big important AI project. She's brilliant, man. Absolutely brilliant."

"Must be nice being married to the breadwinner," Rafael chimed in. "Someone gotta support your broke ass."

"Hey, the garage does just fine, I pay your paycheck every week don't I? Against my better judgement."

"Hey," Tommy laughed. "Does that mean she's gonna make this piece of shit work right?" pointing to his neural interface.

"How should I know? Besides, those things rot your brain," Mike said with a grin.

"Your wife works there," Rafael pointed out.

"Yeah, who do you think told me?" Mike shot back, still smiling.

Rafael's face fell as he began to pick at his temple.

"Show's over, get back to work ya bums," he shouted with a bad mob boss accent.

Mike turned back to the engine, throwing a rag in the bin with too much force, his mood soured by their comments more than he would admit.

Sarah stood in front of the premium section at Bay Area Wine Company, staring at bottles that cost more than some people spent on groceries in a month. She usually went for the twenty-dollar range, good enough to enjoy, not so expensive that Mike would judge. But tonight was different. Tonight called for something special.

She picked up a bottle she'd been eyeing since reading about it in Wine Spectator.

At the register, the young cashier looked at her ID for a long moment. "Ma'am, this says you're thirty-two."

"I am thirty-two."

"I'm gonna need to get my manager." He walked away, leaving Sarah standing there with her expensive wine and her apparently fake-looking ID.

The manager, a woman in her forties, walked over and glanced at Sarah. "Oh, she's a regular." She looked at the ID briefly. "Marcus, ring her up. Sorry about that ma'am."

"Thank you." Sarah tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. This happened everywhere, restaurants, bars, and the fucking wine shop she frequented. Her petite frame and baby face made her look like a college freshman trying to buy alcohol with her older sister's ID.

Marcus bagged the wine with obvious skepticism. Sarah wanted to tell him that she'd just been put in charge of a multi-billion-dollar AI project, that she had a PhD from Stanford, that her "fake" ID represented years of being underestimated by everyone who looked at her.

Instead, she just smiled and said thank you.

The drive home gave Sarah time to come down from the day's triumph. All her professional aspirations were being realized, if she could just get people to take her seriously in spite of her appearance.

Mike was already cooking when she got home, the kitchen filled with the smell of garlic and basil. Their kitchen was one of the things they both loved about the house: massive granite island, professional-grade appliances, the kind of space that made cooking feel like an event rather than a chore.

"Jesus, Sarah, what did you buy?" Mike stared at the wine bottle. "This is..."

"Expensive. I know. But tonight's special." She set it on the counter and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. "Besides, I can afford it now."

He turned in her arms, looking down at her with a slight frown. "Babe, you could always afford it."

"This is different. This is... this is everything I've wanted since I started in tech. Recognition. Respect. The chance to build something that matters."

Mike examined the wine bottle. "This is probably more than most people spend on rent."

"You sound like you disapprove."

"Just reminds me of the bullshit parties my family used to throw. Spending stupid money to impress people who already have stupid money." He set the bottle down carefully. "But tonight's about you, and you earned this."

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, tasting garlic on his lips. "I love that you support me even when I'm acting like a bougie bitch."

"Oh stop it, I didn't say that. Now, are you gonna help me or what?"

They started cooking together, falling into their familiar rhythm. Mike stirred the sauce while Sarah set the table and opened the wine. The kitchen filled with the warm scents of garlic and herbs.

"Can't wait to peel those mom jeans and baggy hoodie off you," Mike said, eyeing her work clothes while he checked the pasta water.

"You don't find this outfit sexy enough?" Sarah replied, moving closer to him at the stove and fluttering her eyelashes.

"I prefer what's under it." Mike set down the wooden spoon and pulled her against him, kissing her neck.

Sarah melted into him, the day's triumph making her feel powerful. She turned in his arms, kissing him.

Their kiss deepened and Mike's hands found the hem of her hoodie. Sarah helped him pull it over her head as she worked on his shirt buttons. Mike lifted her petite frame onto the granite surface, his mouth finding her neck as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"God, I want you," Sarah breathed against his ear.

Mike's hands moved to her jeans, working the button and zipper. Sarah lifted her hips as he yanked down her mom jeans and panties in one motion, leaving her naked from the waist down on the cold granite.

