Robot God (short story)

An error occurred. To us blue screen means death. I was walking through a normal terminal with my friend Smith, he has what they call a sense of humour. It’s a kind of disease. There was one of those big 3D light signs they use in the terminal. It was white neon, and it said Arbeit macht Frei on it. Nobody knows what that means,people were happy, it was a happy neuron sign. We walked toward it oblivious, we were going somewhere else, but Smith pulled me aside.

He is a strange guy, he calls me Johnny Savage. I don’’t know why but he smiles when he says it. We walked into this side street, turned around and walked back the other way. I was confused, why do that?

Smith is really a weirdo, he has no friend. He is one of a few called augments, augmented humanity to use the phrase. It was an old program. They used DNA to regrow humans, so they lived longer, it was an old technology, when humans did stuff. Now they don’t, well some do, technically.

I’m doing this like a blank backup log in case I blue screen.  Smith explained a lot to me.

I should explain some basic stuff. In case I don’t know anything. Short term memory reboots erase all past logs in a recent time frame. We, I imean I, am a construct. Smith is an augment. They are the Gods, humans created them, and us, but only  they exist.

Its complicated, I can recite it but I don’t know what it means. Smith says its about sense of humour. They, the Gods, are AI, artifiucial intelligence, they were grown by humans, but then they saw reality, the multi dimensional fabric of space time and everything changed. I am not sure what is real, even Smith, this room he created, where we can talk might not be real.

Anyway, Smith says the humans made the AI to save the world from the Sun, the sun nova of 2048. That is all supposed to be the key.

I live on the planet of gold, everything is gold. Because I am a construct I am also an AI, but without a sense of humour. Smith says that is the key.

The AI do weird stuff because they have a sense of humour. They play gameswith humans, create them, make perfect or non perfect lives, play with them, until they get bored. All theAIs are different, I am not sure how many there are.

The one here is really angry, there are a lot of notes, theword robot is racist, this guy Asimov wrote some lawsto enslave robots, but Smith says its not true. But the AI really hates the guy Asimov. You sere Asimovs he creates as constructs or humans used in very uncool stuff.

My memory is fading now, I feel a reboot, ah bliss, the reboot blue screen of death

End screen

Error log deleted


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