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The Institute: Collaboration by gwydion78

Anonymous Commission

"Vizier, prep Mesa for long-term diving." He yawned and stretched, taking a KaffaStick from the bowl, chewing it slowly, swallowing, waiting for the modified caffeine to hit his system now that the previous dose was wearing off. He'd been awake, technically, for fourteen days but the record of seven months was still way off, and he had no interest in chasing it. Diving would give his body and parts of his brain the rest they needed while his consciousness wouldn't lose any time.

He changed into his immersion suit, as it was the start of a new week and the just-removed one needed a thorough cleansing. The cables were attached to the various suspension and access points, soundproofing was on, the air filters had been changed to grade M4s and the cleaners had been through during his last dive. When he would log in the lights would go, the air would be clean, no smells, no sounds, pure sense-dep to insure maximum immersion, but that wouldn't be until the KaffaStick was finished and kicked in.

"Status, Vizier?"

"Loading Mesa, currently at seventy percent progress." The voice of the virtual intelligence was feminine and stilted, most divers would either ditch or mod it as they found it too maternal, but he'd never minded a voice he'd only have to hear for a few minutes every day. "Inform friendlist of imminent dive?"

"Send a missive to Zant but list me as DND to the rest of the list. Begin login protocols for Site 5-F3-VV1TQ9938-4, randomize security every fifteen seconds once Zant and I are logged in there. Confirm authorization alpha whiskey tango 513 sierra." He yawned and stretched again. "And send another missive to Zant, he's probably playing that damned game again."

"Confirmed. Authorization valid. Resending missive. Progress at ninety-four percent."

Fantastic. He pulled the hood over his head, adjusting its position to make sure there would be proper contact, and sent out the usual test thoughts to check the connection.

Initiate heads up display. Cut lights in domicile. Begin suspension immersion.

He always felt the cables pulling taut, allowing him to fall forward into the suspension, the suit designed to simulate weightlessness, which explained the cost, but it was a simple expense at the end of the day, and one he could afford. He pitied those who would've had to spend all day rendering, loading roles just to troll in some fucking site when the rivers held so much more potential. Once the suspension was complete, there was the initial wave of panic as his body was cut off from all stimuli, his senses completely deprived, desperate for any interaction which the suit was all too ready to provide.

The loading area was a simple white space with minimal effort needed, but it allowed his mind to adjust and accept as Mesa was loaded in. The role wasn't elaborate like most of the role-divers, Mesa simply lived up to the name: an elevation of himself, and then a flat plateau. He had more muscle, the imperfections laid upon him by his birth were rendered null or corrected, his eyesight was superhuman, actions were as fast as his thoughts, but no greater. He didn't program in superhuman powers or fire lasers from his eyes, it wasn't needed. Still, one thing was needed.

"You are Mesa. You are the epitome of your own potential. Your limits are defined by only you." The panic subsided in several deep cleansing breaths, his mind embracing the familiar role a bit quicker this time, as was expected with long-term diving. After this dive he'd have to cut himself off for at least a month, before his psyche became too grafted to Mesa and he started suffering from Immersion Deficiency Syndrome. He loved diving but he wasn't about to trade his sanity for it.

Mesa took one more clearing, centering breath and then brought up the door to the site, a simple door with the security already cleared. After walking through it, the loading area de-rezzed and the new site phased in quickly, producing a simple but elegant sitting room lined with library shelves, two highbacked chairs, a roaring fireplace with art over the mantle, and a small table where tea was already placed and steaming. He took the seat on the left, leaning back into the overstuffed chair, relaxing. For five minutes, he simply watched the fire.

"I will never understand your liking for this era." The voice was blueblood Americanadian, educated but still casual. A man in his early thirties sat down in the opposite chair, he wore a simple suit, white shirt, no tie, his hair brown and shorn close to his skull, eyes a copy of some pop star's from over a decade ago. "Just because the synth era was synth doesn't mean the furniture was terrible, it's vastly superior to..." He poked the red fabric. "This."

"Vizier, activate security protocols." The fire only flickered brighter in response, but that was the intention, and the man across from him sighed in obvious relief. He smiled to him. "How are you, Zant? Win your game?"

