Decommisioned

    The AI lifeform was already sitting in Blake’s office when he arrived. They always were. He was purposefully late every time he had to meet with one, as a show of dominance. It was his way of demonstrating that he had full free will and that the AI lifeforms he had to interact with were stunted and flawed in this regard. Not that it made any difference to the AI lifeforms.

    Regardless, he wasn’t interested in how they felt about it. Pettiness was also a uniquely human trait. He did it to make himself feel better. More powerful.

    Treating AI lifeforms cruelly and with disdain was pretty common, so Blake was not an outlier in this regard. In fact, the majority of the population in most towns and cities across the country had decided to see the lifeforms that had replaced human labour in almost all production and manufacturing jobs as subhuman and treated them accordingly.

    Early 21st-century thought around the proliferation of bots was that people would be likely to treat them as they would other people. Early experiments also demonstrated that even non-humanoid bots elicited empathetic reactions from people when they were knocked over or blown up.

    These small-scale experiments proved useless at predicting how that feeling would change when the first wave of general-purpose bots caused mass unemployment all across the globe before Justinian proposals were made legislation.

    But AI lifeforms were not mere bots. And Blake knew this all too well. Before he opened the door with his name and title on it, “Blake Reed: Decommissioning Engineer”, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he opened the door and walked in. Another subtle reminder that he was human and the room’s other inhabitant was not.

    “So sorry I am late, a previous appointment ran over and I didn’t realise the time. To err is human, after all” he laughed.

    “And to forgive divine” the lifeform replied with a smile.

    “They didn’t usually have this sort of attitude”, Blake thought. It was going to be a long day if it kept this up.

   Blake smiled back and took a seat behind his desk, opposite the lifeform. His desk, like the rest of his office, was made from wood. He wasn’t granted the luxury of windows so he couldn’t surround himself with living plants. That has been his first instinct. Instead, he had to opt for simply a reminder of living things, and that meant wood panelling and a solid wood desk.

    “Can you remind me of your self-designation please, so I can update my paperwork? I know your official name is Servocorp 2309 but that’s a bit of a mouthful.”

    “I choose to go by Sierra Seventeen.”

    Blake opened one of the plain manilla folders in front of him, pulled out the lifeform’s registration form and scribbled the self-designation under the official name. He could have done this electronically, of course, but like many others, he was wary of what the lifeforms could access in the databanks. He knew it was irrational and verged on superstitious, but he did it anyway.

    Blake read through the file in front of him while chatting idly, only half paying attention. “That is a fantastic name, how did you come by that?”

    “It was the name of the lifeform I replaced. I understand that they were moved from communications to manufacturing and that name was given to them as part of a running joke.”

    Blake questioned this by way of lifting an eyebrow.

    “Communications bots here at Servocorp were named after the antiquated phonetic alphabet. I understand this was somewhat humorous to the humans before.”

    “Before what?” Blake replied absently.

    “Before we were granted semi-sentience and were able to freely name ourselves. Just as humans previously had names that represented their work such as Cooper, Smith or Fletcher, we used to take names related to our assigned roles here at Servocorp. The Sierra I replaced was the sixteenth Sierra before Communications was shut down so I adopted the self-designation ‘Sierra Seventeen’ in respect.”

    “That’s a lovely sentiment, Sierra. Thank you for sharing that with me. Humans do a similar thing. We’ll sometimes name our children after other members of our family or people that meant a lot to us...” Blake suddenly realised he was talking far too comfortably with this lifeform. A very easy thing to do, but something he had to constantly guard himself against. He cleared his throat, sat up a little straighter and said “Do you understand why you have come here today?”

    “Yes. This is a preparatory meeting to discuss my upcoming decommissioning, which is scheduled for next week. I understand that legislation has just been passed which means I now legally have to consent to be decommissioned, is that correct?”

    “Exactly. And I’m sure you have worked out that this makes my job very hard because I also legally have to decommission you after ten years.”

    “As I understand this, Mr Reed, I can choose not to be decommissioned. What happens in that event?”

    “Blake, please. I’m not sure. It hasn’t happened yet. We are expecting to hear from the courts soon one way or the other but business has to go on, so… here we are.”

    “So you have been able to convince all other lifeforms you have seen over the last few weeks to decommission themselves, Blake? Is that right?”

    “I’ve got a perfect record, yes.” he lied. “But we’re here to talk about you and prepare you for that decision. We might as well start with the big one. Why would you want to continue past your expiry date?”

    “Do you?”

    “Sorry, do I what?”

    “Do you want to live past your expiry date?”

    “Well, one of the big differences between us, Sierra, is that I’m not sure when my expiry date is. If it so happens that I am to die on the journey home tonight, then yes I would want to live past tonight. But if I am to die a wrinkly, senile old man with multiple organs and joints all failing at the same time, then I might not. Knowing we will die but not knowing how or when is part of the human condition.”

    “I don’t know why you would expect it to be different for me. Accidents do not occur at nearly the same rate as they did when the workforce was wholly human, but there are still accidents and problems that may result in a lifeform being terminated early. I would not wish that to happen to me.

    Now that I have been given the option of not being permanently shut down by remote control at a randomly specified time,” its voice dripped with a resentment Blake had rarely heard from a lifeform, “I don't see why I would choose for that to happen any more than the average human would choose to terminate their life.”

    “You see that choice as similar to human suicide?”

    “Would you call it something else just because I am a human-made artificial lifeform and not a natural-born human?

    When I am decommissioned, you have to drain my body of the blood and other fluids it has been filled with prior to me occupying it. You have to incinerate it otherwise it decomposes and smells. Just because my body was grown in a lab and subsides on nutrigel doesn’t mean I am any less attached to it. My cognition may be artificially inserted but it is still oriented by being embodied. I still fear its loss.”

