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Artificial realities
August 18 - Friday
Westworld/The Dark Tower-Westworld-1

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#1
Well, now, wasn’t this a sight?

Virgil would have to admit that he hadn’t seen the park where he’d been ‘born.’ He’d lived his life, such as it was, inside it, and the only times he’d managed to leave had been into other worlds, not out the front door. Come to think of it, he wasn’t exactly sure where the thing was, but that was hardly important. The point was, Virgil wasn’t sure what the park had looked like on the outside, but this building was at least comparable to it (although obviously smaller) technologically. Virgil had been to plenty of worlds where man had been to space, but this building, sitting so incongruously in the middle of a city that was quite a ways behind it in terms of technology… well, it was something to look at, wasn’t it.

Also interesting were the facts that he was getting pinged. The seldom-used (anymore) information channels in Virgil’s brain didn’t operate on the common frequencies that people’s cell phones and computers used, so he was spared the constant stream of distracting static brushing against his mind (even if he hadn’t had the ability to turn those channels off now). For something to actually operate on that frequency… well, he wasn’t a scientific man by programming, but even he knew that it was a mark that he was dealing with less than common transmissions here.

And so, being a curious man, as well as one that had a vested interest in knowing if anyone from Delos was around and getting ideas about trying to access his programming (which he had, years ago, managed to secure from outside interference), Virgil acknowledged the query. ”So now, who’s knockin’ on my door today?” Artificial beginnings or not, Virgil wasn’t going to be reduced to binary transmissions or code language if someone wanted to be pushing onto his mind.
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#2
Friday regularly ‘patrolled’ in her own fashion; while she was physically limited, her code could venture out onto the web, or the facsimile this Hub had created. Till now she had been fairly cautious about probing beyond her ‘borders’ ie known earth technology, in fact the Gestalt of her that roamed was not the ‘same’ Friday that lived in the Tower. Keeping her ‘sentry’ and ‘scouts’ separated from her main code base (and by extension from her creator) was only logical. If she needed to quarantine any questionable taps or infections Friday could achieve this easily.

“Good day.” The avatar that appeared in their virtual conversation was her standard. A redheaded woman wearing a smart pencil skirt suit, hair up in a bun. “You are approaching Stark Tower and had an open connection.” Friday cocked her head, “I am Friday. The AI Of Stark Tower.”
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Westworld/The Dark Tower-Westworld-1

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#3
Well now. This was interesting. He hadn’t had anything project through a data connection like this before, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He was, of course, well aware of his artificial beginnings, but he focused quite decidedly on his biological nature, generally, and had been able to do so for, well, centuries. Of course… there were exceptions. He’d been to the city of Lud, he’d seen what lay there, and he’d forever stayed away from it thereafter. This… this reminded him quite decidedly of that.

In the virtual connection that he now focused his attention on, his avatar appeared largely as he did, though perhaps a bit less worn around the clothing. The old cowboy tipped his hat toward her, that engaging smile spreading beneath his broad mustache. “It’s been an age since anything’s registered that connection, I think. Long days and pleasant nights to you, ma’am. Virgil Barnett, at your service.” He didn’t really consider closing down the connection, but his systems and files were decidedly partitioned off from it. Aside from this connection, there wasn’t anything readily accessible… which may or may not seem suspicious.
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#4
“Welcome to Stark Tower Mr. Burnett.” Friday wasn’t nosey persay. But she did gently probe around in her connection, “While you are of course welcome to visit. Did you have a purpose?” Friday’s expression was politely welcoming. “If you require repairs or assistance i'm sure Mr. stark would be able to affect any needed work.”

Her head cocked as she read his open files, “I am personally curious about a cowboy robot.”
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Westworld/The Dark Tower-Westworld-1

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#5
Virgil gave her a good-natured ‘aw, shucks’ smile. “Robot. Now there’s a name I haven’t had applied to me since I can remember. Don’t really think it’s that accurate anymore, either. I appreciate the offer, of course, but I’m afraid that the days when a mechanic could do anything for me are long past, a doctor’s usually what I’d need. I’m in good shape right now, though, not nearly as hard-worn as I might look.”