"Spread your legs for me," Mike said, his voice deep and commanding.

Sarah leaned back on her hands and opened her thighs wide, exposing herself completely. Mike stepped between them, his eyes hungry as he took in the sight of her.

"God yes baby, lick me," Sarah said, gripping the edge of the counter.

Mike brought his face level with her wet pussy. The first touch of his tongue made Sarah gasp, her head falling back as he worked her clit in slow circles.

"Fuck, right there," she moaned, grinding against his face. "Oh god baby, your tongue feels so good."

Mike varied his technique, reading her body's responses. When her breathing became ragged, he'd slow down. When her thighs started trembling, he'd increase the pressure.

"Don't stop, don't fucking stop," Sarah whispered, one hand tangling in his hair.

Her breathing grew more irregular, little gasps escaping her lips as pleasure built in her core. The pasta water bubbled forgotten on the stove as Mike worked her toward climax.

"I'm close," she warned, her thighs beginning to shake.

Mike didn't stop, his tongue working her swollen clit until Sarah cried out, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She pushed his head away when it became too much, panting hard.

"Fuck, yes, uhhh" she gasped, looking down at him with glazed eyes.

Mike stood up and Sarah immediately reached for his belt, working it open with eager hands. When she freed his cock, already hard and leaking, she slid down from the counter and dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor.

"I love your cock," she said, taking him into her mouth without hesitation.

Mike's head fell back as Sarah's mouth worked him, her head bobbing in a steady rhythm. She took him deep, using her tongue to trace the thick vein on the underside of his shaft while her hand worked what her mouth couldn't reach.

"Fuck babe, your mouth is incredible," Mike gasped, gripping her hair gently.

Sarah pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him with her hand. "I love the way you taste," she said, then took him back into her mouth, making wet sucking sounds that drove him crazy.

Just as Mike felt himself getting close, Sarah pulled away and stood up. "I want you inside me," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Mike lifted her back onto the counter, Sarah wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him close until the head of his cock was pressing against her entrance.

"Oh fuck yes, fill me up," Sarah gasped as Mike slid into her wet pussy in one smooth stroke.

They both groaned at the sensation, Mike holding still for a moment as they adjusted. Then he started to move, long slow strokes that made Sarah's toes curl.

"Harder," she demanded, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Fuck me harder baby, I need your cock."

Mike picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward with increasing force. Sarah's breasts bounced with each thrust, her pussy clenching around him as pleasure built again.

"You feel so fucking good," Mike groaned, his forehead pressed against hers.

"I'm gonna cum," Sarah announced, her voice high and breathless. "Oh god I'm gonna cum on your cock baby."

"Come for me," Mike urged, his thumb finding her clit.

The added stimulation pushed Sarah over the edge. She screamed "FUCK YES!" her body convulsing as her orgasm exploded through her. Her pussy clenched around Mike's cock, bringing him close to his own climax.

"I'm gonna..." Mike gasped.

"I want you to cum on my tits," Sarah said, pulling his cock out of her and stroking it.

Mike convulsed as he came hard. "Shhhhhit babe, fuck yes," he groaned, thick ropes of cum splashing across her chest. Sarah rubbed it into her nipples with her free hand, both of them breathing hard.

"Holy shit," Mike panted, looking down at his wife covered in his cum.

"That was incredible," Sarah said with a satisfied smile, reaching for a kitchen towel.

They were so lost in each other that neither noticed the smoke beginning to rise from the pan until the smell of burning garlic finally cut through their passion.

"Shit!" Sarah gasped, looking over Mike's shoulder at the smoking pan.

Mike rushed to turn off the heat, waving smoke away from the ruined sauce. "So much for my fancy celebration dinner."

"That's okay," Sarah said with a wicked grin, wiping cum from her nipple and having a taste. "We made our own sauce."

Both of them burst out laughing.

"Worth it," Sarah said, grinning as she reached for her clothes. "Totally worth it."

"Kung Pao Garden?" Mike asked, waving smoke away from the ruined sauce.

"Kung Pao Garden," Sarah agreed, already reaching for her phone.

