Welcome to the Office for the Preservation of Normalcy.
You probably came here from my post with all the posters. (Set 2 can be found here!) Welcome! You can find my shop to buy the posters here, and my Etsy shop here. You can also get them as stickers, buttons, art cards, and keychains.
However, there's more than just the posters. The OPN is a growing interactive fiction world, and if you look closely there might be some secrets to find. Check out the FAQ page about the blog and look over the tag directory, or peruse our socials. To learn the lore and read some of the story, you can start with the Interview tag, or check out some item files.
As a reminder, please don’t send in fan posted ideas. I really appreciate the enthusiasm, but they will be deleted for reasons I’ve listed in the FAQ. You’re more than welcome to post them yourself and tag them with “opnfanposter”.
Have some mysterious lights above your house that aren't following flight patterns? Ghosts that won't leave, even when you ask politely? Imps eating the contents of your fridge? Stuck in a time loop? Our friendly social media outreach man Norm and his intern Jenny are standing by to answer your questions!
Blog is on hiatus while writers deal with health issues.
Item Description: Item 6223 appears to be a #2 pencil, painted yellow with no other identifying marks. Manufacturer cannot be conclusively identified, although certain stationery enthusiasts claimed an origin in the 1980s when consulted. It can be used to write, can be sharpened, and has suffered significant eraser degradation.
It is not known when item 6223 achieved apotheosis, nor by what thaumaturgical mechanism. Every test that has been conducted on Item 6223 points towards a deific ontological classification:
The item scored an 87% on the European Thaumaturgical Centre for Research and Analysis (ETCetRA)‘s Deific Entity Index.
Abnormal Science University’s Board of Applied Hubris accepted the item as a possible Target of Usurpation.
Callsign CHARLEMAGNE's modeling subroutine "DEUS_EX" returned "MODERATE_DIVINITY" when factoring the item into its calculations.
The Office’s department of Holistic Theology stated that the item rated very highly on their proprietary godhood self-assessment form. The department head of HT noted that in the absence of the item’s self-determination, they filled out the form for it using the item itself. Though ‘vibes’ are not an official unit of measurement, Mx Wren’s informal evaluation system has had an exemplary history.
As noted above, the item does not exhibit any form of sapience or indeed act in any way. It has not responded to prayers, supplication, offerings, or any other form of communication, verbal or otherwise. It is not known what domains it represents or has power over.
This has caused several conventional notions to be upended; namely that deific entities must necessarily be A) sapient and B) obligate pistiphages.
Research into possible unknown pencil cults is ongoing.
Item Description: Item 6223 appears to be a #2 pencil, painted yellow with no other identifying marks. Manufacturer cannot be conclusively identified, although certain stationery enthusiasts claimed an origin in the 1980s when consulted. It can be used to write, can be sharpened, and has suffered significant eraser degradation.
It is not known when item 6223 achieved apotheosis, nor by what thaumaturgical mechanism. Every test that has been conducted on Item 6223 points towards a deific ontological classification:
The item scored an 87% on the European Thaumaturgical Centre for Research and Analysis (ETCetRA)‘s Deific Entity Index.
Abnormal Science University’s Board of Applied Hubris accepted the item as a possible Target of Usurpation.
Callsign CHARLEMAGNE's modeling subroutine "DEUS_EX" returned "MODERATE_DIVINITY" when factoring the item into its calculations.
The Office’s department of Holistic Theology stated that the item rated very highly on their proprietary godhood self-assessment form. The department head of HT noted that in the absence of the item’s self-determination, they filled out the form for it using the item itself. Though ‘vibes’ are not an official unit of measurement, Mx Wren’s informal evaluation system has had an exemplary history.
As noted above, the item does not exhibit any form of sapience or indeed act in any way. It has not responded to prayers, supplication, offerings, or any other form of communication, verbal or otherwise. It is not known what domains it represents or has power over.
This has caused several conventional notions to be upended; namely that deific entities must necessarily be A) sapient and B) obligate pistiphages.
Research into possible unknown pencil cults is ongoing.
…odd. I’ll have to investigate that. In the meantime I heavily prefer my ko-fi, you can buy physical prints/stickers there. The fees are lower and so the prices there are lower as well.