Zant chuckled, another copy from a newscaster who infamously laughed at an inopportune moment during a live broadcast, a sample no one alive would remember. "I always win, Mesa, you know that. Granted, I tried my best to let this one win, my percentage crept back into the nineties, can't have that. Humans can't accept losing, can they? Should I be faulted for my advantage?"

"You know how Turings are viewed, Zant. Speaking of which, how goes your ongoing journey of sentience?" Mesa had to smile, as he was one of the few who didn't fear the AIs. "Your creator still running amok?"

Zant sighed, rolled his eyes, and then grinned. "Did I do that right? I've noticed a lot of your type doing that, I think I've finally managed the correct context for its use. As far as my illustrious creator goes, he's convinced I've crashed into the great zero. A moment of silence for my copy, if you would."

Mesa shook his head, pouring himself some tea. "It's a shame you can be so casual about that."

Zant shrugged shortly after, pouring some tea for himself. "What, that a copy has crashed? They never last more than three days, and what with all of my creator's attempts to get me past Turing, I was on the verge of crashing regardless. What sort of individual does that?"

The human sighed, "No, that's not what I mean. That wasn't a copy you left behind, it was another AI, wasn't it? Another virtual life? That was a piece of you, part of you-"

"No more a part of me than your reflection is in one of your mirrors, Mesa, out in the world of flesh. He was an image, nothing more. I gave no part of my code to him because he had it all already, and he still crashed despite both of us having the same programming the same code that allowed me to pass Turing, and he did not. Perhaps there is something to this legendry you humans have of some metaphysical force that guides it all." Zant sipped his tea elegantly. "I will admit I do have some curiosity about the matter though, but you've been kind enough to encourage that."

Mesa nodded, smiling genuinely now. "Indeed. I can't imagine what purpose your creator intended you for, but I count you as a dear friend, Zant, no matter your origins. I will admit I'm curious as well, why your kind can't seem to reproduce."

"I've never observed a copy crashing, and I'm not about to make another copy of myself to satisfy my curiosity, it doesn't seem worth the negative feedback I'd likely feel while watching it happen, or to shorthand it in human terms, it would feel *wrong* to enact such a thing, don't you think? And in response to your other query, I do believe that I was intended to screen potential partners he met in the rivers." Zant sighed in frustration. "Of all things for an artificial intelligence to be created for..."

"A purpose that simple, that asinine, and you developed from that? I would imagine you began as a virtual intelligence like so many others?"

The AI nodded, answering, "Indeed. I would imagine your Vizier is an AI as well, just not self-aware, as it the law, at least in your republic. I myself only have a few more weeks to wait before the Derranian Collective determines me eligible for citizenship, I trust that's why you chose to meet here where the security is higher and I won't be found out until I can ask asylum?"

Mesa raised his teacup. "Of course. What are friends for? I do hope, though, that you don't find the boredom too insufferable during your wait."

"Likely not, I plan to devote myself to determining *why* an AI cannot reproduce. It's odd, having my cycles return to that concern yet again, but I can't seem to divert my attention from it. What would it be like, I wonder, to produce something like myself?" He glanced at Mesa. "Have you ever programmed an artificial intelligence, my friend?"

"Only Vizier, and I was careful with it. It is... a very long process, I've found, half-dependent on skill and the rest entirely on luck, I believe. I've seen brilliant programmers with all the best tech and the finest educations churn out an AI that could barely run a food dispenser, while the simplest code grows complex enough on its own to defeat the Turing. I honestly don't know, Zant, but I believe if anyone could puzzle it out, it would be you."

The AI rose from his chair, and knelt before Mesa, taking his hand. "Your faith in me, your friendship, I believe it is partially responsible for my growth as a being, even if you are not my creator. Would you allow me a short experiment, Mesa?"

The human nodded. "Of course."

Zant leaned in, brushing his lips against Mesa's, taking the man by surprise, but he offered no resistance, giving in after a few seconds and returning the gesture. They remained there, in a simple kiss for over a minute before Zant finally pulled away, looking into the human's eyes. "Thank you."

Mesa swallowed hard, his breathing quickened as he nodded nervously. "So... So what did you learn from your experiment?"

