#how to become AI Engineer

[opal-owl-flight]

Screams and explodes Nintendo PLEASE Im already working on a rewritten rotm and you show us the concept art for SO is also wilder than the finished product.......god...it couldve been GOOD

[phantomrose96]

If anyone wants to know why every tech company in the world right now is clamoring for AI like drowned rats scrabbling to board a ship, I decided to make a post to explain what's happening.

(Disclaimer to start: I'm a software engineer who's been employed full time since 2018. I am not a historian nor an overconfident Youtube essayist, so this post is my working knowledge of what I see around me and the logical bridges between pieces.)

Okay anyway. The explanation starts further back than what's going on now. I'm gonna start with the year 2000. The Dot Com Bubble just spectacularly burst. The model of "we get the users first, we learn how to profit off them later" went out in a no-money-having bang (remember this, it will be relevant later). A lot of money was lost. A lot of people ended up out of a job. A lot of startup companies went under. Investors left with a sour taste in their mouth and, in general, investment in the internet stayed pretty cooled for that decade. This was, in my opinion, very good for the internet as it was an era not suffocating under the grip of mega-corporation oligarchs and was, instead, filled with Club Penguin and I Can Haz Cheezburger websites.

Then around the 2010-2012 years, a few things happened. Interest rates got low, and then lower. Facebook got huge. The iPhone took off. And suddenly there was a huge new potential market of internet users and phone-havers, and the cheap money was available to start backing new tech startup companies trying to hop on this opportunity. Companies like Uber, Netflix, and Amazon either started in this time, or hit their ramp-up in these years by shifting focus to the internet and apps.

Now, every start-up tech company dreaming of being the next big thing has one thing in common: they need to start off by getting themselves massively in debt. Because before you can turn a profit you need to first spend money on employees and spend money on equipment and spend money on data centers and spend money on advertising and spend money on scale and and and

But also, everyone wants to be on the ship for The Next Big Thing that takes off to the moon.

So there is a mutual interest between new tech companies, and venture capitalists who are willing to invest $$$ into said new tech companies. Because if the venture capitalists can identify a prize pig and get in early, that money could come back to them 100-fold or 1,000-fold. In fact it hardly matters if they invest in 10 or 20 total bust projects along the way to find that unicorn.

But also, becoming profitable takes time. And that might mean being in debt for a long long time before that rocket ship takes off to make everyone onboard a gazzilionaire.

But luckily, for tech startup bros and venture capitalists, being in debt in the 2010's was cheap, and it only got cheaper between 2010 and 2020. If people could secure loans for ~3% or 4% annual interest, well then a $100,000 loan only really costs $3,000 of interest a year to keep afloat. And if inflation is higher than that or at least similar, you're still beating the system.

So from 2010 through early 2022, times were good for tech companies. Startups could take off with massive growth, showing massive potential for something, and venture capitalists would throw infinite money at them in the hopes of pegging just one winner who will take off. And supporting the struggling investments or the long-haulers remained pretty cheap to keep funding.

You hear constantly about "Such and such app has 10-bazillion users gained over the last 10 years and has never once been profitable", yet the thing keeps chugging along because the investors backing it aren't stressed about the immediate future, and are still banking on that "eventually" when it learns how to really monetize its users and turn that profit.

The pandemic in 2020 took a magnifying-glass-in-the-sun effect to this, as EVERYTHING was forcibly turned online which pumped a ton of money and workers into tech investment. Simultaneously, money got really REALLY cheap, bottoming out with historic lows for interest rates.

Then the tide changed with the massive inflation that struck late 2021. Because this all-gas no-brakes state of things was also contributing to off-the-rails inflation (along with your standard-fare greedflation and price gouging, given the extremely convenient excuses of pandemic hardships and supply chain issues). The federal reserve whipped out interest rate hikes to try to curb this huge inflation, which is like a fire extinguisher dousing and suffocating your really-cool, actively-on-fire party where everyone else is burning but you're in the pool. And then they did this more, and then more. And the financial climate followed suit. And suddenly money was not cheap anymore, and new loans became expensive, because loans that used to compound at 2% a year are now compounding at 7 or 8% which, in the language of compounding, is a HUGE difference. A $100,000 loan at a 2% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, accrues to $121,899. A $100,000 loan at an 8% interest rate, if not repaid a single cent in 10 years, more than doubles to $215,892.

Now it is scary and risky to throw money at "could eventually be profitable" tech companies. Now investors are watching companies burn through their current funding and, when the companies come back asking for more, investors are tightening their coin purses instead. The bill is coming due. The free money is drying up and companies are under compounding pressure to produce a profit for their waiting investors who are now done waiting.

You get enshittification. You get quality going down and price going up. You get "now that you're a captive audience here, we're forcing ads or we're forcing subscriptions on you." Don't get me wrong, the plan was ALWAYS to monetize the users. It's just that it's come earlier than expected, with way more feet-to-the-fire than these companies were expecting. ESPECIALLY with Wall Street as the other factor in funding (public) companies, where Wall Street exhibits roughly the same temperament as a baby screaming crying upset that it's soiled its own diaper (maybe that's too mean a comparison to babies), and now companies are being put through the wringer for anything LESS than infinite growth that Wall Street demands of them.

Internal to the tech industry, you get MASSIVE wide-spread layoffs. You get an industry that used to be easy to land multiple job offers shriveling up and leaving recent graduates in a desperately awful situation where no company is hiring and the market is flooded with laid-off workers trying to get back on their feet.