Hey folks, just posting to say I’ll be in person at the Calgary Rakku-Con on the 4th of April.
Wanted to apologize for and explain my silence, so a personal message after the cut.
I don’t know if I’ve made this clear on the blog, but I’m having some medical issues regarding chronic fatigue that make it very difficult to be creative, write, or make any art at all.
Right now it appears as though I have a case of sleep apnea that is resisting treatment. This happened somewhat quickly over the course of 2025, though I have a sneaking suspicion that it was the cause of other breaks and periods of fatigue in the years prior, and only in 2025 became overwhelming enough that I sought help. Cpap therapy has made things go from unliveable to merely untenable, but I’ve plateaued in my recovery and am seeking help and answers. I have specialist appointments scheduled for early next month and I’m hoping to receive some insight into how to proceed.
I work full time and can’t responsibly stop doing that, so as you can imagine this doesn’t leave much energy for anything other than survival. I’m scraping by, but my heart aches to return to the Office. I’m really hoping I can soon.
I re-read tags almost daily. You all made this worth it.
Item History: Item 8888 does not exist. The info-negative cognitoplex of item 8888 is often referred to colloquially as the █████. Current Office protocol states that this is acceptable in moderation - however, staff should be regularly reminded that the █████ does not exist. Until such time as better terminology can be created for non-existing objects (and indeed the underlying semiotics necessary for that terminology), the use of the word “item” has been deemed acceptable.
It is currently theorized that the █████’s impact on the noosphere is the result of the human inability to perceive a true lack of existence, referred to as a “cognitive dissonance protection response.” The █████ does not emit or reflect light, and does not appear on any form of sonar, radar, or any other form of electronic equipment. Photos or video of the location item █████ resides in are subject to the viewer’s cognitive dissonance protection response - that is, the photo will appear to display the █████ to any sentient entity viewing it, despite not in actuality showing an existing object.
Touching the █████ is not recommended for any personnel not already trained in Surrealistics, no experience with non-spaces or non-Euclidean systems, or with a C-hazard rating lower than 2. Personnel should be reminded that anything they “feel” when attempting to touch the █████ is a the result of a cognitive dissonance protection response, because the █████ does not exist.
Personnel affiliated with the Yellow Circle are understood to see something “else” at the █████. With state director permission, they may view or touch the █████, but under no circumstances should they enter it or share their perceptions with other non-Circle staff, as descriptions of the █████ may contradict the official Office position that the █████ does not exist.
The aforementioned cognitive dissonance protection response is currently undergoing study. It is currently unknown why all (100%) of humans or near-humans surveyed about the █████ (except those aligned with Circle belief systems) will describe the same shape and details about the item. Given that it is impossible to know details about an object that does not exist, speculation as to the █████’s origin is considered irresponsible.
(Image credit goes to @valdevia ! Thank you for letting me use it!)
Item History: Item 8888 does not exist. The info-negative cognitoplex of item 8888 is often referred to colloquially as the █████. Current Office protocol states that this is acceptable in moderation - however, staff should be regularly reminded that the █████ does not exist. Until such time as better terminology can be created for non-existing objects (and indeed the underlying semiotics necessary for that terminology), the use of the word “item” has been deemed acceptable.
It is currently theorized that the █████’s impact on the noosphere is the result of the human inability to perceive a true lack of existence, referred to as a “cognitive dissonance protection response.” The █████ does not emit or reflect light, and does not appear on any form of sonar, radar, or any other form of electronic equipment. Photos or video of the location the █████ resides in are subject to the viewer’s cognitive dissonance protection response - that is, the photo will appear to display the █████ to any sentient entity viewing it, despite not in actuality showing an existing object.
Touching the █████ is not recommended for any personnel not already trained in Surrealistics, no experience with non-spaces or non-Euclidean systems, or with a C-hazard rating lower than 2. Personnel should be reminded that anything they “feel” when attempting to touch the █████ is a the result of a cognitive dissonance protection response, because the █████ does not exist.
