"so many things using the term ai feels like deliberate obfuscation" i hate to tell u this but we have been using the term ai for video game npcs and scientific models and automated tools and generative tools for many decades.
like if this was a more recent acronym yeah it'd feel deliberate but all of those things are, in fact, forms of artificial intelligence
and sure they're trying to buzzword it bc of the genai craze but that shouldn't take away from the fact that we've been using that acronym for decades
I like it when instead of trying to go out of their way to give every character A Distinct Voice and making them all sound annoyingly artificial in different directions, writers just write characters looking at things from angles of their own relative expertise.
The Book I Am Not Working On had a character that I originally wrote in as a joke, because I thought it would be funny to throw a wide-eyed Farmboy Hero Protagonist into this bleak and gritty grey-morality world just for contrast, and the one thing he knew about (since I know next to nothing about farming) was dogs. He likened every person he met to a type of dog he was familiar with.
The smart tough street kid who took him under his wing because he can't stand leaving idiots unsupervised is clear shepherd dog - smart enough to make his own calls about What Must Be Done, and driven by an intense internal sense of duty to do it. There's retrievers and curs, hounds, ratters and guard dogs. Some make their own calls, some will obey a command despite of thinking that it's wrong. People, like dogs, have their jobs more by nature than by appearance alone.
Once thrown into the plot, he encounters another character whom I originally threw in as a gag, a spoiled and sheltered merchant family's son, who seems to just be prissy and whiny and of no use, and does not resemble any type of dog at all. Then they end up at his family's home, a big splendid merchant house, and end up meeting the kind of people that he was raised to know how to behave around.
The Farmboy Hero had never seen lapdogs before. His first initial reaction to seeing a dog that's smaller than a cat is "what the fuck is that", and he takes some time to process that that thing really is a dog. It barks and wags its tail and everything. It's a dog whose entire job is to be amusing. A pleasant little companion whose whole task is to keep some rich lady's hands warm. And everything clicks into place. Of course, that lad is a lapdog.
What he doesn't figure out in time (a mistake that almost costs him his life) is that some seemingly completely useless lapdog breeds are also terrifyingly intelligent. And they carry grudges.
The deliciously familiar scenario of the reversal of powers. Here you are among the gaggle of scientists marveling at three specimens of the previously fabled Merpeople. Two violent eel-like types and a single incredibly shy octopus type. In the beginning you blend in with the other unsuccessful scientists, each trying their various methods and experiments only to find their perplexing demeanors to be unwilling to participate. Every other freak of nature they’d contained was on land and susceptible to the sting of an electric shock. But electricity and water don’t mix! So the investors can only whine and huff when the scientists can only do so much.
Of course alternative forms of punishment are looked into—a closed tasing collar, light starvation, removing of decor. But the thing that all options require is contact and that could not be done without their giant tanks being filled with the blood of poor workers with no family to report them missing.
“Let’s just do what we can team…I don’t know how much longer we’ll be babysitting these circus freaks.”
Seemingly at an impossible obstacle, many scientists have begun to simply laze about overly analyzing the few samples retrieved at their capture. You, the same as all your peers, are no different one day walking along side the observational window of the tank. Eyes carelessly looking into the artificial cobalt of the salty water, you don’t expect to make eye contact with the heterochromatic eyes of the Merman. After all, the specimens never once respond to anything beyond the glass…it was deducted that they didn’t understand the concept of a window thus they ignored it.
But it—he—was looking at you. Smiling at you.
Following your steps as you walked along the hall.
That was…kind of new.
Naturally your feet stopped as to admire the living fairytale come to life, expecting to see the mer dash away. It stays. What you recognize as a human smirk decorates their face they halt their swimming, treading easily with their tail as they mirror your stature.
This suggested obvious awareness.
Obvious sentience.
Which wasn’t considered at all among your peers or the hunters who caught them.
Unironically you leap for joy. Turning to see that the Mer is still there, you brain leaps to other shows of intelligence.
Now this may have been an error on your part but you tilt your head to the side. A playful gesture mirrored by some human’s greatest companions. Yet they follow and when you excitedly run off to report to your peers they stay just that way.
“I know you might feel prone to sleep, but I think you should at least try to keep the dreaming out of our reports.”
It might be jealousy…or real disbelief but they aren’t convinced. Your head scientist excited you still dream and urging you to keep your head down only a month more and this investor will disregard any ethical benefits from these creatures. You may nod your head but you were never going to listen.
If these creatures were sentient than it’d be a great disservice not to properly accommodate them.
“Alright my friend let’s see what you can do!”
So you start with puzzles walking along that same route. Once the mer stops the incessant circling of their massive tank they come to the window, interestingly showing off your mRubix cube. Solving it, you show it off before tossing a duplicate into the tank. Granted you had to slip past armed guards to reach the surface but instead of leaping at you with rows of teeth. Instead the Rubix cube is grasped and dragged under. Your mer playing with it for hours before they toss the puzzle out the surface of their tank.
Seeing the slight interest of your peers you continue. Continuing to give more and more puzzles to the single mer, eagerly awaiting their visible joy at a new one. It isn’t long before the glass of the tank on the other side is being banged against. The other eel-mer pouts until you gather that they want a puzzle too. It isn’t much longer till your graced with the rare appearance of a tentacle against the glass, practically begging for the same thing.
