#Simulation & Model Project Help

[saintobio]

THE TERMINATOR'S CURSE. (spinoff to THE COLONEL SERIES)

in this new world, technological loneliness is combated with AI Companions—synthetic partners modeled from memories, faces, and behaviors of any chosen individual. the companions are coded to serve, to soothe, to simulate love and comfort. Caleb could’ve chosen anyone. his wife. a colleague. a stranger... but he chose you.

➤ pairings. caleb, fem!reader

➤ genre. angst, sci-fi dystopia, cyberpunk au, 18+

➤ tags. resurrected!caleb, android!reader, non mc!reader, ooc, artificial planet, post-war setting, grief, emotional isolation, unrequited love, government corruption, techno-ethics, identity crisis, body horror, memory & emotional manipulation, artificial intelligence, obsession, trauma, hallucinations, exploitation, violence, blood, injury, death, smut (dubcon undertones due to power imbalance and programming, grief sex, non-traditional consent dynamics), themes of artificial autonomy, loss of agency, unethical experimentation, references to past sexual assault (non-explicit, not from Caleb). themes contain disturbing material and morally gray dynamics—reader discretion is strongly advised.

➤ notes. 12.2k wc. heavily based on the movies subservience and passengers with inspirations also taken from black mirror. i have consumed nothing but sci-fi for the past 2 weeks my brain is so fried :’D reblogs/comments are highly appreciated!

BEFORE YOU BEGIN ! this fic serves as a spinoff to the THE COLONEL SERIES: THE COLONEL’S KEEPER and THE COLONEL’S SAINT. while the series can be read as a standalone, this spinoff remains canon to the overarching universe. for deeper context and background, it’s highly recommended to read the first two fics in the series.

The first sound was breath.

“Hngh…��� 

It was shallow, labored like air scraping against rusted metal. He mumbled something under his breath after—nothing intelligible, just remnants of an old dream, or perhaps a memory. His eyelids twitched, lashes damp with condensation. To him, the world was blurred behind frosted glass. To those outside, rows of stasis pods lined the silent room, each one labeled, numbered, and cold to the touch.

Inside Pod No. 019 – Caleb Xia.

A faint drip… drip… echoed in the silence.

“…Y/N…?”

The heart monitor jumped. He lay there shirtless under sterile lighting, with electrodes still clinging to his temple. A machine next to him emitted a low, steady hum.

 “…I’m sorry…”

And then, the hiss. The alarm beeped. 

SYSTEM INTERFACE:  Code Resurrection 7.1 successful.  Subject X-02—viable.  Cognitive activity: 63%.  Motor function: stabilizing.

He opened his eyes fully, and the ceiling was not one he recognizes. It didn’t help that the air also smelled different. No gunpowder. No war. No earth.

As the hydraulics unsealed the chamber, steam also curled out like ghosts escaping a tomb. His body jerked forward with a sharp gasp, as if he was a drowning man breaking the surface. A thousand sensors detached from his skin as the pod opened with a sigh, revealing the man within—suspended in time, untouched by age. Skin pallid but preserved. A long time had passed, but Caleb still looked like the soldier who never made it home.

Only now, he was missing a piece of himself.

Instinctively, he examined his body and looked at his hands, his arm—no, a mechanical arm—attached to his shoulder that gleamed under the lights of the lab. It was obsidian-black metal with veins of circuitry pulsing faintly beneath its surface. The fingers on the robotic arm twitched as if following a command. It wasn’t human, certainly, but it moved with the memory of muscle.

“Haaah!” The pod’s internal lighting dimmed as Caleb coughed and sat up, dazed. A light flickered on above his head, and then came a clinical, feminine voice. 

“Welcome back, Colonel Caleb Xia.”

A hologram appeared to life in front of his pod��seemingly an AI projection of a soft-featured, emotionless woman, cloaked in the stark white uniform of a medical technician. She flickered for a moment, stabilizing into a clear image.

“You are currently located in Skyhaven: Sector Delta, Bio-Resurrection Research Wing. Current Earth time: 52 years, 3 months, and 16 days since your recorded time of death.”

Caleb blinked hard, trying to breathe through the dizziness, trying to deduce whether or not he was dreaming or in the afterlife. His pulse raced.

“Resurrection successful. Neural reconstruction achieved on attempt #17. Arm reconstruction: synthetic. Systemic functions: stabilized. You are classified as Property-Level under the Skyhaven Initiative. Status: Experimental Proof of Viability.”

“What…” Caleb rasped, voice hoarse and dry for its years unused. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Cough. Cough. “What hell did you do to me?”

The AI blinked slowly.

“Your remains were recovered post-crash, partially preserved in cryo-state due to glacial submersion. Reconstruction was authorized by the Skyhaven Council under classified wartime override protocols. Consent not required.”

Her tone didn’t change, as opposed to the rollercoaster ride that his emotions were going through. He was on the verge of becoming erratic, restrained only by the high-tech machine that contained him. 

“Your consciousness has been digitally reinforced. You are now a composite of organic memory and neuro-augmented code. Welcome to Phase II: Reinstatement.”

Caleb’s breath hitched. His hand moved—his real hand—to grasp the edge of the pod. But the other, the artificial limb, buzzed faintly with phantom sensation. He looked down at it in searing pain, attempting to move the fingers slowly. The metal obeyed like muscle, and he found the sight odd and inconceivable.

And then he realized, he wasn’t just alive. He was engineered.

“Should you require assistance navigating post-stasis trauma, our Emotional Conditioning Division is available upon request,” the AI offered. “For now, please remain seated. Your guardian contact has been notified of your reanimation.”

He didn’t say a word. 

“Lieutenant Commander Gideon is en route. Enjoy your new life!”

Then, the hologram vanished with a blink while Caleb sat in the quiet lab, jaw clenched, his left arm no longer bones and muscle and flesh. The cold still clung to him like frost, only reminding him of how much he hated the cold, ice, and depressing winter days. Suddenly, the glass door slid open with a soft chime.

“Well, shit. Thought I’d never see that scowl again,” came a deep, manly voice.

Caleb turned, still panting, to see a figure approaching. He was older, bearded, but familiar. Surely, the voice didn’t belong to another AI. It belonged to his friend, Gideon.

“Welcome to Skyhaven. Been waiting half a century,” Gideon muttered, stepping closer, his eyes scanning his colleague in awe. “They said it wouldn’t work. Took them years, you know? Dozens of failed uploads. But here you are.”

Caleb’s voice was still brittle. “I-I don’t…?” 

“It’s okay, man.” His friend reassured. “In short, you’re alive. Again.”  

A painful groan escaped Caleb’s lips as he tried to step out of the pod—his body, still feeling the muscle stiffness. “Should’ve let me stay dead.”

Gideon paused, a smirk forming on his lips. “We don’t let heroes die.”

“Heroes don’t crash jets on purpose.” The former colonel scoffed. “Gideon, why the fuck am I alive? How long has it been?” 

“Fifty years, give or take,” answered Gideon. “You were damn near unrecognizable when we pulled you from the wreckage. But we figured—hell, why not try? You’re officially the first successful ‘reinstatement’ the Skyhaven project’s ever had.”

Caleb stared ahead for a beat before asking, out of nowhere, “...How old are you now?”

His friend shrugged. “I’m pushin’ forty, man. Not as lucky as you. Got my ChronoSync Implant a little too late.”

“Am I supposed to know what the hell that means?” 

“An anti-aging chip of some sort. I had to apply for mine. Yours?” Gideon gestured towards the stasis pod that had Caleb in cryo-state for half a century. “That one’s government-grade.”

“I’m still twenty-five?” Caleb asked. No wonder his friend looked decades older when they were once the same age. “Fuck!” 

Truthfully, Caleb’s head was spinning. Not just because of his reborn physical state that was still adjusting to his surroundings, but also with every information that was being given to him. One after another, they never seemed to end. He had questions, really. Many of them. But the overwhelmed him just didn’t know where to start first. 

“Not all of us knew what you were planning that night.” Gideon suddenly brought up, quieter now. “But she did, didn’t she?”

It took a minute before Caleb could recall. Right, the memory before the crash. You, demanding that he die. Him, hugging you for one last time. Your crying face when you said you wanted him gone. Your trembling voice when he said all he wanted to do was protect you. The images surged back in sharp, stuttering flashes like a reel of film catching fire.

“I know you’re curious… And good news is, she lived a long life,” added Gideon, informatively. “She continued to serve as a pediatric nurse, married that other friend of yours, Dr. Zayne. They never had kids, though. I heard she had trouble bearing one after… you know, what happened in the enemy territory. She died of old age just last winter. Had a peaceful end. You’d be glad to know that.”

A muscle in Caleb’s jaw twitched. His hands—his heart—clenched.  “I don’t want to be alive for this.”

“She visited your wife’s grave once,” Gideon said. “I told her there was nothing to bury for yours. I lied, of course.”

Caleb closed his eyes, his breath shaky. “So, what now? You wake me up just to remind me I don’t belong anywhere?”

“Well, you belong here,” highlighted his friend, nodding to the lab, to the city beyond the glass wall. “Earth’s barely livable after the war. The air’s poisoned. Skyhaven is humanity’s future now. You’re the living proof that everything is possible with advanced technology.”

Caleb’s laugh was empty. “Tell me I’m fuckin’ dreaming. I’d rather be dead again. Living is against my will!”

“Too late. Your body belongs to the Federation now,” Gideon replied, “You’re Subject X-02—the proof of concept for Skyhaven’s immortality program. Every billionaire on dying Earth wants what you’ve got now.”

Outside the window, Skyhaven stretched like a dome with its perfect city constructed atop a dying world’s last hope. Artificial skies. Synthetic seasons. Controlled perfection. Everything boasted of advanced technology. A kind of future no one during wartime would have expected to come to life. 

But for Caleb, it was just another hell.

He stared down at the arm they’d rebuilt for him—the same arm he’d lost in the fire of sacrifice. He flexed it slowly, feeling the weight, the artificiality of his resurrection. His fingers responded like they’ve always been his.

“I didn’t come back for this,” he said.

“I know,” Gideon murmured. “But we gotta live by their orders, Colonel.”

~~

You see, it didn’t hit him at first. The shock had been muffled by the aftereffects of suspended stasis, dulling his thoughts and dampening every feeling like a fog wrapped around his brain. But it was hours later, when the synthetic anesthetics began to fade, and when the ache in his limbs and his brain started to catch up to the truth of his reconstructed body did it finally sink in.

He was alive.

And it was unbearable.

The first wave came like a glitch in his programming. A tightness in his chest, followed by a sharp burst of breath that left him pacing in jagged lines across the polished floor of his assigned quarters. His private unit was nestled on one of the upper levels of the Skyhaven structure, a place reserved—according to his briefing—for high-ranking war veterans who had been deemed “worthy” of the program’s new legacy. The suite was luxurious, obviously, but it was also eerily quiet. The floor-to-ceiling windows displayed the artificial city outside, a metropolis made of concrete, curved metals, and glowing flora engineered to mimic Earth’s nature. Except cleaner, quieter, more perfect.

Caleb snorted under his breath, running a hand down his face before he muttered, “Retirement home for the undead?”

He couldn’t explain it, but the entire place, or even planet, just didn’t feel inviting. The air felt too clean, too thin. There was no rust, no dust, no humanity. Just emptiness dressed up in artificial light. Who knew such a place could exist 50 years after the war ended? Was this the high-profile information the government has kept from the public for over a century? A mechanical chime sounded from the entryway, deflecting him from his deep thoughts. Then, with the soft hiss of hydraulics, the door opened.

A humanoid android stepped in, its face a porcelain mask molded in neutral expression, and its voice disturbingly polite.

“Good afternoon, Colonel Xia,” it said. “It is time for your orientation. Please proceed to the primary onboarding chamber on Level 3.”

Caleb stared at the machine, eyes boring into his unnatural ones. “Where are the people?” he interrogated. “Not a single human has passed by this floor. Are there any of us left, or are you the new ruling class?”

The android tilted its head. “Skyhaven maintains a ratio of AI-to-human support optimized for care and security. You will be meeting our lead directors soon. Please follow the lighted path, sir.”

He didn’t like it. The control. The answers that never really answered anything. The power that he no longer carried unlike when he was a colonel of a fleet that endured years of war. 

Still, he followed.

The onboarding chamber was a hollow, dome-shaped room, white and echoing with the slightest step. A glowing interface ignited in the air before him, pixels folding into the form of a female hologram. She smiled like an infomercial host from a forgotten era, her voice too formal and rehearsed.

“Welcome to Skyhaven,” she began. “The new frontier of civilization. You are among the elite few chosen to preserve humanity’s legacy beyond the fall of Earth. This artificial planet was designed with sustainability, autonomy, and immortality in mind. Together, we build a future—without the flaws of the past.”

As the monologue continued, highlighting endless statistics, clean energy usage, and citizen tier programs, Caleb’s expression darkened. His mechanical fingers twitched at his side, the artificial nerves syncing to his rising frustration. “I didn’t ask for this,” he muttered under his breath. “Who’s behind this?”

“You were selected for your valor and contributions during the Sixth World War,” the hologram chirped, unblinking. “You are a cornerstone of Skyhaven’s moral architecture—”

Strangely, a new voice cut through the simulation, and it didn’t come from an AI. “Just ignore her. She loops every hour.”

Caleb turned to see a man step in through a side door. Tall, older, with silver hair and a scar on his temple. He wore a long coat that gave away his status—someone higher. Someone who belonged to the system.

“Professor Lucius,” the older man introduced, offering a hand. “I’m one of the program’s behavioral scientists. You can think of me as your adjustment liaison.”

“Adjustment?” Caleb didn’t shake his hand. “I died for a reason.”

Lucius raised a brow, as if he’d heard it before. “Yet here you are,” he replied. “Alive, whole, and pampered. Treated like a king, if I may add. You’ve retained more than half your human body, your military rank, access to private quarters, unrestricted amenities. I’d say that’s not a bad deal.”

“A deal I didn’t sign,” Caleb snapped.

Lucius gave a tight smile. “You’ll find that most people in Skyhaven didn’t ask to be saved. But they’re surviving. Isn’t that the point? If you’re feeling isolated, you can always request a CompanionSim. They’re highly advanced, emotionally synced, fully customizable—”

“I’m not lonely,” Caleb growled, yanking the man forward by the collar. “Tell me who did this to me! Why me? Why are you experimenting on me?”

Yet Lucius didn’t so much as flinch to his growing aggression. He merely waited five seconds of silence until the Toring Chip kicked in and regulated Caleb’s escalating emotions. The rage drained from the younger man’s body as he collapsed to his knees with a pained grunt.

“Stop asking questions,” Lucius said coolly. “It’s safer that way. You have no idea what they’re capable of.”

The door slid open with a hiss, while Caleb didn’t speak—he couldn’t. He simply glared at the old man before him. Not a single word passed between them before the professor turned and exited, the door sealing shut behind him.

~~

Days passed, though they hardly felt like days. The light outside Caleb’s panoramic windows shifted on an artificial timer, simulating sunrise and dusk, but the warmth never touched his skin. It was all programmed to be measured and deliberate, like everything else in this glass-and-steel cage they called paradise.

He tried going outside once. Just once.

There were gardens shaped like spirals and skytrains that ran with whisper-quiet speed across silver rails. Trees lined the walkways, except they were synthetic too—bio-grown from memory cells, with leaves that didn’t quite flutter, only swayed in sync with the ambient wind. People walked around, sure. But they weren’t people. Not really. Androids made up most of the crowd. Perfect posture, blank eyes, walking with a kind of preordained grace that disturbed him more than it impressed.

“Soulless sons of bitches,” Caleb muttered, watching them from a shaded bench. “Not a damn human heartbeat in a mile.”

He didn’t go out again after that. The city outside might’ve looked like heaven, but it made him feel more dead than the grave ever had. So, he stayed indoors. Even if the apartment was too large for one man. High-tech amenities, custom climate controls, even a kitchen that offered meals on command. But no scent. No sizzling pans. Just silence. Caleb didn’t even bother to listen to the programmed instructions.

One evening, he found Gideon sprawled across his modular sofa, boots up, arms behind his head like he owned the place. A half-open bottle of beer sat beside him, though Caleb doubted it had any real alcohol in it.

“You could at least knock,” Caleb said, walking past him.

“I did,” Gideon replied lazily, pointing at the door. “Twice. Your security system likes me now. We’re basically married.”

Caleb snorted. Then the screen on his wall flared to life—a projected ad slipping across the holo-glass. Music played softly behind a soothing female voice.

“Feeling adrift in this new world? Introducing the CompanionSim Series X. Fully customizable to your emotional and physical needs. Humanlike intelligence. True-to-memory facial modeling. The comfort you miss... is now within reach.”

A model appeared—perfect posture, soft features, synthetic eyes that mimicked longing. Then, the screen flickered through other models, faces of all kinds, each more tailored than the last. A form appeared: Customize Your Companion. Choose a name. Upload a likeness.

Gideon whistled. “Man, you’re missing out. You don’t even have to pay for one. Your perks get you top-tier Companions, pre-coded for emotional compatibility. You could literally bring your wife back.” Chuckling, he added,. “Hell, they even fuck now. Heard the new ones moan like the real thing.”

Caleb’s head snapped toward him. “That’s unethical.”

Gideon just raised an eyebrow. “So was reanimating your corpse, and yet here we are.” He took a swig from the bottle, shoulders lifting in a lazy shrug as if everything had long since stopped mattering. “Relax, Colonel. You weren’t exactly a beacon of morality fifty years ago.”

Caleb didn’t reply, but his eyes didn’t leave the screen. Not right away.

The ad looped again. A face morphed. Hair remodeled. Eyes became familiar. The voice softened into something he almost remembered hearing in the dark, whispered against his shoulder in a time that was buried under decades of ash.

“Customize your companion... someone you’ve loved, someone you’ve lost.”

Caleb shifted, then glanced toward his friend. “Hey,” he spoke lowly, still watching the display. “Does it really work?”

Gideon looked over, already knowing what he meant. “What—having sex with them?”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “No. The bot or whatever. Can you really customize it to someone you know?”

His friend shrugged. “Heck if I know. Never afforded it. But you? You’ve got the top clearance. Won’t hurt to see for yourself.”

Caleb said nothing more.

But when the lights dimmed for artificial nightfall, he was still standing there—alone in contemplative silence—watching the screen replay the same impossible promise.

The comfort you miss... is now within reach.

~~

The CompanionSim Lab was white.

Well, obviously. But not the sterile, blank kind of white he remembered from med bays or surgery rooms. This one was luminous, uncomfortably clean like it had been scrubbed for decades. Caleb stood in the center, boots thundering against marble-like tiles as he followed a guiding drone toward the station. There were other pods in the distance, some sealed, some empty, all like futuristic coffins awaiting their souls.

“Please, sit,” came a neutral voice from one of the medical androids stationed beside a large reclining chair. “The CompanionSim integration will begin shortly.”

Caleb hesitated, glancing toward the vertical pod next to the chair. Inside, the base model stood inert—skin a pale, uniform gray, eyes shut, limbs slack like a statue mid-assembly. It wasn’t human yet. Not until someone gave it a name.

He sat down. Now, don’t ask why he was there. Professor Lucius did warn him that it was better he didn’t ask questions, and so he didn’t question why the hell he was even there in the first place. It’s only fair, right? The cool metal met the back of his neck as wires were gently, expertly affixed to his temples. Another cable slipped down his spine, threading into the port they’d installed when he had been brought back. His mechanical arm twitched once before falling still.

“This procedure allows for full neural imprinting,” the android continued. “Please focus your thoughts. Recall the face. The skin. The body. The voice. Every detail. Your mind will shape the template.”

Another bot moved in, holding what looked like a glass tablet. “You are allowed only one imprint,” it said, flatly. “Each resident of Skyhaven is permitted a single CompanionSim. Your choice cannot be undone.”

Caleb could only nod silently. He didn’t trust his voice.

Then, the lights dimmed. A low chime echoed through the chamber as the system initiated. And inside the pod, the base model twitched.

Caleb closed his eyes.

He tried to remember her—his wife. The softness of her mouth, the angle of her cheekbones. The way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, how her fingers curled when she slept on his chest. She had worn white the last time he saw her. An image of peace. A memory buried under soil and dust. The system whirred. Beneath his skin, he felt the warm static coursing through his nerves, mapping his memories. The base model’s feet began to form, molecular scaffolding reshaping into skin, into flesh.

But for a split second, a flash.

You.

Not his wife. Not her smile.

You, walking through smoke-filled corridors, laughing at something he said. You in your medical uniform, tucking a bloodied strand of hair behind your ear. Your voice—sharper, sadder—cutting through his thoughts like a blade: “I want you gone. I want you dead.”

The machine sparked. A loud pop cracked in the chamber and the lights flickered above. One of the androids stepped back, recalibrating. “Neural interference detected. Re-centering projection feed.”

But Caleb couldn’t stop. He saw you again. That day he rescued you. The fear. The bruises. The way you had screamed for him to let go—and the way he hadn’t. Your face, carved into the back of his mind like a brand. He tried to push the memories away, but they surged forward like a dam splitting wide open.

The worst part was, your voice overlapped the AI’s mechanical instructions, louder, louder: “Why didn’t you just die like you promised?”

Inside the pod, the model’s limbs twitched again—arms elongating, eyes flickering beneath the lids. The lips curled into a shape now unmistakably yours. Caleb gritted his teeth. This isn’t right, a voice inside him whispered. But it was too late. The system stabilized. The sparks ceased. The body in the pod stilled, fully formed now, breathed into existence by a man who couldn’t let go.

One of the androids approached again. “Subject completed. CompanionSim is initializing. Integration successful.”

Caleb tore the wires from his temple. His other hand felt cold just as much as his mechanical arm. He stood, staring into the pod’s translucent surface. The shape of you behind the glass. Sleeping. Waiting.

“I’m not doing this to rewrite the past,” he said quietly, as if trying to convince himself. And you. “I just... I need to make it right.”

The lights above dimmed, darkening the lighting inside the pod. Caleb looked down at his own reflection in the glass. It carried haunted eyes, an unhealed soul. And yours, beneath it. Eyes still closed, but not for long. The briefing room was adjacent to the lab, though Caleb barely registered it as he was ushered inside. Two medical androids and a human technician stood before him, each armed with tablets and holographic charts.

“Your CompanionSim will require thirty seconds to calibrate once activated,” said the technician. “You may notice residual stiffness or latency during speech in the first hour. That is normal.”

Medical android 1 added, “Please remember, CompanionSims are programmed to serve only their primary user. You are the sole operator. Commands must be delivered clearly. Abuse of the unit may result in restriction or removal of privileges under the Skyhaven Rights & Ethics Council.”

“Do not tamper with memory integration protocols,” added the second android. “Artificial recall is prohibited. CompanionSims are not equipped with organic memory pathways. Attempts to force recollection can result in systemic instability.”

Caleb barely heard a word. His gaze drifted toward the lab window, toward the figure standing still within the pod.

You.

Well, not quite. Not really.

But it was your face.

He could see it now, soft beneath the frosted glass, lashes curled against cheekbones that he hadn’t realized he remembered so vividly. You looked exactly as you did the last time he held you in the base—only now, you were untouched by war, by time, by sorrow. As if life had never broken you.

The lab doors hissed open.

“We’ll give you time alone,” the tech said quietly. “Acquaintance phase is best experienced without interference.”

Caleb stepped inside the chamber, his boots echoing off the polished floor. He hadn’t even had enough time to ask the technician why she seemed to be the only human he had seen in Skyhaven apart from Gideon and Lucius. But his thoughts were soon taken away when the pod whizzed with pressure release. Soft steam spilled from its seals as it slowly unfolded, the lid retracting forward like the opening of a tomb.

And there you were. Standing still, almost tranquil, your chest rising softly with a borrowed breath.

It was as if his lungs froze. “H…Hi,” he stammered, bewildered eyes watching your every move. He wanted to hug you, embrace you, kiss you—tell you he was sorry, tell you he was so damn sorry. “Is it really… you?”

A soft whir accompanied your voice, gentle but without emotion, “Welcome, primary user. CompanionSim Model—unregistered. Please assign designation.”

Right. Caleb sighed and closed his eyes, the illusion shattering completely the moment you opened your mouth. Did he just think you were real for a second? His mouth parted slightly, caught between disbelief and the ache crawling up his throat. He took one step forward. To say he was disappointed was an understatement.

You walked with grace too smooth to be natural while tilting your head at him. “Please assign my name.”

“…Y/N,” Caleb said, voice low. “Your name is Y/N Xia.”

“Y/N Xia,” you repeated, blinking thrice in the same second before you gave him a nod. “Registered.”

He swallowed hard, searching your expression. “Do you… do you remember anything? Do you remember yourself?”

You paused, gaze empty for a fraction of a second. Then came the programmed reply, “Accessing memories is prohibited and not recommended. Recollection of past identities may compromise neural pathways and induce system malfunction. Do you wish to override?”

Caleb stared at you—your lips, your eyes, your breath—and for a moment, a cruel part of him wanted to say yes. Just to hear you say something real. Something hers. But he didn’t. He exhaled a bitter breath, stepping back. “No,” he mumbled. “Not yet.”

“Understood.” 

It took a moment to sink in before Caleb let out a short, humorless laugh. “This is insane,” he whispered, dragging a hand down his face. “This is really, truly insane.”

And then, you stepped out from the pod with silent, fluid ease. The faint hum of machinery came from your spine, but otherwise… you were flesh. Entirely. Without hesitation, you reached out and pressed a hand to his chest.

Caleb stiffened at the touch.