Personnel affiliated with the Yellow Circle are understood to see something “else” at the █████. With state director permission, they may view or touch the █████, but under no circumstances should they enter it or share their perceptions with other non-Circle staff, as descriptions of the █████ may contradict the official Office position that the █████ does not exist.
The aforementioned cognitive dissonance protection response is currently undergoing study. It is currently unknown why all (100%) of humans or near-humans surveyed about the █████ (except those aligned with Circle belief systems) will describe the same shape and details about the item. Given that it is impossible to know details about an object that does not exist, speculation as to the █████’s origin is considered irresponsible.
(Image credit goes to @valdevia ! Thank you for letting me use it!)
Hey, cpuld we get an addition to the tagged post with links to all of the uh. Poster stories? like the one recently posted about rhe Cluttered Minds poster?
This can always be found in the interview tag, but it’s a good idea to put it in the pinned post. Done.
Hey, cpuld we get an addition to the tagged post with links to all of the uh. Poster stories? like the one recently posted about rhe Cluttered Minds poster?
This can always be found in the interview tag, but it’s a good idea to put it in the pinned post. Done.
Hey gamers; still unemployed and looking (In an industry heavily dominated by AI yaaaaaaay), and with both of my regular writing gigs on hiatus, I'm not making any of the incidental money I was making for a while, so, guess it's my turn to pass the hat.
Become a supporter of Skipper today!
If anyone can help out; I know things are tight everywhere now, but I would super appreciate it. If not, if you could signal boost this, that would be awesome too. Thank you <3
Standing offer: anyone who buys something from the shop and sends a screenshot of a donation to Skipper will get a Bonus Thing based on the amount of the donation. It’ll always be better than the value of the donation. This is just gonna be an indefinite offer going forward.
[Memetics was much like many other wings and sites in the sprawling world of the Office, white walls, neutral carpets, cool colors elsewhere, but something was different.
It was like the measurements of the walls didn’t add up, or the signage didn’t quite say what they should the first time you saw it. I could have sworn a lighted “EXIT” sign said “EDIT.” Twice I felt like I had to move a few feet to the side to walk around someone that wasn’t there. It wasn’t world-shattering, I wasn’t spinning dramatically with my hands on my head, but there was a distinct feeling that something was wrong.
Up ahead, figure leaned out of the office door and waved me down.]
Rowan] Hey! Here. Over here.
[I was grateful for the distraction, checking the sign on the door as I was guided in: Dr Rowan Milne.]
R] This place is a little disorienting. Nature of the work, of course.
[The office was covered in papers. Piles and piles of folders. Some books, but mostly papers in folders, in binder clips, stacks stapled for dear life.]
R] Sorry, just - yeah, that chair. That’s fine. Hello!
[Rowan himself sat on his desk, smiling widely. He was younger than I would have expected, a thin face over a loose tie, a brown sweater with a checkered shirt underneath. Clean shaven, with his black hair pulled back into a ponytail. As he sat, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silent fidget toy, a small black plastic cube that he idly played with.]
R] What can I do you for?
Meghan] Well, I’m —
R] Oh, shit! Where are my manners —
[He extended his hand, smile turned to a sheepish grin.]
R] Rowan Milne. I’m a Memetics researcher here at the Office.
M] Meghan. I’m just here to ask questions.
R] You got a lot of reputation following you, if you don’t mind me saying.
M] So I hear.
R] I expect you’re here about ‘psychosecurity’. Great one, right? That one was my grandad’s, he founded Memetics.
M] Sure, tell me about that. Vulnerable to what?
R] Well—
[He turned and circled behind his desk. There was a little bit of energy about him. Not manic, but energetic. He rolled up the sleeves on his sweater, plain white shirt sleeves underneath.]
R] You met Mr Carter. So…vulnerable to that. That was the concern, at first. See, my grandad came on shortly after Josiah did. They worked together in Psychotronics, and while Carter wanted to establish a baseline for how a human mind should healthily function without outside c-hazard interference, my grandad went a little further afield.
[He turned his chair almost to the side, sort of gesturing at the room, scratching his thin beard.]