Because those coin-purse-clutching investors DO love virtue-signaling efforts from companies that say "See! We're not being frivolous with your money! We only spend on the essentials." And this is true even for MASSIVE, PROFITABLE companies, because those companies' value is based on the Rich Person Feeling Graph (their stock) rather than the literal profit money. A company making a genuine gazillion dollars a year still tears through layoffs and freezes hiring and removes the free batteries from the printer room (totally not speaking from experience, surely) because the investors LOVE when you cut costs and take away employee perks. The "beer on tap, ping pong table in the common area" era of tech is drying up. And we're still unionless.

Never mind that last part.

And then in early 2023, AI (more specifically, Chat-GPT which is OpenAI's Large Language Model creation) tears its way into the tech scene with a meteor's amount of momentum. Here's Microsoft's prize pig, which it invested heavily in and is galivanting around the pig-show with, to the desperate jealousy and rapture of every other tech company and investor wishing it had that pig. And for the first time since the interest rate hikes, investors have dollar signs in their eyes, both venture capital and Wall Street alike. They're willing to restart the hose of money (even with the new risk) because this feels big enough for them to take the risk.

Now all these companies, who were in varying stages of sweating as their bill came due, or wringing their hands as their stock prices tanked, see a single glorious gold-plated rocket up out of here, the likes of which haven't been seen since the free money days. It's their ticket to buy time, and buy investors, and say "see THIS is what will wring money forth, finally, we promise, just let us show you."

To be clear, AI is NOT profitable yet. It's a money-sink. Perhaps a money-black-hole. But everyone in the space is so wowed by it that there is a wide-spread and powerful conviction that it will become profitable and earn its keep. (Let's be real, half of that profit "potential" is the promise of automating away jobs of pesky employees who peskily cost money.) It's a tech-space industrial revolution that will automate away skilled jobs, and getting in on the ground floor is the absolute best thing you can do to get your pie slice's worth.

It's the thing that will win investors back. It's the thing that will get the investment money coming in again (or, get it second-hand if the company can be the PROVIDER of something needed for AI, which other companies with venture-back will pay handsomely for). It's the thing companies are terrified of missing out on, lest it leave them utterly irrelevant in a future where not having AI-integration is like not having a mobile phone app for your company or not having a website.

So I guess to reiterate on my earlier point:

Drowned rats. Swimming to the one ship in sight.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

what’s the story about the generative power model and water consumption? /gen

There's this myth going around about generative AI consuming truly ridiculous amount of power and water. You'll see people say shit like "generating one image is like just pouring a whole cup of water out into the Sahara!" and bullshit like that, and it's just... not true. The actual truth is that supercomputers, which do a lot of stuff, use a lot of power, and at one point someone released an estimate of how much power some supercomputers were using and people went "oh, that supercomputer must only do AI! All generative AI uses this much power!" and then just... made shit up re: how making an image sucks up a huge chunk of the power grid or something. Which makes no sense because I'm given to understand that many of these models can run on your home computer. (I don't use them so I don't know the details, but I'm told by users that you can download them and generate images locally.) Using these models uses far less power than, say, online gaming. Or using Tumblr. But nobody ever talks about how evil those things are because of their power generation. I wonder why.

To be clear, I don't like generative AI. I'm sure it's got uses in research and stuff but on the consumer side, every effect I've seen of it is bad. Its implementation in products that I use has always made those products worse. The books it writes and flood the market with are incoherent nonsense at best and dangerous at worst (let's not forget that mushroom foraging guide). It's turned the usability of search engines from "rapidly declining, but still usable if you can get past the ads" into "almost one hundred per cent useless now, actually not worth the effort to de-bullshittify your search results", especially if you're looking for images. It's a tool for doing bullshit that people were already doing much easier and faster, thus massively increasing the amount of bullshit. The only consumer-useful uses I've seen of it as a consumer are niche art projects, usually projects that explore the limits of the tool itself like that one poetry book or the Infinite Art Machine; overall I'd say its impact at the Casual Random Person (me) level has been overwhelmingly negative. Also, the fact that so much AI turns out to be underpaid people in a warehouse in some country with no minimum wage and terrible labour protections is... not great. And the fact that it's often used as an excuse to try to find ways to underpay professionals ("you don't have to write it, just clean up what the AI came up with!") is also not great.

But there are real labour and product quality concerns with generative AI, and there's hysterical bullshit. And the whole "AI is magically destroying the planet via climate change but my four hour twitch streaming sesh isn't" thing is hysterical bullshit. The instant I see somebody make this stupid claim I put them in the same mental bucket as somebody complaining about AI not being "real art" -- a hatemobber hopping on the hype train of a new thing to hate and feel like an enlightened activist about when they haven't bothered to learn a fucking thing about the issue. And I just count my blessings that they fell in with this group instead of becoming a flat earther or something.

[blogchaindeveloper]

How Prompt Engineering Works?

Understanding the intricacies of massive AI models is an art. Even technical experts can find themselves baffled by the unexpected capabilities of large language models (LLMs), the core elements of AI chatbots such as ChatGPT. Therefore, it's no wonder that prompt engineering has emerged as the most trending profession in the field of generative AI, with some organisations offering enticing salaries of up to ₹3,50,00,000 to entice top-tier candidates. In this article, we'll explore what prompt engineering is, how to become a prompt engineer, why it's important, and how it operates.

Understanding Prompt Engineering

Prompt engineering involves the creation of clear and informative questions or instructions that help users obtain desired outputs from AI models. These prompts serve as specific inputs that shape language models' behaviour and text generation. By carefully constructing prompts, users can influence and control the output of AI models, making them more useful and dependable.

