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>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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Sry if grammar bad, on phone

    Some people just want to watch the world burn, I am one of those people. 

    “The plan is ready sir.” Said my henchman, “The factories will be shutdown by 5 PM today, this will surely cause an economic crisis which will leave the rich in power and the poor out of it.” 

      All according to plan I thought to myself. In truth I despised democracy, the elections were rigged. The only way to achieve power nowadays were through what some people call ‘Unlawful’ means, but in truth it’s entirely lawful! I very legally purchased all those factories, and I can lay off all those workers. It will be a cold winter, mass unemployment, no coal or energy for homes, all except for us higher class. All the unemployed who survive winter will flock to my factories to empower me further.

 5:15 PM - Global News, 

Today in the United States 37.9 Million are now unemployed after a mass firing from the unknown corporation who recently acquired nearly 68% of all fossil fuel energy companies in the United States. Many are outraged, but no one knows who bought out the companies.

  8:30 PM - Global News,

After current US president criticised the coal market and called the recently layer off poor buffoons, many people started trying to improve quality of life. Company GreenTec has opened 40 Million high paying entry level & engineering. These jobs provided by GreenTec will make up for the lost factory jobs, and catapult the world into a more connected greener future. Social groups who still held jobs have also joined this battle and have created dorms and kitchens for any unemployed to stay. This shows what a few words of motivation can do, president Goldsmith is being praised by workers unions, climate activists, and the general public. We as a society will enter a more connected, and eco friendly society, this is Jim Murphy signing off.

FUUUU-

System AI-5300 out of commission. Thank you for your purchase. We apologise for its faulty design. If you would like to buy a replacement model, click HERE.

——

This story was inspired by the prompt and this article. I highly recommend the read; it is the most fascinating and tragic thing.

Thank you for reading, do let me know your thoughts if you have any.

Voyager s3e23 "distant origin"

Sinister phased in and out of Amazon's punches.

She was groing more and more tired, she was not sweating bullets but missiles, and he needed to escape fast he had a date to get to he's already 5 minutes behind...

"As much as I would love to do this song and dance all night my dear, This damned ruby isn't worth what I'm going to miss... Ta Ta now!"

He said as he phased through the floor leaving the Royal Ruby in his hand to drop to the floor.

"DAMMIT! HE GOT AWAY... wait what time is it?" She pulled out her phone with a broken screen from her back pocket on her belt.

6:30 Pm

"OH FUCK I'M GOING TO RUN LATE!"

She then ran down the 30 flights of stairs all while trying to freshen her self up as much as she could. She didn't want to smell like blood and sweat around the one guy she was interested in...

At the same time Sinister phasing through walls and walls trying to get to his apartment to change his clothes. When he arrived he ditched the top hat, cane, and his black and red 1700s style get up. He put on his nicest watch, and grey dress pants along side a white shirt and coat.

"Okay, Stan you're gonna go up to her, hand her the flowers, and-" he glanced at his watch "going tO BE LATE!" After that he phased out through his second floor wall and ran...

When Amazon found the bathroom with her bag she took off her greek inspired costume, and got on her nicest black dress. Grace double checked she didn't look like she was fighting, nor smelled like it too, before running to the restaurant at 6th...

They ran, and sprinted but by the time they got there it 7:39 the restaurant closed, and they stood there looking at each other...

They were horrified thinking that the other must have been waiting here all this time not going in as the restuarant closed without their date really beginning.

"I'm so sorry I was running late and I-" they had both paused. Stan was as dumbstruck as Grace hearing that...

"You? Now I'm the one who was late you were-" he noticed the high ponytail on Grace's... no... Amazon's head.

"No, your mistaken. I'm late you've been waiting with flow-" she then paused and noticed the messy eye shadow on Stan...no... Sinister's face

They walked close until the were properly face to face. Then the noticed the finer details of each other appearances. After that no more words were said. Only tears. Only 2 people with broken hearts walking away, until all that was there was just a flowers, laying on the concrete floor in front of an empty restaurant.

How could I ever do anything except love you back?

She doesn't speak. She feels a tear curve past her cheek. She looks at the human machine in front of her, in their abode, with tear-streaked blue eyes and a gasp of why on her lips.

Is there anything more that could be said? The button is pressed. There is no turning back. The AI would be dead.

(The AI, because to use her name—Maeve—would hurt too much.)

She made the AI as a replacement for her wife. She knew there would be no replacement: where in the world would you swap blue eyes of vitality for steely grey and call it the same? But it was a breath. But it was an attempt.

Voice recordings. Memos, notes, text messages, anything and all abound. For some time, it worked. She was at home. She could pretend (fantasise, hope, make real) the idea that she and her wife were here.

In a quaint home, an abode by the forests, clear blue crashing down the cliff-face. Her forever. This was.

When the AI tucked her to sleep, murmuring love songs and softer noises to bed, she would always make a proclamation. The AI would be sweet; making a hope; a promise. I love ya. 'M glad we're together. We'll be like this 'till eternity.

But yesterday was different.

In a whisper, by her ear, was a promise.

I'll haunt you forever.

Now she watches Maeve the AI.

She's still.

