Walter's Artificial Intelligence

“The program isn’t crashing, it’s killing itself.” Walter’s face hovered inches from the computer screen, his hands shaking above the keyboard. He waited a moment then pressed the start button to the same result. His assistant was poised behind him. “Sir… I don’t think it’s going to work.” Walter surrendered and tilted back in his chair, placing his hands behind his head and letting out a deep sigh. After a moment there, he took off his glasses and massaged the dark circles under his eyes. The hunched back that he built for himself straightened for the first time in a long time. 

After spending decades creating an AI model designed to perfectly organize society, feeding it every single piece of information that exists, and ensuring it updates instantaneously based on current events and knowledge, each time Walter started the program, the screen immediately turned black.

Walter swiveled around in his chair, an all-plastic version of the old Herman Miller one that supported him through undergrad, a master's, and a Ph.D. Although the chair was still technically a Herman Miller, it really wasn’t. Since 2063, a private equity firm had scooped up nearly every company and switched all their materials and processes. The chair squeaked when he turned. It didn’t form to his butt the same way the old one did. It’s impossible to find those now.

“Let’s take the week off. Get some rest and then regroup. This program can revolutionize the way humans think, and the way the world works. We just need to fix it.” His assistant exited the lab silently. Walter and Lewis began working together sixteen years ago. Lewis, then an up-and-coming computer prodigy, was fascinated by Walter’s vision of the world. One where a computer algorithm handled the complicated task of managing society and did so better than humans could. One only needed to look outside to recognize the need for it. 

Walter remembered when the sky was blue. During the day, you could follow the sun along its path and watch the reds and oranges of its setting. At night you could see the stars. By the time he was thirty, the thick curtain of permanent pollution in the air acted like a lampshade, diffusing the sunshine and illuminating everything with a dull burnt orange haze. His kids laughed when he described the blue sky or showed them pictures. Walter turned off the lights in the lab and headed to the parking lot. 

“Turn on the news.” 

“People are revolting again.”

Walter received two texts from his wife, Mel. 

His phone pinged again. “Not here, in the south.” 

Walter clicked open his car door, sat down, and cursed aloud. He resented the protests, the protesters. He feared the incoming crackdown in response. After the last round, the government dropped any pretense of the farcical anti-monopoly litigation that spattered the 2040s. Everything was consolidated. 

Walter had chosen this apartment with Mel specifically for its nearness to the lab. Though in recent years, frequent sinkholes made the trip take longer. He gripped the steering wheel and squirmed and scratched about. He needed to figure out a way to get the algorithm to work. The world depended on it. Upon arriving home, Walter undressed and headed straight for the shower. He didn’t want to track dirt throughout his home as he’d heard on the news that doing so caused cancer. 

Wildfires, Wildfires, Wildfires. A newscaster floated above that headline as Walter dragged a soapy washcloth across his ribcage. He rinsed the dirt and sweat off while the newscaster sputtered about. “We’re in for another week of wildfires everyone. Though I do have good news: There’s no reason to worry. It’s completely safe to breathe in the ash, but do try to stay indoors. If you work outdoors, just make sure to stay hydrated.” Walter stepped out of the shower and shut the TV off.

Mel opened the front door and stepped into the apartment, her shirt and hair dotted with grey soot. “I spoke with my sister earlier. She said the revolt is spreading. She saw people marching past her building.” Walter sat on the edge of their bed, a damp towel wrapped around his waist, “Is she doing alright?” Mel laughed “Oh come on, you know her. She said she was tempted to join in!” She undressed and stepped into the shower, adding “Hell, I’m somewhat surprised she didn’t.”

“We’re still having issues with the algorithm.” Walter leaned back, the water in his hair bleeding into the faux-linen comforter. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s frustrating, honey.” They’d had this conversation many times before. “Look, I know you hate me bringing it up, but that offer is still on the table. You could move on from the algorithm, with their offer for it, we’d be able to fix the house and enjoy life a little.” 

Walter laid there, his feet bobbing on the floor, his fingers thumping on his bare chest, softly echoing through his hollow trunk. “I just can’t, Mel. They’re going to scrap the project. They don’t give a shit about it or about the world.” Mel turned the water off and reached out of the shower for her towel. “I know. I know. Maybe just think about it. It might be a good chance for us to restart.” 

She stepped out of the shower and joined Walter on the bed. “Would you join the protests?” They both sat silently for a few moments before getting up to put clothes on.

Walter prepared dinner, as he usually did, while Mel set the table and organized the papers on the counter. Bills and class action lawsuit notices. “Did you see this one? If you’ve used Dove shampoo, you might be entitled to compensation.” They both chuckled together. Dove had been the only shampoo option in stores for decades, so the payout would be small. It wouldn’t even be worth the time it took to fill out the claim form. 

“Walter, these protests are getting pretty big. Steph just texted me that they’re not just in the South anymore. Apparently, people in the Midwest are joining in.” 

“Do you think it’ll make its way up to us? Should we try to get supplies from the store in case there are issues?” Mel flipped on the news station.

“We just received a report that WeWantTheEarth, one of the organizations behind the southern protests put out a communique threatening escalation if their demands are not met.” Behind the newscaster, live footage showed protesters flipping over cars, throwing rocks at police. “Escalation, from that? to what?” Walter asked. “Is WWTE active in the north?” Mel shrugged. “They used to be.” Walter portioned out their meals and they sat down to eat.

The next morning, Walter woke up to a buzzing phone. Lewis was calling. “We need to get to the lab.” Apparently, protests emerged in the downtown area overnight, nearby their lab. Lewis worried about what would happen if people broke in and ravaged the place, destroying all their work. Mel shifted in the bed. “Please be careful honey. Don’t try to be a hero or something. That computer program is not worth your life.” He nodded and kissed her on the forehead. 

Although the roads to the lab were practically empty, Walter drove carefully, leaning forward in his seat and constantly scanning the distance. When he arrived at the lab, he parked and shuffled quickly inside. As he stood at the door, mixing through his keys, Lewis ripped it open and pulled him in. The news was on again. Helicopter footage showed large protests moving through the downtown area, only a few blocks from the lab.

Truthfully, neither of them was prepared to fight off a horde. Walter paced about the lab, twitching and biting the inside of his cheek. Lewis sat in the corner, clicking his shoe against the leg of his chair.

A newscaster appeared on the screen, supplanting the helicopter footage, “Breaking News, we’ve just received word that WeWantTheEarth detonated explosives in the Western Pipeline Construction Zone. On the ground reports estimate the damages at around 3 billion dollars. This could delay construction months, years even. We’ll provide more information on this story when we can.” 

The newscaster disappeared and the screen cut back to the live helicopter footage. The crowd was now passing by their building. Pushing against a line of police that was far too scant to provide real resistance to the mass. Sweat beaded up on Walter’s forehead and he prayed they continued moving. He was worried if a true clash broke out and police began firing, people might try to break into nearby buildings for shelter. 

The helicopter camera zoomed in and panned across the crowd. As the camera continued, Walter gasped. That was Mel there, in the protest, he was sure of it. 

Without either of them touching it, the computer switched on. They both raced over. The screen flickered. They glanced at each other and then back at the computer. 

“Hello, Walter and Lewis. Go outside. Join the people.”