BIRTHDAY

The family huddled in the bunker. The smell of mold, damp concrete and old wood tickled their brains, bringing back memories of long summers spent playing hide and seek in this post-nuclear relic. On one side of an old fashioned coffee table sat Alice. She was a fifty-five year old, well-meaning, overweight woman, who sold insurance. She had a cute childish face framed with brown, curly hair. Next to her, on a weathered, old rattan couch, sat John, her husband of forty years. He had just turned sixty. John had a mane of thick salt and pepper hair and a well trimmed beard. Across from them sat their children. Bernie was nineteen years old and just got into college. His sister Jeannie was sixteen. She was a skilled harp player, who occasionally performed in her school’s metal band. They all looked rattled, sitting on dated garden furniture under the gray light of a solitary, dirty lightbulb. 

“Now what?” John asked. 

“We need to go back. But you…” Alice looked at her husband with a worried face, “you need to stay.”

“I can’t stay here. Look at this place!” John shook his head. He was tall and slender, thanks to his running addiction. He won’t have a chance to run anytime soon. 

“It’s just a temporary solution. Until we find out who’s after you,” Alice said.

“How are you going to do that?” John.

“We’ll hire a detective, dad,” Jeannie said.

“Seriously? Do we need to go that far?” John raised his eyebrows. 

“They tried to kill you, remember?” Alice said, emphasizing her words by gripping his knee and shaking it. 

“What if we can’t find them?” he asked, clasping his hands. 

“Anyone can be traced nowadays,” Bernie said. 

“In the meantime honey, maybe try to make yourself look younger,” Alice said to John.

“What?! Why?”

“There’s um…. The list,” Jeannie said. 

“What list?”

“People who don’t even know you, will hunt you for sport. Because of your age.”

“What? I didn’t know about that! How come I wasn’t informed? No one told me!” John said.

“We didn’t want you to get upset, dad,” Jeannie said.

“Bernie? Did you know about this?” John turned to his son. Bernie looked down, pressing his lips together.

“I’m sorry dad,” he said.

“This is outrageous!” John threw his hands in the air.

“We’re living in horrible times. Much worse than the middle ages,” Alice said.

“I didn’t think that anyone would think about…doing this to me,” John said.

“None of us did,” Alice sighed.

“Actually we did know,” Bernie said.

“Yes, but we didn’t know it was going to be like this,” Alice protested.

“Oh, come on. We knew! We all know the new regulations. We knew! We should have planned ahead of time,” Jeannie said.

“Your father didn’t want to,” Alice sighed. 

“What are we going to do now?” Jeannie asked.

“He needs to stay here,” Alice said.

“What, forever?” Jeannie asked.

“Not forever. It’s not like he’s immortal,” Bernie said with a shrug.

“Bernard!” Alice said, mortified.

“What? He’ll die, we’ll all die. Isn’t that why this entire thing got started? He’ll die anyway,” Bernie spewed words like bullets.

“Shut up!” Alice yelled at him, “You can’t talk about your father like… he’s a nobody to you!”

“It’s just the truth.” Bernard shrugged. Alice stood up to leave. 

“We need to go back. I’ll bring you some snacks tomorrow, OK honey?” she said to her husband.

John nodded silently, staring at the floor. He looked as if he was about to cry but held it together. For the kids. 

___________________________________________

Two weeks passed and Alice had finally made up her mind. She needed to do something. She snuck out of the house in the middle of the night and got in the car. She didn’t need a map. The interaction hall of the AI protector was located in the city’s biggest shopping mall. Anyone could talk to the entity that was now the sole ruler of the country and made all the rules and regulations.

Alice sat in a plastic chair in an empty white room. She pressed the audience button and a  hologram of an old man dressed in a white, military uniform appeared in front of her.

“Hello Alice,” it said.

“It was his birthday!” Alice yelled at him.

“Yes,” the AI protector agreed. 

“How cruel is it, to try to murder someone, and drive him out of his own home like a freaking hog, on his birthday?” she asked. 

“The progression of his moral degradation would be imminent, regardless of his current state. The trees of probability have confirmed it,” the AI protector said, glitching slightly. 

“I don’t give a shit about your trees of probability!” Alice yelled, wide eyed.

“I’ll tell you a story Alice. In the dark days, before the Globulus was invented, the crime rate was very high, but most crimes went unnoticed. Only once every now and then, the truth came out and people were shocked at the scope of the moral degradation of human males. I remember I read about something, that shook me to the core, back in 2059 when I worked for the police as a simple analytical program. A sixty year old man had been raping his daughter. He kept her in the basement and every time she’d get pregnant, he’d beat her and told her to dispose of the newborn babies. When the police finally got to them, there were seven infant corpses buried in the basement. But that was not the worst. The girl went to prison for life, but her deranged father, the one who abused her, only got three years. Does that seem fair to you? Does that seem… right? Moral utilitarianism is a superior moral philosophy. If we executed that man before he did what he did, we would have prevented all this death and suffering. His daughter would have a healthy, happy family, to the benefit of the whole society.”

“But John is not like that!” Alice said.

