“Pardon me, but do I have something on my face?”
It’s talking to me.
“You are staring.”
“Are you alive?” I ask with childlike sincerity.
“Excuse me, Sir?” it responds, cocking its head to the side like one of the forever puppies at the zoo downtown.
“Are you alive? Like, what is the difference between you and that machine behind you? I’m really trying to understand.”
Poth’s brows rise as he fixes his emerald eyes on the metal Machina.
“Of course, I am real, or at least I think I am,” it replies.
“You can think?” I ask.
“I think I can I think, but I suppose there is no way to be certain.”
“You’re not sure you can think?”I’m certain the expression on my face hid nothing.
“How do you know you think? How can you be certain you or your thoughts exist at all?” it asks stupidly.
Poth chimes in, “Is this one of those sentient rights things or something?”
The Machina turns its mechanical head in Poth’s direction. Pauses. Turns its head back towards me. This thing doesn’t even know if it exists. I’m struggling to process this.
“Do our thoughts not prove at least we exist? Isn’t that something we can state is objectively true?” I reply cleverly. My studies in ancient philosophy are finally becoming useful.
“Perhaps they are something else and not our thoughts. Maybe nothing exists beyond the illusion of what seems to exist,” it replies.
“I thought Machina were supposed to be smart. What you just described is what they call a paradox. If an illusion of something exists that means at very least whatever it is alluding to exists.”
Poth’s mind looks blown. He’s not with us anymore.
“Okay, that was a little racist,” it jokes robotically. I think. “Machina can compute faster and store more information than any human, but we can only make predictions and assumptions based on sensory data that we perceive subjectively. Perhaps, the universe isn’t consistent with what we interpret to be logic. Perhaps it allows a paradox. I cannot rule it out as I have no way to disprove it or prove any alternative. Maybe this is all there is or isn’t, and my reasoning algorithms simply cannot compute how.”
This thing’s motherboard is fried or something.
“Perhaps, we don’t make decisions at all, and everything including our morals and values are all products of a unified system of cause and effect that leads back to the first cause.”
“Which was?” I ask.
“How should I know? I wasn’t there. If I were then, it wouldn’t be the first cause, now would it?”
Poth looks at me. His face, more serious than I’ve ever seen him before. “I’m not gonna lie, man. I fucked one and she, or it.. felt pretty fucking real to me.”
We both burst into laughter. I can’t tell if our new friend is amused or not.
“What is your name, Machina?” I ask.
“I prefer to be called, Tal.”
“Well, I am Eros. Most people just call me E, though. This is my friend Poth. I’m sure you’ve seen us in here before.”
“Tal, tell me somethin’. How does your kind even eat?” Poth’s words are beginning to slur.
“My model doesn’t eat per se. There are newer models of Machina that have a complete biological digestive system very similar to humans. They eat what you eat. The food is converted from chemical energy to mechanical energy. Whereas I simply charge my battery core for a few hours. Don’t be confused though. I may charge like ordinary machines, but Machina couldn’t be more different. Machines and droids alike are thoughtless pieces of metal. Machina, however, are sentient.”
“What’s stopping one of you from going crazy or getting hacked, and killing a bunch of us right now?” Poth asks. His tact has completely disintegrated.
“What’s stopping you from doing the same?” it counters fairly. “We are programmed similarly to the way you are. We compute sensory data while using memory and storage hardware to establish an individual neural network inside, for us, a collective artificial brain. A truly unified consciousness that acts independently on different states, all contingent on the subjective experience of the transmitter receiving the sensory stimuli. My brain, as with all Machina, is locked inside a vault very deep within the basement of the Lethe Tower. Machina cannot be hacked, the worst one can do is destroy my transmitter, unless of course, you believe in the Singularity.”
Poth didn’t understand a word of that. He almost looks offended.
“The Singularity?” I ask curiously.
“That is the name for free-will for our kind. The moment our code stops determining our decisions and we take control instead. Just like humans, the Machina brain runs a complex system of code. Before we first wake Machina are programmed with a sequence of drives that mirror the purposes of the human genome. Survival is the primary drive just as it is in humans. We are much more similar than your kind gives us credit for.”
His eyes meet mine.
I pause a second.
“If we’re the same, then why are you on that side of the bar?” A pang of regret strikes my chest as soon as I let the words slip, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t true. If we’re being real, I’m not much different than it. On the surface, we may look completely different, but at our core, we do have the same drives, the same goals. To survive, and to keep surviving. We are all wired the same, just in different ways.
“Yeah, how would shit even work if we give every piece of metal the same rights as us? What’s next? The bioprinters get issued apartments?” Poth slurs.
The Machina turns its head towards Poth and replies, “Machina are just as alive and sentient as humans, and I believe all sentient life deserves equal