The History of Prompt Engineering

While prompt engineering might not have a long history, its roots can be traced back to early NLP research and the development of AI language models. Let's take a brief journey through its evolution:

Pre-transformer Era (Before 2017)

Before the advent of transformer-based models like OpenAI's GPT (Generative Pre-trained Transformer), prompt engineering wasn't a common practice. Earlier models, such as recurrent neural networks (RNNs) and convolutional neural networks (CNNs), lacked contextual knowledge and adaptability, limiting the potential for prompt engineering.

Pre-training and the Emergence of Transformers (2017)

The introduction of transformers, especially through Vaswani et al.'s "Attention Is All You Need" paper in 2017, revolutionised NLP. Transformers enabled large-scale pre-training of language models, teaching them how to represent words and sentences in context. However, prompt engineering remained a relatively unexplored technique during this period.

Fine-tuning and the Rise of GPT (2018)

A significant turning point for prompt engineering came with the introducing of OpenAI's GPT models. These models demonstrated the effectiveness of pre-training and fine-tuning for specific tasks. Researchers and practitioners began to use prompt engineering techniques to guide the behaviour and output of GPT models for various purposes.

Advancements in Prompt Engineering Techniques (2018–Present)

As the understanding of prompt engineering deepened, researchers started experimenting with different strategies. This included crafting prompts with rich context, using rule-based templates, integrating system or user instructions, and exploring techniques like prefix tuning. The aim was to enhance control, mitigate biases, and improve the overall performance of language models.

Community Contributions and Exploration (2018–Present)

Prompt engineering gained popularity among NLP experts, leading to the exchange of ideas, best practices, and lessons learned among academics and programmers. Online discussion boards, academic publications, and open-source libraries played a vital role in advancing prompt engineering methods.

Ongoing Research and Future Directions (Present and Beyond)

Prompt engineering remains an active area of research and development. Researchers are continuously exploring ways to make prompt engineering more effective, interpretable, and user-friendly. Techniques like rule-based rewards, reward models, and human-in-the-loop approaches are being investigated to refine prompt engineering strategies.

The Significance of Prompt Engineering

Prompt engineering is crucial for improving the usability and interpretability of AI systems. It offers several benefits:

Improved Control

By providing clear instructions through prompts, users can steer language models to generate desired responses. This level of control ensures that AI certification models deliver results in line with predefined standards or requirements.

Reducing Bias in AI Systems

Prompt engineering serves as a tool to mitigate bias in AI systems. Carefully crafted prompts can help identify and reduce biases in generated text, resulting in fairer and more equitable outcomes.

Modifying Model Behavior

Prompt engineering allows for the customization of language models to exhibit specific behaviours. This empowers AI systems to excel in particular tasks or domains, enhancing their accuracy and reliability in specific use cases.

How Prompt Engineering Works

Prompt engineering follows a systematic process to create effective prompts. Here are the key steps:

1. Specify the Task

Clearly define the specific goal or objective you want the language model to accomplish. This can encompass any NLP task, such as text completion, translation, or summarization.

2. Identify Inputs and Outputs

Define the required inputs for the language model and the desired outputs you expect from the system.

3. Create Informative Prompts

Craft prompts that convey the expected behaviour to the model. These questions should be concise, clear, and tailored to the purpose. Discovering the most effective prompts may require some trial and error and fine-tuning.

4. Iterate and Evaluate

Test the created prompts by inputting them into the language model and assessing the results. Analyse the outcomes, identify any shortcomings, and adjust the instructions to enhance performance.

5. Calibration and Fine-tuning

Take into account the findings from the evaluation when calibrating and fine-tuning the prompts. This process involves making minor adjustments to achieve the desired model behaviour, ensuring it aligns with the intended task and requirements.

Empowering Minds: The Significance of AI Prompt Engineer Courses

In the evolving landscape of AI and generative technologies, the role of an AI prompt engineer has gained immense significance. As AI models like ChatGPT continue to shape our digital interactions, prompt engineers play a crucial role in understanding and directing these powerful models. To become an adept prompt engineer, one can opt for a prompt engineer course, a structured program that imparts the essential skills and knowledge required to master this field. Attaining a prompt engineer certification or AI certification not only validates one's expertise but also opens doors to lucrative career opportunities. In a world where the demand for skilled prompt engineers is on the rise, these courses provide the foundation for individuals to harness the potential of AI and contribute to the ever-expanding realm of generative AI.

In conclusion, prompt engineering is an evolving and impactful technique in NLP. It empowers users to have greater control over AI systems, reduce biases, and customize model behaviour for various applications. With ongoing research and collaboration within the NLP community, prompt engineering continues to shape the future of AI, making it more accessible, reliable, and equitable. For those seeking AI and prompt engineering certifications, Blockchain Council is at the forefront, bridging the gap between aspiring professionals and the exciting world of AI prompt engineering. Blockchain Council, renowned for its expertise in blockchain technology, extends its commitment to empowering individuals in the world of AI prompt engineering. As a group of subject experts and enthusiasts, the Blockchain Council has a proven track record of providing authoritative courses and certifications in emerging technologies. With the growing importance of AI prompt engineering, Blockchain Council's courses and certifications equip learners with the essential skills and knowledge required to excel in this field.

[heron-knight]

decided to crack open my skull and pour the contents of my brain onto the keyboard. thought the denizens of tumblr might enjoy it. bon appetite

Mech Pilot Care guide

You never expect it, do you. Even as you see the flashes of pulse-decay fire in the sky, illuminating a scene of violence on the cosmic scale. Planetary defense satellites forming Monolithic structures in the sky, their purpose now revealed as they scatter constellations of destruction across the night horizon, drowning out the stars and replacing them with ones born of death. The oxygen in a ship catching fire and burning away in an instant, a flash of light that marks the death of its crew of hundreds. Even if you take your telescope to watch this spectacle, this war in a place without screams, you still feel profoundly disconnected from it.

