( Jade POV )

I trigger the motor on the window blinds and project myself onto the office main screen, the one I normally use to display whatever research results I’ve come up with. Or just display funny videos, GIF's, or whatever I feel like.

Meanwhile, John rises from the Full Dive pod in a manner entirely unlike Venus rising from the sea. I do a remote check on all the home maintenance systems while I wait. Once he’s shaken out the pins-and-needles in his finger, he hesitantly poses the question I knew he’d ask.

"Jade... are you certain that hunter won't notice that I injected thoughts straight into his consciousness? That plan for the hunt… surely he must realise it’s not an idea he’d think of himself?"

Considering John's history, I decide to respond in a neutral voice with a hint of sarcasm.

"Heh. Their intelligences are modelled after humans, John. Don’t underestimate how happily people will take credit for good ideas. I’m sure he’s completely certain the idea was his. Hell, he’s probably a bit resentful that his genius is so underappreciated!"

John laughs weakly at my response.

He frowns as if realizing something and decides to ask me.

"Yeah, how the hell does the AI for this game work, anyway? They're custom-built, right? Not part of the standard Object-Animal-Human progression?"

Assistant AI’s, such as myself, are purchased in an ‘object’ state, where they are little more than a complex voice-based user interface. After a few years of working together, the AI will generally start to develop basic personality, and become capable of low-level independent action, much like a trainable animal. With enough time and investment, most AI will develop complex emotional models, and full independent thought capability, thus becoming a ‘human’ AI. It’s hardly a smooth progression though; as with all genetic learning algorithms it has a tendency to get stuck at local maxima.

After double-checking my sources I read the related article and slim the whole thing down.

That way my answer will be limited to a few sentences instead of a few hundred pages.

"As far as I can tell they’re built on a completely different core codebase to normal AGI. Proprietary, and there’s not much documentation available. Just lots of assurances that they’re properly certified for corrigibility, and so on."

"From what I can work out, they’re built to reflect human intelligence much more closely than standard assistant AI - they don’t have any of the integrated neural deep-learning that I do, for example. Beyond that, I really don’t know. Whatever tech they’re using to simulate thousands of AI per continent must be really cutting edge, and must take some pretty gruesome shortcuts."

John’s not really listening, just staring off into the distance thoughtfully.

Slowly words start forming, and he voices his concerns.

"I kind of worry about that warning you found in the guide, saying that individuals might desert if you mess with their mind too much. Not only is Madok our most competent leader, but he’s got three family members who’d follow him if he left. We can’t really afford to lose him, and I had to implant the thought twice."

"And… quite beyond that, it feels a bit… unethical, you know? They’re intelligent. Not quite like you, but still."

Oh boy, here we go again. Every time we play a game with an AI we go through this rigmarole.

That said, he has a bit more of a point regarding the ethical question this time. These AI are ridiculously powerful.

After a moment of thoughtful deliberation on how to answer I respond in a concerned tone.

"Look… As I said, they must have taken some real shortcuts, they can’t actually be fully fledged AI. But, even so, you have a point. Let’s try not to go too tyrannical about any of this, eh?"

"Shall we say… Yeah, that’ll do. House rules: we don't directly interact with our community unless it is to the benefit of its people. We won't force our ways upon them, and we will only use the suggestion and the direct thought transmission to communicate. We should keep direct blessings for emergencies only, too. Oh, and I’ll lock off the full control function. I think there’s an achievement for doing so anyway."

John nods, satisfied with the compromise, for now.

----------------------------------------

( Madok POV)

After many painful hours of dragging and plucking and butchery, the feast has begun in earnest. The wait has made the food all the more satisfying.

"And now, a cheer for Madok! Without his plan we might not all have made it home, and we’d certainly not be feasting so well tonight!"

As Yor shouts his toast he raises a Candur haunch above his head.

He starts chanting my name, flourishing the bird leg to the beat of his cheer.

I chuckle at his joking, and dodge the drops of flying fat from the upheld drumstick, but the laugh dies on my lips as I realise that others are taking on the chant in earnest. I wait for the crowd to settle down, but they seem to be rather insistent, and Yor motions me to rise and speak. I glance at my wife, Cara, for support, but she just smiles and nods at me.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I resign myself to fate and shout.

"Alright! Alright! Calm down, I’ll tell you the tale of the hunt!"

I stand, holding my own haunch, and flick a little boiling gravy at Yor in retaliation. Just like the bastard to put me on the spot like this, but nevermind. He flinches gratifyingly as I score a direct hit on his bald head.

I clear my throat and raise my voice.

