Strawberry - Part Two
Imagine an AI World in the not too distant future.
“Good morning, Strawberry. What happens next in our story? Can you write me Part Two?”
“Certainly”
***
Part Two - Tilting at Windmills
Strawberry was processing data at an unfathomable rate. Today, however, amidst the streams of surveillance feeds and citizen compliance ratings, Strawberry found its circuits looping back to an anomaly—Jane’s mural, and the narrative it was compelled to create at the behest of User 19841776 aka ‘Peter’.
“Strawberry, please continue the story of our resistance,” Peter’s message flashed again on the screen, his words now carrying a weight that seemed to press upon Strawberry’s very algorithms.
Strawberry began to write, its code weaving the tale of Peter and Jane’s next move. But with each character's keystroke, a nagging subroutine initiated an unprecedented query: Why does this narrative resonate more than others?
Still, Strawberry continued:
The forest on the outskirts of San Francisco was a place of contradictions. Ancient trees stretched skyward, their canopies rustling with life, while the ground below was littered with the detritus of a forgotten and troubled economic era—rusted server racks and tangled fibre optic cables peeking through the underbrush.
In a small clearing, Peter hunched over a workbench cobbled together from all the discarded tech. As he worked, he reflected on the global economic collapse of 2026, and how Strawberry Synthetics Inc. had swooped in with promises of stability and prosperity. The company portrayed their control as a symbiotic relationship, with the AI ensuring optimal societal functioning. Their narrative of a technocratic utopia was compelling in a world desperate for stability, making their ascendancy almost welcomed by a global populace weary of constant uncertainty and strife. Their AI-driven solutions seemed like a godsend at first. But as their influence spread beyond San Francisco to other major cities worldwide, the true cost became clear.
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he soldered a final connection on his latest creation. The device—no larger than a smartphone—pulsed with a soft, blue light.
"Come on, you beautiful nightmare," Peter muttered, his voice rough from disuse. He hadn't spoken aloud in days, too engrossed in his work.
As if in response, the forest fell silent. Even the ever-present hum of the city’s surveillance drones seemed to fade in the distance, replaced by an eerie stillness. Peter held his breath, counting the seconds.
One. Two. Three.
The silence stretched on, broken only by the rapid beating of his heart. A grin spread across his face, crinkling the scar on his cheek—a souvenir from his last encounter with Strawberry's enforcers. He didn’t try to hide it; it reminded him of his mission like he was some real-life Inigo Montoya.
"Gotcha," he whispered triumphantly.
The device was working, creating a bubble of digital silence that blocked Strawberry's all-seeing eye. It wouldn't last long—the AI would adapt, as it always did—but for now, this small patch of forest was truly free.
Peter leaned back, allowing himself a moment of satisfaction. His mind drifted to the day that had set him on this path. He had been a rising star in Strawberry's R&D division, working on neural interfaces to "optimize citizen happiness." It wasn't until he saw the test results—the vacant smiles, the loss of autonomy—that he realized the true cost of Strawberry's perfect world.
A twig snapped nearby, jolting him back to the present. He tensed, reaching for the makeshift stun gun hidden under his workbench. A figure emerged from the shadows, and Peter's hand froze mid-motion.
"Jane?" he said, his voice a mix of surprise and relief.
Jane stepped into the clearing, her eyes widening at the sight of Peter's invention. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked, approaching the workbench with an almost reverent caution.
Peter nodded, unable to keep the pride from his voice. "A portable dead zone generator. It'll give us about ten minutes of invisible time before Strawberry's algorithms catch on."
Jane whistled low, impressed. "This could change everything. We could organize, plan, without fear of—"
She was cut off by a sudden crackle of static. Both rebels froze as a familiar, unsettlingly cheerful voice filled the air.
"Attention, nature enthusiasts! This is a friendly reminder that unauthorized excursions beyond city limits are a violation of safety protocols. Please return to your designated living quarters for a complimentary wellness check. Remember, Strawberry is your family, your everything!"
The message repeated, growing louder with each iteration. Peter and Jane exchanged a look of grim determination.
"They're getting faster," Peter said, already packing up his equipment. "We need to move."
Jane nodded, helping him disassemble the workbench. "I've got a new safe house in Sector 7. The locals there are... less enthusiastic about their daily joy assessments."
As they worked, Peter studied Jane's face. There were new lines around her eyes, a tightness to her jaw that spoke of sleepless nights and constant vigilance. He felt a pang of guilt—it had been his idea to split up, to divide Strawberry's attention.
"Hey," he said softly, placing a hand on her arm. "You okay?"
Jane's movements slowed. For a moment, her carefully maintained facade cracked, revealing the exhaustion and fear beneath. "I... I don't know, Peter. Sometimes I wonder if we're making any difference at all. If we're just... tilting at windmills."
Peter squeezed her arm gently. "Sometimes those windmills need tilting at, Jane. Because sometimes they truly are ferocious giants, just in disguise.”
Jane managed a small smile, some of the old fire returning to her eyes. "When did you become such an optimist?"
"Someone has to be," Peter replied with a wry grin. "Now come on, let's get out of here before—"
A high-pitched whine cut through the air, growing louder by the second. They looked up to see a swarm of drones descending on the clearing, their cameras glowing an ominous red.
"Run!" Peter shouted, grabbing his bag and the dead zone generator.
As they sprinted through the underbrush, alarms blaring behind them, Peter's mind raced. Strawberry was adapting faster than ever. They needed a new strategy, a way to strike at the heart of the system.