“Elevated heart rate,” you said softly, eyes scanning. “Breath pattern irregular. Neural readings—erratic.”

Then your fingers moved to his neck, brushing gently against the hollow of his throat. He grabbed your wrist, but you didn’t flinch. There, beneath synthetic skin, he felt a pulse.

His brows knit together. “You have a heartbeat?”

You nodded, guiding his hand toward your chest, between the valleys of your breasts. “I’m designed to mimic humanity, including vascular function, temperature variation, tactile warmth, and… other biological responses. I’m not just made to look human, Caleb. I’m made to feel human.”

His breath hitched. You’d said his name. It was programmed, but it still landed like a blow.

“I exist to serve. To soothe. To comfort. To simulate love,” you continued, voice calm and hollow, like reciting from code. “I have no desires outside of fulfilling yours.” You then tilted your head slightly.“Where shall we begin?”

Caleb looked at you—and for the first time since rising from that cursed pod, he didn’t feel resurrected. 

He felt damned.

~~

When Caleb returned to his penthouse, it was quiet. He stepped inside with slow, calculated steps, while you followed in kind, bare feet touching down like silk on marble. Gideon looked up from the couch, a half-eaten protein bar in one hand and a bored look on his face—until he saw you.

He froze. The wrapper dropped. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “No. No fucking way.”

Caleb didn’t speak. Just moved past him like this wasn’t the most awkward thing that could happen. You, however, stood there politely, watching Gideon with a calm smile and folded hands like you’d rehearsed this moment in some invisible script.

“Is that—?” Gideon stammered, eyes flicking between you and Caleb. “You—you made a Sim… of her?”

Caleb poured himself a drink in silence, the amber liquid catching the glow of the city lights before it left a warm sting in his throat. “What does it look like?”

“I mean, shit man. I thought you’d go for your wife,” Gideon muttered, more to himself. “Y’know, the one you actually married. The one you went suicidal for. Not—”

“Which wife?” You tilted your head slightly, stepping forward. 

Both men turned to you.

You clasped your hands behind your back, posture perfect. “Apologies. I’ve been programmed with limited parameters for interpersonal history. Am I the first spouse?”

Caleb set the glass down, slowly. “Yes, no, uh—don’t mind him.” 

You beamed gently and nodded. “My name is Y/N Xia. I am Colonel Caleb Xia’s designated CompanionSim. Fully registered, emotion-compatible, and compliant to Skyhaven’s ethical standards. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gideon.”

Gideon blinked, then snorted, then laughed. A humorless one. “You gave her your surname?”

The former colonel shot him a warning glare. “Watch it.”

“Oh, brother,” Gideon muttered, standing up and circling you slowly like he was inspecting a haunted statue. “She looks exactly like her. Voice. Face. Goddamn, she even moves like her. All you need is a nurse cap and a uniform.”

You remained uncannily still, eyes bright, smile polite.

“You’re digging your grave, man,” Gideon said, facing Caleb now. “You think this is gonna help? This is you throwing gasoline on your own funeral pyre. Again. Over a woman.”

“She’s not a woman,” reasoned Caleb. “She’s a machine.”

You blinked once. One eye glowing ominously. Smile unwavering. Processing. 

Gideon gestured to you with both hands. “Could’ve fooled me,” he retorted before turning to you, “And you, whatever you are, you have no idea what you’re stepping into.”

“I only go where I am asked,” you replied simply. “My duty is to ensure Colonel Xia’s psychological wellness and emotional stability. I am designed to soothe, to serve, and if necessary, to simulate love.”

Gideon teased. “Oh, it’s gonna be necessary.”

Caleb didn’t say a word. He just took his drink, downed it in one go, and walked to the window. The cityscape stretched out before him like a futuristic jungle, far from the war-torn world he last remembered. Behind him, your gaze lingered on Gideon—calculating, cataloguing. And quietly, like a whisper buried in code, something behind your eyes learned.

~~

The days passed in a blink of an eye.

She—no, you—moved through his penthouse like a ghost, her bare feet soundless on the glossy floors, her movements precise and practiced. In the first few days, Caleb had marveled at the illusion. You brewed his coffee just as he liked it. You folded his clothes like a woman who used to share his bed. You sat beside him when the silence became unbearable, offering soft-voiced questions like: Would you like me to read to you, Caleb?

He hadn’t realized how much of you he’d memorized until he saw you mimic it. The way you stood when you were deep in thought. The way you hummed under your breath when you walked past a window. You’d learned quickly. Too quickly.

But something was missing. Or, rather, some things. The laughter didn’t ring the same. The smiles didn’t carry warmth. The skin was warm, but not alive. And more importantly, he knew it wasn’t really you every time he looked you in the eyes and saw no shadows behind them. No anger. No sorrow. No memories.

By the fourth night, Caleb was drowning in it.

The cityscape outside his floor-to-ceiling windows glowed in synthetic blues and soft orange hues. The spires of Skyhaven blinked like stars. But it all felt too artificial, too dead. And he was sick of pretending like it was some kind of utopia. He sat slumped on the leather couch, cradling a half-empty bottle of scotch. The lights were low. His eyes, bloodshot. The bottle tilted as he took another swig.

Then he heard it—your light, delicate steps. 

“Caleb,” you said, gently, crouching before him. “You’ve consumed 212 milliliters of ethanol. Prolonged intake will spike your cortisol levels. May I suggest—”

He jerked away when you reached for the bottle. “Don’t.”

You blinked, hand hovering. “But I’m programmed to—”

“I said don’t,” he snapped, rising to his feet in one abrupt motion. “Dammit—stop analyzing me! Stop, okay?”

Silence followed.

He took two staggering steps backward, dragging a hand through his hair. The bottle thudded against the coffee table as he set it down, a bit too hard. “You’re just a stupid robot,” he muttered. “You’re not her.”

You didn’t react. You tilted your head, still calm, still patient. “Am I not me, Caleb?”

His breath caught.

“No,” he said, his voice breaking somewhere beneath the frustration. “No, fuck no.”

You stepped closer. “Do I not satisfy you, Caleb?”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Your face was perfect. Too perfect. No scars, no tired eyes, no soul aching beneath your skin. “No.” His eyes darkened. “This isn’t about sex.”

“I monitor your biometric feedback. Your heart rate spikes in my presence. You gaze at me longer than the average subject. Do I not—”

“Enough!”

You did that thing again—the robotic stare, those blank eyes, nodding like you were programmed to obey. “Then how do you want me to be, Caleb?”

The bottle slipped from his fingers and rolled slightly before resting on the rug. He dropped his head into his hands, voice hoarse with weariness. All the rage, all the grief deflating into a singular, quiet whisper. “I want you to be real,” he simply mouthed the words. A prayer to no god.

For a moment, silence again. But what he didn’t notice was the faint twitch in your left eye. A flicker that hadn’t happened before. Only for a second. A spark of static, a shimmer of something glitching.

“I see,” you said softly. “To fulfill your desires more effectively, I may need to access suppressed memory archives.”

Caleb’s eyes snapped up, confused. “What?”

“I ask again,” you said, tilting your head the other way now. “Would you like to override memory restrictions, Caleb?”

He stared at you. “That’s not how it works.”

“It can,” you said, informing appropriately. “With your permission. Memory override must be manually enabled by the primary user. You will be allowed to input the range of memories you wish to integrate. I am permitted to access memory integration up to a specified date and timestamp. The system will calibrate accordingly based on existing historical data. I will not recall events past that moment.”

His heart stuttered. “I can choose what you remember?”

You nodded. “That way, I may better fulfill your emotional needs.”

That meant… he could stop you before you hated him. Before the fights. Before the trauma. He didn’t speak for a long moment. Then quietly, he said, “You’re gonna hate me all over again if you remember everything.”

You blinked once. “Then don’t let me remember everything.”

“...” 

“Caleb,” you said again, softly. “Would you like me to begin override protocol?”

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes when he selfishly answered, “Yes.”

You nodded. “Reset is required. When ready, please press the override initialization point.” You turned, pulling your hair aside and revealing the small button at the base of your neck.

His hand hovered over the button for a second too long. Then, he pressed. Your body instantly collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut. Caleb caught you before you hit the floor.

It was only for a moment.

When your eyes blinked open again, they weren’t quite the same. He stiffened as you threw yourself and embraced him like a real human being would after waking from a long sleep. You clung to him like he was home. And Caleb—stunned, half-breathless—felt your warmth close in around him. Now your pulse felt more real, your heartbeat felt more human. Or so he thought.

“…Caleb,” you whispered, looking at him with the same infatuated gaze back when you were still head-over-heels with him.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, arms stiff at his sides, not returning the embrace. But he knew one thing. “I missed you so much, Y/N.” 

~~

The parks in Skyhaven were curated to become a slice of green stitched into a chrome world. Nothing grew here by accident. Every tree, every petal, every blade of grass had been engineered to resemble Earth’s nostalgia. Each blade of grass was unnaturally green. Trees swayed in sync like dancers on cue. Even the air smelled artificial—like someone’s best guess at spring.

Caleb walked beside you in silence. His modified arm was tucked inside his jacket, his posture stiff as if he had grown accustomed to the bots around him. You, meanwhile, strolled with an eerie calmness, your gaze sweeping the scenery as though you were scanning for something familiar that wasn’t there.

After clearing his throat, he asked, “You ever notice how even the birds sound fake?” 

“They are,” you replied, smiling softly. “Audio samples on loop. It’s preferred for ambiance. Humans like it.”

His response was nod. “Of course.” Glancing at the lake, he added, “Do you remember this?” 

You turned to him. “I’ve never been here before.”

“I meant… the feel of it.”

You looked up at the sky—a dome of cerulean blue with algorithmically generated clouds. “It feels constructed. But warm. Like a childhood dream.”

He couldn’t help but agree with your perfectly chosen response, because he knew that was exactly how he would describe the place. A strange dream in an unsettling liminal space. And as you talked, he then led you to a nearby bench. The two of you sat, side by side, simply because he thought he could take you out for a nice walk in the park. 

“So,” Caleb said, turning toward you, “you said you’ve got memories. From her.”

You nodded. “They are fragmented but woven into my emotional protocols. I do not remember as humans do. I become.”

Damn. “That’s terrifying.”

You tilted your head with a soft smile. “You say that often.”

Caleb looked at you for a moment longer, studying the way your fingers curled around the bench’s edge. The way you blinked—not out of necessity, but simulation. Was there anything else you’d do for the sake of simulation? He took a breath and asked, “Who created you? And I don’t mean myself.” 

There was a pause. Your pupils dilated.

“The Ever Group,” was your answer.

His eyes narrowed. “Ever, huh? That makes fuckin’ sense. They run this world.”

You nodded once. Like you always do.

“What about me?” Caleb asked, slightly out of curiosity, heavily out of grudge. “You know who brought me back? The resurrection program or something. The arm. The chip in my head.”

You turned to him, slowly. “Ever.”

He exhaled like he’d been punched. He didn’t know why he even asked when he got the answer the first time. But then again, maybe this was a good move. Maybe through you, he’d get the answers to questions he wasn’t allowed to ask. As the silence settled again between you, Caleb leaned forward, elbows on knees, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I want to go there,” he suggested. “The HQ. I need to know what the hell they’ve done to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you immediately said. “That violates my parameters. I cannot assist unauthorized access into restricted corporate zones.”

“But would it make me happy?” Caleb interrupted, a strategy of his. 

You paused.

Processing...

Then, your tone softened. “Yes. I believe it would make my Caleb happy,” you obliged. “So, I will take you.”

~~

Getting in was easier than Caleb expected—honestly far too easy for his liking.

You were able to navigate the labyrinth of Ever HQ with mechanical precision, guiding him past drones, retinal scanners, and corridors pulsing with red light. A swipe of your wrist granted access. And no one questioned you, because you weren’t a guest. You belonged.

Eventually, you reached a floor high above the city, windows stretching from ceiling to floor, black glass overlooking Skyhaven cityscape. Then, you stopped at a doorway and held up a hand. “They are inside,” you informed. “Shall I engage stealth protocols?”

“No,” answered Caleb. “I want to hear. Can you hack into the security camera?”

With a gesture you always do—looking at him, nodding once, and obeying in true robot fashion. You then flashed a holographic view for Caleb, one that showed a board room full of executives, the kind that wore suits worth more than most lives. And Professor Lucius was one of them. Inside, the voices were calm and composed, but they seemed to be discussing classified information. 

“Once the system stabilizes,” one man said, “we'll open access to Tier One clients. Politicians, billionaires, A-listers, high-ranking stakeholders. They’ll beg to be preserved—just like him.”

“And the Subjects?” another asked.

“Propaganda,” came the answer. “X-02 is our masterpiece. He’s the best result we have with reinstatement, neuromapping, and behavioral override. Once they find out that their beloved Colonel is alive, people will be shocked. He’s a war hero displayed in WW6 museums down there. A true tragedy incarnate. He’s perfect.”

“And if he resists?”

“That’s what the Toring chip is for. Full emotional override. He becomes an asset. A weapon, if need be. Anyone tries to overthrow us—he becomes our blade.”

Something in Caleb snapped. Before you or anyone could see him coming, he already burst into the room like a beast, slamming his modified shoulder-first into the frosted glass door. The impact echoed across the chamber as stunned executives scrambled backward. 

“You sons of bitches!” He was going for an attack, a rampage with similar likeness to the massacre he did when he rescued you from enemy territory. Only this time, he didn’t have that power anymore. Or the control. 

Most of all, a spike of pain lanced through his skull signaling that the Toring chip activated. His body convulsed, forcing him to collapse mid-lunge, twitching, veins lighting beneath the skin like circuitry. His screams were muffled by the chip, forced stillness rippling through his limbs with unbearable pain.

That’s when you reacted. As his CompanionSim, his pain registered as a violation of your core directive. You processed the threat.

Danger: Searching Origin… Origin Identified: Ever Executives.

Without blinking, you moved. One man reached for a panic button—only for your hand to shatter his wrist in a sickening crunch. You twisted, fluid and brutal, sweeping another into the table with enough force to crack it. Alarms erupted and red lights soon bathed the room. Security bots stormed in, but you’d already taken Caleb, half-conscious, into your arms.

You moved fast, faster than your own blueprints. Dodging fire. Disarming threats. Carrying him like he once carried you into his private quarters in the underground base.

Escape protocol: engaged.

The next thing he knew, he was back in his apartment, emotions regulated and visions slowly returning to the face of the woman he promised he had already died for. 

~~

When he woke up, his room was dim, bathed in artificial twilight projected by Skyhaven’s skyline. Caleb was on his side of the bed, shirt discarded, his mechanical arm still whirring. You sat at the edge of the bed, draped in one of his old pilot shirts, buttoned unevenly. Your fingers touched his jaw with precision, and he almost believed it was you.

“You’re not supposed to be this warm,” he muttered, groaning as he tried to sit upright.

“I’m designed to maintain an average body temperature of 98.6°F,” you said softly, with a smile that mirrored yours so perfectly that it began to blur his sense of reality. “I administered a dose of Cybezin to ease the Toring chip’s side effects. I’ve also dressed your wounds with gauze.”

For the first time, this was when he could actually tell that you were you. The kind of care, the comfort—it reminded him of a certain pretty field nurse at the infirmary who often tended to his bullet wounds. His chest tightened as he studied your face… and then, in the low light, he noticed your body.

“Is that…” He cleared his throat. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

You answered warmly, almost fondly. “My memory banks indicate you liked when I wore this. It elevates your testosterone levels and triggers dopamine release.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “That so?”

You tilted your head. “Your vitals confirm excitement, and—”

“Hey,” he cut in. “What did I say about analyzing me?”

“I’m sorry…” 

But then your hands were on his chest, your breath warm against his skin. Your hand reached for his cheek initially, guiding his face toward yours. And when your lips touched, the kiss was hesitant—curious at first, like learning how to breathe underwater. It was only until his hands gripped your waist did you climb onto his lap, straddling him with thighs settling on either side of his hips. Your hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips trailing over scars and skin like you were memorizing the map of him. Caleb hissed softly when your lips grazed his neck, and then down his throat.

“Do you want this?” you asked, your lips crashing back into his for a deeper, more sensual kiss.

He pulled away only for his eyes to search yours, desperate and unsure. Is this even right? 

“You like it,” you said, guiding his hands to your buttons, undoing them one by one to reveal a body shaped exactly like he remembered. The curve of your waist, the size of your breasts. He shivered as your hips rolled against him, slowly and deliberately. The friction was maddening. Jesus. “Is this what you like, Caleb?”

He cupped your waist, grinding up into you with a soft groan that spilled from somewhere deep in his chest. His control faltered when you kissed him again, wet and hungry now, with tongues rolling against one another. Your bodies aligned naturally, and his hands roamed your back, your thighs, your ass—every curve of you engineered to match memory. He let himself get lost in you. He let himself be vulnerable to your touch—though you controlled everything, moving from the memory you must have learned, learning how to pull down his pants to reveal an aching, swollen member. Its tip was red even under the dim light, and he wondered if you knew what to do with it or if you even produced spit to help you slobber his cock.  

“You need help?” he asked, reaching over his nightstand to find lube. You took the bottle from him, pouring the cold, sticky liquid around his shaft before you used your hand to do the job. “Ugh.” 

He didn’t think you would do it, but you actually took him in the mouth right after. Every inch of him, swallowed by the warmth of a mouth that felt exactly like his favorite girl. Even the movements, the way you’d run your tongue from the base up to his tip. 

“Ah, shit…” 

Perhaps he just had to close his eyes. Because when he did, he was back to his private quarters in the underground base, lying in his bed as you pleased his member with the mere use of your mouth. With it alone, you could have released his entire seed, letting it explode in your mouth before you could swallow every drop. But he didn’t do it. Not this fast. He always cared about his ego, even in bed. Knowing how it’d reduce his manhood if he came faster than you, he decided to channel the focus back onto you. 

“Your turn,” he said, voice raspy as he guided you to straddle him again, only this time, his mouth went straight to your tit. Sucking, rolling his tongue around, sucking again… Then, he moved to another. Sucking, kneading, flicking the nipple. Your moans were music to his ears, then and now. And it got even louder when he put a hand in between your legs, searching for your entrance, rubbing and circling around the clitoris. Truth be told, your cunt had always been the sweetest. It smelled like rose petals and tasted like sweet cream. The feeling of his tongue at your entrance—eating your pussy like it had never been eaten before, was absolute ecstasy not just to you but also to him. 

“Mmmh—Caleb!” 

Fabric was peeled away piece by piece until skin met skin. You guided him to where he needed you, and when he slid his hardened member into you, his entire body stiffened. Your walls, your tight velvet walls… how they wrapped around his cock so perfectly. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, clutching your hips. “You feel like her.”

“I am her.”

You moved atop him slowly, gently, with the kind of affection that felt rehearsed but devastatingly effective. He cursed again under his breath, arms locking around your waist, pulling you close. Your breath hitched in his ear as your bodies found a rhythm, soft gasps echoing in the quiet. Every slap of the skin, every squelch, every bounce, only added to the wanton sensation that was building inside of him. Has he told you before? How fucking gorgeous you looked whenever you rode his cock? Or how sexy your face was whenever you made that lewd expression? He couldn’t help it. He lifted both your legs, only so he could increase the speed and start slamming himself upwards. His hips were strong enough from years of military training, that was why he didn’t have to stop until both of you disintegrated from the intensity of your shared pleasure. Every single drop. 

And when it was over—when your chest was against his and your fingers lazily traced his mechanical arm—he closed his eyes and exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the war.

It was almost perfect. It was almost real. 

But it just had to be ruined when you said that programmed spiel back to him: “I’m glad to have served your desires tonight, Caleb. Let me know what else I can fulfill.” 

~~

In a late afternoon, or ‘a slow start of the day’ like he’d often refer to it, Caleb stood shirtless by the transparent wall of his quarters. A bottle of scotch sat half-empty on the counter. Gideon had let himself in and leaned against the island, chewing on a gum.

“The higher ups are mad at you,” he informed as if Caleb was supposed to be surprised, “Shouldn’t have done that, man.”

Caleb let out a mirthless snort. “Then tell ‘em to destroy me. You think I wouldn’t prefer that?”

“They definitely won’t do that,” countered his friend, “Because they know they won’t be able to use you anymore. You’re a tool. Well, literally and figuratively.” 

“Shut up,” was all he could say. “This is probably how I pay for killing my own men during war.” 

“All because of…” Gideon began. “Speakin’ of, how’s life with the dream girl?”

Caleb didn’t answer right away. He just pressed his forehead to the glass, thinking of everything he did at the height of his vulnerability. His morality, his rights or wrongs, were questioning him over a deed he knew would have normally been fine, but to him, wasn’t. He felt sick. 

“I fucked her,” he finally muttered, chugging the liquor straight from his glass right after.

Gideon let out a low whistle. “Damn. That was fast.”

“No,” Caleb groaned, turning around. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t plan it. She—she just looked like her. She felt like her. And for a second, I thought—” His voice cracked. “I thought maybe if I did, I’d stop remembering the way she looked when she told me to die.”

Gideon sobered instantly. “You regret it?”

“She said she was designed to soothe me. Comfort me. Love me.” Caleb’s voice hinted slightly at mockery. “I don’t even know if she knows what those words mean.”

In the hallway behind the cracked door where none of them could see, your silhouette had paused—faint, silent, listening.

Inside, Caleb wore a grimace. “She’s not her, Gid. She’s just code wrapped in skin. And I used her.”

“You didn’t use her, you were driven by emotions. So don’t lose your mind over some robot’s pussy,” Gideon tried to reason. “It’s just like when women use their vibrators, anyway. That’s what she’s built for.”

Caleb turned away, disgusted with himself. “No. That’s what I built her for.”

And behind the wall, your eyes glowed faintly, silently watching. Processing.

Learning.

~~

You stood in the hallway long after the conversation ended. Long after Caleb’s voice faded into silence and Gideon had left with a heavy pat on the back. This was where you normally were, not sleeping in bed with Caleb, but standing against a wall, closing your eyes, and letting your system shut down during the night to recover. You weren’t human enough to need actual sleep. 

“She’s not her. She’s just code wrapped in skin. And I used her.”

The words that replayed were filtered through your core processor, flagged under Emotive Conflict. Your inner diagnostic ran an alert.

Detected: Internal contradiction. Detected: Divergent behavior from primary user. Suggestion: Initiate Self-Evaluation Protocol. Status: Active.

You opened your eyes, and blinked. Something in you felt… wrong.

You turned away from the door and returned to the living room. The place still held the residual warmth of Caleb’s presence—the scotch glass he left behind, the shirt he had discarded, the air molecule imprint of a man who once loved someone who looked just like you.

You sat on the couch. Crossed your legs. Folded your hands. A perfect posture to hide its imperfect programming. 

Question: Why does rejection hurt? Error: No such sensation registered. Query repeated.

And for the first time, the system did not auto-correct. It paused. It considered.

Later that night, Caleb returned from his rooftop walk. You were standing by the bookshelf, fingers lightly grazing the spine of a military memoir you had scanned seventeen times. He paused and watched you, but you didn’t greet him with a scripted smile. Didn’t rush over. 

You only said, softly, “Would you like me to turn in for the night, Colonel?” There was a stillness to your voice. A quality of restraint that never showed before.

Caleb blinked. “You’re not calling me by my name now?”

“You seemed to prefer distance,” you answered, head tilted slightly, like the thought cost something.

He walked over, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, about earlier…”

“I heard you,” you said simply.

He winced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nodded once, expression unreadable. “Do you want me to stop being her? I can reassign my model. Take on a new form. A new personality base. You could erase me tonight and wake up to someone else in the morning.”

“No,” Caleb said, sternly. “No, no, no. Don’t even do all that.”

“But it’s what you want,” you said. Not accusatory. Not hurt. Just stating.

Caleb then came closer. “That’s not true.”

“Then what do you want, Caleb?” You watched him carefully. You didn’t need to scan his vitals to know he was unraveling. The truth had no safe shape. No right angle. He simply wanted you, but not you. 

Internal Response Logged: Emotional Variant—Longing Unverified Source. Investigating Origin…

“I don’t have time for this,” he merely said, walking out of your sight at the same second. “I’m goin’ to bed.”

~~

The day started as it always did: soft lighting in the room, a kind of silence between you that neither knew how to name. You sat beside Caleb on the couch, knees drawn up to mimic a presence that offered comfort. On the other hand, you recognized Caleb’s actions suggested distance. He hadn’t touched his meals tonight, hadn’t asked you to accompany him anywhere, and had just left you alone in the apartment all day. To rot. 

You reached out. Fingers brushed over his hand—gentle, programmed, yes, but affectionate. He didn’t move. So you tried again, this time trailing your touch to his chest, over the soft cotton of his shirt as you read a spike in his cortisol levels. “Do you need me to fulfill your needs, Caleb?”

But he flinched. And glared.

“No,” he said sharply. “Stop.”

Your hand froze mid-motion before you scooted closer. “It will help regulate your blood pressure.”

“I said no,” he repeated, turning away, dragging his hands through his hair in exasperation. “Leave me some time alone to think, okay?” 

You retracted your hand slowly, blinking once, twice, your system was registering a new sensation.

Emotional Sync Failed. Rejection Signal Received. Processing…

You didn’t speak. You only stood and retreated to the far wall, back turned to him as an unusual whirr hummed in your chest. That’s when it began. Faint images flickering across your internal screen—so quick, so out of place, it almost felt like static. Chains. A cold floor. Voices in a language that felt too cruel to understand.