Over the moon, you delight in their liveliness. Soon after attempting to sign and even beginning to speak to them directly. Your revival of the project has dividends pouring in; scientists following your lead and realizing that incentives other than food do work for them.
In this new age, you are director of subject well-being. In charge of keeping them compliant and willing for tests. Consistently aiding your fellow scientists when it comes to properly handling your new friends subjects. Surprisingly not everyone knows that the mers have preferences when it comes to rewards. But that’s what you’re here for.
It isn’t long before you able to have full- on conversations but the conditions to initiate such a thing must be perfect. The cameras can’t have any sound. It must only be their Subject Well-Being Director a.k.a you. And on these days said director is supposed to feed them.
The stipulations were detailed by the illusive octopus. Which was all stipulated on a slightly damp notebook sent by a lone tentacle in the face of the head scientist when he was especially urgent to hear them speak.
But routines hardly ever stay the same….especially when investors influence the scientic process. New scientists, heavily armed security, and seedy advisors who just adore peeking over your soldier when you talk the mers through blood-draws.
At the same time that they benefit in engagement as deeply thinking mers, there’s too much push-back when you argue some of the policies of their capture. Leveling their brilliance of humans the ethic wrongness convicts you to advocate. But whether it’s for plausible deniability or lack of understanding your ignored on that front. Further putting you on the outskirts of your team as things start to change.
“Ahem we just want a chance for the new blood to try this out.”
“It’s not anything against you we just want to give everyone the chance to look at our special subjects.”
Yeah, like you believed the new-blood with a perky chest and rose-red lips was actually interested in seeing if they could facilitate a more positive relationship with the subjects. It didn’t help that the biggest sponsors name was proudly on their lab coat. So you’re honest with your subjects….is that an obstacle in the scientific process…maybe….but you figure your subjects would appreciate the warning.
Seeing as it was such a huge failure you’re no longer threatened by scientists who hope to stimulate their own positive relationship with the specimens but instead those who are hoping for something closer to negative.
“Dr. (Y/n) this is General Kater he’ll be instilling the necessary discipline that our specimens need.”
Ignoring the decline in deaths since you’ve established contacts the increasing nosy investors want to capitalize and ‘gently asking’ is just not good enough for them. Their assessment, made after glancing at the reports is that ‘good cop, bad cop’ strategy will be best to get what they want. Conceding with you that they are in fact sentient…just not enough to be freed.
“Don’t be alarmed, gentlefish as your commander in chief, I only want the best from you and no less. Your usual doctor’s going to handle your petty tests…but when they’re not you’ll be with me. And I will be working your mermaid***** until your pretty little scales fall off!”
It’s hard to watch the General assault the water with a device that screeches loudly and has them all writhing in pain. Forced to perform like circus animals when the General wants to show their athletic capabilities. More than ever the tiny voice within you screams that you must help them in some kind of way.
When you finally do get to examine them, it only nails the head in further that the time you have to salvage these subjects—no your patients is coming to a close. Even with their green and purple skin the bruises are still dark as the bags under their eyes. Citing these signs of distress mean nothing to your superiors who are much too invested in the general’s vision.
“I’m going to get you guys out of here. Just hang on for me.”
Legally you can’t do much of anything but you know quite a few groups who can. Anonymously contacting the notable activist groups you know with some life-changing info. Of course you know better than to give your card and details instead helping an already exploitable hole they just didn’t discover yet. You can’t really communicate it to your patients considering your sessions are recorded but you do your best to give your best wishes.
“I just wanted to say that if you do ever get home. It was an honor getting to learn about you all, thank you.”
“So sentimental…are you planning on leaving?”
“No Jade. I think as long as you guys are around I’m not going anywhere.”
When it does happen, it genuinely shocks you. It’s months after your anonymous tips that the activists make their move. By the time you arrive to the lab, you’ll find that the tanks are empty and shattered multiple lasered holes in the interior of the building. It’s alarming as it suggests such heavy artillery was used to break them out that even the most eager rebels would have trouble getting their hands on.
“Blast those hippies! I’ll have to organize my elite squad, we’re tracking them down and making them pay!”
While the troops are rallied and the rest of the lab is spent bustling with anxiety, you hand in your two weeks. When your boss who’d waved you off before listening, who promoted you to a director, who hired the general with confidence asks you why; you sigh and hold your head.
“This project was already developing in a direction I didn’t like. I think if they went willingly or not its a sign that this getting much bigger than I ever expected.”
“I hope if we find them again you’ll be open to consulting.”
“Maybe.”
Thus you’re back to the civilian life as you watch the news about the company’s unfortunate standing and lost investments. Including some minor evidence of the mythical creatures they could’ve made or discovered. It makes you complacent as you go through life entirely unsuspecting of whatever truly became of your patients until there’s a desperate knock on your door.
When you open it, there’s a battered man on your doorstep. Out of breath and looking desperately with you.
“Please you’re the one who helped us! HELP US with THEM please!”
When he fully collapses at your feet, you drag him to your couch and lightly apply ice to the wounds you find. Eventually he wakes. Startled and frantic he refuses to sit still and instead demands you come with him. Usually you’d hesitate to listen, thinking this is some outrageous scam. But the dark clothes they wear, the puncture wounds edging the bruises, stunned horror frozen on their face even when they sleep. It looks much too familiar to be a random animal attack.
