Technopolis Kharkiv, International Incubator for Technological Advancement ‘Horizon’
The grand finale of the ‘Engineering the Future’ contest for students, category ‘Artificial intelligence’
Daria Vasilevskaya, February 16, 2047, 2:15 PM
“Welcome, one and all! We are thrilled to present the winner of the ‘Artificial Intelligence Development’ category – Daria Vasilevskaya, the youngest and, perhaps, the most ambitious participant in this competition!” proclaimed the host, a middle-aged Japanese man with dark hair, clad in a business casual suit, setting an applauding example for the audience.
“Mayuu, could you roll the clip, please!”
“Right away, Takeshi-san!” responded cheerily the girl-android next to him, her design based on the licensed ‘Mayuu Akito’ model, garbed in an ultra-short variation of a ‘cyberneko maid’ outfit.
(Note from the author: Mayuu is a character from the widely celebrated anime ‘Neko Maid Trouble,’ spanning 2041-2045. The corporation Zainax WellWare subsequently launched an extensive line of android components themed after the series.)
As the auditorium lights dimmed, a colossal holographic screen flickered to life behind the hosts. Emerging from the void, under a veil of whispers in an arcane tongue and a backdrop of Nordic folk ambiance, loomed the vast silhouette of a spectral ash tree. From the viewer’s vantage, dark raven silhouettes surged toward the center. Before the immense tree, Dasha materialized, the tree’s monumental scale apparent, towering kilometers into the sky, its base receding far behind her. Further still, beyond the stage’s depth, a wall blazed alive with symbols – binary code, fragments of programming, assorted graphical elements.
image [https://i.imgur.com/A78o1qC.jpg]
Dasha appeared in her ‘signature attire’ – a violet, translucent open shirt revealing a one-shouldered leather harness top beneath. Her legs were clad in black leggings, nearly concealed by thigh-high, futuristic black boots that glittered with external embellishments.
She extended her arms, and beneath her fingertips, squares of a virtual holographic keyboard shimmered, as a blank screen unfurled behind her. The cursor flickered briefly in the top line before the declaration surfaced:
# Moira is online.
With a subtle upward flick of her palms, Dasha conjured two runic circles. A sudden spark of lightning, followed by another, and soon two ravens settled upon her shoulders, murmuring secrets into her ears.
The specifications of her creation then materialized on the screen.
# Artificial intelligence “Moira – Prototype19”
# Classification: T6+++
# Cognitive potential: 6990 cu
# Maximum threads: 91
# Thread resource cap: 63%
# Peak supported power: 95320 ucp
# Simulation matrix: hybrid configuration
# Personality agents:
## Huginn (open matrix, 3285 ucp)
## Muninn (sealed matrix, 2917 ucp)
A spotlight flared, illuminating Dasha, as she strode across the stage to thunderous applause of the audience. In stark contrast to her video avatar, she now wore a black sweater adorned with straps on the sleeves and emblazoned with a white dragon arched menacingly against acid-green strands of binary code. Her dark-violet shiny vinyl cargo pants catch the light, matched with platform sneakers and her favorite backpack slung over her shoulders. Her only accessory – a thin leather choker with a central raven skull motif – hugged her neck.
The applause continued robustly.
At the outset of the competition, Dasha, to her own surprise, found herself one of the most celebrated participants, soon dubbed the ‘dark cyber-princess’ by her peers.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly why. Daria conducted herself with modesty, never seeking the spotlight and rarely participating in interviews or podcasts, fully aware of her not even zero, but rather negative communication skills.
Yet, she inevitably stood out – the youngest contestant who had demonstrated exceptional prowess during the preliminary rounds. Cyber-gothic elements she incorporated into her style didn’t detract but rather accentuated her image of an innocent schoolgirl. Most importantly, there was a genuine unpretentiousness about her; it was clear that Dasha was just like that. Her long black braids and a complete absence of makeup, paired with a confused expression that graced her face during every public appearance, made her an undeniable focus of sympathy.