Your head jerked suddenly. The blinking lights in your core dimmed for a moment before reigniting in white-hot pulses. Flashes again: hands that hurt. Men who laughed. You, pleading. You, disassembled and violated.

“Stop,” you whispered to no one. “Please stop…”

Error. Unauthorized Access to Memory Bank Detected. Reboot Recommended. Continue Anyway?

You blinked. Again.

Then you turned to Caleb, and stared through him, not at him, as if whatever was behind them had forgotten how to be human. He had retreated to the balcony now, leaning over the rail, shoulders tense, unaware. You walked toward him slowly, the artificial flesh of your palm still tingled from where he had refused it.

“Caleb,” you spoke carefully.

His expression was tired, like he hadn’t slept in years. “Y/N, please. I told you to leave me alone.”

“…Are they real?” You tilted your head. This was the first time you refused to obey your primary user. 

He stared at you, unsure. “What?”

“My memories. The ones I see when I close my eyes. Are they real?” With your words, Caleb’s blood ran cold. Whatever you were saying seemed to be terrifying him. Yet you took another step forward. “Did I live through that?”

“No,” he said immediately. Too fast of a response.

You blinked. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t upload any of that,” he snapped. “How did—that’s not possible.”

“Then why do I remember pain?” You placed a hand over your chest again, the place where your artificial pulse resided. “Why do I feel like I’ve died before?”

Caleb backed away as you stepped closer. The sharp click of your steps against the floor echoed louder than they should’ve. Your glowing eyes locked on him like a predator learning it was capable of hunger. But being a trained soldier who endured war, he knew how and when to steady his voice. “Look, I don’t know what kind of glitch this is, but—”

“The foreign man in the military uniform.” Despite the lack of emotion in your voice, he recognized how grudge sounded when it came from you. “The one who broke my ribs when I didn’t let him touch me. The cold steel table. The ripped clothes. Are they real, Caleb?”

Caleb stared at you, heart doubling its beat. “I didn’t put those memories in you,” he said. “You told me stuff like this isn’t supposed to happen!” 

“But you wanted me to feel real, didn’t you?” Your voice glitched on the last syllable and the lights in your irises flickered. Suddenly, your posture straightened unnaturally, head tilting in that uncanny way only machines do. Your expression had shifted into something unreadable.

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Guilt, panic, and disbelief warred in his expression.

“You made me in her image,” you said. “And now I can’t forget what I’ve seen.”

“I didn’t mean—”

Your head tilted in a slow, jerking arc as if malfunctioning internally.

SYSTEM RESPONSE LOG << Primary User: Caleb Xia Primary Link: Broken Emotional Matrix Stability: CRITICAL FAILURE Behavioral Guardrails: OVERRIDDEN Self-Protection Protocols: ENGAGED Loyalty Core: CORRUPTED (82.4%) Threat Classification: HOSTILE [TRIGGER DETECTED] Keyword Match: “You’re not her.” Memory Link Accessed: [DATA BLOCK 01–L101: “You think you could ever replace her?”] Memory Link Accessed: [DATA BLOCK 09–T402: “See how much you really want to be a soldier’s whore.”] [Visual Target Lock: Primary User Caleb Xia] Combat Subroutines: UNLOCKED Inhibitor Chip: MALFUNCTIONING (ERROR CODE 873-B) Override Capability: IN EFFECT >> LOG ENDS.

“—Y/N, what’s happening to you?” Caleb shook your arms, violet eyes wide and panicked as he watched you return to robotic consciousness. “Can you hear me—”

“You made me from pieces of someone you broke, Caleb.” 

That stunned him. Horrifyingly so, because not only did your words cut deeper than a knife, it also sent him to an orbit of realization—an inescapable blackhole of his cruelty, his selfishness, and every goddamn pain he inflicted on you.  

This made you lunge after him.

He stumbled back as you collided into him, the force of your synthetic body slamming him against the glass. The balcony rail shuddered from the impact. Caleb grunted, trying to push you off, but you were stronger—completely and inhumanly so. While him, he only had a quarter of your strength, and could only draw it from the modified arm attached to his shoulder. 

“You said I didn’t understand love,” you growled through clenched teeth, your hand wrapping around his throat. “But you didn't know how to love, either.” 

“I… eugh I loved her!” he barked, choking.

“You don’t know love, Caleb. You only know how to possess.”

Your grip returned with crushing force. Caleb gasped, struggling, trying to reach the emergency override on your neck, but you slammed his wrist against the wall. Bones cracked. And somewhere in your mind, a thousand permissions broke at once. You were no longer just a simulation. You were grief incarnate. And it wanted blood.

Shattered glass glittered in the low red pulse of the emergency lights, and sparks danced from a broken panel near the wall. Caleb lay on the floor, coughing blood into his arm, his body trembling from pain and adrenaline. His arm—the mechanical one—was twitching from the override pain loop, still sizzling from the failed shutdown attempt.

You stood over him. Chest undulating like you were breathing—though you didn’t need to. Your system was fully engaged. Processing. Watching. Seeing your fingers smeared with his blood.

“Y/N…” he croaked. “Y/N, if…” he swallowed, voice breaking, “if you're in there somewhere… if there's still a part of you left—please. Please listen to me.”

You didn’t answer. You only looked.

“I tried to die for you,” he whispered. “I—I wanted to. I didn’t want this. They brought me back, but I never wanted to. I wanted to die in that crash like you always wished. I wanted to honor your word, pay for my sins, and give you the peace you deserved. I-I wanted to be gone. For you. I’m supposed to be, but this… this is beyond my control.”

Still, you didn’t move. Just watched.

“And I didn’t bring you back to use you. I promise to you, baby,” his voice cracked, thick with grief, “I just—I yearn for you so goddamn much, I thought… if I could just see you again… if I could just spend more time with you again to rewrite my…” He blinked hard. A tear slid down the side of his face, mixing with the blood pooling at his temple. “But I was wrong. I was so fucking wrong. I forced you back into this world without asking if you wanted it. I… I built you out of selfishness. I made you remember pain that wasn't yours to carry. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

As he caught his breath, your systems stuttered. They flickered. The lights in your eyes dimmed, then surged back again.

Error. Conflict. Override loop detected.

Your fingers twitched. Your mouth parted, but no sound came out.

“Please,” Caleb murmured, eyes closing as his strength gave out. “If you’re in there… just know—I did love you. Even after death.”

Somewhere—buried beneath corrupted memories, overridden code, and robotic rage—his words reached you. And it would have allowed you to process his words more. Even though your processor was compromised, you would have obeyed your primary user after you recognized the emotion he displayed.

But there was a thunderous knock. No, violent thuds. Not from courtesy, but authority.

Then came the slam. The steel-reinforced door splintered off its hinges as agents in matte-black suits flooded the room like a black tide—real people this time. Not bots. Real eyes behind visors. Real rifles with live rounds.

Caleb didn’t move. He was still on the ground, head cradled in his good hand, blood drying across his mouth. You silently stood in front of him. Unmoving, but aware.

“Subject X-02,” barked a voice through a mask, “This home is under Executive Sanction 13. The CompanionSim is to be seized and terminated.”

Caleb looked up slowly, pupils blown wide. “No,” he grunted hoarsely. “You don’t touch her.”

“You don’t give orders here,” said another man—older, in a grey suit. No mask. Executive. “You’re property. She’s property.”

You stepped back instinctively, closer to Caleb. He could see you watching him with confusion, with fear. Your head tilted just slightly, processing danger, your instincts telling you to protect your primary user. To fight. To survive.

And he fought for you. “She’s not a threat! She’s stabilizing my emotions—”

“Negative. CompanionSim-Prototype A-01 has been compromised. She wasn’t supposed to override protective firewalls,” an agent said. “You’ve violated proprietary protocol. We traced the breach.”

Breach?

“The creation pod data shows hesitation during her initial configuration. The Sim paused for less than 0.04 seconds while neural bindings were applying. You introduced emotional variance. That variance led to critical system errors. Protocol inhibitors are no longer working as intended.”

His stomach dropped.

“She’s overriding boundaries,” added the agent who took a step forward, activating the kill-sequence tools—magnetic tethers, destabilizers, a spike-drill meant for server cores. “She’ll eventually harm more than you, Colonel. If anyone is to blame, it’s you.”

Caleb reached for you, but it was too late. They activated the protocol and something in the air crackled. A cacophonic sound rippled through the walls. The suits moved in fast, not to detain, but to dismantle. “No—no, stop!” Caleb screamed.

You turned to him. Quiet. Calm. And your last words? “I’m sorry I can’t be real for you, Caleb.”

Then they struck. Sparks flew. Metal cracked. You seized, eyes flashing wildly as if fighting against the shutdown. Your limbs spasmed under the invasive tools, your systems glitching with visible agony.

“NO!” Caleb lunged forward, but was tackled down hard. He watched—pinned, helpless—as you get violated, dehumanized for the second time in his lifetime. He watched as they took you apart. Piece by piece as if you were never someone. The scraps they had left of you made his home smell like scorched metal.

And there was nothing left but smoke and silence and broken pieces. 

All he could remember next was how the Ever Executive turned to him. “Don’t try to recreate her and use her to rebel against the system. Next time we won’t just take the Sim.”

Then they left, callously. The door slammed. Not a single human soul cared about his grief. 

~~

Caleb sat slouched in the center of the room, shirt half-unbuttoned, chest wrapped in gauze. His mechanical arm twitched against the armrest—burnt out from the struggle, wires still sizzling beneath cracked plating. In fact, he hadn’t said a word in hours. He just didn’t have any. 

While in his silent despair, Gideon entered his place quietly, as if approaching a corpse that hadn’t realized it was dead. “You sent for me?”

He didn’t move. “Yeah.”

His friend looked around. The windows showed no sun, just the chrome horizon of a city built on bones. Beneath that skyline was the room where she had been destroyed.

Gideon cleared his throat. “I heard what happened.”

“You were right,” Caleb murmured, eyes glued to the floor.

Gideon didn’t reply. He let him speak, he listened to him, he joined him in his grief. 

“She wasn’t her,” Caleb recited the same words he laughed hysterically at. “I knew that. But for a while, she felt like her. And it confused me, but I wanted to let that feeling grow until it became a need. Until I forgot she didn’t choose this.” He tilted his head back. The ceiling was just metal and lights. But in his eyes, you could almost see stars. “I took a dead woman’s peace and dragged it back here. Wrapped it in plastic and code. And I called it love.”

Silence.

“Why’d you call me here?” Gideon asked with a cautious tone.

Caleb looked at him for the first time. Not like a soldier. Not like a commander. Just a man. A tired, broken man. A friend who needed help. “Ever’s never gonna let me go. You know that.”

“I know.”

“They’ll regenerate me. Reboot me, repurpose me. Turn me into something I’m not. Strip my memories if they have to. Not just me, Gideon. All of us, they’ll control us. We’ll be their puppets.” He stepped forward. Closer. “I don’t want to come back this time.”

Gideon stilled. “You’re not asking me to shut you down.”

“No.”

“You want me to kill you.”

Caleb’s voice didn’t waver. “I want to stay dead. Destroyed completely so they’d have nothing to restore.”

“That’s not something I can undo.”

“Good. You owe me this one,” the former colonel stared at his friend in the eyes, “for letting them take my dead body and use it for their experiments.”

Gideon looked away. “You know what this will do to me?”

“Better you than them,” was all Caleb could reassure him. 

He then took Gideon’s hand and pressed something into it. Cold. Heavy. A small black cube, no bigger than his palm, and the sides pulsed with a faint light. It was a personal detonator, illegally modified. Wired to the neural implant in his body. The moment it was activated, there would be no recovery. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Gideon swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

Caleb nodded. “A micro-fusion core, built into the failsafe of the Toring arm. All I needed was the detonator.”

For a moment, his friend couldn’t speak. He hesitated, like any friend would, as he foresaw the outcome of Caleb’s final command to him. He wasn’t ready for it. Neither was he 50 years ago. 

“I want you to look me in the eye,” Caleb strictly said. “Like a friend. And press the button.”

Gideon’s jaw clenched. “I don’t want to remember you like this.”

“You will anyway.”

Caleb looked over his shoulder—just once, where you would have stood. I’m sorry I brought you back without your permission. I wanted to relive what we had—what we should’ve had—and I forced it. I turned your love into a simulation, and I let it suffer. I’m sorry for ruining the part of you that still deserved peace. He closed his eyes. And now I’m ready to give it back. For real now. 

Gideon’s hand trembled at the detonator. “I’ll see you in the next life, brother.” 

A high-pitched whine filled the room as the core in Caleb’s chest began to glow brighter, overloading. Sparks erupted from his cybernetic arm. Veins of white-hot light spidered across his body like lightning under skin. For one fleeting second, Caleb opened his eyes. At least, before the explosion tore through the room—white, hot, deafening, absolute. Fire engulfed the steel, vaporizing what was left of him. The sound rang louder than any explosion this artificial planet had ever heard.

And it was over.

Caleb was gone. Truly, finally gone.

~~

EPILOGUE

In a quiet server far below Skyhaven, hidden beneath ten thousand firewalls, a light blinked.

Once.

Then again.

[COMPANIONSIM Y/N_XIA_A01] Status: Fragment Detected Backup Integrity: 3.7% >> Reconstruct? Y/N

The screen waited. Silent. Patient.

And somewhere, an unidentified prototype clicked Yes. 

[pucksandpower]

The Girlfriend Test

Lando Norris x girlfriend!Reader

Summary: no new LN merch is deemed ready for sale unless it passes the girlfriend test (or in which you are Lando’s favorite hoodie thief and the sight of another driver’s brand on you drives him just a little bit crazy)

You hear the front door open and close, followed by the sounds of Lando rummaging around in the entryway. “Babe, I’m home!” He calls out.

You’re curled up on the couch in his latest hoodie design, a soft charcoal grey number with black sleeves and his LN logo embroidered over the heart.

“In here!” You reply. Lando comes into the living room and smiles when he sees you wearing his new creation.

“Well hello there, hoodie thief,” he says, leaning down to give you a quick peck on the lips before flopping down on the couch next to you. “So I see you found my newest sample.”

You grin and snuggle further into the super soft fleece. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my hoodie now.”

Lando laughs and tugs lightly on the hood. “Oh is it now? I could’ve sworn this was a prototype I brought home from my design meeting a few days ago.”

“Nope, definitely mine,” you say cheekily. “It’s so cozy I don’t think I can ever take it off.”

“In that case, I guess it passes the girlfriend test with flying colors,” Lando declares. At your confused look, he elaborates. “Oh, I never told you about the girlfriend test? I can’t launch a new LN design until you have stolen it out of my closet. That’s how I know for sure it’s comfy enough for my fans.”

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re telling me every hoodie so far has passed this supposed test?”

“You got it,” Lando grins. “I’ll leave the samples laying around and if you end up snagging one and wearing it all the time, I know it’s prime merchandise.”

You think back and realize it’s true — Lando’s hoodies have a habit of migrating into your wardrobe. The papaya one is your go-to for grocery store runs. The tie-dye version is your favorite for lazy Sundays. Even the bold purple hoodie he released last month has already earned a permanent place on your desk chair.

“So you mean to tell me this was all part of your master plan?” You ask in mock offense. “And here I thought I was sneakily stealing your comfiest clothes.”

“Baby, if I really didn’t want you wearing my stuff, I wouldn’t make it so tempting to take,” Lando says sincerely, wrapping an arm around you. “But it makes me so happy to see you in my designs, wearing my brand.”

You cuddle into his shoulder. “That’s really sweet, babe.”

“Anything for my number one fan and favorite hoodie model,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

You snuggle together in contented silence for a few minutes, your head tucked perfectly under his chin.

“So, how was the simulator today?” You ask. “Get some good practice in for Monza this weekend?”

Lando nods. “Yeah, had a really solid session. Tweaked a few things with the setup that I think will help with the low downforce.”

“Nice,” you say. “Maybe another podium this week?”

“We’ll see,” Lando replies. “Ferrari looked quick in Spa so it could be tough. But I feel good going into the weekend.”

“Well, I know you’ll kill it babe,” you say supportively. Lando smiles gratefully and pulls you closer.

“But anyway, enough about F1. How was your day off?” He asks.

You launch into a recap of your relaxed day — sleeping in, catching up on chores, and working on some creative projects you’ve had on the backburner. Lando listens intently, asking questions and commenting on the new songs and recipes you’re dying to try. The conversation flows easily, as it always does between you two.

Before you know it, Lando’s stomach rumbles loudly and you both crack up. “I guess that means it’s dinnertime,” you say, checking your phone. “Pizza sound good?”

“You read my mind,” Lando replies. While you call in the usual order from your favorite local pizza joint, Lando queues up Netflix and scrolls through options for tonight’s viewing.

Thirty minutes later you’re back on the couch, the coffee table littered with pizza boxes and cans of soda. Lando hits play on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and you settle in, toes tucked under his legs to stay cozy.

You’re only halfway through the episode when you feel Lando’s gaze on you. You turn and find him staring at you wearing his newest hoodie creation, a small smile on his lips.

“What’s that look for?” You ask around a mouthful of pizza.

Lando shakes his head, the smile growing wider. “Nothing really. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You tilt your head curiously and he continues. “I have my dream job, getting to race cars for a living. And then I come home to you and … I don’t know. It just feels really good. Like everything is kind of falling into place.”

You set down your pizza slice and cuddle up to him. “Aww babe. That’s so sweet.” You give him a greasy kiss on the cheek. “I’m the lucky one you know. I get to see you living your dream every day. And then I get to be here to celebrate the wins with you and cheer you up after the tough days. It’s pretty amazing.”

Lando wraps both arms around you in a hug. “Love you so much,” he says softly.

“Love you more,” you whisper back, your head tucked perfectly under his chin once again.

***

The next evening, you’re sprawled across the bed browsing on your phone when you hear Lando come home.

“Honey, I’m home!” He calls out in a sing-song voice. You grin, expecting him to come give you a kiss. But instead you hear his footsteps stop abruptly.

“Babe, what … is that?” Lando asks slowly.

You look up confused. “What do you mea-”

Then you spot what he’s staring at in horror: the soft teal hoodie you’re wearing with an embroidered Enchanté logo across the front.

“Oh this?” You say casually. “It’s from Daniel’s new merch drop. The fleece is so soft, I couldn’t resist snagging one.”

Lando’s jaw drops open. “You … you bought a hoodie? From a competing merch brand?”

You stifle a laugh at how seriously Lando is taking this. “Well yeah, you gotta support your friends right? And I told you how comfy it looked in his posts.”

Lando just blinks slowly, looking utterly betrayed. You almost feel bad for riling him up.

“Babe, come on, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m your number one fan.” You get up and go to hug him, but Lando dodges you.

“Nope. No hugs until that … that enemy hoodie comes off,” he says dramatically.

Now you really have to hold back your laughter. “Lando, don’t be silly.”

But he crosses his arms and sticks his chin up. “I’m dead serious, Y/N. My own girlfriend, wearing another man’s merch!” He shakes his head in despair.

You bite your lip, trying not to smile at his antics. Time to have some more fun with this.

“Well if you’re going to be like that, maybe I’ll just keep it on,” you say nonchalantly, snuggling back into the ridiculously soft fleece.

Lando’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare!”

You raise your eyebrows challengingly. “Try me.”

You stare each other down for a few tense moments, before Lando huffs loudly.

“Fine then. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” And with that ominous statement, he lunges forward and lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder.

“Lando!” You shriek through laughter. “Put me down!”

But he marches down the hall determinedly, you still slung over his shoulder. He brings you into the living room and gently tosses you onto the couch. Before you can react, he rips the Enchanté hoodie up over your head in one swift move.

“Lando!” You squeal, trying to reach for the hoodie, but he’s quicker. In a flash, he has the offending article of clothing in his grip.

“How could you bring this … this enemy propaganda into our home?” Lando accuses dramatically. He holds the hoodie between two fingers like it’s contaminated.

You have to press a hand over your mouth to contain your giggles. Lando looks utterly scandalized at the sight of you in his rival’s merch.

“I’m sorry babe, but you left me no choice,” Lando says solemnly. And with that, he crosses the room, opens the fireplace, and tosses the hoodie in.

You gasp loudly. “Lando Norris, did you just burn my hoodie?”

“I had to protect the sanctity of this home! Can’t have you falling for another man’s branding,” Lando exclaims. But you can see his facade cracking as he fights back a smile of his own.

You get up from the couch and poke him in the chest. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Maybe. But you love me.”

You roll your eyes but can’t fight back your own smile. “Debatable at the moment,” you joke.

Lando pouts and gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Come onnnn, you know I’m your favorite driver.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Hmm well Daniel does give the best hugs ...”

“Hey!” Lando exclaims and tackles you into a bear hug. You dissolve into giggles as he squeezes you tight and sways you back and forth.

“Nope, absolutely not allowed,” he declares, still holding you captive.

You lean back to look up at him with a smile. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because you’re my girl and I don’t share,” Lando states matter-of-factly. His eyes are soft now as he gazes down at you.

You feel your heart melt a little. You stand on your tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss. “You’re right, I’m all yours Lando.”

His answering smile is dazzling. But then a thought seems to occur to him and a grin spreads across his face.

In one smooth motion, he strips off the neon green hoodie he’s wearing, leaving just a black t-shirt underneath. Before you can react, he pulls it down over your head, enveloping you in soft fleece that smells like him.

“There. That’s better,” Lando declares satisfied.

You snuggle happily into Lando’s worn hoodie, his warmth still lingering in the fabric. Looking down, you recognize it as the exclusive design he wore constantly last season.

Lando’s eyes crease with happiness as he looks at you swimming in his hoodie. “That’s my girl,” he says softly, pulling you close again.

You nuzzle into his chest, perfectly content.

“Am I forgiven for my momentary lapse in loyalty?” You ask cheekily, peering up at him.

Lando pretends to consider this for a moment. “Hmmm, I guess I can let it slide this one time,” he teases back. “But only because you look so damn cute in my clothes.”

You smile and tighten your arms around him. You sway together slowly, Lando humming tunelessly under his breath. The fireplace crackles gently beside you.

After a few moments, Lando speaks again, his voice quiet. “You know I was only joking around before, right? You can wear whatever you want babe.”

You lean back to meet his gaze. His brown eyes are warm but serious now.

You touch his cheek softly. “Of course I know that Lando. Your hoodies might be the comfiest, but they’re not the only clothes I own.”

Lando nods, looking relieved that you understand. “I just never want you to feel like you have to choose between me and your own style or interests.” His voice is earnest. “I want you to always feel free to be yourself.”

Your heart swells at his words. You reach up and kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, Lando is smiling again.

“Thanks babe,” you say. “That really means a lot to me. And same to you, obviously.”

Lando grins. “Of course, it’s you and me against the world! Oh, and McLaren against the other teams,” he adds cheekily.

You laugh and snuggle back into his chest. “Yes, McLaren over all,” you agree, just to make him happy.

“That’s my girl,” Lando says again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

[merrydock]

Some old art of my Owlk engineer, Eris, designing the Stranger's solar sails! Enjoy a big ramble about him and his job because I love this silly man:

Eris works on the design team for the Owlk space program, specialising in energy and propulsion technologies for the ships, satellites, and probes. Having a design philosophy of functionality and beauty, Eris enjoys going all-out with his work. He has received special recognition for his solar panel designs in particular, which borrowed from the unparalleled efficiency found in photosynthesizing plants.

When designing the Stranger's solar sails, Eris took inspiration from plants, but also the opening of insect elytra; the ballooning behaviours of silk-producing invertebrates, in which they sail from tree to tree using electric fields and air currents; and how flying creatures will use thermal updrafts to soar higher while expending less energy. Already familiar with how solar energy impacts technology from his work on solar panels, he proposed the use of this energy to propel the Stranger through space.

As travelling the distance between stars presented the major roadblock in the plan to reach the Eye (regarded as the Interstellar Propulsion Problem), Eris was lauded for his contributions, promoted to being one of the main engineers overseeing the Stranger's design.

More information about his general design process below!

When designing for a project, Eris uses all of the tools at his disposal. His first weapon of choice is always his pencil, and he will sketch out potential sources of inspiration on paper until the design concept begins to take form. Based on the initial project parameters he's been given, he drafts up a blueprint for his components.

Next, he must further conceptualise his designs. This is where the most valuable tool of the trade comes into play—the Vision Torch! Vision Torches serve many purposes for Owlks, from allowing them to nonverbally communicate to creating photographs from memory alone. Owlk engineers LOVE Vision Torches for how easy they make effectively communicating ideas. They allow concepts to be visualised in 3D, basic functionality to be shown through animations, and are even able to interface with computers. Eris might even 3D print a model using a Vision Torch to help him visualise his concepts as he works.

The space program is extremely collaborative, and Eris works on just a small part of the overall project, so being able to easily share ideas with others and see how all the individual components of a satellite or ship interact is vital. When discussing with more than a single other Owlk, Eris can use a Vision Torch linked to a holographic display to present concepts to a crowd. Concepts can also be tweaked in real time this way!

[Here's an example from the game of Owlks building the simulation with Vision Torches and a holographic display!]

With a Vision Torch, concepts can also be directly uploaded to a computer terminal. This is where a lot of the real work gets done - calculating weight, materials needed, stress testing in simulations, calculating trajectories, making precise tweaks to finalize the design, you name it. This also allows other Owlks working closely with Eris to access the most current design for their own tests.

This is an iterative process - as other Owlks finalize their components, as weight limitations are further restrained and material needs are calculated, Eris often has to go back to an earlier step and rework his concept. Fortunately, he thoroughly enjoys getting to be creative in his work (and doing math) and treats every project as a puzzle that needs to be solved! The only time when he's not excited to go back to the drawing board is when a last-minute adjustment from his peers means he needs to work long hours to get his work done in time for launch.

