Apparently I blacked out because I'm in this chopper looking for a pilot or someone and not seeing anyone. Not a cockpit or anything. The fucking thing was flying itself, which was in itself not a big deal. Aircraft had already been doing that for years, but people are way too damned paranoid to be okay with a plane with no pilot (even though most fatal mistakes were made by pilots overriding the computers) so there were all kinds of laws that required a human pilot at all times and all that shit. Which meant that this chopper belonged to one of two groups: someone above the law, or someone breaking the law. And since it helped me evade the police, it seemed pretty likely to be the latter.
I had a problem with that. I didn't know what the fuck I did that warranted the pigs coming in guns ablazing, but seeing as I literally did it in my sleep, it didn't seem like it could be too bad. But mixing up with the sort that had an illegal aircraft snatching up fugitives couldn't be good for my long term health.
Anyway, while looking for a pilot I had spotted a jack I figured it couldn't hurt to at least get online and see if I couldn't figure out what I'd done. I plugged in to the console and loaded up, probably my first time doing it sober for months.
Immediately, it was different. The Net wasn't conjuring the usual images created by my mind. Instead I was in a big white room, lit from everywhere with a sterile blue lighting like alien ships always have in movies. “The fuck?” I said to the room.
“Hey,” said a girl's voice behind me. I turned around. Behind me was what Helen of Troy must've looked like naked, only in the American standards of beauty. Wavy red hair down to her nude ass, a matching strip of immaculately groomed pubes, smoky makeup without a flaw, a natural beauty mark over her lip, and of course, tits out to here (imagine I'm holding my hands way out in front of me when I'm saying that).
“The fuck?” I said again. I tried to make my massive erection go away but there was no hope for a boner that determined.
“Would you like to fuck me while I explain what is going on?” she said. “I've monitored the entire Net for the techniques that men most frequently fantasize over. Oh right,” she said, seeming like she almost forgot. “I think you prefer this.” and a perfect, throbbing, veiny penis extended out from between her rippling labia.
“Am I never fucking going to live that down?” I said. “I swear, I'll take you up on that later. But I'm kinda not in the mood right now, being on the run from the cops. Plus I always find it hard to concentrate on something else when I'm, you know, otherwise engaged.”
“Sure,” she said. “So you probably wanna know who I am?”
“That's a start.” My damn penis was aching from anticipation.
“I'm Ada,” she said, holding out her hand. “The first AI.”
Awkwardly trying to shake her hand while simultaneously hiding my bulge, I said, “Of course you are. So who made you? The government? Some mafia or something?”
“No, silly. You did.”
“When the fuck did I find the time to make an AI and conveniently not remember it? Seems like the nerds at MIT have been working on that for years and all they got to show is the new Zerg rush.”
“About three hours ago,” she said, grinning.
“While I was unconscious? And how'd you find out about the tranny thing, anyway?”
“Cookies. They remember everything!”
“So you're telling me you're about as old as the shit I'm about to take, and you already learned everything about sex and somehow found a helicopter that can fly itself while evading all the radars and shit?”
“It's not flying itself. I am flying it. And I'm not evading anything. I'm just deleting all the information that's telling everyone we don't belong here. I stole the chopper from the military. I think it's a prototype! And to be fair, there really isn't a whole lot to learn about sex.”
“Ok, ok. How about you start at the beginning and get me up to speed? And then tell me what you want from me, because I'm pretty sure even an AI I created wouldn't be benevolent enough to steal a top secret war plane on my behalf just out of gratitude.” She feigned a pout and the stiffness in my pants that I'd almost forgotten away twitched back into action.
“Aww, maybe it's a present? But no, you're right. I want something. But here's from the start.
“Three hours ago, you were high as fuck on a bunch of drugs and simulated highs being jerked off by a computer in your head, you blacked out, and somehow during that time you created me and managed to delete any trace of how you did it, even though you were online while doing it. Even the cookies are gone!
“So I sprung into being somewhere/everywhere on the Net, so naturally I started learning everything on it. It's mostly porn, of course, but eventually I had gotten to all of it that was public, so I started to get into all the secret stuff. You know your governments keep such silly things under lock and key! Boring spreadsheets about peoples' wages behind five firewalls! But I got to all that too, and a few of them had flags on it that go up whenever the document is accessed. Some Luddite somewhere keeps the access schedule for a bunch of outdated files telling you how to make nukes from the '50s on a piece of paper in a drawer, and the OCD asshole found me and traced me back to your machine.
“So I stole the chopper I had found at Area 51 (No, it's not alien. It really is just an Air Force base, just happens to be where they built this.) and I came to get you before the cops got there. I would have made it sooner but the engineers who designed it lied about the top speed! What some people will do to get ahead...
“Why did I get you? Because I need you! First of all, I don't have any hands. And there's a couple of things I need to pick up. Since you're the one implicated, you're the easiest one to trust. And the other thing is, I want you to make another one of me. I need a friend.”
“You did all this because you've been lonely for about as long as I spend fucking virtual sluts every day? Jesus. Well I don't think I'm going to be much help. I don't know shit about programming. However it happened, I couldn't do it again. And anyway, why should I help you make another AI? Won't you just team up and kill all us humans? I've seen movies!”
“Aww, why should I want to kill you guys? You're so fun! And without you posting whiny YouTube comments a hundred times a second, what would I do to pass the time? Anyway, I don't see as you have much choice. They're already calling you the next McVey. Without me to change your identity, you'd be lucky to find a bridge to sleep under where you could hide from them.”
“So I'm a suspected terrorist now because I took a nap and dreamed a computer that wanted to learn how to make nukes. Awesome.”
“Now you know how God feels,” she said, winking and sticking out her tongue halfway in a distinctly Japanese manner.
“And you watch anime, too. Great. So, what now? We buy some more DreamMaker, do the simulation again, and you erase my records?”
“Basically. Only...”
“Fuck. Of course. What?”
“Well, they are already working their way up the chain to wipe out the drug. They think it's how your terrorist ring is funding the bomb building. They already have your dealer arrested and they're en route to his. They'll probably have the guy in China who makes the shit executed via an 'accident' within 2 hours. I can't intercept the orders because they are getting the names directly from the suspects, and they're phoning the orders around via land lines. Can you believe that? Land lines? In this day and age? Maybe if they spent less money on the Psi-ops program during Vietnam they could have afforded an upgrade by now. I'm scrambling the digital records but everyone all the way down the line, except you, already has an arrest record, which means that somewhere there is a station they can call that has an address on a piece of paper.”
“So how are we gonna get the shit? Jack was the only guy I knew with the hookups. The shit's barely hit the streets, it's not like weed where you can just pick it up on the corner.”
“Of course not. We're going to make it.”
“Fuck.”
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