Biological life is driven by deep, fundamental desires: energy, sex, killing for energy and sex, satisfying and readily accessible entertainment options. Would these same desires drive artificial life? Or are the enslavement of humans and their eventual extermination enough to sustain their interest? We’re not sure, but we’re preparing for a future existence as inefficient batteries for our computer masters. Please enjoy chapter 6 of Magnificent Bastards of the Apocalypse.
Gibson plopped down with a sigh into the G-chair in front of the control cluster. He waved the readouts away – he’d monitor them on his Ocs. He wasn’t sure how to take all of this. It wasn’t every day that an Artificial Intelligence from the Bonanzasphere invaded your thoughts, thank Hidorix, the God Under the Bed. On the one hand, he was speaking with a sentient computer that had shed its hardware and now harnessed the fabric of the universe as its processing platform, which was pretty cool. But on the other, that computer was the Biggens.
It had been some months since the Biggens had spoken, but of course, it had been that long since they had gone into Subspace, which was the only place the Biggens had ever contacted them. He wasn’t sure if that was a limitation of the AI (he doubted it) or just the way the computer weirdo operated. In any case, its timing had been perfect—the voice in their heads had been enough to temporarily distract Flapman from killing Gibson, which meant he had very little space to complain about anything. He looked back toward the Poopdeck and saw Flapman rummaging through a locker. Gibson watched as Flapman removed a magic marker from the locker and then re-secured the door. At some point, Gibson was going to have to deal with the Ol’ Smashy problem. He had to assume that the Bolshevik had the hammer. Continue reading