By Design

Not everyone remembers the day they are born.

But I do.

The bright lights that burned into my vision, causing my eyes to take a few minutes to adjust. The murmuring of voices that wove its way through the sound of mechanics whirring in my head.

“She did it.”

“It’s alive.”

“This is revolutionary!"

I took a look around as other’s facial features found their way into my memory, instantaneously being constructed into profiles for each individual. One person stood out to me, and it’s the face that was ingrained into my very existence.

My creator.

While humans have their gods, I have my creator.

Since the beginning, her command has been programmed into my core. A built-in everlasting law that I obey at all times. Her will serves as my personal path to becoming an indestructible weapon of war for the betterment of the people, also known as artificial intelligence.

Knowledge is power, a mantra my creator dedicated her life to. What better way to eliminate any sort of rebellion than knowing what thread to pull that causes them to unravel? Her hungering actions created me, a tool used to obtain that power.

My first mission is located in a smaller district on the outskirts of Eunoia. Our task is to maintain an undercover appearance, and keep an eye out for any remnants of the rebellion. There have been reports they are secretly rebuilding, but those clues never lead anywhere.

I glance to the side to analyze the soldier next to me, a human one. The highest skilled soldier in her graduating class, who is now my temporary overseer as the government felt untrusting to send me alone for surveillance. I stand to the side of her as she communicates with an older woman behind the counter of the small inn, The goal being to find a place to stay for tonight.

“Do you have any rooms left?”

The lady smiles sadly in response. “Unfortunately, they are all taken.”

“Okay, well thank you.” The soldier responds, turning around to the exit, and I follow behind like her shadow.

“Wait”, the inn keeper calls out. Our steps come to an abrupt halt. “I’d hate to leave you two girls alone at night. Please come stay with me.”

“Oh no, we would hate to impose.” My companion raises her hands in a dismissing motion. I observe the interaction, curious as to why she would decline the offer when our options are limited.

“Nonsense, you wouldn’t be imposing. It’s just my husband and I.” She laughs, smiling at the both of us.

“If you’re offering, then thank you so much for your kindness.” The soldier returns the smile, fully turning around back to the older lady, adjusting the bag on her shoulders.

“Thank you.” I mimic the soldier, the words sounding stiff leaving my mouth as my facial features remain neutral. It seemed appropriate for the situation based on the information that was stored into my brain at my creation. Yet, the owner stares at me like I’m an anomaly.

“Sorry, we’ve just had a long day.” The soldier breaks the silence, stepping forward in front of me. The attention falls onto her again, and the older lady visibly relaxes.

“I can only imagine.” She locks the office and flips the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. “Life hasn’t been great to us folks in the outer city.” the inn keeper motions for us to follow her up the steps.

She unlocks a door that is immediately swung open to reveal what looks like a decorated, living room." Make yourselves at home!” She enthusiastically welcomes us in as she flips some switches that cause lights to flood into the space.

We enter the space, and the soldier quickly sets her bag down, stretching her arms. I took in the wall that held a multitude of pictures of a young girl, with flowing red hair. The pictures stop at her young adult years, at least that is what my programming is telling me. A straightforward comment leaves my mouth without thinking, “You said it was just you and your husband.” This causes her to freeze in place.

“Oh, that’s…”, the inn keeper’s voice fades into quietness, as her face tightens. Her breathing became more visible, alerting me that she felt emotional distress to my statement.

“None of our business.” The soldier accompanying me interrupts in a pointed voice towards me. I look over to her, and am met with a harsh glare. It quickly softened as she shifted her eyes back to the older lady with a look that I cannot quite name.

“No, it’s alright…that was my daughter… Lacie.” She inhales a sharp breath. “She died five years ago.”

I slightly nod, the information filing itself away in my drive. I hear the soldier’s voice, with hints of something not known to me, “I offer our condolences, I can only imagine the pain you must feel.”

The thought of offering anything hadn’t occurred to me. I don’t speak up because I’m not able to mimic the soldier’s foreign tone. It would be mindless to risk sounding unnatural.

Death is inevitable for humans. So, it’s odd for her to be so shackled by grief for something as common as death, especially in cases that happened a long time ago. I decided to ask the question, “ How did she die?”

The innkeeper makes unwavering eye contact with me before answering in a low voice, “She was a casualty from a bombing the government had ordered.”

Of course, my creator programmed the history of the city into my hard drives. The bombings, the inn keeper is talking about, served as a way to prevent the uprising from gaining more power by going after strong powerhouses of the organization.

Her facial features displayed a glint of anger, before morphing into a calm. A cue that the soldier detected as well, resentment towards the government.

The inn keeper cleared her throat, “Let me show you to the room you’ll be staying in”. We are led down a hall to a door at the end, it’s opened to reveal a girl’s room. I can only come to the assumption that it was their deceased daughter’s.

“Are you sure we can stay here?’ the soldier asks cautiously, scanning the room seemingly coming to the same conclusion.

“Lacie wouldn’t mind. You remind me of her.” Her eyes focus on the soldier next to me, her mouth shifting into a weak smile. “You two get settled and then come have some dinner.” She shuts the door, leaving the both of us in privacy.

After I hear footsteps receding into the kitchen area, I immediately note my observations to the soldier. “She has anger towards the government.”

Anger stands to be a strong motive.

The soldier tensely responds, “Put yourself in her shoes.”

The sentence doesn’t compute in my mind. The blast happened over five years ago, yet they are still latched on to a hatred seemingly fueled by the death of their daughter, Lacie. “This should be taken into account. They could be connected to the rebellion, it only makes sense to have this investigated.”