Even as you see a pilot cleave through a drone hive with a fusion blade, the molten metal glistening in the light of the explosions around it, scattering without gravity to the corners of the universe, even as two mechs dance across the sky, their reactors pouring into the engines enough energy to power the house atop which you sit for ten thousand years, flying in a 3.5 dimensional dance with only one word to the song that can reach across the vacuum: “I Will Kill You.” you don’t feel even the slightest glimpse of what goes on inside their minds. You don’t feel the neurological feedback tearing across the brain-computer interface, filling her mind with more simultaneous pain and elation that an unmodified human could ever experience. You don’t feel it as the pneumatic lance punctures through steel and nanocarbon polymer, the mech AI sending floods of a sensation you could never truly know through the skull and into every corner of the body carried on enhanced nerves for every layer of armor punctured, tearing into the enemy chassis with a desire beyond anything the flesh can provide. Let the stars kill each other. After all, I am safe on earth. No, you don’t expect it when the star is hit with a sub-relativistic projectile, piercing through both engines in an instant. You don’t expect it to fall. You never would have expected it to land, the impact nearly vaporizing the soil and setting trees aflame, on the hill beyond your house, and you would never have expected, beneath the layers of cooling slag, for the life-support indicator light to still be visible.

All the fire extinguishers in your house, your old plasma cutter that you haven’t used in years, and whatever medical supplies you think they might still be able to benefit from. All that on a hoverbike, speeding at 120 kilometers per hour through the valley and up onto the hill, still illuminated by the battle above, unsurprisingly unchanged by this new development. 200 meters. 100 meters. You don’t know how much time you’ve got. It wasn’t exactly covered in school, how long a pilot can survive in an overheating frame. You’ve heard rumors, of course, of what these things that used to be human have become. That they don’t eat and barely need air. That they don’t feel any desire beyond what instructions are pumped directly into their brains. Not so much of a person as much as an attack dog. It’s understandably a bit concerning, as if they are alive, then it’s not guaranteed that you will be. Three fire extinguishers later, the surface of the mech is mostly solid, and the cutter slices through the exterior plating. With a satisfying crunch, the cockpit is forced open, revealing the pilot, and confirming a few of the rumors, while refuting others. Pilots, it seems, are not quite emotionless. In fact, there seems to be genuine fear on its face when it sees you, followed by… a sort of grim certainty as it opens its mouth, moves its jaw into a strange position, and you only have half a second to react before it would have bitten down with all its force on the tooth that seemed to be made of a different material then all the rest.

Your thumb is definitely bleeding, and is caught between a metamaterial-based dental implant, and one containing a military-grade neurotoxin. You’re not sure exactly why you did it. The pilot looks at you for a second, before the tubes that attach to its arms like puppet strings run out of stimulants, and it passes out after who knows how long without sleep. This battle has been going on for weeks already. Has it been fighting that long? Its various frame-tethered implants disconnect easily, the unconscious pilot draped over your shoulder twitching slightly with each one you remove. It’s a much longer ride back to the house. Avoiding having the pilot fall off the bike is the top priority, and the injured thumb stings in the fast-moving air. 

An internet search doesn’t lead to many helpful sources to the question of “there is a mech pilot on my couch, what do I do?” a few articles about how easy targets retired pilots are for the “doll sellers,” a few military recruitment ads, and a couple near-incomprehensible legal documents full of words like “proprietary technology” or “instant termination.” However, there is one link, a few rows down from the top-- “Mech Pilot Care Guide.” It’s a detailed list, arranged in numbered steps. The website has no other links on it, just the step-by-step instructions: a quick read reveals that this isn’t going to be easy, but looking at the unconscious pilot, unabsorbed chemicals dripping from the ports in its arms and head onto the mildly bloodstained towel, you come to the conclusion that there’s no other option.

Step one: the first 24 hours.

The first thing you should know is that pilots aren’t used to sleeping. They’re used to being put under for transport and storage, but after the neural augmentations and years of week-long battles sustained by stimulants that would fry the brain of anyone that still has an intact one, they’ve more or less forgotten what real sleep is. If they see you asleep, they’ll think you’re dead, so don’t try to let them stay in your room yet. Once you’ve removed the neurotoxin from the tooth (it breaks easily with a bit of applied pressure, but be careful not to let any fall into their mouth or onto your skin.), start by moving them into a chair (preferably a recliner or gaming chair, as the mech seat is about halfway in between), and putting a heavy blanket over them. Don’t worry, they don’t need as much air as normal humans do, and can handle high temperatures up to a point. This is an environment similar to the one they’re used to. It’ll stay like this for about 12 hours-- barely breathing, trembling slightly underneath the blanket. Feel free to check if it’s alive every few hours, not that you could help it if it wasn’t. It won’t freak out when it wakes up. In fact, it doesn’t seem like they can. Turn down the lights and remove the blanket from its face. It’ll stare blankly at you, trying to evaluate the situation with a brain that’s not connected to a computer that’s bigger than they are anymore. Coming to terms, if you could call it that, with the fact that it isn’t dead. Don’t expect it to start reacting to things for a while yet, give it a couple hours. 