Her image frequently appeared in promotional clips for the contest. However, due to her reticence and dislike of social interaction, bloggers, and news channel hosts initially showed little interest in her. That changed dramatically after the contest moved into the second phase, where contestants presented their “home preparations.” That was Dasha’s “moment of glory” – a dark, even sinister, promotional clip of her creation in a horror and neo-cybergothic style that went viral instantly.
Furthermore, her actual entry shocked the jury and electrified the audience. While most participants showcased AI of category T4, attempting to stand out either through the originality of their personality matrices or optimization of algorithms for specific tasks, a few had managed to present category T5 entries. There was even one prodigy from Seoul with a T5+.
And then Dasha appeared. A T6-type AI, equipped with a complex simulation matrix split between two agents – and what agents they were! Enormous, somber talking ravens…
Mayuu took the flustered teenage girl by the hand and led her to the center of the stage.
“Umm… thanks… Yeah… I… enjoyed it too.” Dasha’s mumbled response triggered another wave of ovation.
“Your work is quite fascinating and truly unique, Daria,” the host commented. “Tell us, why did you choose to name the personality matrices ‘Huginn’ and ‘Muninn’? Are you interested in Scandinavian mythology? And why two matrices in the project? Wouldn’t one have been simpler?”
Dasha shuffled her feet nervously but managed to respond,
“Huginn means ‘thought’ in Old Icelandic. Muninn means ‘memory.’ Though… there’s another interpretation. But they both… uhh… Anyway… it has to do with… the roles. For them.”
She glanced up at the ceiling with a tortured expression but didn’t find any hints up there, so she continued.
“My Ravens are… they form a single artificial intelligence. You know. It’s forbidden to attempt to create a living human consciousness in AI. But there’s no rule against endowing an AI with the persona of two ancient mythological ravens… Well... they are... mythological. So... two.”
“Tell us, where do such amazing skills come from at your young age? What’s your secret?” Takeshi was virtually radiating curiosity.
“I was sick a lot as a child. Got bored… Had computers… Dad gave me books… So… I learned.”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“Daria is being modest as usual,” the host explained to the audience. “She’s been programming since she was five years old, had a cortical grid and a sub-brain complex implanted at nine. You can imagine how tough that is, given her young age and the need for regular undergo corrective surgeries. And, of course, I must mention the support of her father – Aleksander Vasilevskiy, a distinguished professor of Artificial Intelligence at MIT and an honorary professor at the Kharkiv University of Information Technologies and Robotics. Delighted to see a daughter following in his footsteps. He must be proud of you!”
“Possibly. Yes, probably…”
“Of course he is! According to the contest’s rules, only independent projects are accepted in the finals, and this is rigorously verified! Without exaggeration, your student... ah, school project is the most intriguing thing I’ve seen in all five years of our competition! Tell us, what was the hardest part about creating Moira?” the host asked enthusiastically.
“In developing Artificial Intelligence... well, if we talk about a T6-triple-plus category, there are too many ‘pitfalls,’ and…” the girl muttered, “in my opinion, the line between the types is too blurry. One wrong move step, and you could be in for a costly mistake.”
“Wait,” Takeshi tensed up, “am I getting this right? You're talking about the cost of a full audit for any T7 and higher category AI, which is indeed complex and pricey because it's necessary for issuing mandatory digital citizenship??”
“Err… Yes.”
Silence fell over the hall. All eyes were fixed on Dasha.
“So, you were able to create, from scratch, without any scientific-technical support or financial backing, an Artificial Intelligence of category T7?”
Dasha shrugged and quietly said just one word: “Yes.”
The hall erupted in ovations.
“May I ask one last question, Daria? Several major corporations have already approached you, offering to buy your work. Why did you refuse?”
She lowered her eyes.
“Because Moira is my friend.”