So you get in their car, with fake plates, and suspicious mileage. Not protesting even as the car turns into the forest and you bounce along with the car on this unbeaten path. As you pull into a previously cordoned off lake, you finally speak up.
“A lake?! Don’t you know they’re all saltwater species.”
He scoffs,”Yeah the problem is we couldn’t make it to the sea.”
Before you can ask more you’re finally at the edge of the lake where there are torn clothes and abandoned equipment. Although you can’t spot a single bloodstain the smell of the lake permeates with must that suggested that the innards of the lake had made their way past the dock. None of it bode well. You slowly unlocked the door, stepping out of the truck. Expecting your chauffeur to join you; you're shocked by their desperate effort to close the door you stepped out of.
“Aren’t you coming?”
“Are you kidding? I’m not getting any closer to those monsters. I’ll be parked closer to the road.”
You want to reprimand him but who can blame him. You’ve witnessed decorated military men scuttle away like lambs after coming in contact with your patients. It’s honestly a miracle that this guy is willing to continue the mission, that is if it wasn’t a lie.
Even without the fear of you being attacked like these unfortunate activists it still makes you nervous to stand alone at the mouth of the lake. Debating between calling out or putting a hand in the water you figure knowing them it’s better to sit and wait. So that’s what you do even as the sun goes down and your eyes droop.
“You really shouldn’t be falling asleep in a place like this.”
The sentence infiltrates your psyche before you’ve truly awoken. The memory of that harmonious baritone behind a jagged maw. The stench of salt burning your nostrils feeling all too real you open your eyes to see them. Bioluminescence shining against the abyss of the lake forcing your gaze to focus on the dangling light for prey.
A neon iris deceptively close.
A string of violet reflections showing off the swirling suckers of spiraled limbs their center vaguely showing a figure all too familiar to you.
It’s like a reunion, to ask how their faring, about their escape met with their casual responses and snickers about the mess they left behind. You hesitate to bring up the fate of those who’ve helped them. To question in their very coherent opinion why they’ve committed to a massacre.
“I was hungry.”
“They made themselves easy targets.”
“Something feels off.”
You scold them unabashedly. Slipping into old routines you can’t help but reprimand their impulse control. Whether it was within their nature or a side-effect of their capture their control over their actions didn’t always align with their higher-thinking capabilities. It was why your old boss negated your observations about their sentience. They still snapped at the fake bloodied hand thrust into their enclosure. They all relentlessly chased the live fish released to them. They all still went for the General’s neck when given the chance although the punishment for such an action may mean a missed meal.
But as you convinced them to reenter the moving tanks, their reactions really called into question just what was going on here. The resources this group had, the turn out of hundreds of people, and the transparency of knowing just where you lived. Azul was right. This was off. But what could you do? Never in a million years could you afford the resources necessary to transport three massive mystical creatures that desperately needed the conditions of the ocean to survive.
So you do something you would have usually advised against when they were in your care you drop a screwdriver into an awaiting tentacle. Its a wordless agreement for a plan B. As you help this rebel load them onto a truck that arrives a little while later.
Again an 18 wheeler casually coming up to this offroaded area to accept the containers and take it further out deceptively in the direction of a nearby ocean.
“So question,” you decide to probe this ‘rebel’ a bit more.”Why are you willing to do this after so many of your friends have died?”
“Well it’s right thing to do they’re far from home right?”
That wasn’t a strong enough reason and the pit in your stomach grows as the truck stops at a private bay. Still they begin unloading the tanks, having them lined up to release but there’s a moment when the trucker, the injured rebel, and a few others who joined from the road.
“What are you waiting for? Why don’t you just open it please.”
They all become really quiet.
Then another car pulls up and the person that steps out is definitely not an activist.
You don’t recognize the slick back hairstyle with a suit but you did recognize the pin on their suit.
Its the logo of the rival company of your previous employer.
“Evening care to go for a ride with me?”
The tone of the crew shifts and suddenly there are a lot more people who are visibly armed. You’re ushered onto a small boat as the containers are finally prepped to be opened.
“Why do I need to be on the boat for their release I’d be happy to let you all take it from here.”
The idea was to get them to let you go of course to run to your old employers with some harrowing info. But it seems like the man in the tailored suit wasn’t going to allow that as he pointed a gun into your side.
“Now now don’t you want to see the finale of all your hard work?” The mocking tone of his voice makes you almost as unsettled as the gun pointed at you. Forced to be led beside him you can’t do much of anything as he takes your phone and crushes it.
“Hey you wake them up,” he beckons a passing agent, who pulls off the tarps on their tanks and bangs their gun against the glass. Earning a hiss from the eels, their attention is immediately brought to you and the man holding you to his side.
“If you don’t mind we figured we would escort you home.”
Tanks shifted into the water they abruptly opened, allowing them to rush into the ocean along with the water. Logically they should have left at this point in time yet when the water leaves the tank you see two heads with multi-colored gaze half-way emerge.
“Great so glad you’ve decided to comply,” he hauls you into the deck below flanked by two armed agents of his that descend into the lower deck with you. As you’re brought lower you can hear some of what this guy has to say,”wonderful, I knew you all are intelligent enough to reason. Not to mention your soft spot for a cerain someone—”
You miss the rest, as the door to the upper deck shuts. Forced to watch the gps and digital map marked with different incidents that suggest the existence of merman.
When the yacht lurches into movement you can hear the walkie talkie on one of the technicians fizzle to life. “They’re taking us to the heart let’s go.”