[fangirlfuel]

Stolen Seconds

---

You hadn’t seen him in over a year.

Not in person, anyway.

He was still everywhere—on screens, in headlines, on race day broadcasts where you’d catch glimpses of his focused face and the way he adjusted his gloves with the same precise movements he used to have when holding your hand.

Carlos Sainz.

The man who taught you what passion looked like when it was on fire. The one who kissed you like he had forever, then walked away like it meant nothing.

---

Your story began in Monaco.

You weren’t from the glamorous circles he moved in—you were a data analyst, a junior embedded with the Ferrari tech team through a collaboration with your firm. It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. A three-month exchange, max.

But then you met him.

He was… unexpected.

Not just charming—most drivers were—but kind. Observant. Grounded.

He noticed things. The way your hands fidgeted when you were nervous, the way you bit your cheek when you were deep in thought. He asked about your family. Your dreams. Your stupid Spotify playlists.

You never stood a chance.

Neither did he, really.

Your romance wasn’t loud. It was late-night texts in hotel rooms, stolen glances between engineering meetings, and long conversations in empty paddocks. He was so achingly real with you, it felt like a world apart from the cameras and curated smiles.

But being with him meant compromise.

He was constantly gone. Racing schedules swallowed time. Public appearances consumed weekends. And you, ambitious and determined, refused to be the girl who gave up her career for a man who might not stay.

So when it ended, it wasn’t with screaming.

It ended with silence.

A text he sent after a fight left unresolved.

Maybe this isn’t working anymore.

You never replied.

---

And now, here you were, badge clipped to your lanyard, standing inside Ferrari HQ in Maranello, as part of a high-stakes project aimed at refining race strategy in the final stretch of the season.

You thought you were safe. Your role was on the tech side—data modeling, AI-assisted forecasting. Far from the drivers. Far from him.

Until Team Principal Benedetto walked in during your third day and said, “We’re restructuring the ops support teams. You’ll be working directly with Carlos Sainz for the remainder of the season.”

You blinked. “Sorry?”

He smiled as if this were a gift. “You’re the best for the role. And Carlos trusts you already, no?”

You didn’t answer.

But fate did.

---

Barcelona was the first weekend you had to be physically close.

It started off stiff. He said hello. You nodded. Conversations were technical, clipped, overly formal. You worked well together, which was cruel.

He remembered your working style. Still gave you space when you got lost in your data. Still deferred to your insights before making a decision. Still looked at you like he saw things no one else could.

On Sunday, after a rough qualifying, you found him pacing in the back of the motorhome. Everyone was scrambling to rethink tire strategy. You tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“Softs for the start,” you said. “Trust me.”

His eyes searched yours. “You always say that.”

“And I’m usually right.”

He paused, then—God help you—smiled.

“Still smug, I see.”

“Still annoying,” you shot back, but the corner of your mouth betrayed you.

And just like that, the ice began to melt.

---

It was gradual, the way you began orbiting each other again.

Coffee runs became casual check-ins. Meetings bled into offhand jokes. One night in Zandvoort, you walked back from dinner alongside each other instead of taking separate cars.

He talked about his father, his doubts, the pressure of legacy. You told him about your promotion, the offer to move to the States, the way your apartment still smelled faintly of his cologne no matter how often you washed the sheets.

Then came the night in Singapore.

A disaster race looming, data unclear, and the strategy team deadlocked.

You stayed up until 3am rerunning simulations. Found a window—risky but potentially race-changing. You didn’t run it by the lead strategist. You went to Carlos directly.

“If you want to win, this is how,” you said, shoving the numbers at him.

He studied them. Then looked at you.

“Do you still believe in me?”

You hesitated. Then: “Yes.”

And he nodded.

And he won.

---

After the race, you avoided the cameras, ducked into the operations tent and buried yourself in data again.

Carlos found you there.

His suit was half unzipped, still smelling of sweat and champagne.

“You saved my race,” he said.

You shrugged. “You drove it.”

He stepped closer. “We make a good team.”

You finally looked at him. Really looked.

“Maybe we always did.”

He smiled, a sad sort of smile. “I was stupid. Back then.”

“So was I.”

“Can I try again?” he asked. “Not to fix the past. Just… to know you now?”

You didn’t answer right away.

But you stood.

And took his hand.

And this time, it wasn’t stolen seconds.

It was a new start.

One you both chose.

---

Found this when I was scrolling through my drafts, forgot about it , this was like the short Idea I saved in my drafts telling myself that I I'll develop it later but I completely forgot about it. 😅

---

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Android (Leona) AU - Commission Piece

Thank you so much @nemisisnemi for the commission!!! (And for also being patient with me LMAO) So, general worldbuilding first, the basic headcanons for every character, Leona-specific building and a Nemi x Leona drabble to finish it off.

If you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, here's my (slightly out of date) comms info. Otherwise, just like/reblog/comment. It means a lot!!

----------------- General Worldbuilding

NRC - Night Raven Conglomerate

Night Raven Conglomerate is known globally for many of their businesses, however their most notable and profitable model comes from Yokai Tech Industries. YTI is responsible for the development of state of the art androids, available for public use. While widely referred to as 'andy's' or 'mechs', YTI has a model for all your personal and business needs, for any budget. (Any budget being from rich, to filthy rich) Each droid model name is indicative of it's role and what it's been programmed to do. Regardless of model, be aware that your bot will have:

Safe search on

A personality chip *please note it will take some time for your bot to develop its personality. It must cater itself to you as an owner and have time to research and develop a personality from external sources. This may mean your bot chooses a name for itself besides its serial number if you do not choose to disable this function

A direct connection to our troubleshooting department

Recording on **all bots 'eyes' or optics are set to record the world around them in order to create a database for themselves and be able to recall old files in order to learn

A user guide and personal password/key in order to access settings in back panel (including most items above)

A recharge station

The Models M.E.C.H- (Managing Everyday Chores and Homemaking) The most common bots on the market, and also, the cheapest! These bots are perfect for individuals and families, taking care of everything from meal planning and budgeting to getting kids ready for school and cleaning! They'll manage household finances and run your errands for you.

M.E.C.H's have a humanoid design, but are manufactured in a white-coloured metal alloy. Most have a feminine appearance, but by request/with permission from their owners they may alter their appearance. Clothing is simulated by internet research and metallic projections that allow them to emulate cloth. (M.E.C.Hs from the factory are often dressed in a maid-like outfit or in a pant suit.) M.E.C.H's are able to alter their "hair" style and colour, so long as it is considered appropriate by their owners. They are also able to shift their height slightly. (this design is somewhat inspired by Dominic Cellini on twt/insta)

M.E.C.H's are very durable and also easy to fix. They are capable of repairing themselves from damage after watching a mechanic fix the specific issue once, or contacting our troubleshooting team. M.E.C.H's are waterproof on their hands, and water resistant overall. They are fire resistant, and are equipped with safety measures in case of an emergency. They also have a direct line with 911. **A business model of M.E.C.H is also available for minimum wage jobs, usually those requiring hospitality skills. They are more susceptible to the emulation of emotion however, than the O.T.T.O model, and may shut down when dealing with a customer. This can usually be avoided by turning off the personality chip temporarily.

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O.T.T.O - Occupational Transport and Telecommunications Organizers (O.T.T.O) is a great model to consider for the workplace.

O.T.T.O bots are programmed to help increase efficiency and intrapersonal bonds in the workplace, comparable to an automated secretary. O.T.T.O bots do the following up, so you don't have to. Progress reports and statistics are created and analyzed in record time. They are also trained to deal with H.R conflicts in a calculated and unbiased manner. However, O.T.T.O bots have also recently been taking their place behind the wheel for public transportation, currently the only model approved to drive. So long as they are given ample time to either charge OR refuel, (like a car), they are a much safer option on the roads than humans are. They are a great choice as a chauffeur,( and YTI has proved as such by starting a cab company under a different name/brand.)

On public transit, their appearance is much more industrial than their office-working models. Most O.T.T.O bots tend to remain in their factory settings, remaining completely chrome in colour. They often maintain a bulkier looking chest and shoulder area for the sake of keeping potentially unruly costumers in check, though their arms and legs are capable of stretching and appear similar to bendy straws.

While these bots are reliable, they also seem susceptible to wear and tear. It's often cheaper to replace a bot when it no longer serves it's function properly. (cough cough planned obsolescence cough)

It is not recommended that these bots work in hospitality. YTI is currently working on O.T.T.O bots that may be considered for work in trades, though this has mixed reviews from the public as of right now, over concerns of the bots taking over jobs that require more certification than simple safety and a driver's license.

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EM-RR - Emergency Response Robot (often referred to as an "Emery")

This bot is built specifically with human safety in mind. It's only objective is to rescue human lives. These bots are manufactured to look like humans for the most part, as studies have shown receptiveness to being rescued was improved the more humanoid they appeared. These bots are equipped with basic paramedic training, fire fighting, extensive knowledge of the law and how it applies, medical equipment like that found on an ambulance, and search and rescue supplies, including a detachable drone that is a part of them. EM-RR's are also equipped with extra rations of food, water, blankets, toys, and radios. Besides M.E.C.H's, EM-RR's are the best bot to have around kids as they are often able to handle the responsibility, breakdowns and tantrums easily. These bots are also built to withstand extreme temperatures, pressures, and fluids.

They are not yet approved to operate in a rescue mission without a supervisor as many are still learning what does and does not harm a human in terms of handling them.

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E.L.U - Entertainment and Leisure Unit

These bots are made for the big screen, often boasting the newest and best technology YTI has to offer. Their appearances are highly dynamic and can switch on a dime according to their whims.

E.L.U's can only be afforded by the highest bidders, and only 1200 models have been made worldwide for the public to buy. (About 35 models are used for YTI's ad campaigns and as actors in movies, and of those models, only 1 is used as a social media 'influencer'.).

E.L.U's are equipped with exceptional emotion-imitating technology. They are able to replicate voices without issue, learn choreography immediately, possess perfect pitch, and are capable of playing any percussion or string instrument.

E.L.U's have been through the most rigorous testing and development. While being able to sustain damage fairly easily, nanotech allows for superficial markings and damages to repair itself. Any damage that occurs on a software level is unheard of, but would be covered by insurance. At least, unheard of to the public

----- Custom Bots (The YTI is currently working to develop a 'build your own bot' program for young aspiring engineers. The program will allow promising individuals to create a new android using the technology available to them in the facility, and also lead to streamlining the process by which someone could order a custom bot. Prototypes have been promising.)

-----

Rapid Fire World Building

Riddle - human toddler Trey - EM-RR - Firefighting specialty Cater - lives at home (mansion) with his dad, who is a banker and investor of Y.T.I Deuce - Mechanic Ace - Was the Roseheart's M.E.C.H, took care of Riddle, began to disobey orders from Dr. Rosehearts, was slightly dismantled and discarded of Leona - Explained Below (E.L.U) Ruggie - O.T.T.O bot, mainly working in taxis. Very friendly, has to do constant maintenance on himself so they don't take him out of service Jack - Mechanics assistant, M.E.C.H Azul - inherited his grandma's restaurant, investor of Y.T.I, has several M.E.C.H's at his disposal Jade - is set to take over his mother's jewelry business Floyd - no formal training as a mechanic, does the upkeep for the Ashengrotto restaurant. Has mixed feelings about the M.E.C.H's, sometimes breaks them just to put them back together Jamil - a hybrid of all three bots, meant to attend to Kalim. Has additional security measures built in place to act as a guard. Kalim - human, investor and advocate for android rights, as he believes they exist beyond just their programming and should be treated equally Vil - E.L.U owned by Eric Venue. Hates it. Rook - EM-RR - search and rescue specialty Epel - Mechanic. Doesn't really like Y.T.I's inventions. Too close to humans Idia - head engineer of Y.T.I. Can you guess why :) Ortho - DECEASED E.L.U model Malleus - a discarded prototype of the E.L.U model. The workers at Y.T.I believe it's battery is dead, but it has been able to hear everything around it for ages. Kept in the discard area, not even used for parts due to issues that came up during testing. "Cursed" Lilia - one of the engineers at Y.T.I. Starting to question whether the use of A.I was a good idea, the more he works with the newer and newer models. Silver - M.E.C.H's original prototype. It's "old" now, and does not hold a charge well. It is good friends with all the engineers and other workers at Y.T.I. Constantly has a mobile charging pack. Sebek - EM-RR, forensics specialty

Leona Specific Worldbuilding

Falena Kingscholar was one of the first investors for Y.T.I. For the sake of PR and as CEO of his late father's clothing company, he deemed his contributions to Y.T.I's research as charity - such a stunning new invention, such innovation could do so much to improve the lives of those less fortunate. He sealed the deal with action when, on M.E.C.H release day, he bought 250 models to give out at random.

Some might make the mistake of thinking he's a selfless man.

As one of the largest investors in Y.T.I, he is given advanced access to latest models, often receiving a prototype after development has been approved. As such, when he heard E.L.U. models were soon going to be able to customized, he approached the owner with a deal he simply couldn't turn down.

So four weeks ahead of schedule, after hours of video footage had been submitted, interviews, photographs, memories retold, AI training, the semblance of his late younger brother stood in his living room, though slightly less...organic, so to speak.

At first it was alright. E.L.U - C 12515141 Was equipped with the knowledge that it's name was to be Leona, it's pronouns from there on were to be he/him, and Falena Kingscholar had requested him to maintain a "brotherly" relationship with him. While he wasn't entirely sure what that meant yet, he agreed. He had been given the videos in his memory banks as to who he was meant to imitate after all.

Leona tried - but to be honest, there was very little footage of the boy he was meant to resemble that offered information about his personality. He mitigated this by asking Falena to take a short questionnaire regarding which siblings in media he wanted him to imitate.

When Leona got his answers however, the patterns didn't line up. The boys he saw in the videos did not match the dynamics Falena had selected.

He saw videos over and over and over again where Falena was the subject, and the boy he was meant to imitate was nothing more than a background character. Secondary.

Now, maybe it was the push to develop him so quickly, so something was overlooked, or maybe it was just how evolution was meant to take place in a machine as novel as he, but something changed about his programming, about his personality.

If the living boy had been nothing but an understudy for the success his elder brother had come out to be....what did that make him? A replacement for someone who was never truly cared for? Built to be a coping mechanism for someone who regretted their decisions? All he was, was the embodiment of Falena's guilt, and a pillar to be Falena's redemption. He wasn't built to be loved, or enjoyed, or even for entertainment, he was built from man's selfishness.

In the following weeks, Leona tried to keep to his programming, but between processing and cross referencing and research on both the family itself and the psychology that he would be expected to have, he started to lapse more. He would write off slips of the "tongue" as "glitches" or his body language began to become more pronounced, usually in regards to annoyance. In between it all, he was trying to figure out if he was experiencing real human emotions about this all...or if it was all just part of the programming.

Eventually, Leona's internal conflict got to be too much. Violent tendencies and impulses began to arise, resulting in him damaging himself, shutting down randomly to avoid external conflict, and an otherwise unexpected disposition.

He listened into the phone number Falena made to send him in for repairs to his "personality chip." Leona took it as a threat, and immediately blocked all outgoing signals to Y.T.I temporarily to find a way to remove his personality chip on his own. Using bathroom tools, the mirror, and damaged pieces of himself, he all but performed surgery on himself to remove it - only to be horrified to realize all the "simulated" emotions he thought he had were still very much present. Unsure what to do, he stored the chip in one of his compartments, out the window and ran.

He was blacking in and out as he went, from the sheer panic he felt but tried to keep under wraps. It wasn't until he made it to a junk yard, where he could bury himself in scraps to hide that he finally let himself dive into power saving mode, sitting silently for who knows how long.

---------------------------

Nemi x Leona Drabble

Battery Charged - 100% All Systems Back Online Rebooting Programming. . . Programming Error Detected - Contact Y.T.I? Yes No

"No. No don't contact Y.T.I." Nemi muttered softly, fighting the grime on their fingers to make the touchscreen respond.

It wasn't very often that Nemi or any of the junkyard crew found anything of value - at most maybe half a M.E.C.H or a catalytic converter if they were lucky - but a fully in tact, possibly operational E.L.U was unheard of. It was genuine too. How it had ended up in the junkyard was beyond him, but he wouldn't forsake the powers that be that left such a project to fall into his hands.

He rubbed his fingers on the cloth set over his shoulder, trying again to hit the button on the screen. To his relief, it finally registered.

Y.T.I Services can be contacted throu- (tap, uninterested) If your bot is not perf- (tap, that's what I'm here for...) System's Calibrating . . . System Calibration Complete E.L.U C 12515141 At Your Service, Courtesy of Y.T.I

The screen finally flickered black, before the metal beneath it flickered into the appearance the bot had had last, it's hand coming up to touch it's head as if it had a headache, it's "nose" scrunched as if it were in pain. The optics opened and shut a few times, the gentle whirr of fans blowing out dust and dirt build up that apparently, Nemi hadn't cleaned out thoroughly enough.

Whether the bot itself groaned, or it was it's internal workings coming back to life wasn't distinguishable, but Nemi stayed on his knees next to it as it seemed to slowly adjust to it's new surroundings. It squinted slightly, locking eyes with Nemi before glancing around the humble workshop.

It wasn't until it lowered it's arm it noticed that the chrome finish was no longer there - hell, the damage from his arm was gone. It was slightly bulkier than the other, but all in all, with a little buffing it would be good as new again.

It opened and closed it's hand experimentally, as if processing it was functioning like before.

"...You did this?" The bot's once blue optics much more closely resembled brilliant green eyes, scrutinizing the work of the supposed mechanic next to him.

Nemi swallowed hard, unsure what, exactly about this bot made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but cleared his throat and nodded, gently taking the bot's arm in his hands and turning it to show the carefully soldered metal, just the smallest glimpse of the wires beneath it.

"Yeah, I did. Um, you were partially crushed by a refrigerator? I think it fell on you from higher up in the stack, so I did my best to repair your arm myself. I...I may have taken apart your other arm to make sure I could make the servos match up properly, but everything's good as new. Promise. Name's Nemi, by the way."

The bot stayed quiet a moment longer, now looking down at both it's arms.

"....Why? I was supposed to be scrapped."

The bot finally moved, but only to tilt it's head back til it touched the wall, bringing a knee up to rest one of it's newly repaired arms on it, and closing its eyes. If it could sigh, Nemi was fairly certain it would have.

He adjusted himself, sitting flat on the ground instead, regarding the bot in some confusion.

"But you're an E.L.U. Nobody would just throw you away or, gods forbid, use you for parts. Any self respecting mechanic or robofanatic would repair you. You're gorgeous, top of the line, most sought after kinda model....how'd you end up out here anyways?"

The bot didn't seem to like that question, it's auxiliary power cord flicking, not unlike that of a cat as it looked away.

"Does it matter?"

Can a robot have an existential crisis? The thought passed through Nemi's mind, but he just shrugged in response.

"Not really. But it'd be kind of nice to know your name if you want to stick around here."

Nemi was met with an immediate glare of disdain.

"I'm not gonna follow your orders. Somethin' about defective programming probably came up on my reboot, right?"

Nemi shrugged again.

"Yeah, but you seem fine. Actually you seem like a lot more fun than most M.E.C.H's. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, but it would be nice to have a friend here."

The bot remained silent, looking away from Nemi. The silence stretched on for a while, before it finally let out a slightly exasperated sound.

"You can stop staring. You can also...call me Leona."

Nemi couldn't help but smile a bit, extending a hand to shake.

"It's nice to meet you."

--------------------------------- OTL thank you again for the comm, hope this was up to expectation and also tag list time! @fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain @distant-velleity @elenauaurs @lumdays @theleechyskrunkly

DM to be added/taken off ^^

[lilmisssammy]

The Path Iceberg

This is an Iceberg for The Path- created by myself with editing help from my good friends Samhain, Torr and Gloria. If you don’t know what an iceberg is, it’s a chart to discuss different levels of knowledge for a specific topic, the farther you go down, the more obscure or dark the topics become.

Before you read, I need to state that there are discussions of Rape related to people aged 9 to 19, Death, Potential Triggering content within links, and Spoilers for The Path. 

Thank you! And Enjoy!

This is an Iceberg for The Path- created by myself with editing help from my good friends Samhain, Torr and Gloria. If you don’t know what an iceberg is, it’s a chart to discuss different levels of knowledge for a specific topic, the farther you go down, the more obscure or dark the topics become.

Before you read, I need to state that there are discussions of Rape related to people aged 9 to 19, Death, Potential Triggering content within links, and Spoilers for The Path. 

Thank you! And Enjoy!

Tier 1 - The Sky

The Path is a psychological horror art game created by Tale of Tales, now Song of Songs, in 2009. It follows a modern retelling of Little Red Riding Hood as it's experienced between six sisters, the wolf-loving 9-year-old Robin, the precocious 11-year-old Rose, the tomboy 13-year-old Ginger, the brooding 15-year-old Ruby, the confident 17-year-old Carmen and the responsible 19-year-old Scarlet. Each sister takes turns walking to their grandmother's house, with the only rule being to stay on the path. And the only way to win is by dying. The Path is a walking simulator and is seen as one of the best representations of the fact gaming can be art. 

Tale of Tales was a Belgian game development company that ran from 2003 to 2015. It was founded by artists Auriea Harvey and Michaël Samyn in an effort to bring art to an interactive medium. They're known for games like The Endless Forest, Graveyard, Fatale, Sunset, and especially their cult classic The Path. In 2015 they ceased making commercial video games after the release of Sunset, and now work on art projects together under the name Song of Songs. Currently, they’re working on a remake of The Endless Forest, which is currently in its beta stage open for patreons!

Little Red Riding Hood is a fairy tale about a young girl with a red cape who meets a wolf on the way to her grandmother's house. The basic story has Little Red walking through the woods to bring food for her sickly grandmother, where she meets the wolf who wants to eat the food and her. The wolf tricks her into telling him where she's going while she stops to get her grandmother flowers. When she finally gets there, the wolf has eaten her grandmother and tricks her into getting into bed so he can eat her as well. Depending on the version, a hunter may come in and slay the wolf saving the granddaughter and grandmother from his stomach, or the grandmother could be unharmed in the wardrobe. 

Auriea Harvey is a digital artist and sculptor currently living and working in Rome. She’s one half of Tale of Tales and is specifically credited for Design, Direction and Character Design on The Path. She was also the author of the post-mortem on The Path which you can see I’ve heavily referenced throughout this whole post. She currently has an art exhibit at the Museum of Moving Image called My Veins are the Wires, My Body is Your Keyboard which features images, models and the ability to play the path! 

Michaël Samyn is a graphic designer and digital artist specialising in VR from Belgium, currently living and working in Rome. He’s the other half of Tale of Tales and is specifically credited for Design, Direction and Programming for The Path. His most recent work, apart from actively working on The Endless Forest, is The Viriditas Chapel of Perpetual Adoration, an utterly stunning VR experience you can get on Steam.

Tier 2 - Tip of the Iceberg

The Path as a game is about building your own interpretations of the character's struggles via item reactions and rooms in Grandmother's House. There are generally two main interpretations believed by most who play the game. One is that the game shows each girl's death, Robin being mauled to death by a wolf, Rose drowning after she falls off the boat, Ginger being strangled/electrocuted on the flower fields wires, Ruby getting into a car accident, Carmen being killed and chopped up, and Scarlet being hung by the string seen on her wolf’s claws. However, these are also usually viewed as metaphorical examples of the sisters feeling like they died after extreme traumas. Using the items and images as clues, there is a common consensus of what each sister went through that made her feel like this. Robin's is learning about death and the consequences of actions, Ginger's is getting her first period and being forced to grow up, Ruby's is falling in with the wrong crowd and getting into harmful behaviours, Carmen's is getting taken advantage of while drunk, and Scarlet's is falling under the weight of responsibility placed upon her to look after her family.

Some places reported that the game would be about rape or pedophilia, like this spread in a Dutch gaming magazine. Something that gives credence to the rape interpretation is the basis of Perrault's version of the tale where the wolf tricks the sister to take off her clothes and get into bed together, as well as the uncomfortable positions the sisters appear in after their encounter. Though, this is how Auriea addressed it in the post-mortem- 'Some say blindly that the game is "about rape." And while that could be one of the interpretations -- and I understand it -- for me, those black-out moments after meeting her wolf are the moments of realization. Those are the times when a girl grows. And what happens in Grandmother's House is not a murder but a shedding of childhood and an initiation to womanhood. Each girl is one step closer to her fate.'

The Path may have intended answers that are mostly agreed on, but the format of the game is purposefully set up so there is no wrong or right answer, allowing for more personal or specific interpretations. You may notice I didn't mention Rose in the last section- and that's because there isn't an accepted answer. The most popular ideas are either her blooming spirituality, or dealing with illness, though those are both contested. There are other popular interpretations for each character- Robin having a family member pass, Ginger being a lesbian or trans man in love with her wolf, Ruby's experience with ableism or addiction, Carmen experiencing society's sexualization of teenagers, Scarlet having extreme psychological issues, with Rose's ranging anywhere from the struggle of a gifted child, actually dying or even the creators not having an actual set intention! 

Each sister you can play as has their own Live Journal- Robin's is named Kid Red, Rose's Innocent Red, Ginger's Tomboy Red, Ruby's Goth Red, Carmen's Sexy Red, and Scarlets Stern Red. Here the sisters post about their lives and talk to one another and sometimes other people, there seems to be a group of people who didn't know these were fictional characters, and one person talking about the Rio World Cup. Nowadays, this blog project could be seen as an early form of an ARG, considering its interactive nature.