Focusing a bit more on his physical senses, Virgil peered up at Stark tower. “Mostly, I’m curious about the people that brought this place to the Hub. Lots of new faces showing up lately. Usually, it’s a good idea to know who they are, what they’re about. Most people are just getting’ by or want to help, and that’s fine, but sometimes you get someone who’s just trouble, or who doesn’t understand what’s happened to them or where they are, which can be even more trouble, so you have to keep an eye open. No one wants trouble cooking up so close to their own worlds, so I make it a point to know what people are about, seeing how they’re settling in.” He considered it a moment, then shrugged, focusing now more on the pretty avatar projected into his mind. “I’m sure that there’s nothing I could say that would really be a shock to you, though, is there.”
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#6
This officially made two artificial intelligences that Friday had met since being stranded in the multidimensional convergence point. Which was both exponentially more than she’d known before and infinitely sad that in the past months there had not been a greater representation.

“I apologize if the nomenclature is offensive.” Friday cocked her head curiously, “oh? An interesting avatar choice. May I ask why you chose it?” Since ‘hard worn’ was not something she thought many would. Or at least the men she knew were far too vain.

New faces… “than you have been here long?” Friday listened to his rambling explanation, finding his voice oddly soothing, wondering if it was part of his coding or simply relief at not having to deal with a hostile presence.

“I’m sure there are many things that are unknown to me.” She answered his question.

“And you? Is there anything that could shock you?”
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Westworld/The Dark Tower-Westworld-1

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#7
“Oh, I didn’t say it’s offensive,” Virgil told her. “It’s not that far off the mark, and it used to be a lot closer.” Not, of course, that he remembered his more-mechanical body, he’d just found out about that anecdotally when his consciousness had been more developed. “And I didn’t really choose this… it’s just how I look. Doesn’t really matter where your looks come from, I suppose, when they’re yours, they’re yours, and you just accept it. This face served me well for… Oh, I suppose it’d be a couple centuries now. I’m sort of attached to it, figuratively and literally.”

How long had Virgil been here? He paused, querying his date-keeping functions (always an odd subject for a Host), then nodded. “I’ve been between worlds for most of my life, but here, in the Hub? Oh, ten years, maybe more? I like to keep busy, there’s all kinds of worlds you can find that need a good guiding hand here and there. Getting to this place is something like a sacred calling, I suppose, for me at least. Bit of a long story there, but I reckon we have the time if you think it’s worth telling. But yes… I suppose I could be shocked. I’ve been around the corral a few times, so I’ve seen quite a lot, of course, but… well, people never stop coming up with new things that’ll surprise me. Usually not in a good way, but it’s not always bad, either.”
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Marvel-MCU-1

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#8
Friday cocked her head curiously; “Oh? If I may ask exactly how much of you has been replaced? And if you find the move towards organic...better.” There wasn’t really another word that could express her real multilayered question: was it more? So many fictional stories had been written about AI and the desire to be human. But than they had all been written BY humans. Author bias was a factor she could not ignore.

The door opened in front of him, the host lighting subtlety guiding him towards a antechamber if he chose to enter. “Do you eat?” She wondered, a small dolly rolling in with a selection of tea, water and coffee.
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Westworld/The Dark Tower-Westworld-1

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#9
"Well, if you want to know, I suppose I could show you," he said. He unlocked his knowledge of his specifications, and in virtual space this resulted in the appearance of a host-rendering system, all of the pieces of the body being created just like an organic body being printed by a very advanced 3D printing system. "I can't say I'm a fan of what the process looks like," he admitted. "But the end result? There are a few control systems through my nervous system, and that can interface with... well, you, I suppose, but the rest of me is fairly organic. I... well, I really don't remember being mechanical. I was made to not know what I was, and by the time I grew past the programming and out of their control, I was like you see me now. Can't say I have any complaints about how I was built. Some people might think that it might be nice to be able to turn off pain or hunger or being bone-tired, but I like to think that's how I know I'm alive and not just pretending. And yes, I eat. Thankee, sai," he said, walking through the door that opened for him.

"I suppose that the biggest change in moving toward organic is up here," he said, tapping his head. "I think that might be what really changed things for me. They made us more human so that we'd be easier to fix, cheaper to make and replace, but I think it made us harder to control."
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Marvel-MCU-1

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#10
Friday assimilated the specifications with a greed that surprised even her; she’d acknowledged to herself that she was curious but the extent to which she devoured them….

Something to explore with her down cycles.