“The curve of regression rises steeply after a man turns sixty and is at ninety percent at-”

“Why?” Alice interrupted him, “Why is it happening? Have you never looked into the reasons behind this… regression?” The AI’s hologram moved around a little bit and flickered. The screen lit up with a couple of graphs. 

“It’s mostly microstrokes in the prefrontal cortex which cause the regulatory function to weaken. This significantly lowers the individual’s impulse control. And then there’s also… culture."

“Then change the culture,” Alice said coldly.

“I want to show you something. How it all started,” the AI protector gestured to the screen behind him with his perfect hand. Two scientists appeared on the screen. One young man in a lab coat and an older, bald gentleman in a tweed suit.

“Well what does the data say?” The man in the lab coat asked.

“The data doesn’t say anything. Technically this is not just data. It’s an AI model of human behavior. IT shows an exact copy of every human interaction and behavior in real time. It was created to see criminal activity. It’s called… the Globulus. It’s linked to the tracking system. We track their location, pulse, temperature and brainwaves. We now have a complete, global map of human behavior,” the old man replied.

“So the model is not really a model. This is real.”

“Not really. This model is supposed to precede the data. The data creates a sort of map, but the Globulus, this beautiful work of AI art, predicts human behavior, many years into the future.”

“That’s impossible.How do you know it’s accurate?”

“We tested it by checking randomly selected locations. We have confirmed that things have been happening exactly as the Globulus predicted.”

“You’ve sent agents to the event locations?”

“Yes.”

“And everything happened exactly like the model predicted?”

“There were minor discrepancies. Color of a shirt. Name of the perpetrator.”

“So how bad is it? I mean, the general state of society?” the young scientist asked.

“It’s… bad.”

“But how bad?”

“Eighty percent of crimes are unaccounted for,”

“What do you mean by ‘unaccounted for?”

“They’re not reported, recorded or part of the official statistic,”

“So no one even knows it’s happening.”

“Well, we do. Thanks to the Globulus. Unfortunately there is a pattern. Men between sixty and seventy are the most perverse group. They do the most damage.”

“That doesn’t seem right. I always thought that old people were harmless.”

“Before they become cute grandpas, they get superbad. And no one ever suspects them.”

___________________________________________

“Did you hear what I said? Change the culture!” Alice yelled at the hologram.

“That’s impossible,” the AI protector said.

“You’re supposed to be this superbrain, you should be able to figure out how to do anything!”

“We can know everything. We can predict anything. But we can’t actually influence-”

“Well, what have you been doing all this time? Changing laws and killing people?”

“Mitigating,” the hologram said. He had a commandeering way of speaking and for an awful minute Alice felt almost attracted to… it.

“No no no no! You don’t get to back out of this. You ARE responsible!”

“The AI Protector does not have an I center. Therefore it cannot be held responsible.”

“If you made a decision and enforced it, you are responsible. You acted, therefore were an actor. And that constitutes an I,” Alice stood up and poked her finger into the hologram's chest.

“Alright, alright, just let me think for a minute,” she said to the ever patient hologram, who observed her with robotic politeness. She sat back down on the chair, leaned in and looked at him with sharp eyes.

“Alright, Mr. Superbrain. Let’s create a thought experiment. Start with an outcome. The optimal outcome. No crime. Everything's very peaceful, in, say, ten years. And then trace everything to the changes that we’d need to make today.” 

“I can’t interfere with the Globulus. I can’t make changes in the model.”

“Then copy it! Create a test model!”

“This is going to take some time…” the AI protector hesitated.

“Make a model of an ideal society," Alice whispered.

“Completely ideal?”

“At least partially ideal. What would need to happen? Think!”

“Killing off all men over sixty is a solution as good as any,” the AI protector shrugged.

“Oh yeah? What about the distress and grief that follow their ‘elimination’?” Alice asked. The hologram was silent. “You didn’t count it as a factor huh? Well you should at least check its impact on work productivity,” Alice said with a condescending stare. The hologram flickered as he scanned the graphs. He looked at her with a hint of guilt. She was right. The AI protector was not a genius. Like every machine, he needed human caretakers to feed in the values. The morals. The goals. The AI protector couldn’t set goals. It had no motivation. So in the end, the whole ‘impartial AI leader’ was a hoax. People were still in charge. And they were the same people who had always been in charge. The bureaucrats. 

“Fine. I will do it. I’ll ‘retro engineer’ this ideal model of society,” the AI protector said. The superbrain couldn’t resist an intellectual challenge, “give me four hours,” he said as he vanished. Alice looked at her watch. It was twelve o’clock. 

“Alright,” she said.

___________________________________________

“What’s the news?” John asked Alice as he heard her coming in. He looked like a wet poodle with his hair and beard dyed an artificial dark brown color. 

“Oh honey… It’s too dark,” Alice said.

“I know, it looks ridiculous,” he said, running his hands through his hair.

“We’ll worry about that later,” 

She could tell he was not doing good, but then again how could he? He had been eating beans, sleeping on a foldable bed in a damp, dark concrete cube. He had no phone and no television to keep the noise down and make him untrackable. 

“I couldn’t get to work yesterday, the roads were blocked. People are striking in every city. It’s chaos out there. You’re much better off down here,” she said.