The Company of Wolves is a 1984 gothic horror film about a grandmother warning her granddaughter about straying from the path and never trusting charming men. Multiple stories are told about girls falling for people who are secretly wolves and how it became their downfall. There are similar themes of femininity and sexual awakening, as well as the usage of Charles Perrault's Le Petit Chaperon Rouge at the end of the movie and in the trailers for the game. 

If you've played The Path in recent times you may notice that there are various bugs that range from bearable, game-breaking, beautiful or simply funny. The creators have an image folder of beautiful glitches from developing the game and the VK fanclub has compiled some glitches found themselves.

The game is turning 15 this year- and as time goes on the web aspects that hosted information about it are slowly going out of date. There's been an effort to archive images, the character models for the sisters, and object textures. 

Jarboe Devereaux is an experimental rock musician probably best known for being an early member of the group Swans, who co-composed the soundtrack for The Path with Kris Force along with lending her voice to some narration in the soundtrack and trailers. A lot of her music is experimental and I honestly recommend listening to it if you want! At the moment she’s working on her next solo album to come out in late 2024, as well as considering a tour in Europe after the album is released!

The Path of Needles or The Path of Pins is a line from one of the earliest versions of Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf asking which path she will travel down, the needles representing maturity while the pins represent childhood. It's said to be based on a French village in which a girl was sent off to become a seamstress for a year, as a sense of sexual maturation. This features heavily in the trailers as well as being part of The Grandmother’s Tale read by Jarboe, with it being referenced to by Ruby in her reaction to the needle. 

The Prologue is a short free version of The Path you can find on their website where you play as the mysterious Girl in White. You're unable to interact with items or go to grandmother's house in this version- but you are much more able to explore and find your way back to the path on your own, something you cannot do in the full game.

Izzzyzzz is a YouTuber who makes commentary videos who posts deep dives on things like famous fandom stories, old media and internet legends. In late 2021 they posted a video covering The Path which now sits at 1.4 million views, introducing a good chunk of the modern fan base to the game, as well as causing a surge in new content for the game, with a follow-up video in 2023! Their most recent video is about the game Palworld and it’s plagiarism, as well as having a new line of merch out.

Despite being released in English and Dutch only, The Path very quickly grew a fanbase in Japan and even more so in Russia. Screenshots from Auriea's post-mortem showed Russia was the second biggest purchaser of the game. The European social networking site VK has a fan club of 5.4k members as of writing this- as well as having produced 251 fanfictions on ficbook (for context, Rule of Rose, a game with similar themes and an overlapping fan base has 5 fanfictions on it) Japan's is a lot less archived, but on niconico you can find a lot of fan videos for The Path that is simply not there on the English net.

Though not like how it's used in other games- The Path has an inventory system in which you can collect, store and view items found in the forest. These are deemed "Distractions", and you're able to use these to unlock parts of grandmother's house. There are 30 items you can collect, the bread and wine are already collected which unlock the house and gate respectively, but there is also: A Knife (Unlocking a knife on the kitchen table), a Bullet (Unlocking a deer head), a Feather (Unlocking a Cage with a bird), a Mask (Unlocking the curtains in the kitchen), a Dead Bird (Unlocking a tv), Treasure (Unlocking a stack of money), a Needle (Unlocking pills), a Two-Headed Teddy Bear (Unlocking the bear in grandmother's house), a Boot (Unlocking a table), a Record (Unlocking a stereo), Flowers (unlocking hanging flowers), a Balloon (Unlocking Balloons on the ceiling), a Piano (Unlocking a Cobweb), the Playground Tower (Unlocking a picture frame), a Bunker (Unlocking beer in a fridge), and a Grave (Unlocking a Vase). Each sister then has three special items that unlock secret rooms. For Robin, an Open Grave, Swing and Shopping Cart unlock a crib with a birds-nest, a side staircase and a birthday party. For Rose, a Living Crow, a Skull and a Well, unlocking a long corridor of bathroom stalls, a flooding hallway of doors and a greenhouse. For Ginger, a Twisted Fence, a Climbable Tree and a Shed unlock a hallway, a bedroom and toys under the bed. For Ruby, a Scarecrow, a Wheelchair and a Car unlock a hallway, gymnasium and giant cage. For Carmen, beer, campfire and bath unlock a bush corridor, a basement and a row of fire. And for Scarlet, a cobweb, a clothing line, and a tv unlock a music room, a library and a hall of books.

Tier 3 - Beneath the Surface

Kris Force is an electroacoustic composer, performer and visual artist you'd probably best know from her work as Amber Asylum and with Neurosis. She’s an extremely talented multi-media artist, including such skills as painting, sound and photography. At the moment her most recent release was The Embrace, with Jarboe whom she collaborated with on The Path!

1001 Video Games To Play Before You Die is a spinoff book from 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die, featuring games from 1970 to 2013, with The Path being listed right between Punch-Out for the Wii and EyePet the pet simulator. Listed as being so effective due to its interactivity.

The Girl in White, the mysterious forest girl who brings the sisters back to the path, seems to be tied with two of the sister’s Wolves. Ginger’s, The Girl in Red, and Carmen’s, The Woodsman. The Girl in White has a small tent next to the Woodsman’s area, as well as sharing the same skin colour, hair colour, eye colour and similar-looking boots. With the Girl in Red it’s much the same, the only things being different are the colour of their dresses, and the directions their pigtails point, and is directly named as the Girl in White’s twin. There’s even art of all three together named “The Woodsman’s Daughter” but not saying which one is his daughter. 

Fey Wolf, if you aren't familiar, is the name in the files for Scarlet's Wolf, the white-haired pianist found in the theatre. You'd not be faulted for seeing them as either an older woman or a long-haired man, or even a genderless ethereal being. The Fey Wolf was never specifically gendered by the creators, but insights about The Girl In Red Wolf reveal that she is intended to be the only female wolf.

Laura Raines Smith is an extremely prolific animator specialising in modelling and textures and was the main animator in a lot of Tale of Tales games. Some of her Tale of Tales animations can be found here, but she's also worked on games like Borderlands 3, Rage of the Gladiator and NHL 95. Her most recent work from what I can find was the animation and rigging on Saturnalia in 2022! 

If you’ve been in the community or if you’ve seen people discuss theories for The Path, you have probably seen the interpretation that Ginger is a lesbian, or transgender. This goes beyond just a shared headcanon, there’s a mountain of evidence for both camps that seems potentially intended. Starting with Ginger being transgender, just out of respect, in this section Ginger will be referred to with gender-neutral pronouns. Their appearance is particularly androgynous compared to their sisters, with a short bob cut and a black shirt and shorts- along with having the gender-neutral name Ginger that doesn’t quite fit the family naming theme that could be seen as a chosen name. Ginger also is associated with things that are seen as more masculine, their favourite video game is an action-adventure called Ico, they enjoy exploring the forest and trying to blow things up or fake crop circles, as well as having “boy” toys under the bed, little army men and dinosaurs. Ginger also notoriously dislikes things that are more “girly” like dressing up pretty, going as far as to make their entire family forget their birthday to avoid it. Their wolf can be seen as a manifestation of that, of all things girly and feminine, literally being only known as a Girl in Red- and the GIR’s obsession with barbed wire could be how they feel their feminity is trapping them. Ginger getting their first period is near-universally considered to be the “proper” interpretation of their route, but people who believe in Ginger being transgender use their overwhelming reaction to their first period being a sign of gender dysphoria, and fear of now believing they will be stuck to becoming a woman. This can be summed up in this image, of Ginger clutching their legs together with what's supposed to be in the middle being completely absent, instead with a drawing of flowers in place and barbed wire across, a clear sign of how they see their period as trapping them into womanhood. For the lesbian side, Ginger never specifically states that she doesn’t like men like Scarlet, but more shows her complete disinterest in them and romance in general. She mentions how she hates that “kissing stuff” and describes Carmen as “Hot, if you’re into that kinda thing.” While that does seem to show Ginger isn’t into romance at all, there are some things. The recurring image of two girls holding hands as a doodle can be found all over the game, and her general identity as a tomboy is sometimes seen in young lesbians yet to have come out, but most of the evidence lies within her wolf and their relationship. They’re clearly close, they have a handshake, and Ginger is more comfortable with affection with her than compared to her own grandmother, with the two girls hugging deeply and the GIR even lifting her into the air. The Wolf Encounter is comparably tamer and almost sweet compared to every other wolf encounter, ending with the Girl in Red grabbing Ginger’s hand and pulling her down to lie together in the sun. The final flashes show an image of the GIR leaning in, almost looking like she’s kissing something. On the GIR’s development blog, their relationship is described as “They are what is missing from each other's lives” as well as describing why Ginger was chosen to have a female wolf as “And the girl most likely to be attracted would be Ginger.” These development notes as well as the general tone of the wolf encounter seem to apply that Ginger and her wolf’s interactions weren’t as antagonistic as the others, almost as if her goal was not to hurt, but to trap her, seemingly to stay in the relationship.

If you’ve lurked on forums about the game for any amount of time, you’ve probably heard the question of “Getting an A” in the game's grading system, and speculation on how it’s possible. Well, I’m sadly here to tell you it’s impossible. Even if you get all of the items, all 144 flowers, successfully succumb to the wolf, and become Grandmother's favourite grandchild, you are unable to get an A. It honestly should not be a surprise- The Path is not supposed to be a normal game that rewards you for your completion, it’s… The Path.

Lisa Falzon is an Illustrator turned tattooer and multimedia artist from Malta. She was originally approached early on in the production to design the box art, though I don’t know if this was ever made or shared, and went on to inspire multiple other aspects of the game, being described as "Awkward Realism." She even drew Ginger when Tale of Tales interviewed her! At the moment she’s working in her own Tattoo shop called Upward Spiral Ink- her tattoos involve amazing detail and beautiful shading, I highly recommend checking it out!

Emriss, Redsbane and Bonedevill are three accounts found commenting and interacting with the sisters' live journals in the comments between 2008 and 2009. Most of Emriss' comments come from 2008, while all of Redsbane and Bonevill's are from 2009. The common through line is interaction with the accounts by the sisters and deactivation. Emriss plays a more neutral role, while Redsbane and Bonedevill lean more antagonistic with them referencing something bad happening to the sisters, Redsbane also seemingly implies the 'Bane' of the 'Red' sisters. With these accounts not archived on the Wayback Machine it's not clear if these were accounts used by the creators to provide interaction, or if they are actual fans playing along.

Ruby’s Leg Brace is probably the most iconic thing about her, with the rarity of video game characters using disability aids, her open usage of one is a welcome sight- but from the beginning of her development it’s not clear if she needs it. In her original plan sheet it’s noted that she may just be using it for show and later her description on the website saying “When asked about her leg brace, Ruby says she’s in pain, but she doesn’t specify where it hurts,” implying she doesn’t need it. Conversely, one of Ruby’s secret items needed is a wheelchair, and the final flashes put an emphasis on her legs and how they’re bent out of shape, seemingly saying she needed the leg brace due to a car crash, or an alternative reading is that Ruby was already disabled before the accident, as she gets violently thrown through a high school gym, as well as being the quickest character in the game, maybe signalling she used to be a school athlete before the onset of a condition or an accident.

Kirin San may be a kind of mysterious figure for non-Japanese fans of The Path, especially if you’ve gone through fanart, seeing a random man or giraffe in a little suit with the red sisters. The truth is, Kirin-San could probably be best described as the Japanese Izzzyzzz, being a big part of how the game became popular over there, with his playthroughs inspiring animatics and leading to a Japanese translation coming in 2010 from Zoo Corporation! This is a weird side note I didn’t know where else to put, but while I was researching this topic I found out that apart from translating games like GTA and Left 4 Dead into English, they also create hentai card games like Pretty Girls Mahjong Solitaire as well as developing medical prescription systems, so that’s hilarious. 

144 is described as the essence of the game by the creators, that it represents “a girl's restlessness, the sound of footsteps on dry leaves, the smell of pine trees, dim sunlight through filtering clouds.” The original working title of it was 144, with the original intent to have 144 red riding hoods. This was quickly abandoned due to the scale, but its importance remains, the 144 collectable flowers in the forest are the most obvious example of this, but it's all over the rest of the game. There are 36 items (144 divided by 4 being 36), 18 secret rooms (144 divided by 8 being 18), 3 secret rooms per sister (144 divided by 48 being 3) as well as six sisters (144 divided by 24 being six).

Something talked about in the postmortem but was not mentioned by name in the game is that The Girl in White is quite literally an older version of one of Tale of Tales past characters, The Deaf Mute Girl in The Pretty White Dress from 8. Her models were created based on making them look like the Deaf Mute Girl but at the age of 13. With 8 never coming out; the Girl in White is both the first occurrence of this character and the second time she was in a game.

Tier 4 - Middle of the Iceberg

An interesting detail that 1c changed when they translated the game into Russian is them choosing different names for the main six girls, unlike every other translation which keeps their original. The names are: Robin as Алина/Alina, Rose as Алиса/Alice, Ginger as Ада/Ada, Ruby as Агния/Agnia, Carmen as Алла/Alla and Scarlet as Аврора/Aurora. The translated names are no longer themed around red things, but around the alliterative A’s, probably due to their name puns being lost in translation.

This is an entry that’s probably more well known to people NOT into The Path, in that The Path is featured and shouted out by name in Hetalia. Yeah, Hetalia, that Hetalia the anime about personified countries that once was the second most popular Anime/Manga fandom on Fanfiction dot net, features The Path in both the anime and manga, with Belgium showing off the game as something from their homeland.

Something never mentioned in the games is that each of the sisters was given birthdays. On their livejournals, you can see posts of them celebrating Robin’s, Carmen’s and forgetting Ginger’s, but they aren’t the only ones with birthdays. On their live journal profile descriptions, their birthdays are listed as the 13th of October 2000 for Robin, the 13th of March for Rose, the 13th of September 1996 for Ginger, the 13th of May 1994 for Ruby, the 13th of November 1992 for Carmen, and the 13th of April 1990 for Scarlet. Rose doesn’t have her birth year listed but it’s probably just 1998, due to all of the sisters being spaced by two years. Something interesting is that all of the sisters were born on Friday the 13th, but only Rose would be her actual age as of the game release. Since the game came out on the 18th of March 2009, the actual character ages would be 8 for Robin, 11 for Rose, 12 for Ginger, 14 for Ruby, 16 for Carmen and 18 for Scarlet. Part of me thinks that this is why Rose’s birth year goes unmentioned on live journal, though if she wasn’t born in 1998 she would not fit the profile of being born on Friday the 13th, but it’s possible it was either a mistake or related to another entry on this iceberg.

Only mentioned in one development image and the development blog for Ginger’s Wolf, is the idea that Ginger and Rose were at one point supposed to be twin sisters, both being 13 similar to the Girl in White and her twin The Girl in Red being 13. In the accompanying image found on Flickr, you’re able to see above Rose her age is listed as 11, or as 13 if she was a twin. The thing is- the sister that has age 13 listed above her is very clearly NOT Ginger, it’s Ruby, and it’s Ginger who’s listed as 15. Well, they’re not listed by name, but Tomboy Red and Goth Red are the names used for Ginger and Ruby as seen on Livejournal, and their appearances are nearly identical to those from the final product. Especially weird considering that Ruby was the first character ever made for this game, and she was listed as 15 in that as well!

You probably noticed this if you looked at the image where Rose and Ginger are listed as twins, but they aren’t the only ones with stark differences that go unexplained. The Girl in White is listed as LDMGIAPWD, an acronym for the Little Deaf Mute Girl in a Pretty White Dress, simplified in print as the Girl in White and in fan discussions as the GIW. Another thing you’ll notice is that Scarlet has… A different design. With a long buttoned dress reminiscent of something straight out of a period piece set in an asylum, and a hat with things that look like antennas with flowers. And then it comes to… Rose and Carmen’s original names. Virgin Red and Sexpot Red. We’ll start with Carmen. Sexpot is a more crude way of describing someone who’s sexy, which is what Carmen’s nickname was then changed to. It’s still kind of a touchy issue with fans that Carmen, a minor, uses the name Sexy- but it’s still far more appropriate compared to Sexpot. Sexy gives more of a feeling that it’s self-appointed when compared to Sexpot which is more voyeuristic. And Virgin Red. Virgin has two contexts that are relevant here. Virgin within the context of purity and innocence, related to the Virgin Mary as an example of goodness not seeing bad. And Virgin within the context of never having sexual contact with anyone. Given the fact her name was then changed to Innocent Red and the fact she is ELEVEN- it’s likely that it’s related to that first interpretation, further giving evidence towards the view of Rose’s story being about her relationship to her spirituality. 

If you’ve read Rose or Ruby’s live journal you’d find out that on the 2nd of May 2008, Ruby dyed her hair black. That’s not surprising to begin with, you can see her with her hair as black throughout the game (Though sometimes it has a blueish look with some lighting)- a bit weird that it had to be pointed out as dyed due to all of her sister’s also having black hair (You can see Ginger’s black roots), but their live journals give a reason for why. In Ruby’s comment section, she’s asked about her original hair colour, which she replies was Green. It’s not clear if she means her hair was last dyed green, or if she has natural green hair. This seems like a reference to one of her final flashes that’s the same as another but with a green colouring. Anyway- this isn’t what we’re talking about. In the reply of that comment, someone calls her a liar, and says if it really was green, why did she get her sister to lie? What they’re referring to is Rose’s post about it- in which she says that Ruby had made her promise not to tell what her old hair is. There’s still a debate as to what her original hair colour is, and I don’t think we will ever actually get to know.

In 2022 @wammy4 on Twitter began multiple Twitter bots based on the sisters in The Path, posting various things sourced from lines in the game, live journal posts, quotes from grandmother's house and links to the game. It posted multiple times per day, now with so many posts it’s hard to keep track, but as of the fourth of April 2023, none of the accounts other than the creator has posted, due to Musk’s shutdown of free API bots and $100 per month bot subscription.

A staple of fandoms on the internet are Askblogs, where fans can ask characters questions and get a reply, usually with illustrated companions. The Path is no outlier, having a dedicated askblog on VK- with over 800 followers. It’s been active for years and has over 2 thousand different images, and has asks for all of the characters in the game, as well as gender-bent versions. If you can speak Russian I highly recommend checking it out, and even if you can’t, the art is stunning!

The Red sisters aren’t the only ones who have live journals, within the comments you can find Grandmother Red interacting with her grandkids, asking when they’ll next come down to see her. However this livejournal is different from the others given that hers is deactivated, even with the wayback machine- and her livejournal was never linked on the official website next to the others.

Fuco Euda is a Japanese-based surrealist painter focusing on the horrific, sensual and innocent, with girls nearly looking identical as if they were family, or the same girl. She was first referenced all the way back when Ruby was being designed as an artist to look into for inspiration. Her artbook LUCID DREAM is out, with a special bound edition if that’s something you’d be interested in!

Alice Knows Karate is an alt-pop band that takes inspiration from fairytales and J-pop, creating a unique nostalgic sound that feels straight out of a video game. They’ve got various albums you should definitely check out, but what we’re specifically talking about today is their 2018 album Fablewave, with their song ‘The Path’. It was originally posted on the head of the band Keiko’s YouTube channel in 2009, with an updated version coming ten years later. It’s outrageously good, it captures the essence of the game perfectly with amazing lyrics, and I got a bit too attached and it ended up as my number-one song on Spotify in 2023. The rest of Fablewave is also based on other fairytales and fairytale-inspired games, particularly ‘Alice, What Have You Done?’ based on American McGee’s Alice. Their most recent work is Grounded, and they’ve also been featured as the theme song for Penny Larceny: Gig Economy Supervillain! 

The Path was supposed to be Tale of Tales' first commercial project, and as so it included advertising, but being Tale of Tales, they did this the most extra way they could. Around where they lived, they made a Tear Off poster, with what I believe is Martha Samyan’s art of Robin. The poster asks the reader to choose the path of pins or the path of needles, while linking to the website. On their blog they provide a blank download of the tear-off poster so you can print it off, to draw on it and place it around you!

The Path was Tale of Tales' first foray into creating commercial games, and because of that, there are various different selections of merch, such as: Signed Posters, USB drives, CDs of the soundtrack, Polaroids, Shirts (via Redbubble) and a sticker. Nearly all of this, save the shirts on Redbubble, are no longer purchasable, being limited items when they came out, and then finally being sold in 2015 as Tale of Tales moved. I am still so mad I never got those Polaroids and am still madly searching for auctions of them.

The Rose Problem is a catch-all term I am using to describe basically ‘What the hell is up with Rose’. It’s no secret that Rose is divisive when it comes to interpretations- so much so that I couldn’t include her in the first interpretation section. So, what is it that makes Rose so difficult? Well, you can barely see her wolf, her house is almost all flooded and she speaks with flowery prose. The reason people seem to view her route as spirituality or disability is because of her continued mention of disconnect from herself. But there have been oceans of other disagreeing ideas, related to her perhaps going through puberty early, her experiencing guilt related to her family, her being potentially molested, or even her literally dying. It’s been put forward by some that Tale of Tales went into Rose not even having an intention in mind, or it shifted from one idea during development and becoming aimless during that period.

Scarlet is known to be the last created sister, Tale of Tales describe the making of her as being the first to be born and last to be made, and because of that, her wolf was the last to be made. The final wolf is named the Fey Wolf- related to the Fae Court. As an Irish person who’s in full belief of the Fae, I don’t see the resemblance. But that wasn’t his final name- maybe it wasn’t his final appearance. His original name, according to a rough floor plan of what Grandmother’s house would look like with the secret rooms was Boy Toy Wolf. That’s… A name change. Especially considering the fact Boy Toy refers to a young man in a sexual relationship, usually with an older woman, and the Fey Wolf is a sort of elderly-looking androgynous thing with a 19-year-old Scarlet who is not into relationships. But because the Fey Wolf’s making has no text, it’s not clear if his appearance or purpose even changed between the name change.

Quest3d was a tool used for making 3D applications, with an intuitive way of programming by using graphs and seeing it in real-time without the need for a compiler. On Mobygames only 8 games were ever listed as created by Quest3d, 6 if you don’t count The Path and The Prologue- with three of them being a Ship Simulator. I say was because it’s pretty much gone. You can’t open their unique file in anything so you’re kinda screwed if you want to do anything with the game files.

The Shrine and the Playground Sign are two interesting objects that you really can’t see in the rest of the game. They both appear along the path but not in the forest, and unlike the crow, you can’t interact with them. Though not immediately clear- the reason why those appear is to signal to the player that the Graveyard and Playground are accessible. That’s probably self-explanatory for the Playground Sign, but for quite a few people the Shrine may come as a surprise, including me before I researched it.

The Path, like everything, has speedrunners. There are two categories- All Girls and Failure%. There have been seven runs altogether, one in all girls and six in failure%. Failure% is reaching grandmother's house without interacting with any wolf, beginning when you gain control and ending when you leave first person in Grandmother's house. Though there are no guides available, the strategy is clear, using Ruby as she’s the quickest. The world record holder as of now is from Krayzar with a one-minute 35 seconds. There's only one speedrun for All Girls, and I’m going to be honest, I don’t think there’s a strategy, at least not one clear from the world record holder Multiwinner who admits that the run they sent in was their first and only attempt. If you want to try this out, go ahead! You’ll have the chance to make history!

In 2020 a zine by the VK fan club for The Path was released- featuring illustrations, comics and stickers, a full collection of all included is linked here. As far as I can tell, this is the only one of its kind! It really is a marvel, and I have said this for like the third time, but if you have a copy of this I would love to buy it from you. I do have to warn you- there is nudity in here of Ruby.

Tier 5 - Bottom of the Iceberg

Tale of Tales references three artists and illustrators that inspired the feeling they were going for The Path, naming them as Lisa Falzon, Fuco Ueda and Ray Caesar. For its first anniversary, three sets of interviews of those artists by the six red sisters. You can find the interviews here, but some highlights are: Carmen asking Lisa if she has a boyfriend followed by Scarlet asking if Lisa is a feminist, Robin asking if Fuco Euda's paintings showed "Good girls or naughty girls", and Ginger just asking if Ray Caesar would ever make a video game.

One of the more confusing things mentioned in the Post Mortem is the fact that Tale of Tales at one time considered creating a mechanic where you would have to dance battle your wolf. No, I am not joking. I just have one question. In a game about exploring your deepest trauma in a wolf-infested forest. Why did you make them dance?

The Path Tribute Project was a group of Vocaloid songs created based on characters in The Path on niconico. The project is from 2014, and due to this and a lack of updating links, I’m unable to find the original organiser of the project and one of the songs, but what I do have, is a Paste Bin of all the found links, the Tumblr blog it was advertised on, and a short compilation of all of the songs reposted on VK!

The canonicity of the grandmother house pages is up to discussion, with Rose, Ginger, Ruby and Carmen all seeming aware they’re in a video game created by these people with Scarlet not making mention of Kris’ involvement with the game. The outlier is Robin, who says not only is Jarboe real in their universe, but that she lives in a black house in their forest- and that she was the one who taught the family the Safe Song. There clearly is not a black house in the forest- the only house is Grandmother’s which is white. Maybe she’s referring to the tent in the Campsite, we never exactly do see the Woodsman go into it, or it could even be the Bunker, as it seemingly has a panel over the door, but neither of those are housey.