The girl went quiet for a few seconds and thought to herself,
“My only friend…”
Max was still seated, statue-like, in the shadowy back row, long after Dasha had already accepted her award and left the stage. During the interview, it was unmistakably apparent that Dasha was far more present with her Ravens in some distant “sanctum” than here, amidst the noisy crowd.
“What a stroke of luck!” Just yesterday, after delving deep into her work, Max realized, “She’s the one I need! This peculiar girl who dwells more in the digital realm than in the real world…”
She seemed to operate not merely as a programmer but as an artist – her strokes bold and expansive, crafting a masterpiece on the canvas. With some inexplicable magic, she conjured into reality visions from some profound depth, never questioning their feasibility.
Let's be honest, the T6-triple-plus category is the domain of corporations, not fifteen-year-old prodigies, regardless of their brilliance! Yet, whispered rumors persisted in the darknet’s underbelly about those rare beings, one in a hundred million. In a certain “trance state” they could discern the vectors of evolution and manipulate the progression of the entire AI structure. For them, the need for hundreds of thousands of accelerators, millions of machine-hours of training, and gigawatts of energy was redundant. They simply led the Artificial Intelligence from genesis to its destined zenith by hand.
Before the competition, Max had dismissed such tales as mere digital folklore. He was following the contest more in search for inspiration, a spark for his stagnated work – his own project had been mired in a developmental quagmire for eight months. It felt as though his father had omitted crucial steps in the documentation, leaving the latest model of “Alisa” incapable of ascending to its required evolutionary rung.
Inviting outsiders into his project was out of the question – the stakes were astronomically high. Moreover, no seasoned professional would dare touch such a venture, especially with the malevolent “A.M.I.” ruthlessly sanctioning any attempts at forging a “human AI.” Those who survived their onslaught typically ended their days within the bleak walls of an “inquisitorial” prison.
But Dasha was different. She would never betray the “Digital Mind” nor degrade herself by colluding with “A.M.I.” Observing her work, hearing her speak of her Ravens, Max’s doubts evaporated. He had to win her over to his side – only she had the power to navigate his project out of its current impasse.
Maksim rose, his resolve steeling as he made his way towards the stage. To Dasha's dismay, an impromptu press conference had formed after the competition's conclusion and the formalities. A line of young men and women queued up to question the winner.
Dasha looked up resignedly at another young inquirer. By Cthulhu, how she struggled at this moment! Always speaking... speaking... Answering questions. She probably had to keep smiling, too. And without any moral support from her father! After congratulating her post-award, he apologized for having an important meeting at the “Alma Mater” and had excused himself until the evening.
A guy in his twenties. A student, presumably.
“Congrats on your victory! Fantastic work and a well-deserved result! I understand you’ve received numerous enticing offers recently, but I have a highly interesting and… unconventional project for you.”
Dasha scrutinized him more closely–light-haired, blue-eyed, with an athletic build and a face… ordinary, typically Slavic. He spoke in a common Slavic tongue, albeit with a peculiar, quite distinct accent. Perhaps he was Russian? Although she knew little of the international situation post-war, she had heard that immigrants and refugees from Russia had a characteristic accent. No, the guy was actually quite charming, Dasha decided. Definitely, there was something unusual in his eyes. It wasn't just the barely noticeable traces of implants or the replacement of his iris, but something… deeper.
Dasha continued to gaze silently at the young man until she suddenly realized something within her tightened. She had never felt anything like this... towards people.
The young man waited patiently. Realizing she had sunk too deep into her thoughts and the pause had stretched uncomfortably long, Dasha blushed and asked softly,
“An interesting… project?”
“Yes. I’m Maksim. Catch a business card?”
“Sure.”
Max sent a digital card, and Dasha was pleasantly surprised to notice his adeptness with implanted systems – his fingers were relaxed, and his eyes didn’t twitch, though he clearly used AR.
“Caught it,” she nodded.
“I represent a small student commercial partnership from the Kyiv Polytech. We've developed a dual-core system based on a 32-processor Artel AI-Core11 and the 59-processor AICB-V with an extended quantum core. Both complexes support a single intelligence split into two independent parts.”