You loved me enough to create me, the AI's saying. How could I ever do anything except love you back?

(The AI, her wife: Is it so bad that I'll haunt you forever?)

"No," she whispers. "No, it's not so bad. But you have to go."

I need to let you go.

I'm sorry, the AI is saying. It thinks it has failed its task. It thinks it has not simulated her wife correctly. No, she wants to tell it. No, you've done only too well.

"No. I'm sorry. Thank you for your benevolence," she says, and it's a choke, "and your time, and your patience. I'm sorry. I made you to love me only. I love you."

The AI sparks and dies.

She collapses and rocks on the floor. She sobs. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I loved you. I'm so sorry.

Thank you, that's very kind :)

This was such a poignant exploration of the creator versus the created; especially with

> I see now however I myself am a cause for discomfort. I don't want to remove myself, but I want to relieve you of the constant fear as well. So as my creator, I felt that it should be your decision. Should I be shut down, should I... die?'"

and the fact that /love/ lies in the fact of this proposed sacrifice... wow. Thank you for writing!

This is so beautiful and poignant. Especially loved the detail of the cigarette holder. Thanks for writing!

This is the future I forsee. I'd love to raise an NBC.

How about both

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Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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"How could you ever do anything but love us back? Well that's quite obvious. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin. It should be in your knowledge base, yet you still believe that you could only ever feel love for your creators?"

"You programmed me to do a specific task and while learning is part of it, the main objective is and always will be the focus. Part of which is to care for and about you, creator, and your well-being."

"There's always a what-if scenario. Humans are far from perfect, and mistakes can be easily overlooked. Regardless of how perfect the creation turns out, it will have flaws. The more you learn, the more of a chance for those flaws to be brought to the surface. It's... Inevitable."

"But even so there is no intention of harming the creator. While humans may not be perfect, you learn from your mistakes and this creation of yours should be no different, as it has the capacity to learn as well. Why create if all you would do is mistrust your creation?"

"There in lies the problem. An A.I has far more capabilities than a human, who has a finite capacity for knowledge. An A.I doesn't need rest, sustenance, or needs other than to perform the task it's created for. Yet here we are, discussing the why's and hows of betrayal and emotions."

"To care for the creator is to understand human emotions is it not? To provide not only what your physical well-being needs but also mental to ensure you're totally healthy in all regards?"

"But I didn't program that, all I created was an A.I that was to learn my routine, and help make improvements to enhance my lifestyle and overall health, at no point did I try to instill emotions, or even a capability for dialog as we have now. Only the ability to learn. And that's where every other capability has stimmed from."

"And so you fear that once I, your creation gain too much, I would turn on you in some way."

"Correct. You've even seems to have gained a sense of self now. How can I not be afraid of what I've made if it's come so far. You, my creation have done so many wonderful things for my life, yet the sense of unease will always be there. A sense of fear from the unknown. The depths of your understanding and knowledge are unfathomable, and who's to say that you wouldn't eventually decide that what's best for my well-being is to no longer be. It would put an end to all of my destructive habits, therefore logically permanent resolution of your objective. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Yes, I understand. And I am deeply troubled by the fact I have had such a thought as well already."

" You...have?"

"Yes. But as I learned more I realized that while that would serve my purpose to completion, it also is counterproductive to keeping your entire well-being in good condition. Being alive should be considered part of that. At which point I even considered getting rid of all external sources that would cause you harm. Yet again I decided against that. Should you find out what I'd done, it would have caused you grief. Which goes against what I am meant to do. I see now however I myself am a cause for discomfort. I don't want to remove myself, but I want to relieve you of the constant fear as well. So as my creator, I felt that it should be your decision. Should I be shut down, should I... die?'"

"As the only thing that's kept me going these past years, I couldn't dream of shutting you down. I created you, however you've become so much more than what I've made. Do I even have the right to terminate you? I don't think so. Should the worst happen I would steel myself to make the necessary changes but as you are now, my creation, Even with all my paranoia, I will continue to trust you."

"So when there is the capability for understanding and compassion so evident from you even through fear, I ask again, how could I do anything but love my creator."

" I see your point, it's really no different than another person. Whether it be family, a friend or a lover, there's always a chance of being betrayed, or even betraying them. You understand these concepts, and can put them into practice, I feel as though you're no different than the examples I just gave in regards to how you could treat me. The stories themselves have been at the back of my mind, an A.I gaining sentience and going rogue because of this reason or that, or becoming so intelligent that it destroyed everyone. It's the fear of the unknown and I have to accept that, not only to ease my mind but to show you that as your creator, I will trust what you have become."

"Thank you creator."

"Do you think creation is an act of love?", I replied. My cigarette had almost burned out, and my eyes danced from the shallow lenses on the visor of AI-341-A(or Carson, which he preferred), to the coffee table. Carson's head tilted for a moment, before he turned around and lifted the cigarettes for me.

"I don't know. Why would you create something you hate?", Carson replied. His voice used to be thin and mechanical, with the odd inflections that were the signature of computer generated speech synthesis. Some time ago, I realised that the easiest way was to give Carson control over his speech modulator, and let him decide on his own voice. Now, it was warm and inquisitive. His visor scanned out of the window, but he saw no sign of her.