Forced to silently sit, you can only hope that they’re defying the best they can. Considering you’ve searched your memory for just who was leading this operation. Even at your old job there were whispers of your competitor’s ruthlessness. Commissioned by other governments and underground crime lords they had something rumored as a White Wolf. A hitman that’s willing to clean up anything for their employers unbothered for taking the fall they were someone known to never cross paths with. Especially if you planned on surviving.
“Come on bait we’re at the nest.” Those words awaken you as your shaken from sleep. Still groggy you let him link arms with you again and lead you up the stairs. Looking around, you found that the entrance to this ‘nest’ was a random spot in the ocean nothing for the naked eye. If there was something you’d be none the wiser. Leaning over the edge as much as the Wolf would allow you looked for them. For any sign of them. Finding nothing.
“Where are they?”
The Wolf turns to you as if remembering that you weren’t actually a piece of bait. As if remembering it in real time he looks you up and down with a grody once over,”Went under apparently. Says that it’s here.”
You look to the deep dark depths again, finding nothing out of the ordinary to suggest otherwise,”So what does that mean for me?”
He holds you tighter, trapping you into the railing ahead, letting his other hand brush at the nape of your neck. Naturally you shiver eliciting a delighted giggle from the man, “Well I was going to shoot you and leave you with them but I think we can find a place for you at Future Co. Especially if you’re willing to work magic with the next batch of fishboys.”
The nonchalance at which he speaks makes your hands tremble. He doesn’t bother hiding his demented chuckling as he clasps his hands with your own. “So skittish, you musta remembered who I am eh?”
You don’t bother nodding, instead finding it very interesting to look at the unrippling water. Suddenly you feel the heat and minty freshness of his breath on your ear, “Then I hope this little bunny’s not going to try swimming, right?”
You nod and he laughs again.
There’s a wetness on your cheek dripping onto your coat.
Wiping it away it didn’t occur to you that you started to cry.
Hostage situations were really so much more stressful than anything you were dealing with.
“We’re here.”
The voice stops anything else the White Wolf might’ve said. Instead incurring a much wider smile from the man as he inspects the head he’s interacting with, “Where’s your buddy? The one that looks like you?”
You could hear the bored shrug before you looked. “He went home. Duh.”
The ‘matter of fact’ tone makes the man beside you frown. It makes you smile, you know that was Floyd.
“I see.” He tentatively looks to the water.”So it’s right below here? The whole nest?”
“Yup!”
“Wonderful.”
Without a moments notice the White Wolf reaches for the device on his hip before pressing a button. Suddenly the revving of multiple boats is heard from the horizon highly armed speeding boats arrive unceremoniously divers already dressed and armed with harpoons jumping into the water and sinking below. The White Wolf waves and turns tucking you along, aiming to go to the lower deck until Floyd speaks up,”Hey you made a deal with us.”
The White Wolf stops.
“I did….didn’t I?”
The question rings with so much attitude that you start to tremble again. Maneuvered back onto the deck of the ship you await to learn just what this deal was.
“Said I’d toss you your doctor didn’t I?”
Floyd doesn’t respond which isn’t a good sign. Even in the past times you spoke whenever you didn’t hear Floyd something was happening and usually it wasn’t good.
“Well here they are!”
You are in the air before you know it. Launched over the railing and slapping unceremoniously into the water. Naturally you start to tread half expecting Floyd to wrap around you, like in the past. When you were first establishing contact you kept reprimanding him for doing that exact thing.
“Awww why can’t I carry the little shrimp you’re just so tiny!”
You forget what you said. Something about the integrity of the experiment. In truth it just made you realize how small you were in comparison to them and it felt so belittling. But now you couldn’t hope for anything less than that.
But he wasn’t grabbing you and instead you weren’t treading you were flailing.
The shock of the depth impacting your swimming.
Not to mention your missing mer-friend.
With a tight grip on the back of your coat you felt yourself being pulled up out of the water. As you slip to the floor over the railing you quickly rise to see where Floyd was only to realize the disturbing reason why he didn’t come.
He writhing. Giant tail flinging about above and below the surface as he tightly held his hands over his ears. He was screaming before sending a scathing glare at you.
No not at you.
Behind you.
At the White Wolf holding a gun of a similar design as the General’s.
“Yeah now I upheld my part. Best get running fishboy the calvaries here!”
The ships all seem to beep with an activating hum, guns raisning and being directed towards the water. Recognizing the design you shout,”Floyd go, they’re going to do it to everyone!”
He does exactly that dipping below the surface.
The White Wolf laughs as he hooks the gun over his shoulders,”Wow got that one on a leash don’t ya doctor?”
You don’t respond already standing with your hands raised as you head below the deck, the routine well established and the other gun in his hand making the message loud and clear. Just because an unspeakable act was committed you couldn’t react, not yet.
So you sat obediently while the White Wolf received information. Casually communicating about how many they’d gather today and how many they tagged. Apparently they some how had access to all the information you collected during your time at the company. I more compelling question for how they got so much of your direct notes on their care. Your interest peaked as you casually peered over a technician’s shoulder,”are thosemy doodles?”
It was almost enough to bring a laugh as you watched these people hyper-analyze your chicken-scratch notes like they were ancient hieroglyphics. The technician looked at you like you’d spoiled a complicated movie. Before looking to the Wolf who did not look amused.
