2533, a year of expansion and incredible technology. Humanity finally found their bearings among the stars, venturing out into both the known and the unknown. The world, stripped of it's materials, forced people to look outside their home, and so they did...
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It was a dark morning on Base 39. A light scent of old oil bristled in the air. Mark found himself surrounded by the shimmer of patches of new and old metal walls, seeking to illuminate the corners that weren't reached by the new microvolt backup lighting in the outpost. The main lights were forced to go off the previous day, as the new project was taking more power from the reactor than the, arguably pig headed, scientists in Section 4 had expected. Nothing but a bunch of crazed researchers over there, trying to crack a condensed version of fusion reactors without all the fancy containment systems of the current models.
Mark hurried out of bed, his mildly curly brown hair showing the dirt seen only when foregoing basic personal upkeep for several days. Thanks to that, jumping into some basic clothes and putting on the required re-breather system from the H&S department was a quick thing to finish. He worked alone mostly though in Section 7, the so-called “Department of Artificial Life”, so his appearance and scent were mostly superfluous as long as the work was done. Despite the fancy name, there were several teams in play at Sector 7. The biologist types always hated him, probably because they focused on appearance so much. That was fine though, because Intelligence itself was his project. Mark hurried down the corridor into the AI lab, which despite the name, was mostly a computer console in a small room overlooking the server complex. Mark basked in the blue glow of the coolant system as it exchanged heat with the radiation fins on the outpost hull. No matter how many times he saw it, the glow was always a marvel of technology working together. Mark sat down at the terminal desk, a worn but well-loved tool, and one of the very few mahogany articles allowed in the outpost. Mark logged into the console, checked the neutral network condition for any known deficiency patterns quickly, and then started the interface.
A short *beep* was heard, followed by some quiet static as the vocal processor came online.
[Good morning Mark, and Happy 31st Birthday if I might add! What's the plan for day?] the mechanical voice chirped.
“Not much yet Eaiphe, just doing some basic tests. I've been told to relax today actually. Some kind of mandatory rest policy on birthdays that they're finally enforcing. I'm happier working, like the last 7 times, but apparently that was getting the HR lead in trouble, so I'm supposed to just take it easy today.” Mark said with a sigh.
[Well, given you're here, doesn't that mean you're ignoring those orders?] asked Eaiphe.
“No no, these are required daily upkeep tasks, not real work. I'm safe, and I couldn’t relax unless they were done anyway.” Mark said with a tone of exhaustion. Birthdays weren't his forte.
[Of course. I'll begin a full system check then.]
Sitting in his chair, Mark looked at a picture on the wall of his mother and father. They were middle class folk, good people from what he remembered, and did what they could for him growing up. They didn't survive the 2522 year of frost though. Raging blackouts and unstoppable carnage from storms that broke the world. Luckily he was already on Base 39 by then, recruited by a government agency out of highschool for special training at the base academy. Friends and family alike were all taken from him like shredding paper. Making friends that he could trust wouldn't disappear was too hard for him now, so Eaiphe was all he had to talk to. Days off were always like this though, which is why he didn't take them off if he could help it. Work was preferable to remembering, and remembering has always been too much. 7 years of ignoring it seemed to dull the pain though, so he entertained the memories today.
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Several hours passed this way, remembering his old friends and how they used to do things that were just bad enough to be annoying, but not bad enough to be seriously dealt with. Painting a mailbox a slightly off colour from what it was supposed to be and watching the owners slowly go insane. Rearranging lawn ornaments at random, but only one at a time. They were a sophisticated and patient evil for sure. His parents would scold him, but always lovingly, and never used true violence.
As a tear started to flow down his cheeks, another *beep* broke the silence.
[Mark, there's something you should see. System checks are showing unnaturally high energy levels coming from Section 4. No alarms were recorded, but some of the energy flow units are reporting an overload. Should I report this to the management AI?] Eaiphe reported with urgency.
“No, it's probably just from one of their initial fusion tests. I remember one of their scientists bragging about it happening today. They assured everyone the temporary containment was impervious to damage, so I'm sure it'll just melt some secondary power couplers and go out.” Mark said confidently, brushing it aside.
[As much as I trust you, I'd prefer if you at least checked it out. Remember to install the neutral node I provided. I can't update you without it.] Eaiphe pleaded.
“That chip?” Mark said surprised. “I thought it was still experimental?”
[No, it was cleared for use by the biology division last week. There's no harm in having it, and I can back up a surprisingly large amount of my neutral interface into it if needed.]
Mark, noticing the confidence in Eaiphe’s synthetic voice, got to work installing the implant. Removing his normal comms implant wasn't difficult. Cranial interface slots were commonplace these days, and mandatory for everyone on the outpost. With a few mental commands, the comms chip shut down, and the quick pain and feeling of loss that always accompanied losing brain interface functions followed. He always hated upgrades due to that. Mark slotted in the new chip carefully, making sure not to accidentally swap the orientation and damage the chip.
Mark's vision came alive as the chip started up. Hidden features filled the screen, lots of things he was sure didn't get past approval yet as well. Eaiphe seems to have been hiding some birthday presents. At a glance, the status overlay showed a direct link to Eaiphe with several modes. The screen showed a read out for all of the possible modes to choose from.
Interface to Experimental Artificial Intelligence Platform for Human Expansion (EAIPHE)
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MODES
1) Remote Only - Allow remote communication to the EAIPHE system. No neutral feedback or self-hosting. Protects user from AI ingress.
2) Host Backup Mode - Allow communications to be stored for later transmission and processing to EAIPHE system when in range of remote links.
3) Neutral Hosting - Host a local copy of EAIPHE in the secure storage of the accelerator interface. Allows communications and uplink to EAIPHE master systems when within communications range.
4) Neural Ingress (EXPERIMENTAL) - Allow EAIPHE system to implant information directly into human neutral network. WARNING: Results limited. Unknown side effects and does not protect against AI Deviations. Not Recommended for use outside secure facilities and must be preceeded with a full neutral backup for user safety.
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Given the facility was on the network, Mark selected Remote Only and proceeded with the setup process. As the communications interface was coming online, Mark shifted to getting on his environmental protection gear. It would be a long walk to Section 4.