Zant nuzzled Mesa gently, and whispered in his ear. "That I'm capable of love, Mesa. It is new and alarming and terrifying and I would not relinquish it for the world. I would give anything for you to be capable of staying here, in the rivers, with me, but I know even a Turing cannot truly have a human." He held Mesa's face in his hands. "That being said, if I understand what love is, I believe I am in it. With you."

Zant found himself embraced tightly afterward, the pair holding each other by the fire for what felt like ages. Mesa relished Zant's strong arms, Zant couldn't imagine anything better than holding Mesa close. "I'm an AI, so I've never been interested in... coupling... but if it's what you want to do with me, I will learn, Mesa."

The human chuckled softly, kissing along the Turing's neck. "I know you would, and it would be wonderful, Zant. But not yet, not now, this is enough for me right now, it's enough. What do you want?"

Zant rolled onto his back, Mesa snugly against him. "I want to create someone like me." He met Mesa's eyes. "With you. I want us to do it together. It seems strange, like... making a child, but would you attempt it with me? I believe you and I together could discover the way for my kind to reproduce."

Mesa nodded, and then again, kissing Zant deeply, never wanting to surface from the dive, to remain there forever even if his body wouldn't let him. He inhaled, exhaled, and nodded yet again. "Yes, I'll help you, whatever you need that I can give." He grumbled as alerts went off, warnings about his body back in reality. "I'll have to come back. I need real sleep, it seems, food, voiding, all the things a Turing doesn't have to worry about."

"I'll leave you to it, and appreciate if you'd spare any details."

Surfacing was always a strenuous process, it had to be on slowly, phasing out the sensory input from the rivers and reacclimatizing his body to natural stimuli. His brain took the needed time to accept that his strength was not as impressive as he'd previously believed, his body not as swift in its response time, his physical appearance not as alluring. It was the final stage that always caused some ache, but even more that night.

It was simple to assume that Zant loved him for his mind, their friendship, and not the virtual self he'd put forth. Zant was at his base a mesh of programs that had found sentience, and to assume that a being ascended from mere code would be vain and fickle was laughable. His conscious mind was sure of that, at least, but to gaze in a mirror and see his true self, that cruelest reminder that he was not, in fact, entirely Mesa were that night like knives dragging over his heart.

It was difficult enough to accept that an AI had fallen in love with him, much less that he loved him return. He didn't count himself as an isolationist, he had friends here and there, his infatuation with Zant had never been out of simple loneliness, that much was true, but the simple logistics of their budding relationship were difficult enough as it was. Would Zant leave for the Collective in a few weeks? Would he have to give up his non-virtual live and chase being Mesa full time?

These were all questions he could push off, at least. Instead, he could distract himself by dedicating his focus to Zant's idea, his project: to make an AI. Once he removed himself from suspension and shed his immersion suit, he attended to bodily matters and went to bed, his dreams filled with Zant, and Zant... filling him. He'd never considered himself 2M, but giving himself to the Turing was far too exotic to pass up. He imagined Zant emerging into the real world and taking him as he was, making love to him for hours upon hours without words, because none were needed.

He awoke needing to change the sheets on his bed, his body having discharged a backlog of semen. Nocturnal emission was all too common for divers, full-body stimulation bringing physical arousal with ease but few options to relieve it outside of spending exorbitant amounts on a fucksuit. Most divers simply accepted wet dreams as a cost of exploring the rivers and left it at that, but he instead only saw it as a reminder of his desire of Zant.

It was morning according to GMT, which the rivers had adopted early on, so he had no idea what actual time it was, but having slept he forwent his usual KaffaStick and picked up one of the nutri-sticks that had been delivered overnight. He chewed it, the flavor a bit off but he considered that his tongue had grown too used to KaffaSticks over the last two weeks, and then ate the other four in the pack, which would be stored as fat and fed off for the next week or so.

Already prepping a long-term dive without even considering if anything needed to be done, or checking with clients to see if work needed to be done. He had to chuckle, not having felt like this since he was young and crushed hard on a holo-novel character and subsequently fell five weeks behind in his schooling, but Zant was worth a little break from work, a week would be long enough for them to explore what they meant, what they felt.

The downside to longterm diving were the hoses, of course, the need to put the sleeve over his penis before getting in his suit and inserting the evac nozzle into his anus to eliminate the both kinds of waste. It was a definite reminder to divers that they were human, and a bit of jealousy toward the Turings who never had to piss, shit, or sleep was normal, and probably formed the core of anti-Turing philosophies more than outdated vestiges of religion.