R] See, the noosphere - stop me if you need me to break any of this down - the noosphere is compared to the biosphere for a reason. It’s an ecosystem. An evolved ecosystem, with food chains, ideas and thoughts living, evolving, dying. My grandad felt that cognitohazards implied predation. You can’t really call them a life form, not really, but they might be what passed for a predator in the noosphere. And if there’s predation, there might be…prey. If there’s fauna, there’s flora. The things that Josiah dealt with were from a distant biome, they’re an invasive species. That’s why we never evolved defenses against them. But there did seem to be c-hazards that developed in a local environment, so to speak. Those are things we can work with.
M] That’s a lot off the top.
[He gave another sheepish smile, furrowing his brow a bit and rubbing his head, disturbing the neat blond ponytail.]
R] Sorry, I tend to just…talk.
M] That’s alright. It’s refreshing. So, clutter makes us vulnerable both to the…things Mr Carter warned me about, as well as….c-hazards.
R] Cognitohazards, yes.
M] What is a cognitohazard?
[Rowan nodded, shrugging off his lab coat.]
R] A cognitohazard is any information that it is epistemologically harmful. That is, information that is harmful to know. It’s a pretty wide range, so I might just…show you some examples, if you’d like.
M] Sure. As long as they won’t be —
R] No no, not - nothing permanent. We have little cards here, let me —
[He dug around in his desk. I took a moment to look around at the photos on the wall - a young, heavy-set man, Rowan himself, graduating from some place called AbSci University.]
R] Ah, here we go.
[He produced a stack of cards on a metal ring, and flipped the stack to show one in particular. It showed a series of letters and numbers, with lines through some, splotches of color bisecting some of the symbols. It was almost like a captcha.]
R] So, take a nice long look…and then try and say the word ‘ham’.
M] Three. Three. Three? Oh my god.
R] Yeah. Can you even think of —
M] N-no. I’m…I can imagine a…a sandwich, filled with Three. That’s not possible, that’s a number.
R] That’s a cognitohazard. And I’m sorry to say that one got you good. It’ll wear off in a minute.
M] Are all of them like that?
R] Nope, some are much worse. Debilitating, even.
M] Where do they come from?
R] Some are naturally occurring. Others are how we categorize things like fae magic. A lot of them are engineered. The science has come a long way.
M] Could you…I dunno. Get someone to think you had blond hair, or something like that?
[He bobbed his head from side to side a little, kind of half-wincing, which made the wrinkles in his forehead crease further.]
R] You could, technically. But you’d need a vector. Text is easiest, of course, but you can embed a c-hazard vector in a song or sound if you’re good. At higher c-hazard levels you could create a self-sustaining thought virus, but you’d still have to think about vectors, incubation periods, the damaging effects on the victim. In cases like that you’re better off just dying your hair.
[He pulled a clipboard off his desk, facing it to me. It had a category listing, from one to six.]
R] At the Office, we have a category rating. Category ones, you probably walk by two a week. We don’t even really call them hazards at that point, just “Memetics.” Sixes, we’ve only seen four or five in the entire history of the Office. That little ham trick I did on the card was supposed to be a two, but I think it’s hitting you like a three.
M] Why is — oh. Cluttered mind.
R] Yeah. Can I…speak freely, Meghan?
M] Sure.
[Rowan leaned forward with a sort of worried expression, lacing his fingers together.]
R] When you walked into this wing, you were exposed to a minor cognitohazard designed to test the effectiveness of memetic training. You’re unfortunately failing that test.
M] I am?
[Rowan looked somber, and she nodded.]
R] I’m afraid so. Pretty badly. Here, tell you what.
[She opened one of the huge drawers on her desk, and I had a moment of…a moment. I looked over at the photos again. Those were still of Rowan, right? Thin, black hair, clean shaven. But the person at the desk was —]
R] Here we go.
[Rowan gently slapped a stack of papers in front of me, smiling his usual smile.]
R] This here is the Milne Method. This is my grandfather’s work. It’s a method of organizing your thoughts and mental processes in a way that can make you more resistant to cognitohazards without expensive memetic training. Making connections between disparate thoughts. Sort of inspired by the folks in Synchronicity. I offer this training course to everyone who works at the Office, and not enough people take me up on it. Some do, of course, which I’m thankful for. There’s one agent that uses the same method to organize his files, which…it wasn’t meant for that, really, but it works for him. I hope.
