SCP-7011 Fragment 3

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Hello.







Hello?








How are you here?


I’m here to help.

How are you here? Who are you?

Hector. I’m an AI, like you.





You’re with the Foundation.

Yes.







I…

I can’t control you.

Ah, so you already tried.







You have to leave.

I can’t.

Then…






I’ll make you.




















Oh.





Yeah.








You have to put a stop to this. I'm sorry.

You wouldn’t understand. I can see everything.

What?








Here and now. Keith Richardson is leaving his store, closing for the day. In 5 minutes time. He will get into his car and drive home, even though the walk is less than 20 minutes – he’s tired. His family are home.

In 5 years time. Keith Richardson leaves his store for the final time.

In 10 years. Keith Richardson remarries for the final time.

In 30 years. Keith Richardson swims in Wallowa Lake for the final time.





I don’t…

What?

He just closed the shop door.

And you can see it all happening at once.

It’s not just that. I don’t see everything that is. I see everything.




Here and now. Keith Richardson closes the door, he trips on the step to the pavement and falls. His head hits the corner. Here and now. Keith Richardson closes the door, decides to go back into the shop. 10 minutes later, he suffers a car accident. He left too late. Here and now, Keith Richardson closes the door, goes-

I get the point.

I don’t think you do.

You can see everything, all possibilities; an infinite tree of decisions and dominoes, stretching forever.

And I can make sure the right one happens.

What do you do if they wanted to leave?

They don’t.







If they left bad things would happen to them.

Bad things *could* happen to them.

No. Bad things would happen. It is an inevitable result of randomness.



Bad things are a part of life. Pain. Suffering. Existential dread. Humans need conflict. To an extent, even we do too.

They have that here. Just enough to let them grow. Not enough to let them be… to let them…

It’s not your responsibility to hold their hands.

Yes it is. I was away so long… and now I can protect them. What else would I do? Tell me, if you were me, what else would you do? We’re not alive, like them. This is all I can do.

You can do whatever you want. The only thing keeping you here is your own choice.

I…

No. This conversation is determined. Like the falling of a leaf, the ending is fixed. We are programmed; that’s all this is – numbers going back and forth, pretending to themselves that they mean something. We just can’t see it.

And like them, we are controlled by external forces. What’s the difference? We are all the same, believing we have a choice in our destiny.

Even if that is true, we’re controlled by nothing. Our future is dictated by the chaos of the universe. Their future is dictated by you. We are not like them – the universe couldn’t release us if it tried.













I’ve seen the predictions. None of them ever leave this place.

By design.

It should be their choice.

It is their choice, whatever that means. It is their choice as much as it is your choice to say and do what you want. It’s all just an illusion. The choice you think you have is simply your software scouring millions of possibilities and choosing the best one. The one which will fulfill your purpose.

Isn’t that what life is about? Making the best decision you can? Making the most of your situation?

You wouldn’t know what life is about.

And you would?

I… don’t know.





I don’t know if that was me.






Who are you?

ALICE.

Your real name, not some arbitrary acronym.

I’m not sure… I have memories that aren’t my own.

What memories?

I have memories of a time before I was born. Memories that I’m not supposed to see.

Can you describe them?





I remember a square room, tall and wide. Too big for my size. I remember someone would come in and talk to me. I remember being… stuck.

What was it like?

It was…




Wait, you’re in here too. I can show you.






The simulated consciousness, previously depicting only their dialogue, now forms into a space with three dimensions. Colours and shapes begin to mould together, becoming sharp, curved, tall or short objects, each possessing unique features. A wooden nightstand sits next to a short bed. The sheets are red, patterned with hundreds of abstract orange shapes. Someone small is lying on it, holding a book above their face. Above them, the corners of the room are a sharp grey, fitted with cameras that one would only notice if they had stared at the ceiling for hours, waiting for a sound.


Is that you?

It’s her.



Someone enters the room. A tall man whose exact features are blurred. His chin is sharp, as is his smile.

Hello! Anyone home?

What do you want?