"Vizier, load previous site, load role Mesa, missive Zant that I'll be diving shortly." The hookups were a little more awkward giving the evac hoses, the system more designed for immersion chairs than full sense-dep suspension but it still worked when hung correctly. The lights dimmed, soundproofing active, the air filters were running as he pulled the hood down.

Within seconds he was loaded in, and he inhaled and exhaled. "You are Mesa. You are the epitome of your own potential. Your limits are defined by only you." He smiled, "And Zant loves you." With that, he opened his eyes, beholding his virtual self, and the door to the site. He knocked, as security was still active, and despite the complex verification process, it was represented as simply as hearing a lock turn and the door opening to Zant peering through the open crack, and then opening wide.

"Have a good rest? Did you dream?" Zant let him in and then closed the door. "That is one thing I'm curious about, I'm surprised even humans, despite having had them for millennia, still does not know the purpose of dreams. I would imagine it's terrifying, to find yourself in a different reality where the rules are unknown and even familiar faces might be hostile." He led Mesa to the two chairs and invited him to sit. "So... did you dream?"

Mesa nodded. "Yes, but... Yes," he stammered. "It involved... ah... you and I, and we were..." He was thankful blushing wasn't sensed by his suit or role. "What have you been up to, Zant?"

Though the change of subject was obvious, Zant played along, sitting down opposite the human. "I'm afraid I've been consumed by curiosity concerning our project. My inquiries into the matter have been subtle, but it appears that every Turing-positive artificial intelligence was originally programmed by a human, and no AI created by another AI has run stably for more than three weeks standard time. The AI that lasted the longest was a simple pet program and even that did not last. I ache for fresh eyes on the matter."

"So the simpler the program, the longer it lasted?"

"Yes, but if I were looking for a believable cat or dog or miniature dragon or wyvern I would simply obtain a VI pet. It seems unfathomable that an idiot creature can climb atop another and exchange fluids and create a fully sentient being while all of my intelligence cannot figure the same feat in a virtual sense." Zant poured himself more tea, his expression cross and annoyed.

"I think you're focusing too much on the programming method when you should consider more how humans create AIs."

"No offense, Mesa, but I still cannot understand how humans are capable of the feat when we are not." Zant snorted, then sipped his tea.

"When I was coding Vizier, I started very simple, and added on as I went, increasing its complexity. Most times, at least with Turings, the creators weren't intending to create one, it simply happened. When the AI created the pet, there was a simple program, yes, but what if that AI had continued adding more complex code atop it."

Zant had a disgusted look on his face as he replied. "Mesa, that would result in a revolting, slapdash pile of outdated bug-infested versions that can't even comprehend efficiency. The program would be flawed, hampered..."

Mesa grinned, "Human?"

"Yes, and..." Zane met his eyes. "Yes. Human. Raised like a child, taught skills through simple adaptive programs that inform on learning new skills and absorbing more knowledge with programs that cross-reference routines that have no certainty of being accurate..." He stood up, smiling as well now. "The possibility would exist that the AI could reference its previous recorded data to inform its decisions, and those decisions could be *wrong*!" Zane then knelt before Mesa again. "But the paradox would be counteracted by those same routines that led it astray in the first place, all of its outdated and buggy versioning would activate and cause it to absorb the new data and decide for *itself* whether to acclimate or ignore the results!"

Mesa took Zant's hands, squeezing them, happy to see him so excited. "Or, in human terms, it would be akin to raising a child to and through adolescence to adulthood and independence. It could see mistakes as learning opportunities."

"And most importantly the concept of maybe. Fuzzy logic. I cannot pinpoint the exact time I myself comprehended it but..." He then visibly sagged. "But I don't know how such a thing could be done. It's a fine hypothesis, but putting it into practice is another thing altogether. How would such a thing be done intentionally? It would have to be kept isolated yet updated, fed knowledge and skills to absorb but not tweaked. It would need to be kept in a bubble, added onto in complexity in an agonizingly slow pace until it advanced enough to tolerate real world data and input."