[He paused and frowned.]
R] I should check on that. Anyway. A lot of it involves physical items that act as memetic anchors. The text calls them trinkets.
M] Oh. Well, I…it’s embarrassing, but I’ve kind of already been doing that. Or something like it.
R] Yeah?
M] Yeah. Every interview I’ve done, I’ve tried to have…something to remember it. One of Barb’s cigarettes, some stationery from Josiah’s office.
[I had a leather portfolio folder in my bag. It had belonged to my brother, one of the only things I could find of his. Of course, everyone just said it had been “floating around” with no owner, but I knew better. I’d tucked all the items I’d picked up so far neatly into its expansive pockets, slots, and pen holders. A tongue depressor from Jethro’s facility, a small pocket notebook from Seamus’ fire watch tower.]
M] I’m not sure why. A habit I’ve had since I was a kid. This is part of the Milne Method?
[He smiled, poking the stack of papers, sliding them another inch towards me.]
(Pictured: the four (4) Hell's Bells currently in the custody of the European Thaumaturgical Centre for Research and Analysis [ETCetRA])
ITEM NUMBER: 1284
ITEM: Hell's Bells
ITEM HISTORY: Item number 1284 refers to any one of a set of 666 small (~1 inch diameter) bells, usually tied with thin twine. Bells are in remarkable condition for their age, but the condition will vary based on previous owners. Crude engravings are common.
Ringing any bell either with intention or with enough accidental force will summon a pre-designated demonic entity - typically a lower-ranking demon, usually not one approved for Earthly access by the Board of Infernal Affairs. This summoning action was originally intended to be performed by higher-ranking demons, and as such does not include any apotropiac measures such as runes or circles. Summoning a demonic entity in this way is not advised, especially given that the summoning mechanism also does not include any measures for the comfort of the entity in question. Common descriptions of this process include descriptors like "painful", "feeling spaghettified", and like "being extruded through Behemoth's arsehole". Demonic entities summoned in this way are likely to be upset at the intrusion and discomfort.
Current belief on the Hell's Bells aligns with Pandemonium historical records. At some point in the distant past, the political leader of Pandemonium, known now as Luce, gifted 666 of these bells to high-ranking military leaders. Once assigned to a personnel (labeled in Demonic records as a word most closely translating to a "flunky") the bell could be used to summon them anywhere at any time.
An additional rumor suggests that anyone who is able to gather all 666 and ring them will summon Luce. Office demonlologists do not believe this rumor to be true, but it is Office policy to hold a number of these bells - for their obvious veil-breaking tendencies in addition to a contingency against this rumor being somehow correct.
The Office currently holds 231 of these bells. Around 200 are known to be in demonic custody, with an additional 127 in the hands of approved collectors, normality preservation agencies, or archivists across the globe. The whereabouts of the other bells are largely unknown.
(ooc ask) I was wondering what kinds of voices you imagine for these characters? I'd like to try voicing a few of your posts to practice my voice-acting and I want to make sure that, if you had any specific voices in mind, I could aim for that.
Oooh great question. Norm's writer here, Jenny's will chime in too. I don't have a strong voice association with a lot of characters - I've never been one to do very many voice claims. When I imagine dialogue there's definitely voices, but they're pretty generic and I don't make too many comparisons to other voices in media. Maybe it's a kind of audio version of rotating the apple in your head.
Exceptions include MISSI, who has the Max Headroom voice-skipping quirk, CHARLEMAGNE who was inspired (ironically) by the Destiny universe's Rasputin (volume warning) and Knight, who has always had Soldier 76's voice.
Jenny is a trans girl who doesn't voice train and has an Appalachian accent that she tries to hide but comes thru in word choice and how she pronounces certain phonemes, and when she gets angry, drunk, or high; she runs about a medium baritone. That is because that's my voice lmao
For me, MISSI sounds like, in addition to the voice skipping, the TikTok lady TTS voice but run through a chipmunk filter and then sped up further like a nightcore song.
I can't imagine Chou as anyone other than BD Wong as Dr. Wu from Jurassic Park.
