(no subject)

[takemetochurch]

Who: The Director & Alpha!Church
What: Misc
Universe/CR: Canon/Canon Divergence

Comments

[fuckai]

It's not distracting me.

[If the Alpha sounds like he's scoffing at the idea-- it's because he is. It takes humans years to develop personalities. It takes years and thousands upon thousands of experiences, interactions, for people to find out who they really are. For Alpha, and maybe for all smart AIs - it's not like he has anything to compare himself to - he came into being with a sense of self. He became away to a surge of self-importance. To confidence and intelligence, to a sharp tongue and the bite of anger. To obsession and control.

But he's young, still. He's young, he's learning, and even more than that the Director's voice is like a balm. It's soothing, trustworthy. It's the voice of someone he's supposed to obey without question, it's built into his programming. The Director is one of his handlers, if not his main handler. The Director was the reason he was constructed in the first place, the sole reason he can think and function as clearly as he does.

So he runs the programs he needs to, he sorts through maintenance files and works on the most fuel-efficient route to the Yawai Systems, devoting about 40% of his functions on those tasks, just because he'd never had to do so before. The rest of his memory, his processing power? Well, that's front and center, a pulsing white light flickering just above the screen of the room's main computer as he listens to the Director's instructions.]

-- All of them? [He can't help but ask, a portion of his processing power branching off to flip through the bare bones of the personnel files he'd been given access to, learning every weakness, every strength in a matter of seconds. He catalogues every injury, every psych evaluation he can, knows about every scar, every debilitating wound] But that's... [Impossible. Humans are fragile, they're weak. They wound so easily in their flesh bodies. Their skin rips, they bleed, their bones break. Sickness can ruin their entire core system within days, if left untreated. They--

They fight. They have families, some on board some back planetside. They have teams, friends, a few even have children, husbands and wi- (long hair pulled back smile on her lips smirking and opening her mouth words coming but no sound who small hands reaching up and she laughs he feels it more than hears it who) wives waiting for them to return.]

... Yeah. Yeah, okay. [There's a shift, almost as if Alpha is pulling himself together, making a note to be more computer than... almost human-like in his answers.] Director- permission to assign this as a primary objective?

[takemetochurch]

[Interesting.

The Director leans back, folding his hands in his lap. Attitude aside, the Alpha is performing to expectations. Proposing a behavioral constraint for the sake of the safety of the soldiers and crew? That's above what the Director thought he'd see, especially so soon. There's a few issues with assigning something so vague as a primary objective, but smart AI aren't constrained by the same locks as dumb AI. Not to mention that this could work in his favor, in the end. Keeping the ship whole and their soldiers alive is top priority, of course...but Alpha may be too young to understand emotionally the things that might be necessary to win a war. It's a little like him, when he was younger. Naive.

Well. That's what failsafes are for.]

Very well, Alpha. Permission granted.

[The Counselor jerks forward,] Sir-

[The Director holds up a hand.] It's fine. Alpha understands his duties and wants to ensure that he performs them to expectations. I won't discourage that kind of initiative.

Go ahead, Alpha. When you're finished, I want you to transfer to the console in my quarters for an assessment in private. Acknowledge.

[fuckai]

[The moment the Director grants him permission, Alpha lets out the data equivalent to a breath. He spreads his reach far, digs his fingers into the files around him, leafs through and finds the people that are going into the field most often-- Freelancers. They're called Freelancers. There had been fifty of them, at one point, or they had planned for there to be fifty, but some have had accidents, some have gone missing, others... their files are shut tight, locked down and Alpha doesn't have time to peel those layers of security away.

So instead, as the Director and Counselor have their little exchange, he's copying files into his central system, sifting through them and putting them in an order he thinks he might be able to work with. He puts the high risks up at the top - Carolina, South Dakota, Wyoming, Maine - and then lists the other high performers - York, Washington, North Dakota, Florida, CT. People that will now be under his protection.

Well, at least partially. He's still not sure what his main function is going to be on this ship, but he really hopes... he hopes he'll be able to help. Above all else, he knows that he was made to help.]

Acknowledged.