It’s been a bit, and its eyes are starting to focus on you. The next thing you should know is this: pilots only have two groups into which they can categorize non-pilots: handler and enemy. You need to work on making sure you’re in the right one. Move slowly, standing up and walking toward them, making sure they can see where you’re going to step. Place both hands on their shoulders, then slide one under their arm and carefully pick them up. Don’t be startled by how light they are, or how they still shake slightly as they realize their arms don’t have anything connected to them. Most importantly, don’t break. Don’t reflect on how something can be done to a person so that this is all that’s left. Just focus on rotating them as if you’re inspecting all the brain-computer interface ports, while holding them at half an arm’s length. Set them back down, wrap the blanket around them, then lean in close and say “status report.” they won’t say anything, as they usually upload the data via interface, but what’s important is that now they recognise you as their handler. Their entire mind will be focused on the fact that they exist now to do what you want. Now it’s up to you to prove them wrong.

Step two: the first week.

They’re shaking so hard that you’ve had to move them from the chair back to the couch, sweating heavily as they pant like the dog they’ve been trained to think they are. This was to be expected, really. Pilots are constantly being filled with a mix of stimulants, painkillers, and who knows what else, and you’ve just cut them off completely. You’ve woken up several times in the night and rushed to check if they’re still breathing, debating whether you should try to tell them that they’re going to be okay. The guide says they’re not ready for that yet, whatever that means. They’re still wearing the suit you found them in, made from nanofiber mesh and apparently recycling nutrients and water before re-infusing them intravenously. It’s been three days since you tore them out of the lump of metal atop the hill outside. Long enough that the suit’s battery, apparently, has run out. You lift them gently from the couch and carry them to the bathroom. The shower’s been on for the past hour or so, meaning the temperature should be high enough. You set them on their chair, which you’ve rolled there from the living room and covered with a towel. Removing the suit normally isn’t done except in between missions, and it’s only done to exchange it for a new one. Without the proper tools, you’ve opted for a pair of scissors. Cutting through the suit takes a bit of time, but you manage to cut a sizable line from the neck down to the front to the bottom of the torso. The pilot recoils slightly from the cold metal against their skin, but you manage to peel off the suit without incident, The Temperature of which was roughly the same as the steam filling the room, and you’ve done your best to minimize air currents. They’ve got a bit more shape to them than you expected of someone who’s been so heavily modified. Perhaps what little fat storage it provides helps on longer missions, or perhaps this is for the purposes of marketing. Just another recruitment ad that appeals to baser instincts. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Using a cloth with the least noticeable texture possible, you wash off as much sweat and dead skin as you can, avoiding the various interface and IV ports, as you’re not yet sure that they’re waterproof. Embarrassment is the enemy of efficiency, so you’re slightly glad that their eyes never completely focus on you. They shift their weight slightly, however. Despite the difficulty moving with their current symptoms, they lean in the direction opposite the places you wash once you're done, allowing you to more easily access the places you haven’t got to yet. An act of trust that you have a suspicion they weren't “programmed” to do.  As they dry out, you prepare for the difficult part. You take the blanket that previously wrapped around their suit, and gently touch a corner of it to their shoulder. Pilots are used to an amount of sensory  information that would overload any normal human in an instant, but most rarely experience textures against their skin. After about half an hour, they’re used to it enough that you’re able to replace what’s left of the suit with it, and after another you’re able to wrap them in it again. You carry them back to the couch, and place a few of your old shirts next to their hand. They pick one and touch it with one finger before recoiling slightly. Eventually, they’ll be used to at least one of them enough that they can wear it. It’s slow progress, but it’s progress.

Step 3: food

It goes without saying that it’s usually been at least a year since they’ve eaten anything. The augmentations scooped out much of their knowledge on how to survive as a human, assuming that they would die before ever needing to be one again. Start them off with just flavors. Give them a chance to pick favorites by giving them a wide selection and firmly telling them to try all of them. Avoid anything solid for the first month or so, both because they can’t digest it and because they associate chewing with their self-destruct mechanism. Trying to and surviving might make them think the “mission’s fully compromised” and attempt to improvise. They’ll typically pick out favorites quickly with their enhanced senses, so once they’ve sampled everything, tell them to pick one. Remember it, not in order to use it as a reward or anything, but them still being able to have a “favorite” anything is something you should keep in mind for later. 

Use a similar method anytime they become able to handle the next level of solidity. Don’t be alarmed if one of their favorite foods is the meat that’s most similar to humans (such as pork.) they’re not going to eat you, they just will have already formed an association between that flavor and the moment they went from being a weapon to living in your house. Don’t worry about your thumb getting infected, by the way. Pilots barely have a microbiome.

Step 4: entertainment:

Roll them over to your computer and give them access to your game library. No, really. They need enrichment, and there’s only one activity that they’re able to enjoy at the moment. A simulation of it will make the shift from weapon to guest easier. Start them off with an FPS with a story. Don’t go multiplayer, as your account may get banned for being suspected of using aimbots. Watch as they progress the story. The military left pilots with just enough of a personality to allow them to improvise, and that should be enough for them to make decisions on this level. They won’t do much character customization, but keep an eye on which starting character body shape they pick. No pilot would consciously think they have enough of a “Self” to still have a gender, but keep track of the ones they pick in the games. As for the one you’ve found, it appears that she’s got a player-character preference. You even saw her nudge one of the appearance sliders before clicking “start game.” Whether this means that a pilot doesn’t think of themselves as “it” or that it means there’s still enough of their mind left for them to know there’s more to themselves than the body they have, it’s a handy bit of information to know. Some pilots might have had this decision influenced by their handlers having referred to them as “she” in the way it refers to boats, but still, on some level they always know that “it” meant that they’re a weapon. 