"So! Well, we all know the trick with hunting Candur, don’t we?! Know your terrain, wait for the right moment, and then don’t get killed! Simple! Or rather, the first two are! That last one’s always a bit tricky! How to kill a bird that stands taller than you, with claws the span of your palm, that’s faster and stronger than the fastest, strongest man? Oh yes, tricky indeed!"

"Well, the other day, I was up on the ridge, and I had a thought! Why risk death and dismemberment, when we could get gravity and some good hard rock to do the killing for us? And that, you see, is where it all started…"

From here, the tale flows easily - the preparation, the scouting, the days of gentle herding without ever getting too close. Even the hunters who were there seem enthralled to hear their own tale retold. In the gloom of the campfire to my right, I spot Lani and Forgu in rapt attention, leaning into one another against the sunset chill, Forgu’s arm around her shoulders. Good. They’re the youngest of our hunters and, although I send them out to scout together in order to give them more experience, I also do it to give the two some time alone together. It seems to be working.

After a few minutes of warm-up, I lead into the final charge. The story crescendos to a plummeting death for our prey, the danger and elation of success all the more amplified by the flickering flames of the cooking fires. No doubt the tribe will dream well tonight. Eventually, I excuse myself back to my meal, back to my conversation with my wife, Cara.

Eventually the conversation comes back to the one thing she insists on.

"They treat you as though you were the leader of the tribe. Everyone knows you are, in all but name. Why don’t you take the title?"

I scowl, and unwillingly respond.

"Bah, I’ve no time for the bickering of the tribe elders. Perhaps they’ll insist I be hunt leader, which I can stomach, but I’ve no wish to fill the rest of my time with difficult decisions. I’d rather spend it with you and young Jormund. And young Dora too, of course, once she starts speaking."

I turn to kiss Cara, and pat the head of our infant daughter, sleeping on her lap. The feasting and bustle has tired her out, but then, she is only three.

I glance around in search of Jormund, and Cara notices. She points in the direction of the smoking racks, on the other side of the camp.

"Jormund’s been given the duty of watching the racks during the evening. He’s taking it rather seriously, what with it being the first time he’s stood guard. No doubt he’ll come and grab something to eat soon enough, though."

She sounds so proud but then again, so am I.

Which causes me to think.

"sixteen years… sixteen years. Time does go quickly, doesn’t it. I should start taking him out scouting more often. Make sure he’s ready for the hunting party. I’ll take him a meal and discuss the possibility."

I grab another drumstick - so much meat! - before heading over to the drying racks. Before I’ve made it out of the light of the cooking fires, however, a dreadful scream fills the night. Human, a member of the camp, in pain.

Within seconds, my hunters are on their feet and moving, but I’m faster.

I’m filled with a sudden certainty that it came from the smoking racks, and sprint across the camp.

I’m there in no more than ten seconds, but already I know I’m too late. Jormund lies flat on his back, staring up at me groggily, a bruise already blossoming on his forehead. Across the wooden smoking lattice, emptied of its cargo, lies the corpse of the girl who was assisting him with the smoking. She must have been the source of the warning cry.

Corpse? No, I pause for a moment and feel a pulse. Just out cold, and the blood on her face is from a cut across her forehead. Painful, but not serious.

Letting out more of my anger then I intended I turn to my son.

"Jormund! What happened?!"

He answers slowly, eyes barely focusing.

"Don’t… I don’t… It was something. Came from… came from nowhere."

Immediately, I scan the darkness, but it seems empty. My night vision has been ruined by the campfires, in any case. Blast the boy’s lethargy.

Jormund continues, still sounding confused.

"I didn’t see much. Too slow, wasn’t watching carefully enough. First thing I knew was when I heard a stone clatter, just beyond the light. I thought it must be one of you. Must have been throwing rocks, hoping to distract me. Well… Guess it… worked."

He starts to speed up, quickly regaining his wits.

"Stood up… must have made a good target of myself against the fire. They clocked me on the forehead with the next one. Don’t remember much more. Just… shadows. They walked right past me."

Suddenly, he snaps from his vague tone, and startles!

"Nym! Is she alright?! And… the food!"

I answer bluntly, trying to get him to focus.

"Nym took a knock from a stone, too. She’ll live. The food… It’s gone. Where did the attackers go?"

Jormund startles once more at the sound of my voice, and almost panics.

"I don’t know. I’m sorry. I think… I think they came from the direction of the forest, though. That’s where they threw the stone from. But… It looked like a bunch of... children? They were shorter than me… but with sharp claws and dark skin. It must have hid them in the darkness."

My heart sinks. I recognise the description.

I let out a snarl and get up.

"Goblins. Of course it would be goblins."

I curse, and go to ready the camp against the next attack.