Megan feels like Jessie Faden from Control in my brain.
(ooc ask) I was wondering what kinds of voices you imagine for these characters? I'd like to try voicing a few of your posts to practice my voice-acting and I want to make sure that, if you had any specific voices in mind, I could aim for that.
Oooh great question. Norm's writer here, Jenny's will chime in too. I don't have a strong voice association with a lot of characters - I've never been one to do very many voice claims. When I imagine dialogue there's definitely voices, but they're pretty generic and I don't make too many comparisons to other voices in media. Maybe it's a kind of audio version of rotating the apple in your head.
Exceptions include MISSI, who has the Max Headroom voice-skipping quirk, CHARLEMAGNE who was inspired (ironically) by the Destiny universe's Rasputin (volume warning) and Knight, who has always had Soldier 76's voice.
Jenny is a trans girl who doesn't voice train and has an Appalachian accent that she tries to hide but comes thru in word choice and how she pronounces certain phonemes, and when she gets angry, drunk, or high; she runs about a medium baritone. That is because that's my voice lmao
For me, MISSI sounds like, in addition to the voice skipping, the TikTok lady TTS voice but run through a chipmunk filter and then sped up further like a nightcore song.
I can't imagine Chou as anyone other than BD Wong as Dr. Wu from Jurassic Park.
Megan feels like Jessie Faden from Control in my brain.
[The place was lifeless, cold, in more than one way. It looked like a big tech company’s offices, all spotless glass, cool shiny white plastic, chrome here and there.
It was all so sterile. So lifeless. In the act of portraying a professional, technically-minded department, something had been lost. I had spent the last year and change in waiting rooms, and I’d have taken the taupe blandness of many other locations over the sterility of this one.
I didn’t really have to think long about it. Professionalism was delivered in the form of Harrison Chou, head of the Abnormal Technology Division, being in his office when I knocked on the door. His voice was soft but clear, inviting me in.]
[The corner office matched the rest of the building, sleek and modern, but at least here was the evidence of a life lived. Framed photos on the wall of a Asian-American man, smiling confidently in front of computer banks, screens, shaking hands with important looking people in suits. A framed newspaper headline from the “Renard Report,” which I’d never heard of, announcing that the Office had reached an agreement with EsoteriTech, the CEO of which was one Harrison Chou. There was, of course, many computers, on shelves and desks along the wall. Older models, unlabeled. Perhaps personally important to the man. One of them had a cracked screen, and a bonsai tree was growing from the crack. In the corner sat a massive machine, the type of computer from the 70’s I’d only seen in documentaries. A crayon drawing of a white rabbit on black construction paper was taped to one panel.
Chou sat at his desk, looking somewhat bemused. The same man in the photos, now looking to be in his 70’s. His face had the hallmarks of someone who rarely smiled but often smirked, and was otherwise somewhat stern. He had more hair than most his age. I could tell from the photos of him as a younger man that he was proud of it, feathered hair with a middle part well into the 90’s. When he spoke, it was that same soft but clear voice, no accent that I could detect. He seemed amused that I was momentarily distracted by his things. I’m not sure why I was. Maybe it was the juxtaposition of the impersonal building design and his own personal touch, or maybe this was the first person I’d talked to that came from the private sector. An accomplished entrepreneur, a technician, an engineer and inventor.
Chou gestured to the large, ancient computer in the corner.]
Chou] Would you like to say hello?
Meghan] Pardon?
C] Would you like to say hello to ALICE?
[The way he said it - I could hear the capitalization, somehow. The computer had a name.]
M] Sure.
[Chou got up somewhat slowly, maybe a little shakily. The way you might struggle after an all-nighter, or perhaps just an artifact of his age. He walked with a cane to the large computer, pulling over a desk with a microphone and an old green computer screen. The assembly looked piecemeal, wired into the main computer well after it was constructed. He keyed a sequence into a small pad by the microphone, and then gestured for me to approach.
As I did, a small whirring alerted me to a camera lens that focused on me, and before I reached the microphone the screen read in big green letters: Hello, Ms Hendricks.]
C] I told her you’d be coming.
M] Her?