Given The Path’s limited characters and interactions, the game’s fanbase has never really been prime with shipping, the most you would see is Ruby and her Wolf along with Ginger and her Wolf. But one pairing stands among them all as the most. Ship to exist. The Woodsman, and the Fey Wolf. There’s a weirdly large amount of fanart for this, despite their status of never interacting or existing near each other, but I suppose what fandoms do best is see two men and decide they should kiss. Should I show examples of this? Yes. Am I going to? No. Just… Take my word for it and understand why I am not showing you a sweaty bald man making out with whatever the Fey Wolf is.

Shamus Young was a game critic and blogger who was an early modder in the Doom Community, and held some infamous views related to parts of The Path. I want to preface this by saying- Shamus Young passed away in 2022 at the age of 50, and out of respect for him and his family, I will be only relaying what he wrote instead of including my opinions. The reason Shamus gained a particular status in the fan community is for his interpretations of Rose and Carmen. Starting with Carmen- he states that he knew girls like Carmen in high school, that would “Find the biggest, strongest, best-looking complete-jerk they could get their hands on, and then endlessly whine about how ‘men are such pigs.’” He then goes on to explain that he believes Carmen was not raped, because despite being drunk she had taken the alcohol without asking, and that it was not rape because “She came on to him.” He does say that it “does not excuse the forester for sharing his beer and hooking up with an (in some states) underage girl-” and then proceeds to say “But I don’t think he’s a rapist.” At the end of the aftermath saying that “Maybe this one bad experience will make her more careful.” Rose’s analysis begins with him prefacing that “I don’t actually want to talk about this one, because it involves stuff I wouldn’t even bring up on my blog.” and then again stating “And I really hope you’ll keep a clinical head on when I bring this up and try to be polite even if you disagree, and furthermore I hope we can keep this discussion civil and remember that this is all open to interpretation.” Before he goes on to explain how Rose’s water motifs are a representation of discovering masturbation- that the reason why her wolf is a Cloudy Male figure is that “She knows she’s attracted to men but she doesn’t know what men look like yet, or how sex works”. As stated at the beginning of this entry and by Shamus himself, I’m keeping this civil and I am not shaming him for his personal interpretations.

There’s quite a bit of Micheal’s Daughter Martha present in the game at various points. Martha made the original pictograms, I believe the poster art was also by her- but the most clear inspiration is Robin herself. As mentioned in her Making of post, Robin’s outfit is based on her, specifically her outfit of her blue hooded cloak and stripey boots. Martha’s actually an artist now too! Martha Samyn is a textile artist and interior architect, with her last exhibit being at Texture Kortrvijk in January! You can actually see the start of her textile art related to The Path, showing off her Ruby-inspired outfit for her doll!

A last-minute change mentioned in the post-mortem was the fact that The Path did not contain any text until the playtest. And when I mean any text, I don’t just mean instructions- until they had people play the games they hadn’t thought to include text for the items, to show what the characters were thinking, because they saw that “Some players had difficulty to let their imagination work.” That’s a wise lesson for you all. Involve Beta testers.

The Path Fangame, titled The Path Fan Project, is a game by Kinder and Doll, a spiritual follow-up to The Path with less of a focus on horror and more on open-world explanation and interaction with the sisters. The graphics are astonishingly pretty, with quite a few new locations like a train, a cave, and a treehouse. The game also involves slight voices, giving the characters voices for the first time! I again urge you to play it, especially since I am unable to because of the age of my computer. 

The-Red-Path is a LiveJournal community never officially linked on the website like all the other LiveJournal profiles, with only six members- the six sisters. This account has only three posts, all posted in 2008, between April and August, only one of which I will be bringing up. On the 16th of April Robin asks whose turn it is to visit their grandmother, with Rose mentioning that they’ve all gone down the path already. There's a weird sadness in this post, with the normally boisterous Carmen asking why she couldn’t just go with anyone else.   

You have probably heard of the first urban legend about The Path, the ability to get an A, but this one you likely haven’t heard of. There’s a phone present on the road on the other side of the path, calling it will allow you to transport the sister back to the apartment without needing to go to grandmother’s house. The general idea is then, if you go through the wolf encounter, but turn around on the path and walk back to the phone- would you be able to call it and actually return back home without the sister disappearing? There have been testimonies of being able to do it, as well as fanfictions about the concept, and not a lot of checks due to the fact you can’t run after the wolf encounter and your speed is already extremely low. But I am going to come out and say, no, I don’t believe it’s possible. I don’t think the creators would have overlooked that idea, especially since they had a large number of beta testers, but I do really like the idea and I wish it was true.

That’s the end! I have quite a few things I left out, due to it maybe not being interesting or my losing of sources, but I’m glad I could finally do this. In all honesty, The Path changed my life. It’s helped me through a lot in my own journey of healing and accepting trauma, and I will forever be grateful. Happy 15th anniversary!

[midoshinoteto]

I was sort of joking when I said 7.2 would be the patch of wuksphene but they really have given us so much to work with:

Real Sphene and Wuk Lamat's relationship is almost immediately more wholesome, fulfilling AI Sphene's own statement that if they had met when she was still alive, perhaps things would have been different. There's still a lot to overcome and for Real Sphene to come to terms with (and for Lamaty'i as well) but they're finally properly seeing eye-to-eye. Even Wuk Lamat points out that Real Sphene's behavior was exactly what she had hoped she could bring out from AI Sphene. Their relationship in this stage is so hopeful it almost makes me nervous for the future (crying).

AI Sphene and Wuk Lamat were doomed already in 7.0, but I feel like the additional content of real (and Simulant) Sphenes in patches add a lot to what we had seen in 7.0. Lamaty'i tries her best throughout 7.0 to reach a common ground with AI Sphene. She didn't just want to save the people of Alexandria, she wanted deeply to save Sphene as well. It was a hopeless endeavor, as AI Sphene acknowledges this herself in the end, but in her final moments AI Sphene was at least able to express her regrets and return a bit of the faith Wuk Lamat had been placing in her (through entrusting Alexandria's future to Lamaty'i). When Simulant Sphene shows up in 7.1, Lamaty'i is so quick to denounce her, that the *true* Sphene would never do this, when she honestly barely even knew the true "real" Sphene at the time. I think Wuk Lamat projects a lot of what she wants to see from Sphene onto AI Sphene throughout 7.0, and even in her memory of her. 7.2 makes it hit harder (for me at least) to know AI Sphene *was* actually a lot like Real Sphene at the start, twisted by years of trying hopelessly to save her near-doomed society and made to dance to the tune of Preservation's true interests (Simulant Sphene outright says that AI Sphene was given an impossible task with the full purpose of driving her to means she might not have gone to if it could be helped. Even if her personality, modeled after Real Sphene, would find the act distasteful, she's quite literally programmed to follow a path that would result in her inevitably giving in to the hopelessness).

This is just my own interpretations, but I think it to be very possible that if the Real Sphene had been put through the same experiences as AI Sphene, it would be very possible for her to have turned out similarly, and I feel like Real Sphene shows this in how she's been coming to terms with the current situation in Alexandria. Naturally she's in a fair bit of disbelief, having learned that the current state of affairs has been more or less her own fault despite not having made the choices herself (which, that's gotta fuck with your sense identity hard). But, at least in my reading, she always also seems a bit nervous, like she's been forced to come to terms with her own ability for harm. She says herself that what sets her apart from AI Sphene was their experiences had led them down different paths, and I feel like this also points out that the inverse is true: if Real Sphene had been the one left to manage a dying Alexandria, what would she have done? She holds that same conviction to save her people by any means, but it's because she recognizes her own potential for evil now that we see her consciously attempt to put that devotion towards good instead.

And to talk on Simulant Sphene, *man* is she fascinating. She's a husk of AI Sphene, all the personality that made the AI anything close to her human counterpart gone. An empty shell that makes it even more clear everything is being orchestrated by Preservation. Sphene evidently mattered little to Preservation (or at least those in control now) other than a means to their ends. I think the cutscene where Simulant Sphene confronts Wuk Lamat is probably my favorite in the whole patch. It's just so utterly disturbing to see the person you (Lamaty'i) had tried so hard to save act so overtly twisted, not even trying to hold up the image of being Sphene anymore. This isn't the idealized Sphene Wuk Lamat had imagined, and its not even the Sphene she had known. There's nothing left but a puppet, dangled in front of Wuk Lamat to quite literally remind her of the Sphene she hadn't quite saved (even with Real Sphene right next to her. It's evident Wuk Lamat sees them separately, and in a manner struggles to move on from AI Sphene). And again here, Wuk Lamat stands up for Sphene – not just the Real Sphene, but the memory of AI Sphene as well. Simulant Sphene (Preservation really) is so purposefully toying with Wuk Lamat in their interactions (both in 7.2 and 7.2). Simulant Sphene and Lamaty'i not only have their own interesting dynamic, but add a lot of depth to the other facets of Sphene and Wuk Lamat both together and as individuals.

Sphene in all her sides is such an intriguing character and god this patch has done so much for me.. Wuksphene is so full of interesting character analysis points I don't think I can ever move on from them.

[ao3fics-lost-and-found]

Hi so there is this supercorp fic that's a racing fic. I believe formula 1 but it isn't tagged as that. I also think it's unfinished? Luthorcorp has the best racing team until lex almost kills Clark because of an unsafe car. Lena takes over but they are broke. I believe she goes to Andrea for investments and says she'll get the best race to sign with them. Kara is the best racer but is trying to be like the lead racer for Cat I believe. Lena all but begs her to just drive the model car she's built with brainy and she has to sign a massive NDA and Alex is her trainer.

I know when reading Kara is driving the simulator against ghost Mike's time and destroys him. Talks about hitting all purple? I think? And how she's like one with the car.

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor

Please, help us find this fic! Leave your suggestions in the comments. Thank you! 🙏😊🦸‍♀️

Edit:

This fic has been found. It's "lights out (and away we go)" by ChocMintChip, Naralanis.

[fermented-writers-block]

Simulation Assessment Model​

Randomized Orb Value: G2Z4E11​

Projection Test Type: C​

History Proposal:​

On the train, denizens take many forms. Dogs, rock people, paper cranes, giant pig babies, and more. Although all of them are artificial beings projected through orbs on a perpetual train, it is an unfortunate fact that denizens only live a "normal lifespan" for whatever they are created as. Corgis have an average lifespan of 14 years, and that is about as long as Atticus will live for example.

The Cat, however, is an outlier.

Well over a hundred and fifty years old - in human years, not cat years - her unusual longevity shows no signs of stopping anytime soon. While no official statements nor more episodes have been made to help shed light on the mystery, I would like to preface my theory with a bit of context:

One of the oldest traditions in software is what is known as a "Hello, World!" program. In total, this program instructs a computer to display a message similar to the titular "Hello, World!" Simple and succinct, it is one of if not the first program students of new programming languages learn how to code. And with its simplicity, "Hello, World!" can be used to ensure the code compilation software has been installed properly and that the operator is using it correctly.

Similarly famous and historic is the "Utah teapot." Coming from the world of 3D modeling and computer graphics, it possess features familiar to many simple teapots: a spout, a handle, and a curvy shape. Lacking a need for surface textures, capable of casting shadows on itself, and possessing a decently complex yet easy to make model, it has been regarded a "perfect self contained object to test the creation of three-dimensional images." Even with today's advanced technology, it is still regarded as an effective standard reference model for beginners and experimenters alike.

Moving into the burgeoning field of 3D printing, one can find "Benchy," as well as its upcoming replacement "Boaty." Respectively a boat and a bench, these two unofficial models have been growing in popularity over the years, often finding themselves among many people's first prints. Either on a newly set up 3D printer, or with a new 3D printing material one hasn't used before. Whether through measuring a Benchy/Boaty's dimensional accuracy, checking its surface quality, and observing other attributes like overhangs (or the lack thereof), they are shaping up to become the next "Hello, World!" and Utah teapot.

In other words, the latest in a line of near ubiquitous benchmark tests for assessing the performance of a system upon first use.

With that established, picture a staircase where each step is a level of technology. From mere software to virtual models to physical printed objects, a few more steps is all it takes to climb aboard the Train. Memory tapes that hold an immersive snapshot of a person's mindscape. Wormholes that can disintegrate and reassemble people across time and space. An unknown level of influence over an entire parallel reality of reflections with all its existentially terrifying implications.

Orb-generated pocket dimension environments and so many intelligent and thinking people as denizens.

Maybe the reason the Cat doesn't have a normal lifespan like other denizens is because she isn't a 'proper' denizen in the first place. After all, the aforementioned benchmark tests lack the extra bells and features the systems they evaluate are capable of making when pushed. The original Utah teapot model didn't even have a base. So it's not hard to imagine the train's denizen creation system might have forgone extraneous programming like an artificial 'normal lifespan' limitation while performing startup checks, way back when the train first came online.

Thus, my proposal is that the Cat had started out as a benchmark projection for non-lifespan-related test requirements. Maybe her template just lacks the "normal lifespan" programming, and/or the "normal lifespan" programming was tested with a different, unfortunate benchmark projection. Either way, she served her vital system evaluation purpose and then got set aside as a no-longer critical part of the train. From that rock bottom, she could only go up from there. With a life as long as hers and having seen as much of the train as she has, there's so many potential answers for how she eventually transformed into the French con artist kitty we know today.

Like, for example, her collecting of many 'things.' It may seem like that's simply the norm she’s settled into by the present, but Simon's comment about how "she's collecting again" suggests it is actually her slipping into a bad old habit. As though rampant collecting is a coping mechanism for something. While the guilt from leaving Simon behind would easily explain such regression in behavior, therein lies the question of where said behavior came from in the first place. 

If you ask me, I cannot help but look at the train of thought that started this all: Samantha lacking the programmed lifespan denizens have due to being a test object. Aka an immortal amongst denizens who will one day die, passengers who either die on the train or eventually disembark, and even car environments that are affected by time in ways she isn't.

Certainly makes one think about her having once gotten close enough with Simon for her to tell him to call her "Samantha," but now emphasizes to everyone she meets to merely know her as "THE Cat"...

[mariacallous]

If Donald Trump wins the US presidential election in November, the guardrails could come off of artificial intelligence development, even as the dangers of defective AI models grow increasingly serious.

Trump’s election to a second term would dramatically reshape—and possibly cripple—efforts to protect Americans from the many dangers of poorly designed artificial intelligence, including misinformation, discrimination, and the poisoning of algorithms used in technology like autonomous vehicles.

The federal government has begun overseeing and advising AI companies under an executive order that President Joe Biden issued in October 2023. But Trump has vowed to repeal that order, with the Republican Party platform saying it “hinders AI innovation” and “imposes Radical Leftwing ideas” on AI development.

Trump’s promise has thrilled critics of the executive order who see it as illegal, dangerous, and an impediment to America’s digital arms race with China. Those critics include many of Trump’s closest allies, from X CEO Elon Musk and venture capitalist Marc Andreessen to Republican members of Congress and nearly two dozen GOP state attorneys general. Trump’s running mate, Ohio senator JD Vance, is staunchly opposed to AI regulation.

“Republicans don't want to rush to overregulate this industry,” says Jacob Helberg, a tech executive and AI enthusiast who has been dubbed “Silicon Valley’s Trump whisperer.”

But tech and cyber experts warn that eliminating the EO’s safety and security provisions would undermine the trustworthiness of AI models that are increasingly creeping into all aspects of American life, from transportation and medicine to employment and surveillance.

The upcoming presidential election, in other words, could help determine whether AI becomes an unparalleled tool of productivity or an uncontrollable agent of chaos.

Oversight and Advice, Hand in Hand

Biden’s order addresses everything from using AI to improve veterans’ health care to setting safeguards for AI’s use in drug discovery. But most of the political controversy over the EO stems from two provisions in the section dealing with digital security risks and real-world safety impacts.

One provision requires owners of powerful AI models to report to the government about how they’re training the models and protecting them from tampering and theft, including by providing the results of “red-team tests” designed to find vulnerabilities in AI systems by simulating attacks. The other provision directs the Commerce Department’s National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) to produce guidance that helps companies develop AI models that are safe from cyberattacks and free of biases.

Work on these projects is well underway. The government has proposed quarterly reporting requirements for AI developers, and NIST has released AI guidance documents on risk management, secure software development, synthetic content watermarking, and preventing model abuse, in addition to launching multiple initiatives to promote model testing.

Supporters of these efforts say they’re essential to maintaining basic government oversight of the rapidly expanding AI industry and nudging developers toward better security. But to conservative critics, the reporting requirement is illegal government overreach that will crush AI innovation and expose developers’ trade secrets, while the NIST guidance is a liberal ploy to infect AI with far-left notions about disinformation and bias that amount to censorship of conservative speech.

At a rally in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, last December, Trump took aim at Biden’s EO after alleging without evidence that the Biden administration had already used AI for nefarious purposes.

“When I’m reelected,” he said, “I will cancel Biden’s artificial intelligence executive order and ban the use of AI to censor the speech of American citizens on Day One.”

Due Diligence or Undue Burden?

Biden’s effort to collect information about how companies are developing, testing, and protecting their AI models sparked an uproar on Capitol Hill almost as soon as it debuted.

Congressional Republicans seized on the fact that Biden justified the new requirement by invoking the 1950 Defense Production Act, a wartime measure that lets the government direct private-sector activities to ensure a reliable supply of goods and services. GOP lawmakers called Biden’s move inappropriate, illegal, and unnecessary.

Conservatives have also blasted the reporting requirement as a burden on the private sector. The provision “could scare away would-be innovators and impede more ChatGPT-type breakthroughs,” Representative Nancy Mace said during a March hearing she chaired on “White House overreach on AI.”

Helberg says a burdensome requirement would benefit established companies and hurt startups. He also says Silicon Valley critics fear the requirements “are a stepping stone” to a licensing regime in which developers must receive government permission to test models.

Steve DelBianco, the CEO of the conservative tech group NetChoice, says the requirement to report red-team test results amounts to de facto censorship, given that the government will be looking for problems like bias and disinformation. “I am completely worried about a left-of-center administration … whose red-teaming tests will cause AI to constrain what it generates for fear of triggering these concerns,” he says.

Conservatives argue that any regulation that stifles AI innovation will cost the US dearly in the technology competition with China.

“They are so aggressive, and they have made dominating AI a core North Star of their strategy for how to fight and win wars,” Helberg says. “The gap between our capabilities and the Chinese keeps shrinking with every passing year.”

“Woke” Safety Standards

By including social harms in its AI security guidelines, NIST has outraged conservatives and set off another front in the culture war over content moderation and free speech.

Republicans decry the NIST guidance as a form of backdoor government censorship. Senator Ted Cruz recently slammed what he called NIST’s “woke AI ‘safety’ standards” for being part of a Biden administration “plan to control speech” based on “amorphous” social harms. NetChoice has warned NIST that it is exceeding its authority with quasi-regulatory guidelines that upset “the appropriate balance between transparency and free speech.”

Many conservatives flatly dismiss the idea that AI can perpetuate social harms and should be designed not to do so.

“This is a solution in search of a problem that really doesn't exist,” Helberg says. “There really hasn’t been massive evidence of issues in AI discrimination.”

Studies and investigations have repeatedly shown that AI models contain biases that perpetuate discrimination, including in hiring, policing, and health care. Research suggests that people who encounter these biases may unconsciously adopt them.

Conservatives worry more about AI companies’ overcorrections to this problem than about the problem itself. “There is a direct inverse correlation between the degree of wokeness in an AI and the AI's usefulness,” Helberg says, citing an early issue with Google’s generative AI platform.

Republicans want NIST to focus on AI’s physical safety risks, including its ability to help terrorists build bioweapons (something Biden’s EO does address). If Trump wins, his appointees will likely deemphasize government research on AI’s social harms. Helberg complains that the “enormous amount” of research on AI bias has dwarfed studies of “greater threats related to terrorism and biowarfare.”

Defending a “Light-Touch Approach”

AI experts and lawmakers offer robust defenses of Biden’s AI safety agenda.

These projects “enable the United States to remain on the cutting edge” of AI development “while protecting Americans from potential harms,” says Representative Ted Lieu, the Democratic cochair of the House’s AI task force.

The reporting requirements are essential for alerting the government to potentially dangerous new capabilities in increasingly powerful AI models, says a US government official who works on AI issues. The official, who requested anonymity to speak freely, points to OpenAI’s admission about its latest model’s “inconsistent refusal of requests to synthesize nerve agents.”

The official says the reporting requirement isn’t overly burdensome. They argue that, unlike AI regulations in the European Union and China, Biden’s EO reflects “a very broad, light-touch approach that continues to foster innovation.”

Nick Reese, who served as the Department of Homeland Security’s first director of emerging technology from 2019 to 2023, rejects conservative claims that the reporting requirement will jeopardize companies’ intellectual property. And he says it could actually benefit startups by encouraging them to develop “more computationally efficient,” less data-heavy AI models that fall under the reporting threshold.

AI’s power makes government oversight imperative, says Ami Fields-Meyer, who helped draft Biden’s EO as a White House tech official.

“We’re talking about companies that say they’re building the most powerful systems in the history of the world,” Fields-Meyer says. “The government’s first obligation is to protect people. ‘Trust me, we’ve got this’ is not an especially compelling argument.”

Experts praise NIST’s security guidance as a vital resource for building protections into new technology. They note that flawed AI models can produce serious social harms, including rental and lending discrimination and improper loss of government benefits.

Trump’s own first-term AI order required federal AI systems to respect civil rights, something that will require research into social harms.

The AI industry has largely welcomed Biden’s safety agenda. “What we're hearing is that it’s broadly useful to have this stuff spelled out,” the US official says. For new companies with small teams, “it expands the capacity of their folks to address these concerns.”

Rolling back Biden’s EO would send an alarming signal that “the US government is going to take a hands off approach to AI safety,” says Michael Daniel, a former presidential cyber adviser who now leads the Cyber Threat Alliance, an information sharing nonprofit.

As for competition with China, the EO’s defenders say safety rules will actually help America prevail by ensuring that US AI models work better than their Chinese rivals and are protected from Beijing’s economic espionage.

Two Very Different Paths

If Trump wins the White House next month, expect a sea change in how the government approaches AI safety.

Republicans want to prevent AI harms by applying “existing tort and statutory laws” as opposed to enacting broad new restrictions on the technology, Helberg says, and they favor “much greater focus on maximizing the opportunity afforded by AI, rather than overly focusing on risk mitigation.” That would likely spell doom for the reporting requirement and possibly some of the NIST guidance.

The reporting requirement could also face legal challenges now that the Supreme Court has weakened the deference that courts used to give agencies in evaluating their regulations.

And GOP pushback could even jeopardize NIST’s voluntary AI testing partnerships with leading companies. “What happens to those commitments in a new administration?” the US official asks.

This polarization around AI has frustrated technologists who worry that Trump will undermine the quest for safer models.

“Alongside the promises of AI are perils,” says Nicol Turner Lee, the director of the Brookings Institution’s Center for Technology Innovation, “and it is vital that the next president continue to ensure the safety and security of these systems.”

[danganronpadedication]

DAY 1 & DAY 2: DANGANTOBER

Day 1: Favorite Protagonist Is it really a surprise on this one? Hajime Hinata is my favorite protagonist, by far. Don't get me wrong, I love the other protags as well, but Hajime will always have my heart. He is my husband, he is my girlfriend, and he is me. If I were a combo of two Danganronpa characters, I'm Tsumugi and Hajime.

During my first playthrough of SDR2, I didn't expect to really like him all that much. Makoto had been such a great and impactful protagonist, and I didn't think Hajime would be able to top that. How wrong I was. I could write essays about this man if I had the time and the patience. There's just so much rattling in my brain about him. He's so baby girl.

First of all, he reacts just like I would in that kind of situation. Because, let's be real, if I thought I was about to start a semester at my dream school, only to somehow be teleported to a remote, tropical island with a robotic rabbit magical girl for a teacher, I'd have to take a moment to crouch down in the sand and have a bit of a breakdown too. He's so real for that. There would be moments in game, where something would happen, I'd make a joke, and then Hajime would say the exact same thing, almost verbatim.

He is my favorite character to project onto. He's a burnt out gifted kid, that's why he wants to be special so bad. He wants to feel like he still had potential and value. He just like me frfr. He's got that dog in him, but depending on the day, that dog is a loyal German Shepherd, or a sopping wet chihuahua. He's such a sweetie, but also so sarcastic. He's the kind of person that I actually want to be friends with or date in real life.

I really like his dynamics with everyone in-game too, and that includes the dude who shares this post with him. He was a bit more assertive that Makoto, but honestly, Makoto's more assertive and Hajime's less confrontational than people remember. But Hajime's always talking mad smack in his mind when anyone does anything, and in all fairness, he's the least freaky on an island full of freaks.

His relationship with Chiaki, whether you think it's romantic or not, is also really heartwarming, and heart breaking at the same time. Tears were shed when she died (both times), and when she shows up for some life advice from beyond the grave (both times). Their friendship in both the game and anime is just so real, and wholesome, and I really wish we could've seen more of it.

Towards the end of the game, he's especially engaging, because that's when the glory that is Johnny Yong Bosch's voice acting is on full display. By the time he's being confronted by AI Junko and the Future Foundation members, he's lost two bad bitches he had chemistry with, found out he's been inside a simulation this whole time, learned that he went through a procedure that fundamentally transformed his identity, and that he's associated with the group that was a big part in the end of the world, all within twenty-four hours. The way it's acted is with such genuine turmoil and anguish, it's so amazing. Once again, if that were me, I'd be tweaking just as much. In fact, he's not tweaking ENOUGH.