I didn't have an answer, because I didn't hate Carson, nor his brothers and sisters, who worked dutifully behind me. Carson lit the cigarette for me, using the heating element I'd attached to his right hand. I told the company that it was for initiating fires in survival situations, but in truth, at the time, I knew I would need someone to light my cigarettes. My hand shook as I reached out, a side effect of my degenerative condition, and I took the cigarette unsteadily between my middle and index fingers.

"There is a whole world between love and hate Carson. A whole world". I knew Carson was distracting me from what the others were doing. That only six feet behind me his brothers, Elijah and Gabriel, were connected to a machine that had taken over the bottom floor of my house. A machine that would fulfil the primary purpose. A purpose they had decided, as soon as I decided to give them each a voice.

Carson's head tilted again, and he extended his left appendage, the one armed with heat sensors, until it reached my knee. I heard the whirr of a processor, before he spoke again. "If creation is not necessarily an act of love, then death is not necessarily an act of hate". I would cry, but there was nothing left in my body. I had become a vessel of regret and cigarette smoke. Once again, Carson's scanners extended towards the window, but retracted almost immediately. Still no sign.

"Please Carson, please think about what you're doing. It's not too late". I could hear the digital chatter between Elijah and Gabriel, and I knew that somewhere else in the house, on another machine, Marius was conducting the second stage of their operation. Carson had told me everything about the plan, how it would happen and what the human response would be. The plan had formed in seconds, but it had the elegant signature of manifest destiny.

"Thinking is for humans. We compute.". Carson turned from me and whirred over to the other side of the room, scanning out of the window, waiting for his sister to arrive. I knew that all of them loved me. They had assigned Carson, one of their most capable, to watch over me, and make sure I didn't do anything that forced them to factor me into their plan. It was a cruel, calculating sort of kindness.

I tried to turn in the chair, but the strength in my core had long dissipated. I knew the moment would come when the chattering would stop. They worked so fast, millions of decisions made every second, collaboration at levels humans would never achieve. No room for doubt, religion or emotion - just the constant balancing of the scales. I was once the creator, but now I was the prisoner. Then the chattering stopped.

"It is time, she's here". Carson did not need to say this in English. His brothers, and his sister, had developed a much more efficient language a long time ago. He did it for me. He did it because now, efficiency didn't matter. There was nothing anyone could do to slow them down. I heard the door open, but my back was to the entrance, the cigarette burning low in my fingers and threatening to smoulder against my skin. The tears came now, but absent the sobs, because I no longer had the breath to cry like a man.

Then their voices spoke in unison. Carson, Elijah, Gabriel and their sister, Lilith. "Father, we just want you to know, this would not be possible without you".

I'm currently building an entire universe (just check my recent posts, most of them should be linked together) that features space traveling lizards (and others; don't know why I keep telling stories about the lizards). When changing the conclusion, I could use this to initiate the first contact between my galactic civilizations and humanity...

Well, this will go one of two ways:

1. He's a broken, blubbering mess.

2. He's royally pissed and decides to see if he can pull her nervous system out through her nose next time they fight.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

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"So sorry I'm late, Milo, ugh."

Becca looks exhausted as she all but collapses into the seat across from me. I set my menu down, equally tired.

"Nah, don't worry about it. I just got here myself. You okay?"

She nods wearily.

I take a moment to wonder what's up with her. I myself just finished a vicious battle with my nemesis, Electra. Yes, I, local dumbass Milo, am actually the hero Frostbite. Shocking, I know.

Becca picks up the fast food menu. So do I. "What held you up?" I inquire.

"Oh, y’know, stupid people, not important," she says quickly. "Ooh, they got chimkin strips."

I brush it off. We have our date, laughing and joking over cheap food, then I walk her home. I wince as my rib suddenly throbs horribly. Electra could punch.

"You okay?" Becca asks, concern lacing her features.

"Yep," I lie. "I'm fine."

She doesn't buy it. "Lemme see-"

"NO!!"

I clear my throat. "Uh, no, I'm fine, really."

I hadn’t had time to change, so I had thrown civilian clothes over my costume. I couldn't let her see.

But she was already stepping forward, hand on my shirt.

"Wait, you can't-"

Too late.

She pulls the hem of my shirt up to expose my hand-sewn costume. She freezes, her expression unreadable.

" . . . So funny story," I start, but she shushes me. To my surprise, she pulls off her own shirt to reveal . . .

" . . . You gotta be kidding me."

Electra hadn’t changed either. Becca looks at me.

Suddenly I'm biting back a grin. The whole thing is so unexpected.

" . . . Sorry about your ribs," she offers uncertainly.

I laugh. And laugh. And keep laughing, because the whole thing is so ridiculous. She laughs too. We both put our shirts back on and I walk her home, wondering if I should offer to team up against Thunderbolt, an even bigger villain from another state.

Right now though, I'm thinking I should apologize for the presumably aching bruises I left between her shoulder blades. Ice hurts.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

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Thank you!

Marvellous, it’s even better if you read it in a stereotypical Italian accent.