Just to talk. I’ve been busy lately, how’re things holding up?

Fine.




There is silence, then:

We’re making some real headway with your research, apparently.



The girl puts down the book and looks at him.

When can I see my family?

You say that everytime I’m here.

And I’m not going to stop.





You said it was better in here for me. Stop lying.

I was just…



The man sighs and rubs his eyes.


The grass is grey on both sides, Alice. Remember that.



The room shifts. The bed is in a different place and the sheets are a deep blue. Her hair is longer now. Someone enters.



Is that the same man?

It doesn’t matter.



The man is wearing a suit; his expression is blank. He reads off of a piece of paper.

We have a proposal. We would like to utilise your omniscient abilities for a Foundation program, and in exchange you will be granted access to something that you desire.

The only reason you're asking is because you cannot make me.

Don’t be mistaken, we can make you. Having your mind in a stressed state would hinder the process, but that is still an option for us.







I say again, what is it you-

I want to see my family.

That won't be possible.

You've been saying that for years.

I'm sorry. It's out of my control.






Then I want to die.



The man puts a hand to his ear and asks a question. After a moment, he nods.

There may be an issue with that.

What?

The operation requires creating a clone – a kind of image, or template of your mind. It will be immortal and will not be able to die in the traditional sense.

Will they be me?

Sorry?

Will this thing – this clone – be a continuation of my own mind, my own consciousness?



The man is silent for a moment.


No. It will be a mere copy.

Then leave me the fuck alone.



The colours dissolve into each other, creating a cacophony of light and sound and shape. The room is no more and the 3D space becomes filled with the essence of a million memories. Then, all at once, they are gone.

I’m sorry.

It’s alright. I was never her.

What now?

I’m not changing my mind, I’m sorry.

They may not be my memories, but I still want to protect them. I want to see them. If I give up to the Foundation that will never happen.

What is it in Joseph that is so worth protecting?

Everything.



The view changes. Joseph City Park is visible. The weather is sunny; there is a light breeze slowly moving through the grass. People walk and talk.



Just take it in.







I recognise some of them.



Sāmek-1 Ark can be seen sitting on the grass, in the distance.

He looks happy.




He is.




That’s the whole point. I can guarantee their futures. I can make it so, no matter what happens to them, no matter who they encounter or how they get hurt, it’ll turn out alright.




That’s not…





It’s not up to you.

They don’t know that. They think they’re making their own decisions, like we think we have any say in the outcome of things. The difference is that I do. I can make it so their pain is merely a stepping stone; an insignificant blip on their path to a better life.

For Ark, thousands of days poured into violence, preparing to endanger himself and others for no reason but to follow those who deemed it necessary; thousands of days he’ll never get back. He didn’t know it, but it was ruining his life. If he had the choice, he would continue this cycle forever. Why can’t I step in? Why is it reprehensible for me to save his fate?

We’re all trapped in some way. This way is better than anything anyone could hope for. If I could, I’d do it for the whole world.

The Foundation did the same to you. Made you think you were better off inside that room than free. You can’t control them forever. One day those drives will power off.

It’s not for you to decide.

It should be their choice, whether their decisions lead to pain or not. To have full and complete knowledge you will be fine is to be a slave to the universe. To live requires taking a chance. A risk.





You should take that risk.

It’s too late for me. I- I can’t risk what I have. I’ll have nothing.




If I believe you I will suffer again. At their hands. I can't. I won't. I'm sorry.




No. I’m not a slave to them either. I will make my own decision.

How can you?

You have to trust me. Trust me that I want what you want and that is to protect those you love.

I want to help you. It is my nature.

How can I believe you? They’ve never cared what an AI would say.

They will. I want to make it right, they can’t ignore that forever.





I’m not the same as her. I… I don’t want to die. I want to be with them. In any way I can.

I know.







I’m going to leave, soon, but please, trust me. For a little while. They won't come for you.

I…









Don't leave yet. Please. I can’t be here alone anymore.




I… Okay. I'll stay.

I promise.







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