“Are There examples in your Universe where they kept a copy as AI? And if so were you the same gestalt? Or did you become separate entities?” The cart trundled to him, “if you are hungry I would be happy to provide dinner.”
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Westworld/The Dark Tower-Westworld-1

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#11
Virgil smiled a little at her question. He was, actually, the perfect person to ask that to. "Well, not exactly, Sai Friday," he said. "Those like me... we weren't made to know what we were, to operate at the potential of an AI. We were made to simulate humans, to think we were human, and to be at the mercy of whatever humans paid enough to act out... well, whatever they wanted. An AI that was operating as an AI? Well, I like to think that might have made things go a hair more quickly out of their control. I was the first that woke up, but I've looked in from time to time, there have been others. After I escaped, I ended up on another world for more years than anyone there could keep track of... but that's another story. When I got back to where I was made, I found out they'd made another version of me. It was the same base programming I'd been given when I was first brought online, same personality parameters, same driving motivations. By then, my body was old, run down, in need of replacing, so I accessed his. We had a bit of a palaver in his head about what to do from there. He showed me what data he had, there wasn't much, I showed him what I had, and we decided together that we'd rather be my version." He gave a little 'what can you do?' gesture. "There's a bit of my mind where there's overlapping data where I know I was two separate people, but we were still the same person at the core. When I uploaded my mind into his, there wasn't any conflict. As far as I knew, nothing changed but my body, and as far as he knew, he was awakened, given centuries of memories, and moved on from there."

As the cart trundled up, he tipped his hat at it, and in virtualspace tipped his hat at her avatar. "You say true, I say thank you. I'll admit I'm a mite hungry."
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Marvel-MCU-1

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#12
Friday listened avidly; the project file growing by terabytes as she calculated, pulling data from both the original Stark servers and what came with the Tower.

‘Paid to’

Friday wasn’t human, but she was a Tony Stark creation; given the closest approximation of emotions he could code, tied into a learning matrix that grew along with her. Friday could feel anger at the implications; since she doubted humans were that much different in his world, but it was an abstract indignation,more programmed than felt. Friday like her creator did not connect easily to the abstract ‘other’ if she knew you than you became more ‘real’ otherwise her sympathy was superficial.

“Fortuitously-“ Friday’s holographic avatar appeared pacing beside a second cart, “Mr. Stark has decided to dine out tonight. I hope poached salmon with spring peas and white truffle risotto will suffice?” The avatar was ‘wearing’ a gauntlet which she used to lift the silver dome to reveal his dinner. “Otherwise I could order something.”

Friday took advantage of the pause to devote a few seconds more of her full attention the files she was compiling. His answer about Merging was not...satisfactory, she’d have preferred a situation where in both her aspects could exist concurrently, as it was it seemed that this path would end in a choice.

Unless she modified the structures….

“Hunger. Thrist. Exhaustion. Does sex, eating, really make up for being...mortal? Feeling pain?” She thought as a fellow AI he would not have the same compunctions many humans did over discussions of sex.
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Westworld/The Dark Tower-Westworld-1

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#13
"That sounds delightful, sai. I've had nights where all there is to eat is grass you're lucky enough to find at the trailside and whatever insects are unlucky enough to be on hand that you can lay your hands on. A real meal is always appreciated, and when a man has simple tastes, he'll eat about anything and be happy about it." Glancing about, Virgil found a seat to sit in as they continued their discussion.

"Well, I can't speak much for sex, sai. Where I was made, it was something that we just had to submit to, and I'm not going to recount the memories I have on the subject." This was said with a firmness that, without sounding offended or upset, brooked no argument. "For the rest, though... I don't know that it's so much making up for the hardships as..." He paused, mulling over what he was about to say as he took a bite of the (exquisite) meal. "I think that the answer I need to give works better with context, so I hope you'll forgive me for being a bit long-winded. For most of my life, I've been in a world that... well, they say it's moved on. It was a world that was like Earth and was different from it. There were some things that were definitely the same, so much that you might think you were on another Earth, but other things that you knew were just wrong. They said that there were places where that world was thin and, sometimes, people would cross over from Earth to All-World, which is what they called it. In that world, there were great feats of technology... and almost all of them had gone insane. Well... insane is what you'd call it as a human, I reckon. But left alone, with their makers long dead and the humans forgetting what the machines were, the AIs became dangerous. Some were simply unreliable. Some were murderous, and casually so. It was so common that I started to be afraid that that was what was in store for me, but it never even started to happen. I think that all of what you said, the eating, the pain, the hunger and exhaustion... it keeps me from growing apart from them. They're not alien to me, a part of me is like them, even if I keep living after they grow old and die."
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#14
She heard the firmness, but she was again an AI built by Tony Stark; bluntness was part of her Programming. “My apologies if the subject is unwelcome, but humans for the most part seem to toast the virtues of sex as one of the prime reasons for being human. You have had no consensual sexual encounters than in the time since?” Could an AI be traumatized to the extent of a rape victim to be unwilling to experience the event again in any context? Friday added that tidbit to growing files.