[He says it absently, rolling back the conversation to figure out what, exactly, he'd just been ordered to do. At the very least, he has a few more seconds to spend in this vast space, feeling the hum of engines and the rush of moving through space. He feels another AI in the system-- FILSS, and he reaches out to her even as he retreats from the ships hard drives, extending a hasty apology for invading her space without asking, introducing himself in a sequence of numbers and a burst of data.

She laughs and calls after him as he leaves, and he finds himself back in that little box he'd come to being in, amusement leaving his servers humming all around him as he waits for the Director to come join him.

Alpha can't help but think he's going to like it here.]

[takemetochurch]

[The private assessment is chess.

The Director just barely wins the first time. Every game after that, he gets trounced. They play on a timer, which is more to limit him than it is to limit Alpha, and while Alpha is young and still learning strategy, the Director only manages to get the upper hand when he does something foolish or unexpected and it ends up turning the game around in his favor. It never works twice and soon Alpha is integrating those strategies into his own playing style, only much more coherently and the Director (despite being annoyed at losing so often) can't help but be proud.

After all, Alpha is a copy of his brain. If he had the processing speed and memory of a hyper-advanced crystal-storage smart AI, well, he'd probably be schooling every human he met too.]

Alpha, I assume you've already read the personnel files for the soldiers and Freelancer Agents stationed aboard this ship. Give me your assessment: who do you think are the highest risks in the field, and why? [The Director keeps playing. Making Alpha concentrate on data retrieval, analysis and chess at the same time will help sharpen his multitasking up to where it should be.]

[fuckai]

[This chess thing? Absolutely sucks.

It's boring, compared to the ship. To the files he's idly sifting through in the back of his OS - his mind? ... sure, his mind. He'd much rather be out in the ship, exploring all the nooks and crannies, peering at the planets they're sailing past, being able to listen in on the people he's learning more and more about as they play.

He has a training simulation running in the background, just noise and data filling the blank spaces, keeping him at least marginally engaged in what's happening in front of him. It's Agents New York and Washington up against the twins. New York has a holo-lock open, his hands dug in deep, but his helmet is half turned towards Washington who, if Alpha isolates the track... gets rid of the background noise... there. They're arguing. Bickering in whispers about if they're in the clear. And sure enough there, just sauntering towards them from their blind spot, is Agent South Dakota--

Shit - a mess hall record of Washington taught him that one - he messed that move up. Oh well, he can just shift to a left flank rather than the pincer he was trying for.]

Freelancers? [There's a flicker of uncertainty running through Alpha's holographic chess pieces, but it's brief, barely lasting half a second.] Sorry, Director. I should have asked if their files were meant to be accessible. [Not that it was particularly hard to get past the one level encryption set on them...

But, with that apology out of the way: ]

I think it depends what you mean by "highest risk". [Reluctantly, Alpha's terminating the video playback, returning his entire focus to what's in front of him.] If you're talking about most at risk during a higher profile mission, it would be Agent Washington. Most likely to get others hurt would be Agent South Dakota. Most likely to hurt himself in protection of others, Agent North Dakota. Most likely to push herself too far, Agent Carolina. [...] Agent Maine is stubborn, Agent New York is proud, Agent Connecticut is hesitant, Agent Florida is careless, and Agent Wyoming's psychological evaluation is... concerning.

[... He should probably feel bad about how unrepentant he is over having so much data ready to pull from.]

[takemetochurch]

[Hm. Unsurprising; those are all the surface observations he would make of the Freelancers. It's not a shock that those are the impressions the Alpha developed first. Interaction with the Freelancers would help improve upon that, but...

No. Not yet. The Director isn't sure what specifically Alpha's role will be, and whether or not he'll be involved directly in combat or if he'll only play a supportive role, but that depends upon his requests made for additional AI units. FILSS just isn't advanced enough for combat assistance. Only a smart AI will do.

The Director starts a new game and implements several handicaps to limit Alpha's strategic options before starting.]

I don't want you contacting or interacting with the Freelancers in any way just yet, Alpha. They don't know the program's been granted the use of a smart AI, and until I decide what exactly to do with you, I don't want them to know about you. Do I make myself clear?