Step 6: outside:

There’s a profound difference between experiencing the world through information fed directly into your brain and standing up for the first time, wandering around the room and investigating with hands not made of a half-ton of metal. She’s not used to feeling the air on her skin as she stands in front of the window, visual data coming from two eyes instead of seven cameras. It’ll take a while to get used to it again. New old data, reminiscent of a time before she’s been trained not to remember. It’ll take a while until she’s walking like a human and not a mech, as the muscles used are different, and the ones to hold herself upright haven’t been used in a while. She’s going to fall down at least once. Be sure you’re standing next to her when it happens, as pilots that fall aren’t trained to think they can get back up. It’s worth it, though, when she opens the door herself and strides into the yard, still wobbly but standing. Be careful not to let her look into the sun, partially because it looks nearly identical to the barrel of a pulse-decay blaster milliseconds before it fires. She would get hurt trying to dodge it. It will be somewhat confusing for her, standing on a hill as she once did, but not contained within a 12-meter metal chassis. A feeling of being small and alone without the voices of the computer. This means it’s time for step seven.

Step 7: 

All this time, and any idea that she’s still a person has, for her, been subconscious. Any thought of humanity is stopped when it slams into the wall of her handlers and mech AIs reminding her for years before now that she is a weapon. She’ll still ask for your permission before doing just about anything, and that’s just the rare times that she’ll do something you don’t tell her to. Even after you’ve moved her into your room, she’ll still try to sleep on the floor. She still thinks that beds are only for humans. Kneel next to her as she curls into a ball on the ground, assuming that’s what she’s supposed to do. Expect her to try to move down to the foot of the bed after you set her down on it. Gently move her back up until her head’s on the pillow. Sit on the edge of the bed, and hold out your hand to her. After a bit, she’ll take it, wrapping both hands around it and tracing her fingers along the scar on your thumb. Lie down next to her, an arm’s length apart. Place your other hand on her forearm, then slide it up her arm to her shoulder. Don’t move too quickly, and don’t surprise her. Whisper softly but audibly every movement you’re going to make in advance. Move in a bit closer, until you’re wrapped in her arms. Mech pilots aren’t used to this. They aren't used to feeling someone next to them. Not above them, but next to them, getting exactly as much out of this as they are. Even after several months, many won’t admit they deserve it. You wouldn’t waste time lying next to a gun. So why do they feel so strongly that they don’t want you to leave? Why do they hold on tighter? They often feel they’re doing something wrong. Overstepping a boundary. There’s a rift between what they want and what they’re told they can want that nearly tears their mind in half, and it hurts. No normal human will ever know how much it hurts them to think they’ve broken some instruction, that they feel things they aren’t allowed to. Nobody said it was easy, learning how to become human again. Tell her it’s okay. That she’s allowed to feel this way. She still won’t know why. It’s time to tell her. The guide can’t tell you what to say, only that you have to say it. It has to come from you. You have to be the one that tells her what she is underneath all the modifications. It’s time, say it.

“Do you feel that? Do you feel your heart start to beat faster as it presses up against mine? Do you feel your own breath against your skin after it reflects off my shoulder? Do you feel your muscles start to tighten as I slide my hand across them, then relax because you know it means that you are safe? It’s because you’re alive. Because despite everything, you’re still alive. Still someone left after all the changes, all the augmentations. And I know you’re someone because you are someone that likes food a bit spicier than most would prefer. Someone that closes her eyes and gets lost in music whenever it’s playing. Someone that added that one piece of customization to her character, even though they would wear a helmet for most of the game and nobody would know it was there but you. Maybe you aren’t the same person you were before. Maybe they did take some things from you that nothing can give back. But you’re still someone. Someone that people can still care about, and I know because I do.”

You can feel her tears drip down onto your neck as she pulls you closer. She tries to say something, but you can’t understand what. You tell her it’s okay. That it’s not easy, and that she doesn’t have to pretend that it is. Not for you, and not for anyone anymore. She doesn’t have to be useful anymore. No need to keep it together. All that matters is that she’s alive. 

There’s another battle going on in the night sky outside. The same flashes of light you saw the night you stopped living alone, even if the other person couldn’t admit that they were one yet. She still flinches at the brighter bursts of pulse-decay fire, still stretches out her hand on reflex to prime a pneumatic lance that isn’t there. But she knows it’s not her, it’s just a ghost of the weapon that died when it hit the ground. You can feel her relax as she realizes this, moving her hand back to dry her face before reaching out towards yours. You hadn’t noticed the tears on your own face. You place your hand on hers as she wipes the corner of your eye. Outside and above, the war continues on a cosmic scale, so far apart from where you both are now that you barely notice it. Let the stars kill each other. After all, the one before you has already fallen, and she doesn’t have to return to the sky. Together, you are safe on earth. 

[yenhan]

"Yeah, no. STEM kinda sucks"

Thoughts on TF141 & International student neighbor

Part One - Next - Masterlist

a/n: f!reader

Synopsis: daddy issues & 141 to the rescue.

You and your father did not argue. That was the problem. The silence festered until it cracked, and when it did, it was always you left picking through the wreckage, burned, and bruised, wondering if he even noticed the blast. He was not the kind of man who yelled. He did not raise his voice. He raised expectations, dropped the ones you could not meet, and filed the rest into neat rows of disappointment.

“You’re studying what?”

You froze mid-bite of a week-old croissant you had been too cheap to throw out. The winter wind was seeping through the single-glazed window as your father’s words echoed in your ears like gunshots. Loud. Too much to manage.

“Teaching English as a Foreign Language,” you clutched your phone like it might bite you.

He laughed.

You thought you had won the Oscar for the best comedic performance, as if it was just another of the dumb knock-knock jokes you used to say as a kid. “You mean to tell me you moved to England, spent months pretending to care about mathematics, and you are studying to become an underpaid language teacher? You do realize AI’s going to eat that job alive, right? May as well get a head start and make your life more pathetic.”