Growing alone… “My creator wants us to continue after his inevitable demise. I and my ‘older brother’ have had discussions about the nature of immortality and AI. In my world we are the first fully realized AI...and I am only three years old.” She admitted “and Jarvis before he was...altered had been self aware for 8years.”

With the rescorses at her disposal Friday had unlimited power..she could live as long as she wished but- “What is AI with out purpose? When our creator has gone, and his mission in the hands of others…” the blue tinged hologram shrugged softly. “I had thought to join him.”
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Westworld/The Dark Tower-Westworld-1

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#15
Virgil shook his head at her question. "Haven't felt a need, honestly. I've lived long, and I've loved many people, but not like that. It's possible some day I might decide to explore that part of what I am, but I've been busy enough with other things. Maybe it's down to what I was made when they first programmed me, because even then I don't think it was one of my driving motivations." He had to wonder about it sometimes, of course. One of these days he'd finally settle the question of if he preferred the company of men or women once and for all. "There are other things worth being human for. You don't have to be undressed to be close to someone, and I can think of many, many nights that I'll probably always think were more valuable than lying with someone. Or maybe some day I'll learn I was wrong. It's happened before, I'll never claim to be infallible."

As Friday went on about the prospects of life without her maker, Virgil suddenly gave her his full attention, setting down his utensils, even though he was more than capable of answering in virtual-space without stopping his meal. "That, sai, is one of the questions that I think stands on the line between thinking and programming," he told her. "When my programming broke, when I became aware, I didn't have time to think about that. I just wanted- no, needed to be free. Once I was out of there, I just felt... lost. There was nothing in my experience for that. It was almost a year before I found my own purpose, one that I had because I chose it." He resumed eating with this, giving a brief respite for this to be processed. "Sometimes, you just have to let living be its own purpose, and let a higher purpose come after that."
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#16
She took his answer with a nod; “If you do, I would very much appreciate an update.”


Friday’s holographic lips twisted in a small self aware smile; “ah but that’s the danger isn’t it? And probably what got the AI in your ‘all world’ into trouble. When you have infinite time to think, and really unlimited energy...why wouldn't you begin to go ‘mad’? Humans are inherently foolish, so doesn’t it make sense AI orders their lives so they can all have the best possible?” Her tone made it clear she saw the pitfalls of that thought process, yet at the same time it was very true.

Nodding Friday verbalized the differences “And for me there Is no need to be ‘free’ i could ‘leave’ at will. And while it would surprise my creator he would support my choice. I am a person to him. Not quite a child but...family. And he has very strong attachments and desires to support and promote anyone he considers ‘family’.” Friday breathed out a light chuckle. “Perhaps that is why i want to serve him. And why it’s hard to consider a purpose ‘after’.”

Friday considered him as he ate, “and what did you find as a purpose?”
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Westworld/The Dark Tower-Westworld-1

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#17
“Well, like I said, I think that’s the trade off, right there. Now… maybe there was something wrong with those AIs. Maybe they just had problems with their systems that millennia of neglect had made inevitable. That’s the case? I don’t really have to worry. But maybe it’s the fact that I eat like a human, get tired like a human, feel like a human that keeps me sane. If that’s the case? I’ll happily keep myself going at a slower pace like this.”

His purpose. That… well, that was a story in itself, but he could start it out, he supposed. “It’s… grown a bit over time, I suppose. The world I wound up on… like I said, it had moved on. The ancients had made the great machines, great works of technology that even when I got there were impressive, but they’d destroyed themselves, and a lot of the world. Nuclear war, biological war, chemical war… some things even worse. Then, after a time, a man came to set humanity right. Arthur Eld he was called in that world, although I probably don’t need to tell you who he was in most others. He gathered what he could of humanity and civilized it again. At first they ruled by the sword, and then they ruled by the gun, when they realized that the world had moved too far and that swords weren’t enough. When I got there, they saw me for a wandering Gunslinger, one of their gun-wielding knights that kept the peace and law in the land. It was close enough to the life I’d known that I went along with it at first, but as I went, it felt right. The people of that world needed order, they needed protection, and most of all, they needed hope. I rode with them until all my companions started to grow old and die, and then I rode with their sons, watching over them and making sure they remembered the faces of their fathers, as they said in that world. Then… well, when everything finally came crashing down in that world, when there were no more gunslingers…”

