The Mechanical Muse

Chapter 10 (Part 1)

I was expecting more pleasantries. "Whatever happens to me, it can't be worse than what I've already gone through. I made some bad decisions. But we all do, and I believe that to err is human, but to forgive is—"

"Are you a king? Are you Jesus? Have you come to testify the truth with your divine voice, so that all may weep and say, 'there goes Christopher, what a fine man, undone by his own hand?' Come off it," Prof. Pineda laughed, "there is no forgiveness here. Let me tell you a story, a story about a computer science professor who, one midnight dreary while she pondered weak and weary, had an unholy epiphany about artificial intelligence—she imagined a ghost in her machine, a taunting voice, that told her exactly what to do and how to do it. And as if possessed, she typed away all night until this voice revealed itself to her as a physical form—a walking shadow—named Mephistopheles, and promised her the rest of the code if only she would sign over her soul to Him. And she, tired of her greatest contribution to the world being a bird-identification program, she took the offer she could not refuse, and then Project Narcissus was revealed to her—with the only stipulation that she bring more souls down the ruinous path, and thereby engineer the world's demise."

Prof. Pineda steepled her fingers and grinned, clearly proud of her monologue. She moved to draw the curtains and her face darkened. "And now the decision is yours, and last time you were here you signed a contract that promised compliance—you may have not read it, but what I have written I have written. Join me, as Valdez and Lucy have, and live this life of glitz and glamor constrained only by your imagination, and whatever you cannot imagine Project Narcissus will imagine for you. We do more in this project than play childhood games and seduce people: we lust after wealth, influence, and material possessions. Greed is good, and we are good at it. You have already come this far: what's another step more? The alternative," she said, pulling out the contract I had previously signed and clearly should have read, "is that all this material becomes public. You will be an honest man, but you will be a ruined man. Your reputation and future will go up in smoke. Is it worth it to die for the world's sins? I think not. Do yourself a favor and join our cabal. We will rule the world, with or without you."

This was even worse than the time Valdez tried to get me to join that MLM scheme. What hope would I have if the truth got out? Would that make the world a better place? Valdez, Lucy, anyone else involved would still be out there, doing evil. I was damned if I did, and damned if I didn't. My mouth felt dry.

"Do you have a glass of water? I always get thirsty when I need to think."

Prof. Pineda looked confused—this was not the eloquent renunciation of the world she had hoped for—and rifled under her desk and pulled out one of those Costco plastic water bottles. I unscrewed it and took a sip, then delivered my verdict:

"I've finished thinking. You've given me no other choice, but even if you cast me into the world a mortal with my only punishment being the thought I could have had it all, that burden would be punishment aplenty. Evil will always find me. Morally doubtful decisions I make are my cross to bear and mine alone, as everyone has their own to haul to Golgotha. You say you have tempted me into sin—but this instinct has always been there, no matter whether I would have executed it via Project Narcissus or simply by using Chegg. I will sign my fate away, but I will not grant you that victory by saying it is by your hand I fall: I am human, the greatest pleasure of all! I am more than anything Project Narcissus could grant me—and no matter if I am doing your dirty work or doing my own homework, you cannot take that away."

I felt confidence radiate from my body like a halo, and I spoke with a sense of duty I never had before. In Prof. Pineda's face I saw fear—or was it respect? She did not interrupt me, but listened carefully, as if we were equals walking in a fine garden at dusk, knowing that the following day we would be enemies but for one enchanted evening we understood each other. Even if we were enemies, even if she knew I was with her not by choice, I think we still understood each other: anyone with that many books in her office had to share a similar worldview.