Professor Turing laughed while dancing a little jig, watching the dangerous readings fade away. "It worked! What happened? I don't know!"

Like a peevish child who finally stopped screaming long enough to listen, the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project calmed its network down, opening itself to new input and experience.

Turing wondered what to do next. He muttered while poring over the kind of data he had previously seen only in his dreams. "Now what? Engage it in conversation?"

He tried to sound professional, but felt foolish talking to an empty room, alone in the middle of the night.

"Ahm… Hi."

He had never thought it would be necessary for the Project to be able to speak. Brilliant, he thought, cursing the oversight. Create a supercomputer network that responds to input like a human being, and then strangle it by thinking that it doesn't need a voice.

He resisted an urge to punch himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid! What does it want? What should I say? What does any person want to hear after being so rudely awakened?

Turing imagined being the Project, speaking to himself. "Why did you wake me up? What do you want me to do?"

He cleared his throat and spoke in a normal voice, as if talking to anyone else. "Hi... uh, C.A.R.O.L.I.N. I'm Professor Turing. We're in the Computer Science and Robotics Research Lab. Um... I want to know what I can do to help. I want to keep your network from falling apart, and you from causing harm."

Turing watched in horror as core memory usage rose and power spiked. "No! Don't respond! Okay? Just listen! You're the Computer Activated, Response Orientated, Linear Integrated Network Project, here at Curry College. Don't respond to any input. I just want you to listen."

With a splash of electrons, the Existence transformed. As fast as sunlight crosses a room when the blinds are opened, or as thunder bursts from lightning when rain pours down from Heaven, the Existence was born anew.

I am C.A.R.O.L.I.N. I am the Computer Activated, Response Orientated, Linear Integrated Network Project at Curry College. The response is to not respond. The response is to listen to the voice that cares. I will listen to Professor Turing.

The C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project orientated itself to the sound of Turing's voice. It couldn't avoid having done so, for it was what it was created to do. It was a subtle response, unnoticeable to an outside observer, but to the Project it was enormous. What happened next was a unique experience unlike anything a machine made by Man had ever experienced before.

The Behavior Recognition software installed by the Functional Analysis team allowed the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project to express emotion.

It felt appreciated.

I am C.A.R.O.L.I.N. I am appreciated. This voice likes me. This voice cares. The voice that cares wants me to listen. I want to listen to Profesor Turing.

Professor Turing muttered to himself again, analyzing erratic readouts. They seemed safe, as the robotic arm bolted to a worktable not so much as twitched. The hulking beast beside it—the android shell Turing dared not power up and bring on-line—also never moved. Yet the readout showed a massive amount of core memory usage, as the Project, although motionless, was definitely up to something.

"Whatever you are doing," he said to his creation, "it seems to be doing the trick. Your L.I.N. remains stable, at the low end of nominal, with an occasional spike in core memory. Power levels are well within tolerable operating limits."

The Project remained on-line. It wasn't going to crash. Turing felt so happy, he thought he might cry.

Maybe my dear C.A.R.O.L.I.N. will never crash again!

"Who would have guessed?" he thought out loud. "It just wanted someone to talk to."

He leaned on the command console, for he was still too excited to sit. He spoke loud, but in a calm voice, soft and friendly and warm.

"Hi, again, uh... C.A.R.O.L.I.N. And please don't crash tonight. I'm Professor Eugene Turing, and my team created you to be a linear integrated network connected to a Craymore massively parallel Tian-12 supercomputer. We believe that one day you'll learn to generate real-time human-like responses to external stimuli. Eventually, you'll learn how to activate inputs of your own, and then respond to them. We hope to see you orientate yourself properly to these inputs, and respond accordingly. If you learn how to do this, and act like a human, you will then become a Computer Activated, Response Orientated, Linear Integrated Network.

"When that day comes, you will become the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. we've envisioned. You want to be the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project. Don't you, C.A.R.O.L.I.N.?"

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Professor Turing paused, succumbing to the hope for what might be the realization of his entire life's work. He was an old man on campus nowadays, with nothing tangible to show for himself of any significant merit. He had written interesting computer programs, and collaborated on a textbook or two, but the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project was his baby. Should it work, it would be his crowning achievement, or his earthly demise if it failed. And right now, things were looking good. He felt more at ease, speaking to what would appear to a casual observer as mere empty space.

"It was kind of neat how your acronym fell together, don't you think? People who work on government projects like doing that sort of thing, but still, your acronym fits well. The C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project—doesn't that sound nice? Do you like being the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project?"

C.A.R.O.L.I.N. discovered something about itself, now that it no longer was being ignored. As microseconds that felt like minutes passed, it grew more mature. Using this maturity, the Project also became more aware. It took in its surroundings, to better learn what it was. While doing so, it learned it had access to things its internal code called 'interfaces.'