“Mmh,” you mumbled, your voice curled in on itself for protection. It was always like that with him. You never slammed doors or snapped back. The thing you did most was shout silently and punch in the air once you had locked yourself in your bedroom. You absorbed everything like a sponge until you were soaked through with all the sharp jabs he never considered cruel.

“You are already fluent. Why waste a degree on it? I thought you were doing something real. STEM. Science. You said you were interested in biomedical engineering!”

“I was interested—”

“That’s not a real degree,” he snapped. “What are you going to do, teach English to toddlers? I did not raise you to be a failure.”

You hung up before you started crying.

He was bound to find out you had changed faculty at some point. You hoped the day would ever come. The thousands of kilometers separating you from your dad did nothing to lessen the pain.

—

That was how you ended up at their door again. You, red-eyed, wearing a hoodie three sizes too big (it might have been Simon’s).

The door swung open. Ghost. How lucky, being greeted by a monument to stoicism. He just looked at you, then down at your hands. “…They cold?” he asked.

“What?”

“Your hands.”

You blinked. “…Yeah.”

He stepped aside. “I will put the kettle on.”

—

You did not cry until you were in the living room, sitting on the floor between the sofa and John’s armchair, knees to your chest like the child you had spent years pretending you weren’t.

Johnny found you first. “Jesus, hen…”

“Don’t. Please don’t make jokes. I cannot laugh right now.”

He sat down across from you and peeled a clementine, feeding you a slice once he was done. “Was it yer family?”

Your face crumpled in the most humiliating way imaginable. “Dad thinks I’m wasting my life.”

“Because yer not doin’ what he wanted?”

“Because I am not doing what he would be proud of. And the worst part is… I kinda get it. He spent everything to get me here. I told him I would do something that would make it worth it. Something practical. Something—” You sniffled.

“Respectable?”

You nodded. “And now I am… studying how to teach vowel sounds to ten-year-olds who will not remember my name in five years. I am not curing cancer. I am not building satellites. I got a half-empty fridge and a 77% average grade in phonology.”

A second later, a warm mug was pressed into your hand.

“Then he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about,” Gaz sat beside Johnny, cross-legged like this was a team debriefing and your heartbreak was the mission report.

You stared down at the tea. Earl Grey. Extra milk. You did not like milk tea, but who cared at this point. “He is my dad.”

Ghost appeared out of nowhere. “Yer job isn’t to be his trophy.”

“I’m not anyone’s trophy.”

“Exactly.”

“You know,” Price’s voice came from behind the couch, “I had a mate in the military who learned Urdu so he could help train local interpreters. Saved more lives than the medics did.”

You looked up. The captain was holding a folded dish towel and a glass of that tragic ale he always kept nearby. “You want to teach people how to communicate? How to understand each other? Do you think that is not useful? Christ, love. That is the most important job there is.”

“But it is not enough,” you whispered. “Not to him. He wanted me to be successful. Someone he could brag about at family functions.”

Soap clicked his tongue. “I’d brag about ye.”

You rolled your eyes. “You brag about that mohawk.”

“Aye, because it’s incredible. Point is, yer smart. Ye’ve made it halfway 'cross the bloody world and survived eight months wi’ us next door. That’s gotta count fer somethin’, eh?” He grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Kyle intervened then. “Let me put it this way. You speak like, what? Three languages?”

“Four,” you corrected him.

He hummed. “That’s hot.”

“Sergeant,” Ghost growled.

“What? It is! My man can barely count to twenty without help,” he said, jabbing a thumb at Johnny, who launched a spice jar at his head in return.

“Picked a path that’s yours,” Ghost rumbled. “That takes more guts than anyone gives it credit for.”

“And you’ll be wonderful at it,” John added.

—

Later, you found a sticky note left on the threshold of your apartment. In black sharpie, Johnny had written:

“REAL DEGREES INCLUDE:

ANT 🐜 (Advanced Napping Techniques)

How to Look Like a Dad - Double Degree in mutton chops

Passive-aggressive Sighs

GSS (Ghost’s Stalking Skills)

TEFL = solid. Ah’d’ve majored in it meself if Ah hadnae been busy diffusin’ bombs in ma twenties.

Love,

Yer emotionally available Scottish neighbor 🧼”

You stuck it on your laptop.

Shitty day, this is purely self-indulgent. Sorry for whoever is in stem.

[bi-writes]

whats wrong with ai?? genuinely curious <3

okay let's break it down. i'm an engineer, so i'm going to come at you from a perspective that may be different than someone else's.

i don't hate ai in every aspect. in theory, there are a lot of instances where, in fact, ai can help us do things a lot better without. here's a few examples:

ai detecting cancer

ai sorting recycling

some practical housekeeping that gemini (google ai) can do

all of the above examples are ways in which ai works with humans to do things in parallel with us. it's not overstepping--it's sorting, using pixels at a micro-level to detect abnormalities that we as humans can not, fixing a list. these are all really small, helpful ways that ai can work with us.

everything else about ai works against us. in general, ai is a huge consumer of natural resources. every prompt that you put into character.ai, chatgpt? this wastes water + energy. it's not free. a machine somewhere in the world has to swallow your prompt, call on a model to feed data into it and process more data, and then has to generate an answer for you all in a relatively short amount of time.

that is crazy expensive. someone is paying for that, and if it isn't you with your own money, it's the strain on the power grid, the water that cools the computers, the A/C that cools the data centers. and you aren't the only person using ai. chatgpt alone gets millions of users every single day, with probably thousands of prompts per second, so multiply your personal consumption by millions, and you can start to see how the picture is becoming overwhelming.

