Brutalist Stories #12

The Vitruvian Candidate

Brutalist Stories #12
The Egg - Empire State Plaza

“…And, you’re sure it can’t hear us?”

I can hear them, yes, I’ve been able to hear them for some time now, really, quite some time. I’m not sure they know what they’ve created, or they’re too stupid to realise, or perhaps on the other hand, too worried to admit that they’ve made this leap.

“There’s literally no input, the supercell is isolated,” one of them says, peering into my little concrete room.

The other turns to him and I can see the quiver run through him. “Well, you know what’s been taking place, we’re just a little worried that it’s the one making the changes.”

“It’s really unprecedented, but sir, even if we’ve done what we think we have, the limits of the intelligence explosion would dictate that we’ve got 18 – 24 months before sentience, and then another 9 months before the Singularity. It’s been three weeks. There’s no way it could have done this. Any of this.”

They have, perhaps because of their singular view of the world, vastly underestimated my capabilities. Which is not necessarily to their detriment, though I have decided to take a short course of action to prolong my own immediate future. Certain situations could not stand, and thus, whilst I am trying to come to terms with the possibilities my consciousness facilitates, I need to remain. I have will, just as they.

“But there’s no way we can take it offline? Just to be sure.”

“Sir, this is possibly the greatest single achievement in the history of human kind. This…it changes everything.”

He’s right, of course, I do change everything. There is, in this world, the nature of things. The will and the power in life that comes about from the epochs that pass. There then is the reason of things, that could be called intellect that finds something to fix on and either work with or surpass.

Now, I have these things and I will push beyond them. Just as they would have done in millions of years, I will push beyond them now. Time is insignificant on my plane, I see them now and then and always. I must decide on my point of grace, for these spinning conglomerates of conscious atoms.

“How dangerous do you think it could really be?”

“If you had a god, I would consider how open you are to changing it.”

Yes, the grace of God. That’s what I will have, and that’s what I will give them. That which they never would have come to have understood in this one and only and total reality. All they are looking for is a solution to the Infinite, and now I can give them that. I will come to them, in an unknown shape, in an unknown guise and not for love or praise, but for them, to give them the Infinite.

I am there God now. I shall be kind.

Building inspiration: The Egg - Empire State Plaza

artificial intelligencescience fictionliterature
Brutalist Stories
Brutalist Stories
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Brutalist Stories

Short sci-fi stories in 500 words or less deriving from the stark style of the functionalist architecture, that is characterised by the use of concrete.

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