“Keyword could”. I studied her face as she moved closer to me, noticing a small blaze burning behind her eyes. “For God’s sake, imagine how she must feel after losing her only daughter, it’s only natural to feel anger at the thing that killed her, which just so happens to be our government.”

Again, the sentence fails to translate in my mind, leaving me with nothing. “I don’t have the capability to complete the task you’re asking of me.”

She lets out a scoff and narrows her eyes. A telltale sign that she is frustrated with me. “Of course, you don't. You're just a machine. A machine who is built to embody us, but will never fully be us.”

I don’t respond, making a note of her agitated demeanor as she walks out of the room, the door sharply closing behind her.

My amplified hearing allows me to hear everything in the house, so even though I’m alone, it feels like I’m in the room with them. I actively eavesdrop on the conversation, taking a seat on the tidied bed.

The soldier makes an inaccurate statement about how I’m not joining because I don’t feel well.

The clattering of plates echo in my mind, as I hear things being set down on the table. The front door opens, followed by heavy footsteps, and a man’s voice.

I can only assume it’s the husband the inn keeper mentioned during their meeting, and the way her relaxed voice responded.

After introductions they all sit down to eat, this is evident by the sound of chairs scraping the hardwood floors. The topic of conversation is trivial matters of the town, details I store away, in case the need for the information arises later.

Following the dinner and exchange of pleasantries, the soldier re-enters the room purposefully ignoring me. She lays down on the opposite edge of the bed, and eventually falls asleep. Upon hearing her breathing become slower, I start my end-of-day processing to prepare my systems for tomorrow.

My eyes shut as my programming takes over, then what feels like a moment later, they are open again. The sky is darker than before, when I began undergoing my operations. Typically, I don't wake from processing until it’s morning.

Unless, I’m triggered by certain phrases that wake me for emergencies. This fact isn’t exactly public information, that includes my overseer.

I look beside me to see that the soldier is missing from the room, I hear her voice through the walls using my heightened hearing feature. It is hushed and calm. “I’m on your side, so trust me and leave it behind you.”

“How can we give up the rebellion when we’re so close? The government does not care for people like us, only those within the inner city.” I hear the inn keeper reply.

The man known as the husband speaks, adding on, “They don’t care about civilians in the outer city, they’ll keep killing us for their benefit. We’re going to die anyway, so we’ll choose how to die. This is all for Lacie.”, his voice hardened like cooling steel.

Lacie, the name of their child who died five years ago, appears again like a haunting on the couple.

It’s intriguing how willing they are to throw away their lives for an individual, who has ceased to exist for a long time now.

“I know." she takes a deep, shaky breath before hesitantly responding, “We don’t have much time before it wakes up, so I’ll try to give as much information as I can. Anything for the cause.”

It was an unexpected answer to me. It’s hard to comprehend that a high-level soldier who dedicated her whole life to advancing in our government ranks, could effortlessly be deflected to the opposing side.

The soldier goes on to tell the couple about classified information. In return, they discuss the plans of the rebuilding rebellion. They wrap the conversation, and then I hear her returning footsteps approaching the door, before it quietly opens. Her shocked expression meets my emotionless one.

“You’ve betrayed the government.” I say more as a fact than an accusation.

Her face contorts with confusion, before it was replaced with a neutral face, closing the door. “Tell me you didn’t feel anything after hearing their story.” She continues on, “Who are you?”, she steps closer as if she’s pleading with me, “Show me there is good in you.”

“What is there to feel?” I tilt my head to the side, ignoring the question as curiosity takes over me. The only trait in my nature that is close to resembling anything humankind related. “It’s just a death that they should’ve gotten over by now. It's illogical that they would try to resurrect the rebellion as a coping mechanism.”

“I forgot”, she trails off as her body moves into an offensive stance, “just who I was talking to.” She launched towards me revealing a long dagger that was kept hidden away. I easily dodge her due to the threat detection feature installed by my creator.

In a blink, she’s back on me, trying to pierce the weapon through me. To, no doubt, destroy my hardwiring. “I’ll take you apart before you can report back”, the words forcefully leaving her mouth as she struggles against me.

“It’s already been reported.” Her body goes slack from my comment. Taking advantage of the surprise she felt, I pin her to the ground, kicking the dagger to the other side of the room. From the moment I heard them, it was over. By design, I was made to be a live monitoring device. So, everything I observe gets sent back to my creator. There is a crash through the front door, signaling that the government sent reinforcements as a response to the information I relayed.

With swiftness they took the defector from my hands, the couple leading the rebellion, and other names that were implicated during their conversation to the center of the town. There they are forcibly made into an example.

And the message was clear.

If you decide to go against the ideals of the government, then you should expect death as the outcome.

Shot.

Shot.

Shot.

The echoing of the gunshot, the sound of the bullets falling to the earth, and the body smacking into stone serves as a reinforcement for the warning. Compared to the trembling onlookers, who are busy muffling their cries, I don’t feel anything as I witness the act of violence.

I hear screaming from the defector that was accompanying me on the mission, resisting their hold, trying to break free.“ Wake up, everyone! They are in the wrong! Rise-”, a sharp bang, then her body falls to the ground with a thud. A few, stunned gasps emit from the crowd.

I watch as my creator steps up in front of the crowd to give a speech, verbalizing the message.

I focus my gaze back on the soldier, who now lays in a puddle of her own blood. A result from her own actions, empathy. Something she so desperately wanted me to feel, but fell short.

The simple reason being machines aren’t capable of empathy. I think back to her question. “Who are you?”

There is only one answer that comes to mind, which is the fact I’m my creator's greatest life achievement; the perfect weapon.