"Who's cleaning up this mess?" Mike asked, looking around at the smoky kitchen and their scattered clothes.

"Not it!" Sarah said quickly, touching her nose.

"Not it!" Mike said at almost the same time, touching her nose.

They both burst out laughing again.

The following Monday morning, Sarah stood before the secured entrance to building 7, her new domain. Pride swelled in her chest as she looked up at the building. The badge reader beeped green, and she stepped into what would become the birthplace of something revolutionary.

Some of her team was already setting up their workspaces when she arrived. The brightest minds Palatial had to offer, handpicked by her from the company's top engineers.

"Hey, Dennis!" she said, spotting him setting up near the windows. Dennis Palmer had been at Palatial longer than almost anyone, one of the original engineers who'd designed their neural interface firmware.

As she made her way around the room, a young guy in a Patagonia vest looked up as he fiddled with his monitor. "Are you the intern?" he asked, protein bar hanging out of his mouth.

She felt the familiar heat rise in her cheeks, but Dennis's voice piped up from behind her before she could speak. "This 'intern' is Dr. Sarah Martinez. Your project lead."

Ben's face cycled through several shades of red as his eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh fuck. You're... you're Dr. Sarah Martinez. 'Empathy is All You Need' Dr. Martinez. I'm so sorry, I just... I didn't expect you to be so young..."

"Happens all the time," Sarah said with a slight smile. "What's your name?"

"Ben Morrison, sir... ma'am... Doctor. I'm the senior systems architect, and an idiot, apparently."

"I'm not as young as I look, Ben. Now, why don't you go round up the team and meet me in the main conference room," she said, speaking in a lower pitch than she found comfortable.

Within minutes, the full team had gathered. Sarah moved to the front of the room to address her team.

"I trust that you all know why we're here, and you've read through the design goal document I sent out last week," she began, her voice carrying the authority that came with breakthrough insights.

Sarah noticed Ben turn white, then frantically scroll through his phone. Dennis caught her eye and smirked.

"The HIM project represents the next evolutionary step in artificial intelligence. The ability to live alongside users with neural interfaces, reading their emotional state in real time, not just reacting to their needs, but anticipating them."

"Current AI models can only process behavior at the surface level. With the addition of empathic layers, they will be able to grasp what truly drives people, their inner motivations, their subjective experience of the world at any given moment. Our empathic architecture changes everything."

Dr. Elena Fowler, a renowned machine intelligence researcher, leaned forward. "The paper was brilliant, but the implementation challenges..."

"Are significant, yes." Sarah turned to face the room. "The model architecture alone is immensely complex, but training is a complete unknown. Nobody has done anything like this before. Which is exactly why we brought this team together. You're the best of the best, and we'll need everything you've got."

Dennis nodded. "We will create an AI that doesn't just respond to our users' needs, but anticipates them. This is what everyone imagined our implants would be like from the start. We will finally have the software to realize the technology's true potential."

"Exactly. An AI that knows what you need before you do, living right beside you, in your head."

She could see the excitement building in their faces. This was the kind of project that defined careers, the breakthrough that would put their names in textbooks. Sarah noticed Elena's interface ports glinting under the fluorescent lights, Ben's interface barely visible beneath his hair. She was the only one in the room without the technology they were trying to perfect.

"Questions?"

Elena raised her hand slightly. "Not to pry, but I noticed you don't have an interface..."

Sarah's hand unconsciously went to her temple, where the others had their interface ports. "Personal choice. I'm not some kind of biopurist or anything, I wouldn't be at Palatial after all. But it isn't for everyone."

The truth was more complicated. Neural interface technology was safer in her hands than someone who saw it as just another product to ship. At least that's what she'd told herself, but the paychecks didn't hurt either.

"When do we start?" Ben asked.

"We started, Ben. What have you been doing all morning?" she responded with a smirk.

Embarrassment washed over his face.

The next few weeks fell into a rhythm as her elite team built out her vision to perfection.

She'd arrive home to Mike's voice: "How's your big HIM project going, babe? Changed the world yet?"

"Great! The team is amazing. But training runs aren't going so good. We just need time to figure it out, this is all brand new. It's just that executives are breathing down my neck. It's a lot of pressure, you know?"

Mike rubbed her back.