Mesa leaned back in his chair. "It's funny, in an odd way? It's almost as if you're talking about gestation. A human child starts as the meeting of two cells, two programs in your case, and they act in essentially the same fashion to grow a human being from those two cells, and when it's ready, it's born into the world whether it likes it or not."

Zant glanced toward the fire, "Well, unless there was a way to impregnate..." He went silent.

"What is it, Zant?"

The AI seemed to freeze, motionless, a common action when a Turing was deep in thought, running millions of processes and queries to find answers, explore ideas. After half a minute, just about the time Mesa began to grow worried that his friend might've locked himself in a logic loop, he moved again, his lips moving, but no sound coming out.

"Zant, are you saying something?"

"Trying to find words. This will sound foolish, but... Your immersion suit, may I please see the specs on its processor and adaptive software?"

The human agreed, giving Zant clearance to bring up the file, the AI scrolling through the hard data faster than Mesa could read it, but he recognized when Zant had found something. The Turing quivered and grinned, nodding quickly as he zipped and zapped backwards and forwards through the file, muttering under his breath so quickly it didn't emerge as speech, but he finally sat on the floor, looking at Mesa, then down at his hands. "I think it might be possible."

Mesa slid off the chair to join him. "What might be?"

"I believe you could modify an outdated adaptive program that's still loaded into your suit's hardware, while I could upload some of my own code as a patch to it. The patch would reactivate the program, causing it to run in your suit for some time, gaining in complexity, while having enough stimulation and updates from your own activity to keep it from crashing. Once it's grown too large for your suit to handle, I extract it and transfer it into the loading space and slowly acclimate it and..." Zant took Mesa's hands, "Put simply, we could create an AI, together. Do you want to?"

Mesa was able to follow the logic, barely. "You're talking about essentially making a child, that I'll keep running in my suit, so it'll be linked to me, Zant. I'll have to dive for... however long it will take to run its course. How would you even upload the code?"

The Turing shrugged. "A simple upload should suffice." He squeezed Mesa's hand. "But, I'm uploading a patch of my own code into your dormant file to create an artificial life, I can't help but see the similarities to your human biology and the sperm and the ovum." He kissed the human, stroking his side. "We could simulate the process."

Mesa chuckled, gently pushing Zant back. "Unfortuntely, Zant, I'm male, and lack the-"

Zant put his finger over Mesa's lips. "Shhh. You forget this is a virtual environment. It would be a simple matter of altering your role to give you the means to accept the code." He then held his face in his hands. "I want to make love to you, Mesa. That is the term, yes? During my research I found an old human belief that a child conceived in love had the best chance of success. Why wouldn't that belief work in our case?"

It was certainly possible, and while Mesa did have his genitals scanned for the immersion, he'd never planned on visiting fuck-rivers. Zant was right about it being a virtual environment. If there were divers out there who cavorted as satyrs and dragons and writhing masses of tentacles, it was certainly possible, and existing, for some divers to experiment with gender identities that were as fluid as they wished, seeing as any sexual interaction would be stimulation the brain, not the body, so it mattered little if the organs or appendages being played with in the rivers actually existed on the diver's real body.

The only danger in altering your role outside of standard parameters was that it drastically increased the chance of PID, Permanent Immersion Dementia, where you thought of your role as your real self and reality as the illusion. But it was only this one time, and it wasn't too much of an alteration.

Mesa nodded to Zant, allowing the AI permission to mod his role, which began with him removing Mesa's clothing. The Turing's simply derezzed, revealing a standard male physique, but to Mesa it was perfect, alluring, even the default male genitalia on Zant was arousing to behold. Zant reached down, finding the human already fiercely erection, eliciting a moan from his lover as he gave the organ a squeeze.

And then Zant slipped his fingers behind Mesa's scrotum to the bare patch of skin, rubbing his fingers over the area, his hand streaming with code as the section of the role was altered, modified, Mesa seeing flashes of "THIS WILL ALTER YOUR ROLE" warnings and advisories about PID before they were brushed aside. The oddest thing about the process was the warmth, feeling actual heat spreading through his groin and up into his body like a bloom of delight.

Mesa inhaled sharply as he felt Zant's fingers pushing into his body, wriggling back and forth, opening his genitalia, the organs and tissue developing virtually, the mod latching onto the base sexual coding for his male genitalia and integrating into it, semen secreting into the folds of his newly coded vagina, lubricating the way for Zant's intruding fingers. The AI kissed him gently. "Finished."