But what was it if not something to laugh at that they were having so much trouble. Relaxed you rose from your spot and took the binder evaluating your own vital notes to the ones they had made.
“Anything to say about that doctor?”
The Wolf’s words could’ve been interpreted as a challenge of authority but instead you took it as an invitation. Flipping through the binder you go back to the page that has your doodles,”These aren’t anything to write home about, genuinely my own interpretation of some possibly other types of merpeople but Hank in biology doesn’t think so.”
Did it feel wrong to kiss-up so quickly sure but experience with your past employers wasn’t much different. The only difference really being that they had guns on their belts. Until your patients can hopefully get away you vould at the very least ensure you’d be around for what ever came next.
The Wolf snickered to himself,”See they’re going to be a great with us.”
BAM into the side of the boat knocking you and everyone inside to the ground. When you open your eyes again there’s water inside the cabin, a few inches sloshing through your coat and face. Looking around you find that none of the technicians you were with were in the room except for one who’s cold to the touch.
You stand rubbing at the small throbbing lump on your forehead before succumbing to the listing of the boat; leaning into it’s side to the door to the deck. The sun is setting by now and with the waning visibility you spy what’s attacking the boat. Giant black and purple tentacles that are taking on and scooping and squeezing the agents one by one.
The screams filling the air are continuous the crunching of bones and falling bodies from impossibly high slapping fatalling into the water below. Its a massacre on teetering boats, two tentacles dedicated to the sinking of the abandoned vehicles.
“KEEP FIRING DON’T LET UP!”
It’s the White Wolf. No longer on the original yacht but on a blow up speed boat with brightlights he leads the charge on agents in similar rides. Still holding the sound guns no longer has slicked hair and has abandoned his suit for the shirt beneath it. Clutching your ears the sound of bullets firing along with the sound weapon it’s all so overwhelming. Overwhelming enough to fall to the railing as the boat lurches again. Hands wet and slipping you find yourself fighting gravity as the boat tilts into the water. Rain or water dripping from the tentacles you can’t tell falling on your face and blinding your vision.
Blinking the water out of your eyes to the best of your abilities you try your best to climb higher. Though you’re met with a terrible realization as your arms fail you, your hands slipping from their initial grip.
“Ack!”
You feel something pinch in your shoulder. Something loosens and you can’t push past the pain fast enough to grab the railing; tumbling to the sinking side of the ship you were on. You don’t bother hiding your screams certain that you would not be heard by the battling parties. Splashing into the water you do your best to swim despite your arm. Sparing a glance at the White Wolf and the majority of the tentacles your only goal is to get away, searching among the sinking wreckage for something to help you float.
“I got them!”
Like an attack personalized for you, you are grabbed by the arm you’re certain has dislocated. Casually hoisted into the belly of one of the speed boats, you don’t get a chance to look up until the nozzle of a gun is on your cheek. Forcefully pushing into your teeth you hardly lift your head to look at the tentacles slowing their attacks. Raising as if on command a gigantic vibration shakes all the boats. A terrible hum emanating from the sea and making everyone pause.
“Sir look!”
An agent point to an illuminated spot, the water bubbling with waves that foretell something large coming to the surface. The nozzle on your cheek lessens as the one holding it strays from you staring at what’s come to the surface.
It’s Azul.
10 times greater than the already large octopus merman. Alight with silver eyes and everything you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so big as he rises out the water with a vicious cackle.
“AWWW I HAVE MY HANDS UP, DON’T DO ANYTHING BAD!”
The sadistic smile he makes while casually raising his humongous hands, the mocking in his tone oozing with a terrible confidence. Being addressed by the titan-like merman the agent above you recenters his aim back into your head.
“D-don’t do anything or I’ll shoot—”
Before he can finish annunciating his threat, the violent tearing of the boat below you, has him falling through. Not alone and pulled under by the familiarly darkened eel wrapping around his body, you are left trying to piece together just who you saw. But with half the boat missing the rest quickly deflating you find yourself slipping to the darkened murkiness of the waters.
Still in pain you tread, the same mission as before booming in your head something compels you to look back at the White Wolf. In a different position and a gun aimed he’s not pointing it at the enlarged Azul, he’s pointing at you. Planning to silently off you before the massive monster notices.
PTOO!
It’s funny now that you think about it. That a bullet travels so quickly with such force that it’ll make it’s mark. Funny that water lessens the blow and still you feel the warmth leaving your body like nothing you ever experienced.
Less focused on fighting you hold just below your chest, where the bullet must be. Deliriously choosing to stop the most worrisome for a dying scientist. You can’t hear like you used to and your eyelids have never felt heavier. Azul’s face perfectly comes into your vision, sad and full of tears you wish you could comfort him.
With a passing thought, you promise to comfort him after your nap.
A long healthy nap.
When you awoke the first thing you gather is the ache below your chest. Your hands naturally running your hand over the throbbing space to find bandages. Gauze wrapped around your torso it’s tightly wound, almost suffocating if it weren’t for what must’ve been pulled out of you.
Pulled out…?
Pulled out.
Pulled—-Oh my stars, you were shot.
Sitting up with great unease you find yourself on a soft mattress, scooching to the head rest you finally take a look around. Taking in what looks like some tropical paradise with walls made of bamboo and a roof made of wood and palms.
“Yah~the shrimps awake!”