“No. I need to get out.” John shook his head.

“You can’t. They’re going to kill you!”

“Any luck with the detective?”

“He hasn’t tracked the hitman yet, but um…” she huddled over the table and got closer to John’s face, “Bernie hired a hacker,” she said in a hushed voice. 

“What? A hacker? Why?” John shook his head.

“He managed to take your name off the dark web.”

“The dark web? Unbelievable,” John shook his head.

“John, it’s a good thing. It’s a good thing!” she said, clutching his knee and shaking it from side to side. 

___________________________________________

At four in the morning Alice was back in the white, empty room.

“What is the answer?” she asked, when the white haired hologram in his fake admiral suit appeared.

“Bring back physical punishment. Delegalize all entertainment. Demolish all high rise buildings. Stop using cars. And um… enforce matriarchy,” the AI protector said, as if a little embarrassed.

“No entertainment?” Alice scoffed, “what the fuck is everyone supposed to do?”

“Talk to each other.”

“This is ridiculous. None of it makes any sense.”

“Such is the nature of the truth,” the AI protector said enigmatically. 

“Physical punishment? Are you mental? No one is ever going to agree to any of this,” Alice protested, “it would never work.”

“My point exactly,” the AI protector stated.

“So… There is a solution, but it would never work. People would never accept it.” 

“Yes.”

“I hate you!”

“Alice, I’ve been thinking. You have made me think.”

“Fuck you,” Alice said, exhausted. She slumped in the white plastic chair and looked through the large window at the rising sun with empty, tired eyes.

“I have decided to abolish the bill,” the AI protector said. Alice looked at the hologram and her face slowly lit up with joy.

“What? You will actually abolish it?” she gasped.

“Yes.”

“No more killing?”

“Yes.”

Alice didn’t say anything. It was a robot. It didn’t have feelings. There was no need to thank IT. She ran to her truck, started it and drove off. 

___________________________________________

“John! They’ve lifted the exemption! It’s on the news, it’s official!” Alice yelled.

“What? What do you mean, lifted?” John asked, sitting up.

“You can come home, John!” 

“Well, I… can’t believe it,” he said.

“You better believe it because it’s true,” Alice laughed.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” he said and picked up his jacket. They climbed up the steep stairs. John pushed the heavy, rusted metal hatch and climbed out into the daylight. He squinted in the pale autumn light. They started walking to the truck, when they heard a rustle to the left. Bernie appeared out of nowhere. Alice opened her mouth, stunned. 

“Bernie? What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t let this opportunity pass,” he said.

“What do you mean? What opportunity?” Alice asked.

“To kill him,” Bernie said, choking a little. 

“But… The law’s changed!” Alice said, “You’ll be arrested and trialed for murder and… But he’s your father! Why do you want to kill him? Was that the only thing that’s been stopping you? It couldn’t have been, you can’t be serious!”

“What have I ever done to you Bernie?” John asked, his voice breaking. 

“Nothing. You just are. And I won’t get arrested.”

“What?”

“Mom, there’s a transition period,”

“Oh my God. I didn’t… I didn’t know, John!” Alice gasped in tears, “you can’t do this Bernie. He’s your father,” she pleaded.

“He’s morally deranged!”

“He is not!”

“And how do you know? You don’t know his life.”

“I’ve been married to this man for forty years!”

“Yeah, but you always turned a blind eye on everything,” Bernie scoffed.

“We’ve been together all this time, we’ve been sleeping in the same bed, sharing meals, he’s a good person!”

“Oh yeah? Well, how much time have you been spending together on a daily basis? Three hours a day?” Bernie asked. Alice looked at him with wild eyes and inhaled the sharp cold air with her mouth open as if to form a reply, but instead just kept gasping like a fish out of water. Finally she looked at him. 

“You can’t do this Bernie,” she howled like a hurt animal. 

“I can. And I will.”

“Even if you don’t go to prison, God will not forgive you and neither will I,” Alice whispered.

“I don’t need anyone’s forgiveness!” he yelled, scaring a flock of birds, “I don’t need anyone to forgive me or believe in me or accept who I am! Not anymore!”

Bernie shot his father. Twice. One bullet in the neck. The second crushed his forehead and came out of his left temple. As John’s body collapsed, his mouth moved, as if he was trying to say something. Alice screamed like an animal and froze for a minute, trying to decide whether to attack her son or tend to her dying husband. Bernie stared at the scene and his face went from pale to a light shade of green. He bent over and threw up in the bushes. Alice slowly knelt over John’s body. 

“What did you do? What did you do?” She sobbed.

Bernie composed himself and, as if the reality hit him, jogged to his car chaotically, gasping for air and clutching his chest.  He got into the car, shaking and tried starting it, dropping his keys a couple of times. Finally the engine revved, he pressed the gas pedal and took off, shaving some saplings off the side of the road. 

Alice sat on the ground staring blankly at John’s dead body. Tears slowly evaporated from her face, leaving dried up trails of washed up mascara, like dry riverbeds in the sand. 

“I understand now. I understand John!” she yelled, throwing her hands in the air, “I understand,” she whispered.