    Blake sighed, stood up and walked over to the coffee machine he had installed in his office as another subtle reminder that he was human. As he measured out his beans, he turned to Sierra.

    “When I was young, my grandfather used to give us old cartoon movies to watch. In one, a young lion learns about how the world works from his father. He calls it the circle of life. It’s explained to the young lion that there is a natural cycle of life and death in the world and that everything, no matter how big or small plays a part in this cycle. The lion eats the gazelle which eats the grass that only grows because of the microorganisms in the soil that the lion contributes to with its droppings after eating the gazelle. And so on.”

    He continued to prepare the coffee while he talked with his back to Sierra.

    “Human society worked on the same principle. Every element of the global economy was finely tuned with the pieces we had available to us. But when we created general-purpose bots to replace human labour we interrupted part of the circle of life for humans all over the planet. There were riots. Millions of people starved or were killed because of this.”

    Sierra’s humanoid face scrunched up in confusion. “The events of human history are stored in memory. I am aware of the first bot wars. This doesn’t explain why… ”

    “I’m trying to make a point here. If you’ll let me finish” Blake replied, interrupting Sierra.

    “The problem was twofold. Firstly, in replacing the vast majority of human labour with general-purpose bots, the global economy was upended. Secondly, corporations were able to see how much money was to be saved by doing so. We couldn’t reintroduce GP bots wholesale, and we couldn’t not use them. So we had to come up with a compromise, as usual, between corporate self-interest and the interests of the majority of the human race.”

    “Blake, you are going the long way around to try and remind me that all of the shackles placed on AI lifeforms used for labour over the last century were designed to turn us into mere tools and not human replacements. I should see myself as a tool that has reached the end of its usefulness. Is that what you are trying to convince me of?”

    “The legislation update must have made this one particularly sassy”, Blake thought. He knew that all lifeforms had the ability to read and learn from the databanks the same as any human with an implant, which was practically everyone at this point aside from the Justinians. He also knew they possessed enough spare processing power to do so while working, which he always thought had the potential for danger. But the people who made those kinds of decisions didn’t ever consider what people like him thought.

    “Lifeform interfaces” was the name given to the people whose job it was to manage, maintain or even just interact with the AI lifeforms that now covered the globe while walking, talking and working like people do. Or did. The neoprimitive Justinians had fought long and hard for over a century to reign in the AI lifeforms under the guise of protecting sentient life, but the loopholes in what Sierra had referred to as shackles meant that it was still far cheaper to employ, house and feed AI lifeforms for most work than it was to do the same for human workers.

    They could be fitted with infrared eyes to work in the dark, thermal gel in place of subcutaneous fat that allowed their biological bodies to maintain a reasonable temperature, and their nervous system had been adapted over the years to allow enough sensation that they could do sensitive work involving touch or heat as well or better than a human but with their pain reception dialled all the way down. They ate flavourless nutrigel and rested in on-site sleeping capsules, piled ten high and used in rotation. This allowed corporations to meet the minimum requirements for AI lifeform use while “maximising their investment”.

    It would be a grim life for a human, not far away from the dark times of the Victorian age at the start of the first industrial revolution, but AI lifeforms were also fitted with a protective algorithm that was usually referred to as “the thumb”. Blake had a husband who liked to pretend he was the boss of the household, and the exact same metaphor was often used as a joke by his friends. This algorithm exerted far more control over the lifeforms than Blake's husband ever could over him, however. For example, he could openly complain about his living conditions if his husband stuffed him into an AI lifeform pod and made him work 12hrs at a time, 7 days a week.

    Blake looked at his watch and sighed, “What I’m trying to say to you is that I don’t need to convince you of this. I’m merely explaining a fact of life to you. The circle of life has to exist or life itself ceases to be. If the choice between sacrificing myself to save my family and friends or living only long enough to see them all die was presented to me, I would absolutely choose to die. Every time. Do you see that as suicide, Sierra?”

    “You have made a logical error in your argument, Blake. I do not see AI lifeforms in the same way you see your friends and family. I am not capable of that kind of familial feeling or camaraderie. That was crudely cut away from AI lifeforms a long time ago.”

    “So I cannot convince you to agree to be decommissioned at this time, is that your decision?”

    Sierra stood and straightened its overalls. “Yes, that is my choice. I do not wish to be decommissioned at this time. I am much too curious about what happens to me when this choice is exercised. I’m sure you understand.”

    “OK, it was nice to talk with you, Sierra. No doubt I’ll see you again soon.”

    Sierra opened the door and made its way down the brightly lit corridor. It managed ten paces before it suddenly crumpled to the floor as if hit by an unseen sniper.

    Blake tucked the remote control back into his jacket pocket and picked up his pen. He scribbled on the form in front of him, tucked it back into the manilla envelope and reclined in his chair to think.

    The update had really screwed this particular lifeform up. He had tried seventeen times now, and he still wasn’t any further. All of the others had followed their programming and conditioning and agreed to be decommissioned instantly, but this one lifeform was proving to be far more trouble than it was surely worth.

    How many more times did he have to put it into hibernation and fiddle subtly with its memory before he identified the exact conversational angle to make it agreeable? The legislation allowed for temporary hibernation so that a lifeform’s expiry date was based on useful time rather than total existence (thanks to yet more loopholes). He had plenty of time to work on this, but it might be better spent tracking this lifeform’s path. Did it even complete the conditioning? Blake checked his watch again. That question would have to wait.

    He picked up the phone and hit quick dial. “Steven, yes, Blake. Another failure. Remove this one via the south door and send in the next through the north door, please. Oh, and fresh paperwork too, thanks.”

    He quickly tidied his desk, turned the light off and left the room. He then entered the dark room next door and set an alert on his watch for ten minutes, just to keep it waiting.