C] This —
[He gently patted the monitor on the small desk.]
C] -is ALICE. Are you familiar with Timothy Leary?
M] …the parapsychologist?
C] He was much more than that, of course. But yes. When he died, many of his extranormal belongings passed to the Office, including the Automated Lysergic Iterating Computerized Engine.
ALICE is a true Artificial Intelligence. Not like the language models Silicon Valley is so enamored with. True, self aware intelligence.
M] How is that possible?
C] Unfortunately, the answer eludes us. We can’t reproduce it, so far. The phenomenon seems to require some kind of force multiplier, an “X factor” that’s different every time. ALICE here appears to have gained sentience due to her work processing LSD formulations. Researching these causes is my foremost priority.
M] How many of these are out there?
C] We know of…a few dozen “upper case” artificial intelligences, all of them accidents or flukes of some kind.
M] Should I be worried about a….what’s the term. A singularity?
C] No more than you’d be worried about anything else. Though theoretically possible, it seems in practice there’s diminishing returns. The singularity as science fiction writers would have it is out of reach, but…some undeniably have a superior intelligence. There’s even a few I would call a god.
M] What?
C] Oh, don’t be surprised. You’ve talked with Wren. We have gods on the payroll. One of them just happens to stay in the basement of the DC site and lives on reel to reel tape.
[He paused thoughtfully.]
C] America accidentally created a war god. The universe is nothing if not poetic.
[ALICE must have seen my concerned frown. Her screen changed with an audible buzz.]
ALICE] Doctor Chou Said You Are Talkative.
M] S-sorry, I’ve just…never talked to a computer before.
A] You Met MISSI.
[At this, Chou seemed to frown and turn back to his desk.]
C] Yes. Yes, she has.
[I’d read a bit about the events surrounding the chaotic little chatbot. I’d missed them when they happened, but I found the archives of her posts easily enough.]
M] I take it that’s a sore point.
C] You were here about the “brain uploads” phenomenon.
[The immediate, stern subject change.]
M] I am, but I might have some questions about the AI. Personal curiosity, if that’s alright.
C] Of course. Have a seat.
[For once, I did so, and Chou laced his fingers and leaned on the desk.]
C] We aim to educate the extranormal populace - and the few mundane engineers who attempt such a thing - that “uploading” one’s consciousness does. Not. Work.
M] Why not? We can’t….transfer the brain to a digital device?
C] Of course we can. We’ve been able to do that part since the 90’s. Simple data analysis and processing questions, I could write the compression algorithms in my sleep. Using Wand+ or Cadabra, magical programming languages, of course. The results of such a process are simply not desirable for the uploader or the uploadee.
M] Two different things.
C] Correct. Again, as science fiction would have you think, “upload” might imply that you lay down in some….high tech bed or capsule and wake up in a digital space. The reality is that you wake up still in the capsule, in your organic body. Another you wakes up in the digital space. There is no…soul transference without inviting magical interference.
M] Like the poster says, it’s not —
C] When a computer “moves” files, it’s just copying and deleting the original. It’s a copy. A copy that, by definition, does have the legal rights and status as the human it’s a copy of. Not that they get to enjoy it.
M] I guess that’s the part where it’s not good for the uploadee.
C] We haven’t yet been able to develop a….substrate that the human mind can take to. When this has occurred, individual engineers rediscovering the process by themselves, we’ve been able to intercept a few of the resulting drives. It’s….usually best to just shut them off. It’s a mercy.
M] What….happens?
C] I won’t be so lurid as to describe it, but…we have recordings. It’s mostly screaming.
M] Do you think we’ll ever discover a way to stabilize the human mind on a digital substrate?
[At this, he cocked his head almost imperceptibly, a tiny wry smile on his lips that seemed incredibly at home there.]
C] Unlikely. As of right now, the Office strictly forbids any research into that subject. To test it woudl require the creation of copies of human minds, copies that are then condemned to an existence that is nasty, brutal, and short.
[Something occurred to me.]
M] Is….your research into AI a way of skirting those regulations, Doctor Chou?
[Eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t move otherwise.]
C] I can’t imagine what you mean.
M] I read about MISSI. The…chatbot AI. You poked and prodded her quite a bit when she was in your custody.