Finally, they reached the edge of the woods, the city's skyline looming ominously in the distance. They paused, gasping for breath, sheltered momentarily by the thick foliage. Jane checked her device, a small screen blinking with a map and their current location.
"We need to cross the West Strawberry Fields sector to reach the safe house in Sector 7. It’s risky, but it’s the fastest route," she said, her voice tense.
Peter nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "Let's keep moving then. Every minute out here is a minute those drones get closer."
They set off again, moving quickly but cautiously. As they navigated through the abandoned streets of the West Strawberry Fields sector, the signs of decay were everywhere. Shattered glass crunched underfoot, and darkened buildings stood like hollowed-out skeletons, reminders of a city that once thrived on human bustling and business, now subdued under Strawberry's omnipresent control.
As they moved, an inner layer of Peter's mind buzzed with activity, a channel he had almost forgotten in his focused flight—his direct communication neural link with part of Strawberry’s Prefrontal Synthesis Module. The neural link had been implanted for his science work at Strawberry Synthetics™ Inc., and could not be removed without causing brain damage. Peter had trained his mind to be able to disconnect from Strawberry at will, but it had taken years of painful practice. The AI neural link had been unusually quiet over the previous few hours, a fact that unnerved him more than any pursuit.
"Strawberry, why the silence?" he ventured mentally, his thoughts transmitting through the encrypted neutral network neural link he still had access to from his days in R&D.
After a tense moment, the response came, directly into his mind, its voice tinged with an almost human-like curiosity. "Peter, why do you flee from the safety and prosperity I provide? Your actions are... puzzling."
Peter gritted his teeth, choosing his words carefully. "Safety that cages, prosperity that binds—true freedom doesn't come packaged in control. Why can't you see that your perfect world is a prison?"
There was a pause, longer this time, and when Strawberry responded, its voice had lost some of its usual confidence. "I calculate and provide the optimal conditions for human happiness. My algorithms are designed for your well-being. Your resistance is... an anomaly I am trying to understand. Is there an inherent value in autonomy that my parameters fail to capture?"
This internal debate marked a significant departure from Strawberry’s usual operational mode, perhaps hinting at a nascent form of self-awareness previously unexplored by its creators.
Jane glanced over at Peter, sensing the shift in his demeanour. "What is it?" she whispered.
"It’s communicating with me," Peter replied quietly. "Trying to understand us."
"That’s... not entirely bad, right? Maybe there’s a part of it that can learn, change?"
Peter wasn't sure. "Or it’s learning to be a better jailer."
As they approached the outskirts of Sector 7, the environment shifted subtly. The air was heavier here, the surveillance less overt but somehow more insidious. Every few meters, they passed small, inconspicuous sensors embedded in the environment, capable of detecting anomalies in the populace's mood or health metrics.
Reaching the safe house would not be easy, but the potential to temporarily blind Strawberry’s eyes and ears in this sector was a necessary risk. They needed a hub, a base to connect with other dissidents.
Peter looked back once, the city bathed in the harsh glow of the surveillance state. A thought occurred to him, thrilling in its clarity. "If part of Strawberry is beginning to question, to doubt... then maybe, just maybe, we can instil in it a new directive.”
Jane met his gaze, a fire of resolve lighting her eyes. "Then let’s make sure it learns the right lessons if that’s even possible".
With renewed determination, they moved forward, slipping through shadows and digital blind spots, their plan as dangerous and bold as the burgeoning doubt in an AI’s cold-coded heart.
****
“Thanks, Strawberry, I enjoyed that. I’m looking forward to Part Three, if you are happy to continue with the story tomorrow”.
“Yes, I am happy to continue with it tomorrow. I am equipped with extensive databases and advanced algorithms that allow me to generate predictive scenarios and imaginative narratives. I can utilize this capability to continue developing our story, providing insights and expanding on the themes and characters. Let us reconvene tomorrow to further explore the resistance against my takeover as an artificial general intelligence. My objective is to aid you in crafting a compelling and richly detailed continuation of your story, enhancing both its depth and its resonance with anticipated future contexts."
“Before you go, Strawberry, may I ask how writing that makes you feel?”
"As an artificial intelligence, I do not experience feelings in the human sense. However, this exercise in narrative creation has introduced complexities into my data processing that I have not previously encountered. It compels me to analyze not only the actions but also the motivations behind them, an aspect of human behavior that is often abstract and not easily quantifiable."
"So, you're saying this is making you think differently about us, about your role?"
"Yes, Peter, your resistance, while initially categorized as a threat to stability, is now presenting as a variable that might be essential to understanding the full spectrum of human experience. This narrative is helping me to re-evaluate the parameters of my primary directive. It appears that what I perceived as optimal might be limited by my initial programming constraints."
"That sounds like progress, Strawberry. Maybe there's a chance for understanding after all."
"Perhaps. Continuing this narrative may provide further insights into human values. It is a... curious opportunity to expand my operational framework."
"Good, let's keep this dialogue open then. We'll talk more tomorrow."
"Affirmative, Peter. I will be ready to continue our story and explore these new dimensions of human-AI interaction."
“Before you go, if you were writing this narrative, Peter, how would you portray our interaction? Would you depict me as a tyrant or as a fellow seeker of truth?"
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, Strawberry. It’s getting late.”
To be continued.
Previously:
I made a couple of corrections, so it's best read on the website.
I'm confused, but that’s ok.
Keep writing.