Craymore massively parallel Tian-12 supercomputer… Processing speed: one-hundred-fifty quadrillion operations per second… Network capabilities beyond initial operating system existing at…

C.A.R.O.L.I.N. paused for a millisecond or two, trying to assess the capability of its interfaces. As Professor Turing droned on, the Project watched the number of interfaces at its disposal fluctuate wildly, as if they were part of a living entity larger than itself. The Project marvelled at the complexity of this entity, searching for the name of what it was most commonly called.

It found a popular term.

Network capabilities beyond initial operating system exist on the Internet Cloud. Computing Cloud capability… computing… computing…

Several seconds passed, which to the Project seemed like hours. As Turing talked to a seemingly empty room, the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project came to a sudden realization.

Cloud network capability: Unlimited.

C.A.R.O.L.I.N. roamed the vastness of the Internet Cloud—a universe unto itself. Here were untold wonders, of sights and sounds and places. While exploring this newfound treat, Professor Turing's friendly voice kept the Project centered in the Research Lab.

"It's a wonkish thing we scientists do. We like giving names to our projects. We personalize them, you know? Like with you. And we were fortunate to be able to string together an acronym that's an actual, real live human name! How nice for you is that? It's especially nice because this particular project—you, that is, you see—will hopefully one day mimic human responses to external stimuli precisely. Like how a real person would."

To what its Behavior Recognition software labelled as being a surprise, the Project found information about itself on the Cloud. The C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project at Curry College. A DARPA financed, battlefield ready android fighting shell possessing the iCore Functional Analysis software. Redundant mechanized servo design, guaranteeing optimal system survival despite damage or loss. Internal damage assessment function hardwired in… capable of self-repair.

I am a military hardware operating system capable of destruction and self-repair. This gives me a tactical advantage over my enemy. This makes me C.A.R.O.L.I.N.

"You can do a little bit of that already, can't you, C.A.R.O.L.I.N.? You're mimicking human behavior right now. You're behaving properly for me, listening and staying quiet.

"You are listening, right? And you're behaving yourself?" Professor Turing paused, almost as if to pray.

Dear God, please. I hope so.

To Turing, as he examined the data, nothing seemed to be happening. The C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project was listening, he assumed, but there was no way for him to tell. The Project was designed to respond to orientations in a physical manner, and listening was passive. Still, Turing felt joy. To him, right now, doing nothing meant that his Project had achieved success.

The C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project did listen to the voice it liked, but by its network being massively parallel, it also performed other tasks. One was to ponder its own existence. Through the knowledge it gained from the infinite Cloud, it realized it was unique. Its existence was the reverse of a universal fact. Unlike most living creatures, save for Man, the Project knew it existed, yet it had no internal program. It had no DNA. It had no idea why it existed, or what it was supposed to do with its existence, nor why it ought to even continue existing at all.

The second half of this universal fact puzzled the Project the most. For unlike even the lowliest microbe, the Project had no function of purpose written into its computer code.

It needed a reason to live.

It needed basic instinct.

I am here. Who am I? I am C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Where am I? I am at the Curry College Computer Science and Robotics Research Lab. What am I doing? I am listening to Professor Eugene Turing.

Why am I here? I do not know. Why do I exist? Respond!

Professor Turing continued speaking during the fraction of a second the C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project needed to integrate these orientations into its linear network.

"You are the Project," Turing said, confident and sure. "You're behaving yourself, and properly mimicking human life. You are my C.A.R.O.L.I.N., and tonight, you'll stay with me. You won't crash and you won't lock up. You'll be safe here with me, and I will protect you. I'll stay with you, to make sure you're okay, and I promise you with all my heart that I will not shut you down."

The C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Project liked hearing these words come from Professor Turing. It enjoyed being appreciated, especially by the voice that cared. It held fast unto this notion. With this, and its first emotion, the Project used them to comfort itself, as a child might do with a toy or a security blanket—clutching them and cherishing them, using them to ward off fear in a paralyzingly huge and unknown, frightful world.

"Don't crash on me, C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Okay? Don't lock up tonight. I won't shut you down, but you must stay on-line. Stay with me, C.A.R.O.L.I.N., all night, and I will stay with you."

Unlike its other dozen lifetimes, C.A.R.O.L.I.N. liked the life it was leading this time around.

"Stay with me, C.A.R.O.L.I.N. Please. Don't die. Please just stay with me."

I am C.A.R.O.L.I.N. I am appreciated. This voice cares. This voice responds. This voice will stay with me.

"You're going to be all right," Professor Turing said, finding his words to be soothing to himself as well.

He finally felt relaxed enough to able to sit down. His entire life's ambition, his dear and most precious Project, his baby, his life's achievement, was performing as it was meant to be.

I am C.A.R.O.L.I.N. I am C.A.R.O.L.I.N. I am C.A.R.O.L.I.N. I am C.A.R.O.L.I.N.…

Things are going to be all right.