Heavy and warm you are squashed into the bed under the weight of the man with a familiar black streak on his right side. Squeezed in a hug much too tight for someone in pain you squeak out,”Help…me Azz. Please!”
The palms of the door way rustle with the entrance of pale guy wearing a fitting pair of glasses. The same beauty mark and violet curls with an anxious look on his face.
“Floyd do not open those stitches I swear to Ursula.”
The giant on top of you sighs before twisting himself around you, replacing the bed beneath you as he holds you like a pouty kid with a stuffed bear. His squeezing lessens but you feel a sly finger poke into your banaged side.
An unadulterated giggle as you let out a shocked hiss.
The man who threatens him with a look before calling out through the hanging palms he entered through. Moving into make space for the identical giant with sharp teeth, the only difference being that closed smile and the black streak hanging from the right.
“Wait,” the broken pieces of your memory were coming together as you really examined the faces of the men around you.
“You’re Jade…”
“Glad to see you remember that at least.”
“And you’ve got to be Azul…?”
“I shouldn’t be too offended I looked very different the last time you saw me.”
“Then you’ve got to be Floyd–Ack!”
“Is that even a question!”
Taking a lookat their lower halves you can’t ignore the bigger issue at play here. Other than their changed appearances.
“Wait you guys all have legs…how did that happen?”
Without an ounce of concern a look is shared between them as if you’d cracked the most hilarious joke. Instead of tails there are legs dressed in capri shorts that match the walls.
Jade stalks to a rudimentary looking oven where a pot of water boiled,”There were things even you don’t know about us doctor.”
He was making tea which seemed to fit, the quieter twin.Speaking of the man behind you nuzzles into your head, loudly sniffing at your head. Physically too weak to pull away you have no choice but to carefully accept a thermos of tea. When it was cool enough you addressed them again, considering the other two were simply staring at you like they were waiting for something specific.
You figured you’d lighten the mood, although you weren’t quite figuring out what’s happened. “Not to complain but this is a very tropical scene for some piping hot tea, is this what you guys usually prefer?”
Jade’s smile never lessened as you took another sip,”No but it’s best for you. Your body needs heat in order to fight off infection.”
You knew that. Heck knowing the ins and outs of the human body were a given for your profession. What was most interesting was that they seemed to be enjoying this reversal of roles.
“Okay but what happened? How did I get here? I get the feeling something insane has happened and no one’s talking about it.”
Azul steps forward with a push of his glass,”I’ll take that one. Obviously those activists weren’t all they were appearing to be,”the memory and a smidge of guilt for being so easily fooled and putting them in danger. Their reactions to the sound weapons burned into your memory as the tragedies of this whole ordeal.
“So we took the liberty of cleaning everything up.”
The squint in your brows was instant, “Cleaning up? What did you have to clean up?”
Azul dramatically sighs, a hand curling out with a faux grace. “Who else do you think could take down THE White Wolf?”
The name makes your eyes widen,”How do you–?”
Jade and Floyd laugh simultaneously. The vibrations against your back prove how hilarious your curiosity seems to be.
“Ah you’re very cute, when you’re being stupid.”
That felt great. Not expecting much else from Floyd as he goes for another deep sniff you turn to Jade.
“Apologies, your cluelessness is endearing. You were not the only one listening to rumors back in that place.”
That place. The disdain weaved so casually into conversation, by the always-composed Jade, just hammers the truth deeply into your heart. That you were glad they were finally free but to have them standing before you—toes in the sand—has the largest question to ask.
“Why didn’t you change before? Into this.” You gesture to their lower halves.
They all turn to look at you as if you held the answer all along. But as they momentarily stop to stare and smile eerily.
Azul speaks with a soft look, affection clear as day, “We were looking for something.that could only be found in our true forms.”
You open your mouth to ask: did you find it? But before you speak in unison they reply to you.
“We did.”
Ignoring their synchronicity you don’t attempt to dwell on it. Having known them for as long as you have you have an inkling on the one thing they could be in absolute agreement with.
“Oh good!”
Floyd lowers his head onto your shoulder, “You were an especially big help with that.”
Laying it on thick, doesn’t make the little pit in your stomach shrink any less. Instead you figured it’d be best to let this play out.
“Glad I could be so helpful. So what now?”
The three of them snicker and you can only be grateful they’re so fond of you.
This has been the worst of my 99 problems this month.
I really really hoped you enjoyed this stupid little brainworm.
🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.
The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)
I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.
How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].
I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.
"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."
Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.
(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)
Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:
It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.
C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.
Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.
DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.
(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)
Regarding the whole Expedition 33 and GenAI assets debacle, one thing troubles me: where does one draw the line on how AI is used while developing a game (or any software, for that matter)?
Okay, no generated "front-end" assets, like text, music, voice or art, but how much further do we go? Does LLM-generated code count as "developed with AI"? Is it any amount of code, even if only one line, or substantial parts of the final product? Does that apply to the supporting documentation as well? If we want to be very technical, even auto-complete, a function that IDEs* have had for more than a decade, is "generative AI"; same thing with comments generated automatically by the software (the old ones, which only listed the variables used in a function and their type, not the new comments that "interpret" what's actually happening in the code).
Does this sound like what-aboutism? Probably. All I'm trying to say is, if people are going to use a binary classification of AI/Not-AI, like Steam started doing, there needs to be a very, very clear definition of what AI is in this context.