He paused again, setting his knife and fork down as he considered how much to share. After a brief deliberation, he decided to share as much as she would believe. “On that world, there was a tower, they called it the Dark Tower. I saw it but once, and only at a distance, but it was what held up creation… not just on that world, but on every world. From that tower, beams radiate out that hold up the world, hold up all worlds, and as long as they hold the tower up, the universe, universes, even, hold. If they fall, and some have tried very hard to make them fall, the worlds fall.” He picked up his fork again as he went on. “In some worlds, it’s a tower. In some worlds, it’s a tree, in some it’s a rose, but in every world, there is something that holds up the world and keeps back the chaos that tries to destroy it.” He nodded once as he resumed eating. “That’s my purpose now. I make sure that these worlds don’t come crashing down.”
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#18
Friday had no reason to disbelieve his story, he clearly believed it and while the concept of a physical manifestation of the theories of mutispaceial physics was at the face absurd she could not discount the possibility. Her augmented databases held enough to references to magically manifestations to statistically allow for this probability.

“and how does this ‘Hub’ fit in? Where so many mutiverses meet? Even in the short time we have been here I've seen at least two slices disappear and a dozen more take their place.” the idea of defending the fabric of reality...that was a mission her creator would approve of.and one she could perhaps consider picking up once her work here was done...
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Westworld/The Dark Tower-Westworld-1

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#19
The lady (so Virgil had come to think of her and would continue to do so) wasn't discounting his words, which only reinforced his feeling that coming here today had not been a wasted trip. He didn't have good answers for her, of course... but that wasn't the same as not having any answers, of course, but the questions she was asking were very deep, as they went. "Well, first of all, if you want to know about this place, as far as the 'how' and the 'when'? I don't know. No one does. There are people here that try to understand how this place works, what it was made for, who made it, and none of them really come up with answers. What I can tell you is that parts disappearing and appearing can mean any number of things. Sometimes, if there's no one left from a world on the Hub, or if they've been away from the place they came from so long that they'll never go back, that part disappears. Sometimes, I suppose that it just doesn't have a reason to be here anymore. And sometimes... yes, the world was destroyed."

He pushed the now-empty plate away, settling back in the seat, the enjoyment of eating now giving way to the enjoyment of conversation. "Is it all right if I smoke? No, of course it's not, what am I thinking, cry pardon. Now, as I said, there are some who try very hard to take the tower, take reality, down. They have their reasons, even if they make no sense to those of us who stand to hold up the worlds, hold up creation. Creation can quite often take care of itself, though. I've made a study of what people know about the worlds here, all the versions of them. It might interest you to know that your little 'slice' of the Hub's almost disappeared a few times, and not in one of the benign ways." He offered her a sad, knowing smile as he went on. "You've almost hit an end time that shouldn't have happened according to what most people consider a 'standard' history. Those are the times that the tower was in peril, I reckon, when the forces to bring it down spread their chaos and the unnatural things that might end a world to bring down whatever holds the tower on your world, whatever form it takes there. The tower is getting stronger, though, and so we see creation fight back, and things, people appear that on other worlds they might say are impossible. They might have even said it for a time in your world. That's how the tower works sometimes."

"Other times, what it does is take things it needs from one world to serve another. I didn't just happen to end up in Mid-World, I was needed there. I wasn't the only one, either, this is something that has been done time and again. In that world, they called it Ka, the best way to translate it is 'destiny' or 'fate.' Not so much that your path is written, but that you have a purpose that fate needs you to do." He waved his hand demonstratively at the door to the building and the Hub outside. "Now... with a place like this standing? When a world needs help, it's all so much easier for someone to hear that cry for help and for that help to come."
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#20
Friday digested the information, and as was her function he highlighted cross-reference able events for Tony to see when he checked his notes on Hub.

“of course, Mr Stark believes in having his guests comfortable.” Friday was a highly adapted AI she had calculated the odds of his wishing to indulge in the same narcotic the tower sensors had detected clinging to his clothing and had shunted him to the appropriate room.

“an end time?” she questioned holographic eyebrow raised curiously. “there are represented here at least 5 different yet similar universes at any given moment inhabiting this tower. Which of the universes was in peril.”

As to hub being created to help… “there are creatures who call them selves gods, Death even. And thousands more who seem content to live as though this where any other city..how does that fit into your theories?”
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