This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/KyleKKent on 2024-11-04 22:19:37+00:00.
Weight of Dynasty
“Whoever coded this was the most thorough and inexperienced bitch alive. Look at this bloat! It’s disgusting! This Logic Tree and Search Engine are at least four times the size they need to be. But at the same time, while the bloat makes it inefficient, it DOES make it thorough. I’m conflicted. The rules for coding are trim trim and trim, and they did NOT do that. But at the same time, they DID get a fully functional AI out of this.”
“I’m a little confused.” Harold remarks to the computer technician and she glances over her shoulder at him. “I thought AI was limited to mind downloads and the like?”
“True AI are. This is the sort of thing you’d see in a video game applied to the real world. A person, be they meaty or a Synth would respond to out of context and unexpected circumstances with confusion, then start to learn fast. This thing DOES have the closest we can get to dealing with the unknown for a false AI and that’s what’s known as the Madness Contingancy. Look here.” She says pointing to an area she starts highlighting.
“If (Unknown) is encountered, react to (Known) within and disregard remainder of information. Once encounter is complete purge (Unknown) from databanks. Proceed with standard operations.” He reads out between all the brackets and slashes.
“And look here. A binary classification system. Known is a long, long list and Unknown is defined as all scenarios, items and ideas that do not fit into Known. Furthermore it has some editing power over Known and can add to it. But it has a limit of sources it’s allowed to draw information on and a way to add to it’s code.”
“Is that were most of the bloat is from?”
“Some of it, but not all of it. This is the kind of program that software technicians have nightmares about. The endlessly bloated code!”
“That’s usually a sign you’ve been working too hard.”
“Yes, yes it is.” The woman says. “And this kind of work is usually the result of one of two things. The first being that a clueless supervisor is looking over their shoulder and demanding why it doesn’t do a thousand pedantic things. The other being a really talented amateur.”
“Meaning we either have an organization, or some serious talent that’ll do worse to Soben’Ryd next time.” Harold remarks and the technician goes very quiet.
“They’ve already used heavy poisons...”
“Defoliants technically. This AI synthesized Agent Orange. Something illegal even on Earth.”
“Really?”
“It’s designed to kill plants, but does horrible, horrible things to animals and possibly worse to people. A dead animal is a tragedy, a person suffering mental degradation is a nightmare.”
“I would argue that acres of pointlessly destroyed forest is a tragedy in it’s own right.” Morg’Arqun says.
“It doesn’t hit as hard if you can’t hear the cries of the trees.” Harold says as he cracks his neck. “Anyways, I have an Observer to get back to. If the investigations turn up anything give me a call and I’ll introduce myself to whatever’s in the way blade first.”
“I think it would be more prudent to NOT simply rip apart whatever, person, thing or place is in our general way in the middle of investigations.” Tryti’Margat remarks and there’s a low growling sound before the Technician lets out a long and very frustrated breath.
“Your Highness, My Lord, Warriors, Sir Sorcerer. I need some space. Please.” She says tightly and in roughly ten seconds she has no one in the room with her. “Oh thank goodness.”
She then leans forward properly and fully in relief and then spots a folded piece of paper clinging to the cables leading out of the back of the monitor. She checks around, plucks it and opens it. There are three words on it. One of four characters then one of three then one of four. She quickly pulls out her communicator and it helps translate it for her. Her eyes widen in shock at the translation.
-What are you?
The language is identified as English, a human language. How? How did the human...? No. He wants to be subtle. Fine. That’s the name of the game anyways.
She writes something down in her first language. Folds the paper again and places it back in it’s spot. As she blinks it vanishes. They’re good whoever they are. But the question is which one? It was pointing to the human, but in ways that were too obvious for such a subtle move. There’s also the fact he’s clearly a blood hungry meatheat. Which is useful in a battle but not in infiltration. The response will give her more information as to who they are, and likely why they’re trying to frame the human as the one who sniffed her out.
It almost felt good knowing someone was onto her. Paranoia confirmed is more of a relief than is reasonable.