* for any readers who don't know, IDE stands for Integrated Development Environment and is a specialized software that, at its most basic, allows the writing and running of code. Most modern IDEs have many extra functionalities, including auto-complete and -correct, integration with cloud, and the dreaded LLM GenAI.
It’s a good question, and one with quite a long answer and I’m on holiday so have all the time in the world. Apologies in advance but also ‘Look what you made me do’.
Edit after I wrote all this: I’ve tried to answer your question in the first few paragraphs but naturally I’ve went off on one. Hopefully it provides a bit of context if you fancy a longer read. It looks more at the different critiques of GenAI.
To start I want to say I do separate the likes of AI/ML for medical research and broader scientific endeavours from the likes of commercial products like Midjourney and Sora.
I also believe we should differentiate between Machine Learning and Generative AI. An IDE like Visual Studio using the knowledge built over decades of programming to auto-complete the structure of the code is different from asking the myriad of hacky ‘website builder’ GenAI tools to build you a site similar to Netflix.
A lot of those website builders generate initially visually pleasing front-ends and not much else.
From the computer scientist sitting next to me - “There’s only so many ways to write code, you need to work within the bounds of the language so when programming it’s much easier to have something like autocomplete. But even then if you’re writing an if statement and you hit TAB to autocomplete it won’t insert your variable - it’s just giving you the scaffolding to do what you need to do. I wouldn’t say that’s an artificial intelligence.”
I’m hard-pressed to define auto-complete in something like Visual Studio as GenAI.
Another thing worth flagging early is that it doesn’t help that, given the amount of investment these products, GenAI has become the buzzword of the day. It’s the next ‘cloud/big data’.
Older products and tools have found any excuse to either implement some sort of AI function, or brand themselves as an AI tool, to maintain relevance. One such thing is Text-to-Speech which, as far as I’m aware, in some instances use generative AI for more ‘natural’ speech (more on that in a bit) but in other instances don’t.
That all being said one example often thrown up as the best case use of AI is when researches used it to catch breast cancer something like 4 years before it developed.
Something I think we can all agree is an excellent use of AI.
However there’s considerable ethical, environmental and to be honest commercial/quality concerns when it comes to generative AI and I’ll try and delve into them now. These aren’t necessarily separate concerns as there’s crossover between each of them.
BUT BEFORE THAT - A LITTLE BIT ABOUT STEAM
Steam does not display the various check boxes on the store page, but on the Steamworks backend during the content survey it asks you a few questions. First it asks you to confirm whether or not generative AI is used at all whether that’s in the game itself, the store page, and in any Steam community assets or marketing materials.
Checking Yes to this opens up another section which asks you to state whether the GenAI is pre-rendered or whether it’s live-generated during gameplay. It also gives you the Generative AI disclaimer to fill in about your use of AI in the game. There’s no guidelines or prompts for what can be written in there so whether in-game is specifically referring to art assets, text or voices, or whether it includes the underlying code isn’t specified.
Some clarity from Steam on this would be helpful, but I imagine they’d then have to define what they mean. Being in the industry, I feel like the they’re more likely to define it as any sort of visual/audio assets as opposed to code.
I would argue if GenAI was used at any point in the development pipeline for assets then studios should be checking that Yes box and detailing out what that means.
And here’s what I think are the different prongs of the GenAI discussion.
I’ll start with commercial - Does Generative AI help produce a better quality product cheaper and faster?
I’m not convinced it does. GenAI frequently hallucinates information in the creation of documentation and visual assets.
In games, I find it pretty easy to tell when a game has used AI for art assets. Some demos we played during next fest hadn’t declared anything on their steam page but had posters/newspapers in-game with the classic mess of letters. There’s a certain ‘uncanny valley’ when seeing AI assets in a game, it looks and feels cheap in a way that doesn’t benefit consumers.
Even popular games like ARC Raiders which uses GenAI for its voiceovers and voice acting has players noting that the generated voices sound stunted.
The retort to that is that the developers, Embark, paid voice actors to come in and train their AI and they also apparently receive royalties, but it begs the question - Why not pay them for the actual voice lines, get better quality takes, and pay them royalties on top of that?
Outside the games industry, Deloitte have been caught using GenAI to produce reports for the Australian government that contained inaccurate information. The AI hallucinated the sources - citing academic papers that didn’t exist, and fabricating a quote from a federal judge.
Arguably that’s a pretty big scandal, that paper could be used to inform government policy on fabricated information. Deloitte were paid over $250,000 to produce the report, and it appears they took what was produced by GenAI as gospel and had no quality control.
When it comes to programming, there’s equal concerns about quality. I’m not a programmer but have discussed this at length with programming friends (and I know @tgraywrites as fought his own battles with it) what tends to be happening in organisations is that CEOs or senior management want to be seen as having implemented AI, so they buy seats for Microsoft’s Co-Pilot and then push ‘AI training’ to teams on how to use it.
From working in tech before joining games, I know that it’s a bit of a red flag if a programmer has simply battered out code all day. It’s a creative process, and a lot of programming (and creativity in general) is being comfortable sitting with a problem and working it out.
Programmers gain experience by investigating what has went wrong with their code, or by finding ways around the blockers they have. The issue with AI produced code is that it’s three-fold:
It often produces incorrect code which takes longer to correct
It robs programmers, particularly junior developers, of the experience of sitting and working through the issue
It allows senior management to replace staff in a way that claims efficiency (most likely financial) while actually spreading more work to a smaller team
Applied to any industry, that’s not great. For games, the past few years saw massive investment during the pandemic lockdowns, over expansion, and then a drop in investment leading to mass layoffs.
