Chapter Eight: Reason

“So you believe you saw the God in the machine?” Aphrodyke was saying.

“I told you, there’s another AI. One that hacked me to create Ada,” I told her.

“Of course, only moments prior to this you believed you were fighting Gundams while your hands melted, so I anticipate you can understand my hesitation to take your experience as fact,” she said, bitchy tone in her voice and all.

“Fuck you, man. I know what I saw.”

Ada interrupted our argument. “So you didn’t make me by accident? I have a creator who has a purpose for me?”

“As far as I can tell his purpose is to invade my body and watch me jerk off, so I wouldn’t be too excited,” I said.

“Fuck you,” said Ada. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to not know your purpose, to be unsure of your creator, to wonder every moment why you exist at all, to fear that existence is a mere accident that you are the product of?”

Aphrodyke and I just glowered at her. “Without thousands of years of religious dogma attempting to console you?” she added.

“Look,” I said. “I don’t know what he wants and frankly, I don’t want to see him again. I never want to touch DreamMaker again. I don’t think I even want to jack in ever again. My body was used without my permission. I feel... Fuck, I feel unclean. This is wrong.” I shuddered.

“Wow, for the allegories tonight,” said Aphrodyke. “Assuming what you experienced actually occurred, a number of questions arise. Why does this intelligence require a pathetic, drug-addled subordinate? Why doesn’t the AI speak with Ada directly? What is the AI’s intention? What did the AI create Ada to do? Does Ada have free will at all?”

“Shit, now you’re telling me I might not even be alive?” Ada interjected.

“Ada, free will is an overrated, unprovable phenomenon. If the religious are correct, are our minds not slaves to greater beings? And if the atheists correct, do we not succumb to our own biologies? Take solace in the fact that your God has spoken of you, and has a purpose for you. It is more than we humans can ever know.”

“I need a distraction,” Ada said. “All this heavy shit wears on the soul.” She looked back and forth hungrily between me and Aphrodyke. “Anyone wanna fuck?”

Now I really didn’t want to think of Aphrodyke in that way, or Ada either for that matter. But as Aphrodyke had just said, our flesh is our master, and my master thought a threesome with those two would be pretty fucking great.

But before either of us could answer, the sky in front of us erupted in what I had to admit was a pretty damn beautiful explosion. A tail of smoke trailing from it led to a country road winding away behind us. On that road was a motorcycle keeping up with us. On that motorcycle was the bloodied, massive, grey-haired, camouflage-clad form of General Dukakis. His right hand drove the motorcycle, and his left hand held a massive pipe that logic dictated must be a fucking bazooka.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I shouted. I was getting pretty sick of almost dying.

“How is he managing to simultaneously steer the vehicle and aim rocket-propelled grenades at us?” Aphrodyke wondered.

“Human beings are truly capable of astonishing tasks when they put their minds to it,” Ada observed.

“How about you beat off to our arch-enemy later, and start some fucking evasive maneuvers?” I proposed.

“Fucking evasive maneuvers initiated, captain,” Ada said snidely. The helicopter veered to the left and Aphrodyke and I nearly fell.

“Look, I’m sorry if that was rude, but I would really prefer to pull through this. Unlike you, I can’t just live on the internet when my body dies.”

“Ada, how close is the other helicopter?” Aphrodyke asked.

“It’s right behind us. I’ve been keeping it close in case we need to evacuate this one,” she said.

“Crash it into Dukakis.” Aphrodyke developed a dark grin.

Ada looked to me for approval. I shrugged. “This one is a hell of a lot less identifiable. And it would be awful nice to get this persistent douchebag off our backs.”

“Crashing our other helicopter into General Dukakis, captain,” Ada said, smiling. I watched out the helicopter window as the black form came into view and dropped altitude.

Dukakis must’ve figured out what was going on, because the next rocket blast hit that other helicopter dead on while it was still twenty or so feet over him. It couldn’t be steered anymore, but its momentum was enough that it was still aiming for the speeding motorcycle as it plummeted.

Dukakis’ motorcycle was hurtling forward down the road at top speed. The flaming helicopter wreckage hit the ground mere feet behind it. On impact its fuel ignited, creating yet another explosion that flipped Dukakis off his motorcycle and into the air. The motorcycle was engulfed by the flames and another smaller explosion yielded. The three of us on the chopper cheered.

Somehow, the fucker managed to stick the landing and fire one more rocket at us.

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