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“Why did you bug the field tent?” Queen Margat demands as Harold brings up a communicator. He passes her a piece of paper. The same one that the infiltrator just wrote on. “What is this?”
“Don’t react.” He tells her and she narrows her eyes at him. He meets her gaze head on. “The technician is the infiltrator trying to cover her tracks. We have multiple instances of the AI captured and copied. We need to see what she deletes and changes, where she puts her attention and we’ll be able to speed up our tracking of her masters.”
“What does it say?” She asks. The top three words are easily identifiable. But below it is a series of two overlapping ovals and a little triangle.
“The first one is my question, ‘What are you?’ the second is her answer, ‘myself’. She writes in Hisathla. A common Cloaken Language. But also one popular with infiltrators the galaxy over as it’s easily disguised as harmless scribbles.”
“How do you read it?”
“Learning that takes some time. But the basics is that you have to understand that the language is written only and designed to be used passing a note across a table at one another. To speak in absolute silence.”
“I see. So the triangle...”
“The loops show how many syllables the word has, the triangle denotes subject. And when using it, she would have been directly across from me for the purpose of the conversation.”
“So her answer to ‘What are you?’ is she’s saying that she is who she is.”
“Basically. Really cheeky, but it does reveal a few things. While a lot of infiltrators DO use it and the language is not a secret. It’s also not neutral. She’s not some lucky amateur, she’s got training and is ready for this. She’s likely got a team too. It would have been smarter to use Galactic Trade. Completely neutral language and a total non-answer.”
“It’s an amateur mistake.”
“An instinctive one. And not a big one. But a mistake yes. So let us watch our little spy and then follow her home to her friends so we can ask everyone questions at once.”
“How did you get so good at this?”
“... The story is long, strange and involves a level of existential despair. So let’s just say that I’m well trained.”
“Do you humans do anything normal?”
“Be fair your majesty and define normal.”
“Fair enough human, one final question.”
“By all means.”
“Why did you ask ‘What are you?’”
“I may have seen through that stunningly effective illusion. But I don’t know what I saw. She’s reptilian and bipedal. But I do not recognize her species.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, and her illusion is a master’s work. The sort of thing a truly exceptional Adept would do. But she made such an obvious mistake... and didn’t notice my noticing... I think it’s inbuilt, but what kind of species would need to flawlessly phase out when sticking out of their illusions and have them solid is... baffling. She’s just shy of a full physical transformation and can likely walk through walls with this trick and some creativity.”
“Describe her, physically.”
“Fine scaled in pale pink with a soft white underside to things. Her eyes are very large with massive pupils causing her to have them nearly closed at all times. Her neck makes up a full fourth of her height and is frilled on both sides out to shoulder length at the widest point. Axiom patterns are all over the frill and likely the source of the illusions she’s under. Small rounded snout, no sign of feathers or horns, very wide hips, prominent claws on the feet but delicate grasping hands. Small pits around the neck suggesting thermal detection like a Nagasha. She’s wearing light armour in black and dark grey with goggles moved away from the eyes for now. The armour covers her from the base of the neck downwards and leaves her fingers and foot claws exposed. No tail of note.”
“Weapons?”
“None I saw. She’s likely reliant on that Frill due to the lack of equipment on her. That gear is more to stay dressed and to catch an unlucky shot. I don’t think she expects violence.”
“Any identifying symbols or markings?’
“None I could see, but I wasn’t able to put her under a microscope. That illusion is thorough, but if I stare too hard I doubt she’ll miss it happening.” Harold says before considering. “The equipment did look very new though. But that could mean any number of things. From her being a new recruit, to her getting new gear to this being a new faction or a newly wealthy faction. Hard to say without more.”
“Alright... it’s not that I don’t trust you human...”
“But you don’t trust me.”
“...Yes. I will be having my own forces follow her.”
“I was going to suggest that anyways. I’m not a local and I’m a male. Both stand out.” He admit...
Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1gjr1b4/oocs_into_a_wider_galaxy_part_155/