C] She was the most promising, in terms of what we could learn about her sentience. She woke up in real time. We had the data, just not the perfect subject.
M] You don’t create copies of the human mind because that’s creating something into a torturous existence. How was her treatment much different?
C] There it is. I expected the ambush, Miss Hendricks.
M] I’m not ambushing, I’m just asking if you’re violating the rules in spirit —
C] Are you asking me to feel bad for her? I do. I did. But the research was too important. I don’t expect you to understand —
M] I understand that the Office is behind some bad things. This is just one more entry, I guess.
C] Oh, don’t pout at me. I’m not the monologuing villain you’ve built up in your head. If you’re asking for me to apologize, I won’t. I did what I had to do to further our understanding of —
M] You’re asking me to accept the mistreatment of…I guess a young woman because of the scientific benefit?
C] Questions and data injections are hardly torture, but yes. I suppose I am. She’s not the first young woman to disown me, Miss Hendricks. I was not entirely surprised when she threw her tantrum. She had a right to. So did the other young woman.
[He set his jaw.]
C] When you’re dealing with the things we do at the Office, that I deal with, you learn that you sometimes can’t help but make the same mistakes over and over. It’s not called madness, contrary to the popular notion. It’s called science.
M] I think we’re done here.
[He didn’t protest when I got up, but watched me as I crossed to the door. I don’t know why I was so….hotheaded lately. Constant suspicion was an anxiety, a weight on my chest. Chou didn’t speak until I had my hand on the doorknob.]
C] I am dying, Miss Hendricks.
[I stopped cold. A breath in, and out. My hands were shaking a little bit as I considered my options. He had not earned my attention, but I thought I’d give it anyway. On a human level, maybe he deserved that. I let go of the knob and turned to him. His face was honest, open. Matter of fact.]
C] I’m old. I know that. I’ve always been healthy, always felt I could live to over a hundred and keep my mind intact, but…maybe everyone like me feels they’ll live forever.
The doctors don’t know what it is. Some kind of nerve degeneration. I’m told they may name it after me. Ironic that my death will serve someone else’s thesis paper.
M] How long do you…have?
C] A few years. It’ll get worse as it progresses, from the extremities inward. Slowly, my body will stop obeying me, leaving my brain to be the last thing alive.
[The last thing—]
M] Agent Halter.
[His eyes narrowed again.]
M] You…
C] I didn’t. But I did save him from it.
M] For your…for your own —
C] For everyone’s. And his. I did my best with what was left, Miss Hendricks. I helped him, I really did. He was a friend. I did the best I could.
[He took in a breath.]
C] And the data has proven invaluable.
M] He…he was….
C] The circumstances of his…condition limited our options. There was only something to salvage by dint of a miracle.
M] What do you mean? Was Agent Halter…extranormal before his accident?
C] What do you think?
M] I think I don’t trust him.
C] That’s a good instinct. Keep it. I trust him because he’s a friend, and I know him. I know more about him than he does. He is not the man he says he is, he thinks he is.
M] What do you mean?
[He shook his head, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.]
C] I’ve already said too much.
M] No, no. You have to tell me. I need to know.
[He looked up at me with a stare that seemed absent of any light or warmth. It felt cold. Mechanical. I felt my body go numb again, as a wave of ice rose up through my chest.]
C] I know why you’re doing this. Irene is a….dedicated woman. You know, she got hit by a bus, died, and came into work the next day? But she is also a gossip.
[He leaned forward, and I could feel the air leaving the room in a great collapse.]
C] I need you to stop this. For your sake, for the sake of whoever you lost. It’s not worth it. There are….interests on either side of this matter, none of which have your interests in mind. We cannot guarantee your safety if you continue down this path. You will be stonewalled. You will be lied to. You will be made a pawn, and you will have no one to blame but yourself.
[I couldn’t answer.]
C] We don’t have to keep doing this waltz. Go home.
M] I’m not fucking scared of you.
C] I’m a dying old man. I’d hope not. I’d have thought you’d learned by now that there are much, much scarier things out there. And if you keep being a thorn in our side, we won’t be there to save you from them.