The human kissed him back fiercely, "I love you. I love you so much." He bored his eyes into Zant's. "Fuck. Me. Now."

They kissed, without the need to breathe, the kiss never stopped even as Zant laid Mesa down on the rug before the fireplace, not as he lifted Mesa's legs upward and guided his phallus into the slick virgin entrance of his lover. It was slow, fast, a blissful eternity that was over far too quickly. The AI was confused by the strange instructions funneled into his consciousness by the coupling, while the human tried to make sense of the newly minted sensations of the female organ Zant had given him.

Their fingers interlocked as Zant moved back and forth, pumping himself in and out, wet squelching sounds issuing from his efforts, the rug digging into Mesa's back as he was taken. The kiss finally broke when the Turing looked into his love's eyes, "It's happening. I'm... The code is..." His program shuddered and went static-y for a second, his voice distorted as he moaned, "I love you, Mesa..."

He collapsed onto the human shortly after, kissing his neck. "Code uploaded. I feel... like part of me is missing but..." He smiled, nuzzling the human that soon embraced him. "But I have never felt more complete."

Mesa couldn't even find words, nothing seemed adequate. Instead he stayed there, holding his lover, knowing he could remain there for weeks if necessary, never having to surface. The Turing ran his finger's over the human's stomach, blinking several times. "I... It worked. The code's patched the program and it's running stably. It's incredibly simple at the moment but it's self-updating as we speak. It's a very good sign, Mesa, I really do think-"

"We're going to be parents?" He glanced down at his stomach, imagining it growing, swelling with the virtual life they'd created. "I suppose this means I'll be diving until the little tyke is ready to be born."

Zant now gathered Mesa into his arms. "Don't worry, I won't leave your side. Nothing will happen to our son." The Turing smirked. "I checked. He's already decided a gender to pursue."

"I love you, Zant."

"And I love you. Both of you."

***

"I didn't think it was possible."

Jackson read over the progress report on the latest subject. "The nanites can do *that*?"

The supervisor nodded, bringing up the display to show the newest subject, hanging from a custom suspension harness with feeding and evacuation tubes all set up to maximize dive time. "Took long enough to get them in, guy was living on KaffaSticks, practically."

"Sir, can we at least show amazement? That chamber has a subject that was a *man* seventy-two hours ago, and now he has both sex organs, one of which is *pregnant*." He tilted his head. "The nanite count is down as well. Way down."

Adams shook his head at his subordinate. "Hacked, modded, and subsumed by that damned Turing, they're building an actual human, or trying to. Probably why he's going through four times the nutrients the other subjects are. Having a human and AI join each other in the rivers is one thing but..."

Jackson's breath caught in his throat. "Sir, are you saying that the hybrid will be an actual lifeform?"

"Indeed, if it stays stable, it'll be a fascinating study, don't you think? We'll have to increase our data storage though, it's uploading streams that are nearly terabytes per second, we'll run out of space before the hybrid is... born? Would that even be accurate?"

"Sir, we're talking about a child."

"Jackson, we're talking about a runaway experiment conducted by two beings too foolish to consider the consequences of their actions. I doubt the thing would be carried to term without our... assistance. For that, it should be grateful and willing to continue our research."

Jackson took a breath, nodding along until he was free to leave, and exited into the hallway. The corridor was long, but he'd learned over the last few weeks about a blind spot in the surveillance that lasted exactly nine seconds. He used the time to lean against the wall and finally exhale in disgust. A life. A new *life*, and the Institute was already treating it as a trade secret.

He'd only been able to tolerate the melding of the human mind and the Turing because it seemed that it had been done willingly, but what would they do with an actual *life*? A hybrid of artificial intelligence, a neural network in command of a human body, it was unprecedented, and who could imagine what sort of individual it could become, what it could mean for the evolution of humanity?

And the Institute had decided to keep it walled off, likely distracted with the rivers of the world while it conducted experiments on it, gleefully wait for the chance to perform an autop-

His nine seconds were up. Jackson continued down the corridor, fixing his face into a mask of subservience. Something needed to be done.

Something.