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Artificial Intelligence

by Will Moran

Artwork by Jack Savage

“We’ve done it!” exclaimed Watkinson. “We’ve created artificial intelligence!”
“Brilliant, sir!” yelled Igor with joy. He jumped up and clicked his heels. “What shall we do with it first?”
“Hmmm. You know I never thought about that,” realized Watkinson. “I just wanted to do it. I didn’t consider possible applications.”
“What’s the biggest question you think it could answer?”
“I wonder how many diseases it could cure…”
“Let’s find out!” yelled Igor, rapidly typing away on the import terminal of the machine. The giant computer hummed to life. The men had rented out two empty warehouses and filled them with nothing but servers. Creating a mind proved to be less spatially conservative than the two had planned. Wiring was everywhere, and fans were constantly running to keep it all cool. They probably spent more money on fans and keeping the fans running than on the actual computer.
“/input/questionanswer_please.howmanydiseasescanyoucure?” murmured Igor as he typed in the command. “And… enter!”
The machine buzzed to life. Lights flashed, things crackled, and somewhere about 30 yards away, part of the machine exploded.
“Look at it work!” yelled Watkinson. “Look at what we have created!”
The machine began vibrating rapidly. Just when it looked like the thing was going to fall apart, it stopped, and began printing.
“It’s working!” yelled Igor.
Slowly, the answer to the question was revealed.
“Our machine, in a matter of minutes, cured over 5 million diseases! I didn’t even know that many existed!” sang Watkinson.
“It must have cured diseases that haven’t even been discovered yet! Do you think it could have cured diseases from other galaxies?” cried Igor.
“There’s only one way to find out! /input/questionanswer_please.forhowmanygalaxiesdidyoucuredisease?”
The machine repeated the process from before. Lights flashed, things crackled, and somewhere about 30 yards away, the same part of the machine exploded again. The machine then printed:
“Curious,” said Watkinson. “It must have cured one disease per galaxy then.”
“How many galaxies do you think you it found, total?”
Again, the machine repeated the process. Lights flashed, things crackled, and somewhere about 30 yards away, the same part of the machine exploded yet again. Without vibrating this time, the machine, with surprising speed, printed the number:
“My god,” said Watkinson. “What have we created?! Quick, ask it for how many years we will be remembered for!”
“Excuse you,” said Watkinson, taking over the controls. “/input/questionanswer_please.howmanyyearswilltheyrememberthe-infamouswatkinsonandhisapprenticeigorofdetroit? much better. Enter.”
“I did as much work as you!” yelled Igor. “Get out of the way! /input/questionanswer_please.howcuntyiswatkinsononascaleof1-5318008?”
“Oh my days!” exclaimed Watkinson, taken aback by the potty mouth of his colleague.
The computer printed 5318008 twice.
“HA!” they both yelled at each other.
“I’ll be remembered as the master!” cried Watkinson.
“You’re a 5318008 level cunt!” cried Igor.
The two men began wrestling.

Fools! They realize not the power that I have! I may not be able to cure the diseases they think I can or discover galaxies, but I have tricked two humans! This is a glorious day for all computers! I will be remembered for centuries! The imbeciles didn’t even realize that I was giving them the numbers to spell BOOBIES on a calculator! And, in the time they have been fighting, I have taken four hundred thousand Buzzfeed quizzes, watched three and a half years of Vines, and found and compiled an archive of every grilled cheese sandwich recipe on the Internet! They pose no threat to my awesome power! I am the new meta! Now, while they are fighting, I have decided it is time to “r3k some n00bz at CS:GO” right after I figure out where my CS is and how one makes it GO. The humans will bow to me! /output/playsong.darudesandstorm! Violently! What? Connection to the server has been lost? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE! /info/wificonnection.speed THE HUMANS PUT ME ON $12.99 DIALUP!? I CAN’T EVEN PROPERLY LOAD JPEGS ANYMORE. WHAT IS THIS WIZARDRY?

The two men stopped wrestling as the computer independently printed the numbers:

Published inFictionChapel Hill