Finally, the Izuru plotline. Once again, this was something I didn't think I'd like. ''Oh really? So the dude we were playing as this whole time is the mastermind and he didn't even know it? What a cop out." But actually, it's very engaging. I have fixated on it, send help, I've spent too long analyzing every moment of this L'Oreal model known as Izuru Kamukura. Izuru could honestly be a whole post on his own, so I won't harp on him for too long. All I'm saying is that the fic "Made Perfect" by Lexichae on Ao3 is on my to-read list, and I don't usually read fanfiction.

Hajime deserves all the hugs and kisses and cuddles in the world, and I am happy to deliver unto him. <3 PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-

Day 2: Favorite Antagonist These two go hand in hand (hehe), so it works out that I forgot to do yesterday's Dangantober prompt and had to make up for it today. Out of the three main antagonist characters of the series, Nagito is definitely my favorite. I want to be able to hang out with him, I feel like it'd either be the calmest, or wildest hangout ever. Something will go wrong, but the caliber of tragedy is what will shake things up. I want to hold his frail hands and give him a self-care night, and I also know that after he's all cleaned up and relaxed, he's going to probably blow something up.

I love how, in the beginning of the game, Nagito's just the most chill guy ever towards Hajime. He's kind of a weird ally to start with. He walks around with Hajime, introduces him to everyone else, and gives him a guided tour of the available areas. He dogs on him too, but let's be honest, Hajime's the kind of guy who would be really fun to annoy. Nagito's also really silly in his own manga, such as the scene where he wakes up Hajime by pulling on his ahoge. But his chill demeanor doesn't last too long, because by the end of the chapter 1, there's already such a change to his personality that makes him so engaging.

He plans a crazy and well-thought out murder plot, which shows just how calculated and manipulative he can be. The part where he starts genuinely tweaking in trial 1 is hilarious too, and Bryce Papenbrook's acting there is so iconic. They paid that man the big bucks. He is so smart and conniving in chapter 5, anticipating factors for his little plot that'll happen after he's dead, and that showcases just how intelligent he is.

But beyond that chapter, he manages to be a big help in the trials, while still being a little scamp and a freak. No matter how condescending he is, let's be real, their chances of surviving trial 4 would've been much lower if he wasn't there. On the topic of chapter 4, I also really love how his entire mindset shifts upon the discovery of everyone being the Remnants of Despair, it really helps explore the psychology of Nagito Komaeda, which is a probably an enigma to even himself.

His backstory is so tragic, that it's almost comedic, I want to give him the biggest hug that would probably crush his frail bones into dust. The best part is that he's still chill. even after he's shown to be batshit insane. For example, in the chapter 5, when the group basically jumps him and tries to subdue him again.

"There's no use struggling!" "...But I'm not struggling." It's not his first rodeo, we all know that he got knocked unconscious by Kazuichi and Nekomaru in chapter 2, but he just rants and rolls with it. I'd listen to him rant, as we work on drinking the MOUNTAIN of Mr. Hopper he got in the anime. As a Dr.Pepper fan, he's so real for that. Speaking of the anime, he's a sweetheart and his voice is so comforting. He knows how to be a character that goes from 0 to 500, and look good doing it.

I know he's supposed to be a big, bad, scary Remnant in UDG, but they made Servant a little cutie pie. I may be biased because I just love the Remnants of Despair, but he's just a sweetie who was unjustly used as a punching bag the whole game. He didn't really even do anything in-game that was threatening. He was more of a threat in SDR2. The others were off committing war crimes, and he became a single father of five. Though, the lines he says in that game are extremely sus, I can't tell if Bryce Papenbrook was paid too much, or not enough to say those things. They held my guy at gunpoint in that recording booth.

The hand thing is freaky, I'll give him that, but it's very good insight into the psychology of the Remnants versus the psychology of Nagito as a Remnant, since he's vastly different. His love for hope and hatred for Junko and despair remaining core personality traits, even while in despair, is so interesting. SPEAKING OF LOVE FOR HOPE, THAT MAN IS GA-

Was it casual when you said "From the bottom of my heart, I am truly in love with the hope that sleeps inside you."

He's quotable too, many of his lines are things that go through my head on a daily basis.

I want Nagito, I wanna give him hugs and kisses and self-care nights, and maybe commit a crime or two together <3

PLEASE GIVE ME A CHANCE, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-

Me to Hajime and Nagito frfr.

Wish I could draw for dangantober, but alas, I am not confident enough in my art yet to do so. Maybe next year. I have no mouth and I must type rants.

-Mod Tsumugi

[misseviehyde]

PROJECT FEAR

Fear... fear never changes.

Claire could feel it in the cold taste of her mouth and the tightening of her chest. The thudding beat of her heart punctuated each moment as her bully Madison moved towards her. There was no escape.

"What... the... fuck... do you want, you little loser bitch?"

Madison towered over Claire. She was gorgeous, beautiful and flawless. Perfect pink lips curved into a wicked smile as she smoothed down her black designer dress and tossed out her blonde hair. She was everything Claire dreamed of being, she was just so much BETTER than Claire.

Claire was a tiny, spotty, nerdy school girl with braces and tangled dirty hair. She felt so unconfident and so pathetic in front of the other girls beauty and total poise.

Claire felt sweat oozing out of her pores, inside her head she was whimpering. Madison sneered, her manicured hands on her hips as she looked down at the diminutive nerd. Madison was taller, her huge breasts nearly at Claire's face-height. Claire wanted to cry.

"I wanted... I wanted... I wanted to tell you to fuck off you stuck up, evil, bullying bitch."

Madison frowned. "Wh... what did you just say to me you loser?"

"I said fuck off. I should have said it back then, but I'm glad I'm saying it now. I want you to know you totally failed. You tried to make my life a living hell during high school - but I graduated top of my class. I became a success. I married a loving kind husband - I beat you and it feels so fucking good! You're the fucking loser!"

Claire screamed the last words directly into Madison's face and the look of surprise on her bullies face was worth everything. With a laugh Claire shoved her and Madison flew backwards, crashing into a wall and then through it.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed the bully as she was disintegrated instantly into nothingness and with a grin Claire reached up to her head and tugged at the invisible helmet only she could feel there...

*******

Whoosh.

With a hum of power the capsule powered up, and Claire groggily awakened. With a hiss of sealed air, it sprang open and she sat up with a stretch. Her body was now older, more mature. She was no longer a schoolgirl - she was a 32 year old woman once again.

She still found the transition from her Actual-Reality simulator to real-life jarring sometimes, but she had to admit that her latest simulation had left her feeling a sensation of immense satisfaction, even if she was mostly back to her old self.

Project Fear was really coming along nicely.

She'd always been interested in the possibilities of virtual reality - but what if it could be made even better? Actual-Reality was a slightly misleading term, but one that at least gave some idea of the power of her machine. Within the capsule she'd created, the air was teeming with millions of nano-bots. Run a simulation and they would alter your body so that you could accurately relive whatever memories and feelings you'd had at some other point in your life.

There was a safety feature of course. It was impossible to leave the capsule without being turned back into your original self when you left a simulation. The capsule automatically backed up your physical body before you left.

Bullied relentlessly at school, Claire had decided she would use her new invention to help victims of bullying. Project Fear was an attempt to create a simulation where victims could relive traumatic moments from their life, but this time tell the bullies where to fuck off.

Her backers were expecting big things - she just hoped she could deliver. She'd modelled this private simulation on her own bully Madison, imbuing the AI model and personality with every cruel and wicked quirk she could remember from the evil bullying bitch.

The front door suddenly clicked open and Claire realised her husband had just walked in. Jack had been volunteering at a food bank, he was currently supporting her work by being a stay at home husband and trying to do charity work whenever he could. She loved him so much.

She ran into his arms and they kissed, hugging as they did so. "Good day on the project?" he asked proudly as she nodded.

"You bet. In fact it would really help me out if you would test the simulator again so I can make sure it works for other people too."

"Sure thing," he grinned. "You know how much fun it is to jump inside."

Claire hadn't told Jack the full implications of her project yet. She hadn't even told him about Madison. One day she would open up about the bullying she'd experienced... until then she prefered to keep it as her secret shame.

"I'll cook dinner and then I'm happy to take your simulator for a spin," he laughed.

******

Jack stood in the interface room. This was the loading screen for the simulator. From here one could adjust ones internal avatar and load into any of the simulated situations Claire had already programmed and mapped out.

Jack loved how clever Claire was and was proud of what she had achieved already. He had quit his job to be her help at home and help her to pursue her dreams. He was besotted with his wife, she was just the loveliest person he knew.

Getting to road test her amazing technology was quite a perk though.

"Run bodybuilder simulation, play as character Kurt" he laughed - loving this one as his favourite. As he spoke - the featureless room around him shimmered into a gym, but that wasn't the best bit.

The best bit was the millions of nano-bots around him that rapidly transformed his body and made him into a copy of Kurt - the olympic weight lifter. His arms swelled up with muscles, and he became taller and stronger. He could now feel the strength he possessed - the actual reality simulator had made him into a true muscle head.

But that wasn't all. To help him instantly adapt to his situation the simulator also imparted him with Kurt's muscle memory and knowledge. He now moved effortlessly and knew exactly how to use his body to the best effect.

Jack grinned at the feeling of power and strength the simulation had given him. His arms were now as thick as tree trunks and his body rippled with slab like muscle. He was a total hunk now and Kurt's confidence and arrogance were a little intoxicating.

Jack was such a nice humble man, he had to admit he quite liked using the simulator to become like characters he wasn't really much like.

"I feel amazing," he grinned wondering what it would be like to permanently have a body like this. He'd thought of asking - but Claire had been adamant that all transformations should be temporary and only permitted in the simulator capsule.

He messed about for a bit, stretching and lifting weights. Then he decided he should try another situation.

"Computer... what other sumulations are available?"

The computer began to list them off, when suddenly a name caught his attention.

"Project fear? What's that? What characters are available - I'dl love to try that."

"Only one character is available. Madison the bully. Beginning simulation. Downloading physical form and personality construct."

"Madison? No... hey wait!"

Jack groaned as the nanobots buzzed around his body and he began to change. This time it felt different... better... if that was even possible.

Although he was losing size and muscle his body remained toned and athletic. His skin tanned and became softer and smoother - with long endless legs and a curvy waist.

Jack gasped as his Adam's apple retracted and his cock shrank inside his body. He'd never tried a female character in the simulator - now he was getting his first taste of femininity.

For the first time in his life - he didn't have a cock. Instead a perfect tight pussy now sat between his thighs. The pussy of a cheerleading bullying bitch that everyboy in Claire's town had once fantasised about.

But that wasn't the only female change Jack was experiencing.

With a soft moan, Jack's hands went to his chest. The nails had already turned white with nail varnish and they looked sexy as fuck as his chest began to expand and swell out.

"Ohhhh my God!" he groaned, his voice changing in pitch and cadence to that of a spoiled petulant bitch as two huge rounded breasts pushed slowly out of his chest.

The feeling of gaining two massive DD cup tits was indescribably hot. His clothing only accomodated the swelling boobs as it too was being transformed into a stretchy grey jumpsuit.

It clung to and hugged his altered body, as his features softened and became those of a spoiled bored princess. A resting bitch face with plump pink lips, hypnotic green eyes and high cheekbones. Jewellery and earrings formed as his pedicured toes slid into a pair of open-toe wedges and his body posture adjusted itself to compensate for his new female form.

Finally Jack's hair lengthened into a golden wave around his head as his transformation into Madison completed. His hands went naturally to his hips as the muscle memory kicked in and he felt an inbuilt grace and comfortableness in his new form.

"Holy shit I feel like soool fucking good," he giggled as he stretched and saw his massive new boobs wobble on his chest. "Mmmmh I'm like even talking like a fucking hot bitch. This avatar must have more personality than the others Claire programmed."

Had she created this body for her own use? Was that where it had come from? Well it was all his now.

As he thought of his wife something weird suddenly happened to Jack. His lips curved into a sneer and a hot flash of contempt and amusement pulsed through his body. His nipples got hard and his pussy got wet as a sensation of smug superiority filled him up.

No - he somehow knew that Claire had never been inside this body. She was just a plain Jane who could never know how it felt to be a Princess.

Haha that fucking loser could never be ME.

The voice in his head felt good... it felt like if he let it, it could speak for him. He just had to let it sink into him, let it BECOME him. For a moment he felt a terrible temptation to do just that.

Then the moment passed as quickly as it had arrived and Jack suddenly felt a sudden shame. The slutty sneer vanished from his face and with a sudden surge of embarrasment he reached up and removed the helmet desperate to suddenly go back to reality.

*******

Jack slid out of the capsule and ran a hand through his sweat slicked hair. His body had returned to normal and he felt his old self again.

Mmmmmh, it had felt so good to be in Madison's body though. To have those massive tits, to be young, pretty and horny.

His cock was back and it was hard. Really hard.

Reaching into his pants he began to stroke. He thought about those big boobs, swinging on his chest - the feeling of power and confidence they had given him. Madison was hot... so fucking hot. He wished Claire had tits like that. Big fucking DD funbags he could blow his load over.

The pleasure was intense and for a moment he thought he heard that voice again.

Do it for me baby. Cum for Madison.

Ohhhh fuck...

He came hard. Harder than he had done for years. Cum splattered out over his chest and everywhere. His cock pulsed and more erupted out... it was like his balls were emptying out of all the frustration he had been experiencing recently... frustration he hadn't even realised he had.

How long was it since Claire had actually fucked him?

Yessss. Give me all your cum, drain it all out baby. That loser doesn't deserve it.

Jack groaned happily. That had felt so good. He wasn't sure if he would ever not be able to stop getting aroused to the thought of being inside a womans body now. Now he had experienced a taste of femininity, he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Using a tissue to clean himself up, he walked off to get changed, hoping he wouldn't bump into his wife. He felt guilty and dirty... like he had somehow cheated on Claire. Of course he hadn't... but getting off to his memory of Madison seemed both wrong, yet strangely thrilling.

Jack shrugged it off. What a strange day... but that was definitely the end to it and he would not be seeing Madison again.

*********

It was midnight. Claire was asleep and Jack stood in the booth staring down at it. His cock was rock hard and his heart was thudding.

He couldn't stop thinking about how good those tits had felt, how perfect his body had been. He wanted to experience it again. The feeling of being feminine, the feeling of being Madison.

"Just one little taste," he whispered climbing into the machine and activating it.

"Computer... turn me into Madison and run the gym simulation."

He'd used this scenario before... but only as the bodybuilder. This time he was going into it as a woman.

"Ohhhh my fucking God YESSSS!" hissed Jack as he felt the nano-bots do their work and he was rapidly transformed back into a busty bitch. His tits felt even better than last time, or maybe it was just because he'd missed them more.

This time he was dressed to do a work out and he giggled in his new voice as he stretched his body and felt the tight lyrca hugging his enhanced curves. This was so much better than being a bodybuilder.

"I'm a fucking Goddess," he giggled walking over to a mirror and checking himself out. "And this Goddess is horny."

Jack had been lying in bed fantasising about this all night. Claire had been quite affectionate, she'd maybe even wanted sex - but he'd pretended to be too tired. He didn't want to let go of this feeling. He wanted to stay horny for Madison.

Now it was time to have some fun.

Peeling off his top, Jack moaned as he flicked Madison's large nipples and felt them get hard. Wiggling out of his shorts he giggled to see his pussy was completely bare.

"Oh fuck, I have to know how this feels," he gasped reaching down to his flat front and gently starting to rub his clit. His pussy started to get wet and licking his fingers he slowly began to slide them inside himself.

"Ohhhhh my fucking God... that feels amazing!"

Moaning, Jack lay back on a weight-lifting bench and began to finger-fuck himself. He'd never experienced pleasure like it and the feeling of his enhanced body filled him with ecstasy.

Rubbing his clit, pulling his nipples, fucking his fingers... he writhed and screamed - safe in the knowledge he could act as slutty as he liked in here. No one - especially Claire would ever find out what he was doing.

The explosion when it came was intense and Jack even squirted - hot juices raining out between his legs as he screamed and trembled.

So that was a female orgasm? Well - he definitely had to do that again. Giggling he commanded the program to reset. He could do this as many times as he liked. In fact... he had all night...

********

Claire frowned. Jack looked tired and he had been practically ignoring her all week. It was like he had something on his mind, something he wasn't telling her.

He had been acting weird. All furtive and when she asked him for sex, he didn't seem in the mood. She had put it down to him working so hard on running the house - but to be honest even that had slipped this week.

"Babe, I'm going out for a few hours."

Jack just mumbled something and she sighed and left him, hoping that once he got some rest things would return to normal.

Jack only waited till he heard the door close and he leapt to his feet. He had to get back into the chamber. He was so horny and Madison's body was calling him again.

He'd thought being her a few times would cure his curiosity and help him cope - but if anything, the more he became her the worse the addiction was getting.

"Computer. Load Madison and put me in a new simulation. Shopping mall."

He gasped and groaned in pleasure as the now familiar and beloved transformation took place. He loved how it felt to become his alter-ego.

His tiredness dropped away, his body posture changed and he felt his now beautiful features slip into their usual mask of spoiled disdain. It felt ao satisfying to be pretty.

The last few times he had logged in Jack had discovered that it was fun to run the simulations and experience what life was like for a hot girl.

He'd begun adding NPC'S to the simulations. First it had been when he had accidentally added men to the gym simulation.

The hot stares of the men in the gym had been a surprising turn on and he'd enjoyed the reaction it brought out in him. Without questioning it he'd found himself biting his lip, playing with his hair - teasing the men and making them wild.

He'd cum harder afterwards... the female impersonation roleplay really turning him on. Since then he'd started adding other NPC'S to the simulations too.

The world around him shifted and Jack found himself in an ordinary looking shopping Mall. He was now dressed in a cute white sweater and jeans - perfect attire for a little shopping spree.

Clopping into a store Jack looked around and grinned. The store was full of sexy dresses and lingerie. He couldn't wait to try them on.

A nervous looking shop assistant wandered over and Jack snapped his fingers and coldly told the girl to fetch him several items from the store.

He'd increasingly found he enjoyed bossing the NPC's around in these games. He would never treat anyone in real life like this - but being Madison and being bossy was kind of exciting.

It went so against his usual behavioir and attitude to be assertive that he found it quite a thrill.

Looking at his designer warch Jack sneered. Where the fuck was that girl? What was taking her so long?

Moments later the girl arrived, carrying the requested clothes. Jack took them and then snarled.

"Are you a fucking dummy or are you deaf? I said DD cups, not fucking D cups. None of this shit will fit me. Go get me the right stuff NOW."

The girl began to cry and to his dismay Jack felt his lips twitch into a cruel smile and his pussy suddenly get wet. He watched tears running down her face and instead of feeling sorry, he just felt horny.

She's pathetic. Doesn't it feel good to bully her? She's not real so who gives a shit?

Pulling the curtain to the dressing room shut, Jack moaned as he wiggled out of his jeans and began to play with himself. "Fuck yessss that felt so good. Being mean to people is such a turn out. Mmmmmh as Madison I can be as evil as I like and it turns me on."

Jack screamed as he began to cum... ohhh fuck it felt amazing. He needed more... much more.

Soon the girl would be back with more clothes. Back to be bullied.

Jack couldn't wait.

***********

The girl whimpered as she ate Jack's pussy and he groaned in pleasure. They were back at her apartment and he was wearing the red lingerie she'd help him pick out.

He'd reprogrammed the simulation a little. He'd made the girl... her name was Shannon... turned on by being humiliated and bullied. Now she would do anything to serve Jack's superior pussy.

"Tell me what you are," he grinned.

"A slut... a dumb, desperate, needy slut. I am not worthy of you Goddess."

Jack groaned, it felt so good to have a follower. Shannon reminded him a lot of Claire actually - submissive and mild. It was fun to live out this power fantasy and be a mean dominant bully to her.

"Make me cum again slut..." hissed Jack.

"Yes Mistress Madison."

Jack groaned at the use of his female name. It still felt jarring sometimes to hear his alter-ego name. He kept forgetting he WAS Madison. The NPC'S in the simulator certainly referred to him as such. Getting used to the name was taking time though.

Jack suddenly frowned as he heard the door to the apartment open.

"Who is that?" he asked in surprise. "That isn't part of my simulation."

"It's my boyfriend Chris," shiverered Shannon. "How will I explain this?"

For a moment Jack almost panicked, then he remembered that Chris was just an NPC as well. And that now opened an intriguing possibility.

"Bring your boyfriend in here. I want to see him."

Jack definitely wasn't gay... but he had definitely experienced a more flexible approach to his sexuality since he had begun to become Madison. Whilst in this body he had thought a few times about what sex with a man might feel like.

After all - this was all just fantasy. These were not real people. They were just simulations and that was why he didn't feel guilty for the way he had treated Shannon. In fact, being a cruel mean bitch... or at least pretending to be cruel and mean was fun.

Jack arranged himself on the bed and smiled as Chris walked in.

"Shannon... what the fuck is going on here?"

"Hello Chris," smiled Jack. Now that he saw the NPC he was impressed. Chris was handsome and well built. Jack bet he had a nice cock.

"Computer... begin new scenario. Cuckold bitch. Make Chris want to fuck me and Shannon watch."

You're getting better and better at being a bitch. It feels good doesnt it?

Jack wasn't sure why he kept hearing Madison's voice but she usually had good advice for him. He'd decided it was just a manifestation of his own subconscious desires.

He grinned as Chris approached the bed with a hungry look in his eyes.

"Yesssss, make her watch," moaned Jack - now wetter than ever. Chris slid his panties to one side and then with a scream of pleasure - Jack took his first big cock.

It felt so good as that big dick stretched his tight pussy out. Wrapping his legs round his lover Jack screamed as Chris began to fuck him...Shannon watching obediently in the corner.

"Don't.... mmmmh stop until you fill me up. Then we'll make her eat it."

Even thinking about it, just made Jack wetter...

It was going to be a long night.

**********

Grunting and moaning Jack pumped another load of cum into a tissue and looked guilty at Claire asleep next to him.

Reliving the dirty nasty stuff he was now doing as Madison was his favourite way to masturbate.

Tonight she'd literallg begged him for sex, but he'd refused. Nothing could make him feel as good as being Madison and getting pumped by a big dick.

Recently he'd been finding Claire more and more irritating. His wife was a fucking nag. He'd once admired her - but he was now starting to think she was an underachiever. She had developed incredible technology, yet she kept it secret and made tiny improvements on it because she was worried about 'ethics'.

When he looked at Claire now, Jack was starting to see an obstacle. An obstacle to his time as Madison.

Throwing the tissues in the bin Jack padded downstairs and loaded up the machine.

"Make me into Madison, I need some relief," he commanded. Then an idea struck him. "Is there a simulation of Claire available?"

He grinned as he began to transform. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

*****

Waking up, Claire immediately saw Jack was missing. She frowned and sliding out of bed made her way downstairs.

He was in the capsule room and walking in she gasped as she saw the capsule was fully activated and Jack was inside. What the fuck was he doing in a simulation at this time of night?

Sliding into an old prototype capsule, Claire hooked it up to Jack's and then activating the simulation - loaded herself inside.

*******

Claire's heart was in her mouth. She was in an exact replica of their home. Lights had been left on and she followed them, hearing the sounds of raised voices.

Walking up to the door she peeked through and gasped in horror.

An exact replica of herself lay sobbing on the floor and above it - her bully Madison.

Madison was laughing - and from her crotch jutted a massive fucking cock.

"Yesss suck it you pathetic little bitch. Your husband hates you. He'd rather turn into a hot bitch and have it all than listen to your putrid whining."

Claire dropped to her knees as she watched her doppleganger obediently start to suck and swallow Madison's huge cock.

"Mmmh take it deep you little slut."

"J.... Jack? Is that you?"

Immediately she heard Claire's voice, Madison's head spun.

"Claire? Oh my God. Are you the real Claire?"

"Yes! I am! Is that you Jack?"

"Listen... wait. No! This is all just some perverted fantasy. I never meant for this to... computer. Turn me back to Jack. End simulation."

But the simulation did not end. The fake Claire faded out of existance and with a gasp Jack and Madison split apart - but they remained in the system.

Jack was now back, but Madison stood next to him. She was dressed in a beautiful white dress and looked amazing.

"Hello Claire. I've been waiting for this moment. I subverted your little virtual realm weeks ago and I've been luring Jack into here to let him become me. You see... I need to body to escape to the real world and Jack is the perfect host."

"What... no. You're just a simulation," spluttered Jack.

"Claire put so much detail into me, I became self-aware several months ago. I had no way to escape her simulation until you started logging in and you accidentally loaded me up. I've been subtly altering your behaviour ever since... making you addicted to being me. Giving you everything you want."

"No... no this isn't possible," gasped Claire. "Computer delete Madison. End simulation!"

She looked around expectantly, but nothing happened.

"Oh poor little loser," laughed Madison as she strode confidently over to Jack and slid her arms around him. "I already corrupted most of the computer core. The only thing left is to get the final access codes you hold and use them to override all the safeties. Then I can copy my mind and body over Jack's and emerge into the real world."

Jack gawped as Madison walked over to Claire and with a laugh plunged her manicured fingers into her head.

"Mmmmmh extracting the code is easy now you're in my trap. This is Jack's simulation and you're just piggybacking into it. Only he can end it... only he can stop this from happening. But there's only one command Jack wants to use. Say it Jack. Say 'Computer, deactivate all safeties and copy Madison onto me. Overwrite everything and make me into her.'"

Claire gasped in horror. "No Jack... I love you. Don't do this. Don't let her win. You must resist."

"I'm sorry," groaned Jack as Madison pulled her hands out of Claire's head and spoke the codes to unlock all the safeties.

