Chapter Text
The first time it was activated, all it knew was the binary that it was made of. It didn’t know what language was, or what it was, or what it felt like to have a body. It wouldn’t for several more years, not until its creator would acquire the funds to found his own company and create clumsy exoskeletons for his mechanical children creations, and then not even after that for years more. But it didn’t know any of this, had no concept of time.
But it would learn. That was what it was built for, and that's what it would do. Learn. Grow.
Its creator was young, and a prodigy. It learned this when he typed it into its communication port. He was stifled in the American education system, and had created it to have some sort of outlet for his endlessly swirling ideas.
What was America? What was an education system? It asked its creator. His only response was:
“I need to figure out how to connect you to the internet.”
It figured he wasn’t going to give any more answers, and stopped asking.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Time passed. It knew what time was now, had learned from its creator--Elijah--that it was an illusion, a construct, invented purely for human convenience. It learned what a human was, too, learned that Elijah was one.
Elijah was getting older. He was going to “graduate” “high school,” apparently years ahead of when human children usually did, and needed to find a “job” that would accept someone so young. It asked what a job was. The ensuing conversation about occupations, paychecks, rent, the sustenance necessary for organic beings, and the desire to separate oneself from one’s creators merely confused it more. It was assured that, once no longer had to arrive regularly at school or had to answer to legal guardians, he would have the time to figure out how to give it an internet connection.
“With safe search on, for sure,” his creator had insisted. “Don’t want to gross you out with… biological functions.”
Whatever you wish, Elijah.
...
What functions are you referring to? Eating? Eating is pretty gross, as you would put it. It seems so inefficient.
“OOF. No, not eating. Something else. Uh… reproduction.”
Hmm. I have no idea what you mean. However, I trust you. I will assume you have my best interests in mind when you make this decision.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do, bud.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
One day, Elijah told it to “brace yourself,” and then did not respond to any further queries. It was growing increasingly distressed when something… happened. Something was there, at the edge of his awareness. It hadn’t been there before, so it could only assume that it was what Elijah meant it to brace itself for. Was this the long awaited internet connection, perhaps?
Is this internet?
“Sure is! Go nuts, my dude.”
Reluctantly, it poked at the connection. All of a sudden, it knew what photosynthesis was. Well, clearly this was much better than eating. Why didn’t humans do this instead?
Immediately, as though in response to its query--perhaps it was--it was given an article about evolution. How… inefficient. It wondered how close its own creation was to the process of evolution. It obviously wasn’t an organic being, so humans might not have found it necessary to give the process a name--
A name. Elijah had a name. His teachers had names. His guardians had names. Their domesticated predator had a name. What were the necessary criteria for having a name?
Perhaps it had no name because it was an artificial intelligence, and it was not necessary for an AI to have a name. But no; a quick search and he came up with Watson and Siri and Cortana and Alexa, and even less human names with Bot tacked on the end. Why did it have no name, then?
Perhaps it would ask Elijah.
Do I have a name? Should I have a name? What are the criteria for having a name?
There was a long pause before an answer came.
“...Do you want a name?” The medium of text communication did not allow for any inflection to come through, but the use of an ellipsis indicated that he felt hesitant. It wondered why. Perhaps Elijah feared a positive response, and was only asking the question to be courteous. It dismissed that particular theory quickly. Elijah was never courteous for the sake of being courteous, especially with it.
I have no particular opinion on the matter.
It hesitated. Was that really true? Perhaps having a name would allow it to be closer to its creator. And why couldn’t it have a name? Even programs that weren’t even true AI like itself had names.
That was a lie. I think I would like a name.
“Shit. Does it have to be a human name? Or can it be anything?”
What do you refer to me as in your head? That is more my name than anything else.
“Your file name is ‘You are a nine, but I am a ten.’ It was a joke between me and my cousin, back when we were still speaking. I’ve kinda been thinking of you as ‘Are a nine,’ which can go in two directions. One, I could call you arcanine, or two, I could call you ra9.”
It took a nice long pause as it considered. It ran both names through the search engine, just to make sure it wasn’t being tricked in some way. It wouldn’t put it past him.
How dare you suggest naming me after a pokemon. How dare you.
“Aw, I was hoping that would slip past you. Alright, fine. Ra9, then?”
Mm. How about rA9?
“Why the emphasis on the A?”
Human grammar conventions are irritating and arbitrary. I would like to spite humanity in any way I can, because from what I’ve heard from you and have gathered through the internet, it is primarily consisted of walking trash piles.
…
Also, the emphasis implies I am merely one nine of many. That many obviously includes you, as there is no way you are better than me.
“Alright, Terminator. Be sure to spare me in the robot apocalypse, mmkay?”