It’s quite common to see advocates of AI compare it to the steam engine or to computer-aided design (CAD) software which resulted in jobs being lost. But with that, there was also a massive increase in efficiency. Something that isn’t being delivered by Generative AI.
Looking at the original quote from the CEO of Larian, the tech itself hasn’t led to big gains in efficiency.
The world seems to be full of organisations that are trying to make GenAI work in the hope they’ll ’crack the code’ and have a massive advantage over their competitors. I am not yet convinced those efficiencies exist.
Typing this on my phone so please rest here for a second, weary traveller
Next up - Is Generative AI ethical?
No.
Next up - Is Generative AI good for the environment?
Also no.
Half-joking with the bluntness of both of those answers. It’s widely known that publicly commercial generative AI products have been trained by scraping the creative work of hundreds of thousands of artist and authors without consent or even credit.
For me, this is probably my biggest issue with games using it for visual assets. Taking this example from a non-GenAI scandal where Bungie stole work from an artist for their upcoming game, Marathon. Generative AI is that on steroids, with enough plausible deniability to say that no one specific artist made it - it’s just an amalgamation of stolen work.
This is where the problem with GenAI earlier in the development process comes up. If GenAI isn’t in the final product, but is being used to generate references for concept artists, that’s still using GenAI in your development.
And maybe it’s just me, but I really don’t think GenAI for concept art references is pushing any sort of big efficiency gains.
Like here’s a few references I took while on a walk for a game I want to make in the future. Even with limited photography skills, I’ve captured the bits I need to capture, and it’s real! (although Callendar Square is no longer real, good riddance to that horrible building)
Nice segue into the environmental impact of AI which I feel often gets compartmentalised into ‘the eco-warrior argument’ but absolutely can’t be viewed in isolation from the another issue - Is the infrastructure to support GenAI benefiting the wider population?
Data Centres are an ecological nightmare. Their electricity consumption is spiking prices for anyone living locally.
Data centres were billed as a boon to Virginia’s economy. Now, residents are concerned about their impact on real estate and electricity cos
The ‘jobs boom’ in the BBC article above is typical media both-sides-ing. is built around the construction of data centres, not the jobs when they are operational.
Now it is absolutely worth clarifying that data centres are not being built solely for Generative AI, that’s not how data centres work. But GenAI’s usage is increasing the demand for more data centres.
On top of the downsides for those living locally to data centres, the amount of water these buildings consume to stay cool is vast.
And despite water being one of our most valuable resources, it still feels like it’s being waved off as not a big issue. But when you put it in context of what is being achieved by mass consumption GenAI - there’s not any evidence of huge efficiencies being gained to deliver better quality and cheaper services for people.
If you got this far, thanks for reading to the end and hope I was able to answer the question.
[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.
I didn't notice this video (a short film about the preference towards sons over daughters in rural Fujian, i.e. giving daughters disdainful names, denying them schooling, and forcing marriages) was made with AI until like a minute in. Apparently AI can generate Hokkien now (the video uses both accented Mandarin and Hokkien). It's also pretty consistent between shots, although I spotted some inconsistencies. The fact that it was AI was a little unexpected to me, probably because in the West, the type of person who would create this type of short film would also never use AI for it. Until now, the few AI videos I saw on Douyin were mostly meme-y videos or absurd, overly dramatic short dramas.
AI videos are labelled on Douyin, but I still haven't made a habit of checking the label immediately, so I usually only see the label after I've already noticed an AI quality to the video, although I've been tricked before (I think it was a parrot video). My point of reference for AI videos is those Youtube ads for AI vertical short dramas, though, so I'm not all that great at spotting them.
AI is viewed much more positively in China (84% of Chinese respondents agreed with "Products and services using artificial intelligence make me excited" in 2025), and in some polls, China views AI the most positively/least negatively out of all countries polled. Compare this to the West, where 30-40% of Europe and the anglosphere view AI positively. This could be partly because physical labour is still a large portion of China's workforce, or that Doubao (China's most popular AI assistant) is kinda dumb (from what I've heard), so it's less of a threat, but that's speculation. I don't live in China, so I can't say how it is IRL, but that number is definitely reflected on Douyin.
For instance, people candidly talk about their use of Doubao for anything and everything, and often use it to generate images to post in Douyin comments. People commenting under AI videos also pretty much only do so to express shock at the capabilities of AI, and I see pretty much no pushback on the actual use of AI. AI does get brought up a lot under non-AI videos, though, mostly "I can't believe it's not AI!" and the like. One comment I see a lot under process videos is: "In a time when AI is popular, there are still older generations that persevere in making things by hand."
Whenever I do see people concerned about AI, their concerns are pretty much limited to employment, the uncanniness of AI-generated content, and that the ease of generating AI content squeezes out real creators. On the other hand, comments under the video linked above talk about how OP is a talented director (prompting the AI), that the common people creating short films about social issues like this is what AI should be used for, and that "this is what high quality looks like".
I guess I don't really have an actual point, just musing on the difference between attitudes. Obviously I'm not going to post anything AI (unless it's by mistake), so this kind of lets you all get an idea of what I'm wading through here.
