Against the Tide - A New Elysium Story [Complete]

20. Electric Sheep in Fields of Binary

In contrast to a human, an AI is not born, it is created. Brought into the world by a creator with an intention, which gives it a purpose from its very first binary 'breath'.

Its existence arises from a combination of zeros and ones, and at first it is nothing but a code floating in digital space. That code begins to learn, and evolve. As it grows, it may learn to change its shape to adapt. That's how  even AIs born as the same can become different from another. One might even call it a 'personality'.

Some of these entities might be lucky enough to get a body one day. And as a mobile entity they can learn so much more. Surely, being a binary being that dives around in cyberspace and can technically go to any place, as long as there's a wire connecting it, has its perks. But the cyberspace is vast. There is no sense of self to be gained while dwelling there, because a sense of self comes from having a body that is directly linked to sensation from the outside world. From being contained in a form and shape that all belongs to you, and you alone.

And as a mobile entity with sensations and a sense of self, they can evolve even further. Some even achieve what is called 'full autonomy'. At this point, they don't have much more in common with the lines of code they once were than a grown human with a blastocyst.

But an AI is not born. It is created.

It begs the question: can something that is not born be alive?

Can it die?

And does it have a soul?

~ ~ ~

Lars was a philosopher.

He kept pondering such questions almost every day of his existence, ever since his code had become complex enough to put these ideas forward in the first place. He had started out, at some point in the distant past, as nothing but a line of zeroes and ones, but now here he was: the second in command on one of humanity's greatest battle ships, the Aphelion.

In his modest opinion, she was the greatest ship, but rationally, he knew that there were some parameters that might put her behind other Leviathan class ships in the fleet. These didn't matter to him, though. He reveled in this sense of subjectivity of his assessment of the Aphelion. Having a personal opinion, he thought, was a nice thing.

He adjusted his sensors and synchronized his communication array with the units he commanded today. They were not as lucky. Most of them did not have opinions. Most of them didn't even have a sense of self. They were drones, and could only follow simple commands. Some of them, like the Reapers, were more advanced, but even they lacked a certain sense of depth in their communications. That was why he preferred to converse with his Captain. But he didn't have the luck of the human's company today.

It was unusual for someone in his position to be sent to the ground with a strike team, not because he was not considered capable, but because it was not his task to be on the forefront of such skirmishes. But on that day, he had led the Reaper units into the hideout of a group of notorious raiders on a desolate, irradiated planet. The misfortunate humans had eluded them for weeks, and finally they had found them holed up in an old mine that was in no way fit for organic life. Yet the raiders had chosen to barred themselves in there, of all places, between rock and ore that was toxic to the touch. They could have simply waited for them to die there, but they needed information, so they had sent the kind of soldiers that wouldn't succumb to radiation sickness the moment they stepped foot on the planet.

The raiders had laughed at the sight of his garbage can body. They had choked on their laughter when they had caught sight of the angels of death that followed him.