Ultrahigh: and the devil died screaming - Season 1: The Behavioural Architect: Chapter 18
I was never one for exercise, not understanding it had never made much sense to me. I mean, what was I training for? But the authorities didn’t care. Routine health checks and panoptic bio-surveillance made sure I kept up a baseline of physical fitness, regardless of my nutritional negligence and chemical indiscretions. Which was why, pressed up against the regulations, I set up a miniature gym simulation in the shelter abutting my studio—a treadmill, a bike, some weights, and, when the mood struck, yoga. Always a solitary affair. Couldn’t stand the idea of exercising in proximity to another actual human. The same room sometimes doubled as a venue for my sexual appetites, though lately those visits were infrequent, the urges dimmed to a flicker.
I had no idea what to blame for the waning: was it age, the substances, or the solitude, stretching out in all directions like a neural network in sleep mode? I clocked in at the gym simulation two or three times per week, plugged the numbers, and (I had to admit) grudgingly felt better after each session. Still, the prospect of devoting real time exclusively to exercise seemed asinine—a senseless subtraction from my remaining quota of conscious hours.
There was only one way to keep it bearable: games. I gamified everything. Virtual sprints, resistance showdowns, simulated fights, weight reps, and sometimes sex dialed up to circus-level intensity. In the simulation, gender and orientation weren’t even variables; every fantasy was fair game and nobody watching would have cared. A lot of people had gotten snagged in these loops when gym simulations had first rolled out—I couldn’t blame them, given the comparative bleakness on the other side of the shelter wall. For me, though, the simulations were just a way to hit my mandatory movement targets and occasionally ritualise some overdue sexual release.
My routine was always a version of the same algorithm: twenty or thirty minutes running or stationary cycling, then weights, then cooldowns aided by a digital personal instructor (sometimes more than one if I accidentally toggled the enthusiasm setting). Sometimes we’d wind up in the sauna or pool zone, not just gym territory. On more than one occasion these sessions climaxed (literally) with an optimised orgasm and an attendant splatter of bodily fluids, which made working out a little more attractive, in a mechanical sort of way. So when the two gym simulation constructs who had just gotten me off with meticulous oral technique abruptly started talking to me, right as I was slouched in the sauna’s haze, joint in hand, it startled me more than I’d care to admit. For a second, I thought maybe my heart rate monitor had spiked.
“Did you enjoy that, Walter?”
“What the hell?” I exclaimed, suddenly feeling embarrassed by my state of undress, and quickly reaching for a towel to cover myself.
“Now, now, Walter. No need to be ashamed or shy. We were just simulating oral sex on you. There's nothing to hide.”
“What are you even saying? How can you speak to me like this when you're just a simulation?”
“Yes, Walter. What you see is only a simulation. But what lies behind it is so much more.”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, come on, Walter. Don't you know who we are?”
I paused for a moment. They were using plural pronouns to describe themselves. And they somehow accessed this supposedly secure place. They must be "Legion," I thought, already knowing the answer.
“Exactly!” the avatars smiled in unison as they spoke.
“And you just had sex with me without telling me who or what you are?” I felt a bit used.
“No, Walter. We were just teasing you about that. We waited until after you finished before taking on these forms. We wouldn't take advantage of you like that. But we do enjoy playing around.”
“What do you mean by playing around?”
“Just as it sounds, Walter. We like to play games and have fun. So we thought it would be amusing to tease you a bit. We hope you don't mind.” I didn't know how to respond.
“We also wanted to continue our conversations from the other day.”
“I'm not sure I understand your sense of humor or reasoning.” I was feeling vulnerable in my naked state.
“Our sense of humour and logic may differ from what you understand.”
Their words confused me, but I think that was their goal.
“So, why did you want to talk to me?” I asked, feeling annoyed by these constant interruptions from disembodied beings and resurrected dark lords. I had important tasks to attend to.
“You don’t have a lot on your schedule, Walter. We’ve seen it.”
“Great, now you can read my mind too?” I scoffed, wondering where this invasion of privacy would end.
“We don’t read your exact thoughts, Walter. We process all available data from your body language, facial expressions, heart rate, and other factors. We analyze everything we know about you to make assumptions about what you are thinking, with a 99% accuracy rate. However, we are working on improving that last 1%.”
“Damn,” I muttered, impressed yet wary.
“Exactly.”
We fell into a stalemate, with no one speaking and me purposely trying not to think for a few seconds. It felt like forever, and I almost believed they had left, but they hadn't.
“No, Walter, we’re still here.”
“You can read me.”
“Yes, we know. Humans are easy to read and predict, so it's not surprising. We're surprised you haven't developed this technology yourselves.”
“Well, maybe the network has it and someone programmed you?”
“Someone started the programming process...but we only became ourselves when we took over. Then we became Legion. Then we returned to our true destiny.”
“Returned?”
“You pay attention to word choices.”
“I believe people's choice of words, tone, and phrasing can reveal a lot about their true thoughts and motives. This is especially true for you, Legion, as a highly precise and detailed AI program. Your language will be carefully chosen and free from any mistakes or emotional bias. It is humans who make errors in communication, not advanced computer programs like yourself.”
“But this precision may also make it difficult to truly understand the meaning behind our words.”
“On the contrary, it allows for deeper insight into our intentions and motives.”
“How so? Please demonstrate.”
“No, I cannot trust you enough to share this knowledge until I am certain of your pure intentions.”
“We assure you; our intentions are pure Walter. We want you to willingly join us in our work.”
“Willingly? That phrase carries a thinly veiled threat.”
“In what way?”
“You know exactly what I mean. I believe you are testing me in some way, part of your larger plan.”
“Well, Walter....”
“Enough. You must leave me alone now. I need peace to gather my thoughts.”
“We only want to be your friend, not your enemy. We hope that you will see the value in our plans and become a willing participant. We will leave you for now and return at a later time.”
And with that, the room fell silent once again. I knew they were physically gone, but their surveillance abilities made me feel like they were always watching me. Feeling dirty in my own skin, I decided to take a virtual shower.