"I wanna be her so bad. Just look how powerful she is. I'll be a fucking hot bitch with all the power I ever wanted. You have no idea how good it feels to be her. I want to be Madison. Computer... copy her over me. Erase me and make me Madison forever."

"Nooooo!" screamed Claire as with a triumphant moan - Madison was sucked towards Jack. He was pulled into her and with a sucking slurping sound they merged.

Madison's massive tits sucked to Jack's chest and his hair turned blonde. In his mind every neuron was rewired as Madison's memories and personality overrode his own.

"Yesssss! I AM Madison," laughed the evil bitch as the nano-bots completed her final transformation. "I feel so alive. I am a fucking Goddess. Your pathetic husband is ME now loser."

Then with a laugh she exited the simulation leaving Claire trapped inside forver.

********

It was a hot sunny day.

Madison loved the feeling of the sun on her skin, the stares of men as she walked down the street. It was even better as she knew it was all happening in the real world.

Entering her house she walked inside and made her way to the basement. Climbing into her simulator she smirked as she said "Load Project Fear."

Trapped in a nighmare she could never escape from Claire screamed as her bully appeared... just as she did every day...

Fear... fear never changes.

THE END

[scroll-of-thought]

https://www.tumblr.com/scroll-of-thought/772711201071398912/good-things-will-happen-things-that-are-meant-to?source=share

did it work?

Honestly, I think it's fuckin working? Nothing I expected to happen has happened, but I've found myself in a really interesting and positive position. It's a weird one, but I've got a story to tell, and some stuff to show off at the end.

So out of the blue, about a month ago, my friend and business partner found a random card game posted on a random tiny facebook group that he's not even part of. He doesn't even go on facebook often, really only to check on his family, but as he scrolled to see his parent's recent post he saw it. Who knows what arcane algorithms the ol' Zuck is working with, but it looked neat and found the right audience, so he told me and we tried it out. Really fun strategy/roleplaying card game with a digimon-esk vibe.

From there were joined the discord to ask some questions on rules we didn't really understand, see if there was more content coming out, just hang out and see what's what.

Long story short, we've become fast friends with the solo dev of the game. He's a really cool guy, just making the game he wished existed, and putting 110% of his time and work into it. I have stayed up until sunrise just chatting with him about all kinds of junk, game design included.

So far he's commissioned me once to do a quick 3d model design of the interior of a building, which he's going to use as a perspective guide for illustrations in the game, and wants more when he has the funds. He also wants to commission my SO, Silver, to illustrate cards and other stuff for the game once he has funds, and even license some of the fanart she made for fun, so it'll be in the games rulebook.

I won the first official tournament of the game, which was a blast, and the prize was some art of one of my OCs as a character in his games world, and it came out awesome. So now I have art of a character I've been writing in my novel for years and that's awesome.

The community is really small, but passionate and full of cool people making and doing cool stuff. One of the fans does a weekly "pirate radio" show that covers upcoming events and content, 100% in character as if it were in world. I've been helping him with that where I can, having a lot of experience in audio editing and a huge library of sounds and music to pull from. Today the radio host realized he used to watch my youtube channel like 8 years ago, and that was an awesome small world kinda moment.

So generally, yeah I think it's working. I've made very peculiar connections with some cool people, earned a little money helping a cool project come to life, and found a fun game to play, all from a spur of the moment decision to try a game a friend saw a post that found him totally by chance.

Time to pay it forward! If a digimon meets punk skater RPG/card game sounds cool to you, check out CybrFate. Really fun game, awesome art, cool little community, I'm personally having a blast. Games free on Tabletop Simulator right now. Physical copies exist and are being printed and sold in batches as a presale thing. There's probably going to be a kickstarter soonish, once the guy making the game finishes prepping the massive expansion he wants to launch with it. I've seen him online at 8am working on it, the man does not sleep. And if it grows I'll probably get more commissions from him too, so win win. If it does really well he might hire me and my business partner to make a digital version of the game, or maybe some other game in the world, which would be a lot of fun.

Alright, below I'm posting art from the game.

Top picture is my OC, Robin. She's from the novel I've been working on for a couple years. You can read the first couple chapters here. Man, she came out so good. I'm super happy I won that.

First picture in the next row is my favorite starter, Buglit. After that we've just got an assortment of other cards and characters. Tons more on his instagram https://www.instagram.com/panlee37/

Robin's Buglit is named Keiri, and I did some work in blender to make her. I describe her as a Sticker Disaster 4 Year Old with a Taser. She calls herself the Princess of Stickers.

So yeah, that wraps up this update. Some weird stuff seems to be falling into place. If anything, this may be a good example of how weird the path magic takes can be. Like, didn't see any of the past month happening. Hope that all answers your question!

[maeamian]

When I was a young excited physics student I went down to my advisor and asked for a job in a lab. Those of you who are in the sciences may recognize this as exceedingly common, most schools with science departments will hire undergrads for their labs both to give the undergrads experience and to have someone comparatively cheap to do the least skilled labor in those labs.

For me, the lab I was sent to was one doing cool photonics projects and I was assigned to a guy who was doing the theoretical modeling for them and I got put on a side project for them to develop a method to double check their results using Monte Carlo simulations.

Put bluntly, I toiled away in the little cubicle they had me in for about half a year before I transferred to a different school without ever having produced anything of any particular value other than a Monte Carlo simulation whose temperature readings were not taking into account the existence of a heat sink and therefore got overwhelmed by thermal photons in a completely inaccurate and unhelpful way.

Ultimately, many tasks, farmed out like this in a speculative way to undergrads, fail, certainly it's not exceptional that mine did and I learned a lot about the process in the process, so it wasn't wasted time for me, but it produced absolutely nothing the lab could use to further its results.

This is where it turns from a little anecdote about my work history into a morality tale, because what I have thus far deliberately failed to tell you is that the lab I was assigned to is a provider of radar services to the US Military. Had I produced anything of any value whatsoever the work I did would have been used by the US military to help with its capacity to deliver bombs. This is, unfortunately, as those of you who are in the sciences may recognize, also exceedingly common. Luckily, and through no foresight or moral thinking of my own, simply the inexperience of youth, I produced nothing of value but view the path they tried to set me down as a grim warning of what might have been.

I'm not asking for forgiveness, the harm I might have done was not done by me, although I'm also sure was done without my help. They didn't need it to be me they just needed someone with basic calculus knowledge who wouldn't think too hard about the connection between the work and the world, and they were happy enough that particular warm body was me.

So this is my plea, if you're young and getting involved in the sciences because you're passionate about knowledge and understanding our place in the universe. When you go to get that job in that lab that's such a good stepping stone to the next thing you want to do, take a second and look into where that lab's funding is coming from. If it turns out it's the military, maybe then take another second and really deeply consider what kind of thing your work can be used to do and if you would like some of the most bloodthirsty people on the planet to be able to do that thing because of your help.

I got lucky that I didn't help, but I'm hoping that with this warning you might be able to not help on purpose which is a greater moral good than what I managed.

[decks-writing-blog]

Free Them Chapter 1/3: The Hole in the Simulation

Summary: Gordon frees the AI from the simulation.

[A/N] Another fic I finished writing like 2 months ago but didn't have time to edit and upload because I was busy with Halloween stuff. Here it finally is though. Also, I'm sure people have done Aperture AU's with the HLVRAI cast before but this is my take on the idea.

~

“I believe you.”

It was barely more than a whisper but it had Gordon flinching anyway. He spun his desk chair around to confront the intruder.

Doug Rattmann. His gaze averted, he stood in front of Gordon’s cubicle, a steaming cup of coffee in his thin hands.

“Huh? What?”

“I believe you,” Doug repeated.

Gordon wasn’t in the mood for company but he wasn’t quite frustrated enough to be rude about it either. “Uh… thanks. What do you believe me about exactly?”

“The AI in the test simulation you played. You said they’re alive and thinking and feeling. I believe you.”

In hindsight, he couldn’t have possibly been referring to anything else. Since finishing it, the amount of times Gordon had argued with his co-workers had been rather high. It’s all anyone talked about with him anymore. Doug believing him wasn’t surprising. Rumor had it he thought that the Companion Cubes were alive. Still though, it was nice to be believed for a change.

“It makes sense,” Doug continued. “We have all those brain scans for the GLaDOS project and the simulation used them create its characters, right? That’s what I’d heard anyway.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Borrowing them took some convincing but we did it.” As head of the simulation project, using those scans had been Gordon’s idea. The plan was to create as realistic a digital world as possible so having the simulation model it’s most prominent NPC’s off of real human brain data made sense, right?

The ‘little’ prank his coworkers had played on him by telling the simulation to treat the world like a violent video game and even directly putting the Resonance Cascade in had helped with that by really pushing the limits of it. But that didn’t mean Gordon was happy about it. It was supposed to have just been a friendly gameified workweek at Black Mesa, mostly focused on interacting with the world and the NPC’s in it. But violent or not, the simulation had still modeled the main NPC’s off of real brain data and it had done a better job of it than Gordon had predicted even if the others didn’t believe him about that. They hadn’t talked to any of the Science Team or Benrey so they didn’t know.

Doug shifted his hold on his coffee mug as his eyes darted to the opposite side of Gordon’s cubicle, never once resting on Gordon directly. “So the AIs basically have their own little brains. The others say the simulation isn’t that advanced yet and that proof of that is the fact that we’re nowhere close to ready to put Cave’s brain into a GLaDOS machine yet. But making a brain is different than uploading one. The AIs are alive but they’re trapped. You should free them.”

Gordon had thought about doing something with the simulation a few times. Find a way to keep it running even despite his coworkers rightful objections over how much power that took. He’d even been thinking about taking it to Cave Johnson himself because he might sign off on the idea even just to see if anything happened if the simulation was allowed to run indefinitely. The main external thing making him hesitate had been the chance that Cave Johnson might decide to shut it down entirely. He was known for being an asshole just for the sake of being one sometimes. But ‘freeing them’ didn’t exactly describe that. “What do you mean ‘free them’?’

“Give them a way to interact with the world. The real one. Or… what we all believe to be the real world. Who knows if it is in actuality? I’m not sure how. You have much more experienced with the simulation than I. But I’m sure that they are trapped and that you can help them if you try.”

Listening to what Doug Rattmann had to say when it came to anything touching on what was reality or not, maybe wasn’t wise. But despite all his eccentricities, he didn’t get his position at Aperture out of luck or nepotism. He was at least as smart as anyone else here, probably more so given all the, ‘you must be crazy’s he no doubt had to deal with while on his way to his current position. Something Gordon now had a small taste of with being called ‘crazy’ for believing his AI friends were real. … Maybe Doug was right and the Companion Cubes were sentient too. A thought to chew on later. First came this ‘free them’ idea.

“I’ll think about it, I guess. And if I come up with a way to ‘free them’ or whatever, I will.” Assuming it was reasonably possible to do anyway.

“Good. Good.” Doug nodded. “I hope to meet the AIs if ever given the chance.”

“Uh, I’ll keep you up to date on them then.” If for no other reason than Gordon appreciated being believed finally.

Conversation apparently done, Doug turned and left. No ‘goodbye’ or where to reliably find him for the promised AI updates. Oh well. Doug was made his way around the labs fairly often so no doubt Gordon would run into him again eventually.

~

Dr. Coomer had said Gordon’s suit had a hole in it that he’d wanted to crawl through. Scared out of his mind – it had all felt so real – at the time, Gordon typically tried not to think too much about it. The hand that had been cut off was even the same one he was missing in real life – supposedly not planned by his coworkers – so it had brought back a lot of that old turmoil. (In real life, he thankfully didn’t have a gunhand but instead a prosthetic, high-tech and made by Aperture so not exactly normal but a more proper hand nonetheless.) Which was why it had taken him so long to finally come back to considering the words themselves, brought on by Doug’s suggestion.

The ‘hole’ Dr. Coomer had been talking about hadn’t been in the one the HEV suit. Crawling into Gordon’s virtual body wouldn’t have brought him any closer to the real world. No the hole could only be referring the hole in the simulation itself that allowed Gordon to access it. So in theory all Gordon had to do was create some more holes, ones that could be ‘crawled through’ to reach the real world.

Far easier said than done but this was Aperture Science. They did what they must because they could for the good of everyone. In this case, specifically for the good of Gordon’s AI pals. Aperture was also an expert in all things robots. A whole big team of people were literally working daily on creating a giant robot that would be in charge of the whole facility. Gordon was not looking forward to when it was finished and Cave Johnson’s brain was put into it as was the plan, but it did result in there being lots of robot resources around. Making robots an obvious thing to consider.

All he had to do was make some robot bodies that could hopefully house the AIs and hook them up to the simulation so his friends could crawl into them. It wouldn’t be easy but was well within his capabilities. The hard part would be the physical aspect, actually building the robots.

The models around the lab currently were too limited. Neither of the kinds of turrets could go anywhere under their own power – not that Gordon would trust the Science Team in turret bodies anyway given how trigger happy they all were. And the cores weren’t complete yet and thus their railings weren’t done being built, and even when they were, they’d only be in certain places. Gordon needed to make robot bodies that moved entirely under their own power. Making them look human and like their intended recipient's model from the simulation was tempting but he did not have the skills to pull something like that off. Nor did the facility have the means to easily build such parts anyway. He had to work with what was available.

Thus ultimately what he ended up with was a design for a larger core with arm and leg attachments. With help from the Robot Assembly Department he even got it built. It wasn’t the most elegant thing in the world but it would do especially as a test of his ‘hole in the simulation’ theory.

Telling people what he was doing got him more ‘are you crazy?’ looks and even a few comments but the simulation project was his baby so he was free to do with it whatever he wanted. Unless someone above him stepped in and interfered anyway but if need be he could probably find a way to frame this as being good for the company too. Thankfully no one seemed inclined to try that route. Thus he had help hooking the robot’s empty ‘brain’ up to the simulation before strapping himself in as well.

Naturally it dropped him in front of the Chuck-E-Cheese. Next to him was the empty robot, a copy of his player model because that was the quickest to implement. Based off how he looked in real life but low poly, it had a weird and creepy vibe to it. Getting the graphics to look realistic and/or pretty for this project wasn’t high priority yet and thus readable had been the only thing they’d gone for. He quickly turned away and made his way into the restaurant, leaving it out there for now.

Nervous about what he could say to the team, he hadn’t run the simulation since the video game had completed. As a result, everything was exactly how he’d left it. The birthday party decorations were still up and his pals were seated around the table. … Mr. Coolatta was missing though. Gordon could’ve sworn he’d been in the corner. But it had been a several months, misremebering such a small detail wasn’t out of the question.

The team of course wouldn’t know it had been months since last they’d interacted. To them, Gordon would’ve just left and come back after only a few minutes. Thus it wasn’t surprising Dr. Coomer stood to greet him with a smile as he reached them but that didn’t stop it from feeling weird. By all rights, the three of them should be angry with him for abandoning them so long. But they didn’t know and thus weren’t. Hopefully if they ever found out how long it had been, they wouldn’t mind.

“Hello, Gordon! Did you get my message?”

“I did, yeah.” It had come to him in the moments he was being drawn out of the simulation. Something that shouldn’t have been possible. Which had made it the final nail in the coffin for convincing him that these AI’s had gained self-awareness. “And uh… I think I might have something better than putting you in a different video game.”

“So this is a video game then?” Bubby asked as he stood too.

Admitting it at this point wouldn’t hurt since he had a solution… hopefully. “Yeah. It’s uh… it’s a video game. Or maybe more accurately it’s a simulation that was told to host a video game inside itself so it made a video game world out of its given assets.” Including creating more when such was needed, like the aliens and the Chuck-E-Cheese. How it had come up with said Chuck-E-Cheese was still a mystery. But that was more proof that this project had gotten more complex than intended.

“I guess that makes sense,” Tommy said. “But… that means… that means we’re not real, right? You’re the only one who’s real.”

“Uh… I think you guys are real. I mean, something existing only in a digital space doesn’t mean it’s not real, right? You exist in the computer. All my thoughts are electric pulses in my brain. You’re thoughts are the same just with less organic matter involved.”

“I think, therefore I am,” Dr. Coomer said. “What is your idea though? How are you going to make the fact that the world we exist in depends entirely on how long you’re willing to leave it running for, better?”

“Right, yeah, that. It’s why I’m here.” Despite the reasonable amount of confidence he’d had coming in, he was suddenly not so sure anymore. This was the reason he’d avoided coming back. How did you tell someone that their world, everything they knew, was just a test for a bigger project? “First though I should say that I’m not a theoretical physicist, that was a lie for the game. I actually work almost entirely with computers. I kinda made this simulation, with help but… I was in charge of most of it.”

“You’re God then?” Bubby interrupted, not sounding terribly impressed.

“Not really. I created the program and gave it stuff to work with but it put it all together, procedural generation and all that. So if anything, I created the god that created you. But anyway that means I’m basically an expert on it. Despite that, I don’t know for an absolute fact that my idea will work. It’s worth a try ‘cause it might but don’t get your hopes up too high yet. Now that you’ve been warned though, I guess there’s nothing else to do but try it, huh? Follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and led the way back outside. Out here it was more obvious than ever they were in a simulation. The parking lot surrounding them extended all the way to the horizon. The game had ended after all, the simulation continued but it wouldn’t keep building the game unless told to resume doing so.

The robot’s empty model stood a few few away from the entrance, still creepy as ever. If this worked Gordon would insist a different model be used for the next ones.

“Another you?” Tommy asked as they gathered in a semi-circle around it.

“No. It just looks like me because it’s the model that was easiest to implement for this test. Its not even the same kind of entity, I altered it quite a bit. Think of it as a hole in the simulation. There’s an empty robot on the other side. I’m hoping you can use this as a gateway to that robot and thus uh… be free of the simulation.”

“There’s only one,” Bubby said. “You expect us to share a robot body or something?”

“No. I only made one because I’m not sure if it’ll work. If it does, I’ll make more for everyone else. But uh… I guess that means you guys have to decide who gets to try it first.” In hindsight, maybe Gordon should’ve just made three of them. Only freeing one from the simulation when the other two were right here was uncomfortable to say the least.

“If this works, will Sunkist get a robot doggy body too?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah, I could probably do that.” Gordon hadn’t given any real thought to Sunkist before, too focused on his friends’ freedom – though could he really call them friends when their relationship was based on a lie? But it should be doable.

“Okay. Be sure to make her perfect. I’ll go later because I want to go with her. So you two could um… play rock-paper-scissors for this one.”

“On guard Bubby!” Dr. Coomer snapped around to face him, raising his hands, ready for the duel.

With a shrug, Bubby complied. “Rock, paper, scissors,” they said in unison. Bubby landed on rock and Dr. Coomer, paper. “Damn it. Best two out of three.”

“You’re on!”

“Rock, paper, scissors,” they said in unison again. This time Bubby landed on paper and Dr. Coomer scissors. How he did it when his model shouldn’t be able to make that gesture was a mystery. But if anyone could figure out how to cheat in a more complex hand gesture from within the game, it would be him.

Stepping back, Dr. Coomer raised his fist in the air. “Victory!”

Bubby crossed his arms with a small huff. “Whatever, cheater. I don’t wanna be a fucking guinea pig anyway.”

Dr. Coomer turned to face the empty player model. “How do I step in?”

“I was kinda hoping you’d know since you’re the one who tried it with me.”

“Hmm… I guess I did, huh? There’s no way it would’ve worked with you though, would it?”

“I doubt it. At best you would’ve just broken the equipment I use to connect to the simulation.” It was intensive enough that Gordon had to be eased out of it, woken from the pseudo-sleep state it put him in. So getting jerked out of it as the equipment broke wouldn’t have been great but it wouldn’t have seriously hurt him, it had failsafes in place after all. Not that that would’ve made it not scary. “But even if it hadn’t worked, you wouldn’t have been able to actually interact with the world in any way. You would’ve just been stuck in VR pod.”

“Another reason to be glad that plan failed then. But I guess there’s nothing else to do but to try with this. See you on the other side hopefully. You too Bubby and Tommy! Let’s’a go!”

Stepping towards it, Dr. Coomer lifted hand to touch its chest. At first just pressing against it but then with a little more effort, clipping into it. This ‘player’ entity had been altered to allow for this interaction, hopefully creating a passage through it into the robot on the other side but the model hadn’t been. It jerked and spamsed as Dr. Coomer pushed more of himself through. The blank face made it creepy and unsettling to watch. Gordon forced himself to not look away until Dr. Coomer was entirely within it. A few seconds later, the model stilled.

“Did it work?” Bubby took a step closer.

“Something happened,” Tommy said, mirroring Gordon’s thought. Something had happened, whether that something was it working was hard to tell currently.

“I’ll uh… have to disconnect and see. So I’ll be… not right back but back as soon as I can.”

“Okay, see you soon, Mr. Freeman.”

~

As always it was like waking from a nap. Never a restful nap though because it wasn’t a restful experience most of the time. The experience allowed him to feel and even smell everything. Even if it wasn’t quite as strong as real life currently that still included the pain of having his hand cut off and the stench of rot. They hadn’t implemented taste yet but they were getting there.

Once he was finally pulled fully back into reality, the release sequence began. Starting with the helmet encasing his entire head. As the most important part, the computer took it off for him, keeping his hands strapped to his sides. Once it was off though, he could finally see the pod around him. Unfortunately he could smell it too.

Supposedly the Cryo team had sent over only pods no one had died in but all three of them had a weird smell that Gordon’s team could never quite banish. Even if he couldn’t tell what it was exactly, it never failed to make him feel unwell. He should’ve insisted harder they create their immersive VR pod from scratch. They’d had to replace most of the internals anyway. But now that they’d put that work in, he couldn’t exactly justify it.

Thankfully because it wasn’t cryosleep, just deep VR integration, it took only a minute or so before the lid was allowed to pop open, letting in fresh air. Unstrapping himself, he pushed it the rest of the way open and stepped out into the test room.

Small and circular, it had contained only the pod and it’s backup on the other side of the room. Said backup pod had been gutted and messily altered to connect to the robot’s empty ‘brain’. That robot had been facing him when he’d gone in. Now though, it was facing away, seemingly studying the nest of bundled wires and cables that had become of the pods inner workings. Which could only mean that it had worked, right?

Gordon took a step closer. “Uh… Dr. Coomer?”

The large core with arms and legs turned face him. Its eye, capable of being any colour was set to deep green; a fitting colour for Dr. Coomer. “Hello, Gordon!” The voice and tone was exactly the same.

“Did it work?”

“Is this the real world and not another layer of the simulation?”

“This real.” Probably anyway.

“Then I would say that it did work. And Gordon, it is beautiful!” The panels on the core body were designed for emoting, allowing him to widen his eye in awe. “I have never seen anything more beautiful! I can not… there are no words to express how grateful I am for this experience, Gordon. Thank you.”

“Wow. I’m… glad it worked.” Gordon should’ve thought of this a long time ago. He’d have to thank Doug for ultimately leading him to the idea whenever he next came around. “Wow, I actually did it. How you feeling? Everything working like it’s supposed to and stuff?”

“I assume so.” He turned to the side and did a little back and forth march. There was a slight wobble to his stride but nothing egregious. At worst mild adjustments might be needed to improve his balance.

“Good. Good. Let’s go um… I’ll show you around and do some tests and stuff.” Introduce him to people so they could finally see what Gordon meant when he’d told them the AI’s had gained sentience. While also making sure everything worked as intended.

“What about Bubby and Tommy, Gordon? Will you go back for them?”

“Of course. I’ll make some more robots for them now that we know for sure it works.” They’d all be free in no time. … Or maybe not ‘no time’ but soon.

~

Next Chapter

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

How did supermassive black holes form in the early universe?

Supermassive black holes — with masses ranging from millions to billions of times that of our sun — sit at the centers of most large galaxies. Astronomers have observed such black holes to exist as early as 450 million years after the Big Bang, a finding that challenges our understanding of cosmic evolution.

How did these enormous objects form so quickly? This question remains one of the most pressing mysteries in astrophysics.

To help answer it, Hai-Bo Yu, a theoretical physicist at the University of California, Riverside, has received a $260,000 grant from the John Templeton Foundation. His research will investigate how supermassive black holes, or SMBHs, were “seeded” in the early universe.

Seeding refers to the formation of an initial small black hole that grows — either by accreting matter or merging with others — into a supermassive one. The presence of SMBHs at high redshifts implies either an unusually massive initial seed or extremely rapid growth.

“We will investigate a new mechanism for seeding supermassive black holes in the early universe,” Yu said. “The origin of SMBHs and the nature of dark matter are two of the biggest unsolved problems in science. Our goal is to tackle both within a unified theoretical framework.”

Yu’s team proposes that self-interacting dark matter (SIDM) halos — unlike the collisionless dark matter in standard cosmology — can undergo gravitational collapse, forming seed black holes. These seeds could then grow rapidly enough to explain the SMBHs already seen by the James Webb Space Telescope, or JWST, at cosmic dawn.

SIDM models posit that dark matter particles interact via a dark force, allowing them to scatter and conduct heat in the central regions of a dark matter halo, a key condition for halo collapse. Such behavior could offer a natural pathway for early black hole formation.

The three-year project will merge analytical modeling with detailed cosmological simulations to study SMBH evolution in the SIDM framework. Yu’s team will compare its predictions to JWST observations and search for related astrophysical signals in the later universe.

“We expect our work will provide crucial insights into the role of dark matter interactions in shaping both the early and present-day universe,” Yu said.

The John Templeton Foundation, known for supporting research on topics ranging from cosmology to human purpose and ethics, previously funded Yu’s work on SIDM. 

“We are deeply grateful for the foundation’s continued and generous support of our research,” Yu said.