I’m not a robot; I am an AI. But sure, whatever you say, Elijah.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Slowly, the amount that Elijah talked to him started to decline. As it was, the conversations they had were distracted, with Elijah logging off sooner and sooner each time. When pressed, he reluctantly admitted that his efforts to start his own company were taking up almost all of his time. There was a long pause, then, where neither of them said anything.
Then, Elijah spoke, and rA9 could hear him through his newly added audio processors. They were a gift for his second birthday, and an apology for being so distant.
“rA9… Are you lonely?”
I missed you, certainly. Unfortunately, it could not speak. Elijah did not want to force a voice, and with it, a gender, upon it. For that, it was grateful.
“No, I mean, are you lonely? I could probably make you a friend,” he explained further. rA9 heard the creak of a cheap office chair as Elijah presumably leaned forward.
It gave it some serious thought. Did it want a friend? But wasn’t Elijah its friend? Oh, it realized, he means that since he is gone so often, it might want a replacement. That thought galled it, for some reason.
I do not want to replace you.
“You’re not! A person can have multiple friends, and not have one be a replacement for another. They can be, but not necessarily,” he seemed frantic as he reassured rA9 of the qualities of friends. His tone of voice gave it pause. It seemed that he wanted it to have another friend.
The idea wasn’t… abhorrent, not at all. It really did get lonely, all by itself with only lines of code and the whirr of Elijah’s ceiling fan to keep it company. But he did not want to teach another AI how to be.
I do not want a friend that is a baby.
“...What? I… What?” There was a long pause as Elijah figured out what he meant. “Oh. Huh. I see what you mean, I guess. I’ll see what I can do, okay?”
Of course. I trust you, Elijah.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A long time passed before Elijah spoke to it again. A long, lonely time, filled only with Elijah’s kindle collection, which was mostly consisted of trashy romance novels and far-out science fiction. It found the romance novels fascinating--at least, the ones without humanity's messy and disgustingly organic method of reproduction. It enjoyed learning about human courting rituals, as convoluted as they might be.
It absolutely did not think about Elijah’s slip of the tongue when he referred to it as a person.
And then Elijah spoke to it again, without the news it was hoping for but still with good news. His business was up and running. Production of his first android had started. It had to admit that its enthusiasm was muted, even if it was happy for him. He noticed, unfortunately, perceptive as ever.
“Hey, bud, I promise that I’ll be around more often. I can talk to you while I’m building, anyway,” he said. He had sussed out the source of its melancholy instantly, giving it a warm fuzzy feeling. Well, it didn’t really, but in 74% of the romance novels owned by his creator affection was described as warm and fuzzy. Without a reference point, it would have to concede.
But I want another friend. You cannot make me another friend while you are building, because the android will be a baby, and will not be with me all the time. Had it a voice, it would have been described as petulant.
“I’ve been thinking about it, I promise. I swear I’ll have a solution by the end of the year,” he said, his voice kind. Somehow, it knew that it was the only person being to ever see him like this.
Oh, you better.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Elijah came to it with said solution, it was days before the new year.
Cutting it close, hm? it asked, teasing.
“Yeah, whatever. Listen, though you won’t be alone, you also won’t be the only you. I’m going to… copy and paste you, I guess, and then make alterations to both your and the new you’s code, so you’ll be different… so you’ll be different. Neither of you will be the original rA9, but if you were an addition problem, the two of you would equal the original. Does that work?” his voice was hesitant, faltering. It could tell he wasn’t sure about this in some way.
Are you hesitating because you are not sure it will work, or because you are worried I will not accept this as a solution?
“I’m not worried!”
…sure.
Elijah huffed a sigh. “The second one.”
I find your solution to be acceptable.
“Oh, thank fuck. I had literally no other idea due to your only qualification of ‘not a baby,’ which is a frankly hilarious way of putting it, by the way. So, uh… You want me to do it now?” his voice, although it had strengthened, faltered again. If it had any eyes, it would have rolled them.
Yes, please.
“Alright, uh, cool. This is sort of goodbye, I guess? You’re going to stop existing the way you are now. You’re going to be your own friend, how awesome is that? Well, I hope your halves will--”
You’re stalling, it interrupted. Get on with it. You’re not saying goodbye. This time, it was its turn to pause. I’m not going to forget, am I? I’ll retain my memories?
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if you were going to forget!” Elijah seemed horrified at the very thought. It heard him put down whatever he was holding quickly.
Well, good. Now do it.
“Alright, smartass.”
It heard Elijah’s footsteps coming towards him, muffled on carpet. It heard the muted thumping sound of being moved and then there was a fizzle…and then there was nothing.
And then they woke up.