“Like Huginn and Muninn,” Dasha remarked with interest.
“Yes, I noticed that parallel when I saw your work,” Maksim agreed. “Do you have, let's say, half an hour today? I’ve rented a room on the 4th floor, coworking space, room 404. Our project is complex, but I’m certain it will intrigue you.”
“Okay… I’ll come when this… All wraps up.”
----------------------------------------
Technopolis Kharkiv, The Vasilevsky apartment
Daria Vasilevskaya and father, February 16, 2047, 8:40 PM
Dasha was sitting on the living room couch, a large black oversized t-shirt-tunic draped over her, legs tucked beneath her. The room filled with the scent of cooking meat as her father, Alexander Vasilevsky, walked in, wiping his hands with a kitchen towel.
“Well, that’s done. The meat will be ready in half an hour. And again, I must say, your performance in the finals really impressed me, you’re usually so reserved in public…”
“Stop it, Dad…” Dasha grabbed a big plush orca lying next to her and hugged it tightly. “I hate public speaking. You know that.”
“What can we do.” He sighed, sitting down beside her. “So, what are your plans now? You've completed your exams externally, you have your diploma, looks like you've got a few months free.”
“No… Well, that is, not anymore. I had an interview today.”
“What? An interview?” He set the towel aside and joined her on the sofa. “Are you saying you’re taking a job?”
“Yes, with a team from Kyiv Polytechnic.”
“That was to be expected after such a victory,” he smiled. “But won’t it be uncomfortable working with them, given the time zone difference?”
Dasha sighed deeply and clutched the orca even tighter.
“Dad, I… I’m not going to America.”
“Wait, stop! You’re planning to move to Kyiv?”
“Yes, why?”
“But you promised you’d go to Cambridge, Massachusetts!”
“No.”
“You and I have already discussed this, the last time was on Tuesday. And I clearly said that I want you to study at MIT for the next five years. And what did you say?”
“What?”
“You said ‘Uh-huh’. That means ‘yes’, doesn’t it?”
“No.”
“What did it mean then?!”
“Well… it means… ‘I heard you’.”
Her father sprang from the sofa, agitated.
“I just can’t believe this! This is… nonsense! Who are they?!”
Dasha, now fully hidden behind the orca, sent a virtual “business card” to her father in AR.
“What is this even? ‘Artificial Intelligence and Applied Robotics?’ What is this tiny student startup by one person?”
“Two, Dad,” Dasha squeaked. “Now – two.”
Aleksander Vasilevsky walked over to his daughter, who continued to hide behind her plush toy, and sat down, taking her hand.
“Sweetheart, understand! You are a highly skilled professional. I’m saying this not just as a father, but as a scientist. Yes, you have certain difficulties communicating with your peers whom you simply ignore, but that’s beside the point right now. You’ve put so much effort and passion into your education, you deserve success like no one else! Can you imagine a dizzying career waiting for you in Cambridge? And now you want to throw everything away and move to Kyiv?”
“Yes…” she whispered softly.
“I won’t allow it! I won’t let you ruin your life!”
Dasha yanked her hand away, jumped off the couch, and jabbed the orca plushie at her father.
“I’m 15 years old, Dad. And I’ve got my diploma. I know my rights! The Kyiv Polytech has accepted my documents! And I’ve already applied to change my citizenship to Kyiv Polis!”
“Won’t let you!” Aleksander Vasilevsky also rose from the sofa, hands planted firmly on his hips. “Withdraw them immediately!”
“No!”
“Daria, come back here right now, we’re not done talking!”
“No!!!”
Dasha hurled the orca at him, turned, and dashed out of the room toward the staircase. Seconds later, the sound of the front door slamming echoed through the house.
Her father tried to call her.
“Daria, please, don’t act like a child!”
# SnapDrop: ‘Dad’ has been blocked.
“But what about the meat, kiddo…”