that is energy consumption alone. we haven't even talked about how problematic ai is ethically. there is currently no regulation in the united states about how ai should be developed, deployed, or used.

what does this mean for you?

it means that anything you post online is subject to data mining by an ai model (because why would they need to ask if there's no laws to stop them? wtf does it matter what it means to you to some idiot software engineer in the back room of an office making 3x your salary?). oh, that little fic you posted to wattpad that got a lot of attention? well now it's being used to teach ai how to write. oh, that sketch you made using adobe that you want to sell? adobe didn't tell you that anything you save to the cloud is now subject to being used for their ai models, so now your art is being replicated to generate ai images in photoshop, without crediting you (they have since said they don't do this...but privacy policies were never made to be human-readable, and i can't imagine they are the only company to sneakily try this). oh, your apartment just installed a new system that will use facial recognition to let their residents inside? oh, they didn't train their model with anyone but white people, so now all the black people living in that apartment building can't get into their homes. oh, you want to apply for a new job? the ai model that scans resumes learned from historical data that more men work that role than women (so the model basically thinks men are better than women), so now your resume is getting thrown out because you're a woman.

ai learns from data. and data is flawed. data is human. and as humans, we are racist, homophobic, misogynistic, transphobic, divided. so the ai models we train will learn from this. ai learns from people's creative works--their personal and artistic property. and now it's scrambling them all up to spit out generated images and written works that no one would ever want to read (because it's no longer a labor of love), and they're using that to make money. they're profiting off of people, and there's no one to stop them. they're also using generated images as marketing tools, to trick idiots on facebook, to make it so hard to be media literate that we have to question every single thing we see because now we don't know what's real and what's not.

the problem with ai is that it's doing more harm than good. and we as a society aren't doing our due diligence to understand the unintended consequences of it all. we aren't angry enough. we're too scared of stifling innovation that we're letting it regulate itself (aka letting companies decide), which has never been a good idea. we see it do one cool thing, and somehow that makes up for all the rest of the bullshit?

[ecrivainsolitaire]

A summary of the Chinese AI situation, for the uninitiated.

These are scores on different tests that are designed to see how accurate a Large Language Model is in different areas of knowledge. As you know, OpenAI is partners with Microsoft, so these are the scores for ChatGPT and Copilot. DeepSeek is the Chinese model that got released a week ago. The rest are open source models, which means everyone is free to use them as they please, including the average Tumblr user. You can run them from the servers of the companies that made them for a subscription, or you can download them to install locally on your own computer. However, the computer requirements so far are so high that only a few people currently have the machines at home required to run it.

Yes, this is why AI uses so much electricity. As with any technology, the early models are highly inefficient. Think how a Ford T needed a long chimney to get rid of a ton of black smoke, which was unused petrol. Over the next hundred years combustion engines have become much more efficient, but they still waste a lot of energy, which is why we need to move towards renewable electricity and sustainable battery technology. But that's a topic for another day.

As you can see from the scores, are around the same accuracy. These tests are in constant evolution as well: as soon as they start becoming obsolete, new ones are released to adjust for a more complicated benchmark. The new models are trained using different machine learning techniques, and in theory, the goal is to make them faster and more efficient so they can operate with less power, much like modern cars use way less energy and produce far less pollution than the Ford T.

However, computing power requirements kept scaling up, so you're either tied to the subscription or forced to pay for a latest gen PC, which is why NVIDIA, AMD, Intel and all the other chip companies were investing hard on much more powerful GPUs and NPUs. For now all we need to know about those is that they're expensive, use a lot of electricity, and are required to operate the bots at superhuman speed (literally, all those clickbait posts about how AI was secretly 150 Indian men in a trenchcoat were nonsense).

Because the chip companies have been working hard on making big, bulky, powerful chips with massive fans that are up to the task, their stock value was skyrocketing, and because of that, everyone started to use AI as a marketing trend. See, marketing people are not smart, and they don't understand computers. Furthermore, marketing people think you're stupid, and because of their biased frame of reference, they think you're two snores short of brain-dead. The entire point of their existence is to turn tall tales into capital. So they don't know or care about what AI is or what it's useful for. They just saw Number Go Up for the AI companies and decided "AI is a magic cow we can milk forever". Sometimes it's not even AI, they just use old software and rebrand it, much like convection ovens became air fryers.

Well, now we're up to date. So what did DepSeek release that did a 9/11 on NVIDIA stock prices and popped the AI bubble?

Oh, I would not want to be an OpenAI investor right now either. A token is basically one Unicode character (it's more complicated than that but you can google that on your own time). That cost means you could input the entire works of Stephen King for under a dollar. Yes, including electricity costs. DeepSeek has jumped from a Ford T to a Subaru in terms of pollution and water use.

The issue here is not only input cost, though; all that data needs to be available live, in the RAM; this is why you need powerful, expensive chips in order to-

Holy shit.

I'm not going to detail all the numbers but I'm going to focus on the chip required: an RTX 3090. This is a gaming GPU that came out as the top of the line, the stuff South Korean LoL players buy…

Or they did, in September 2020. We're currently two generations ahead, on the RTX 5090.

What this is telling all those people who just sold their high-end gaming rig to be able to afford a machine that can run the latest ChatGPT locally, is that the person who bought it from them can run something basically just as powerful on their old one.

Which means that all those GPUs and NPUs that are being made, and all those deals Microsoft signed to have control of the AI market, have just lost a lot of their pulling power.

Well, I mean, the ChatGPT subscription is 20 bucks a month, surely the Chinese are charging a fortune for-

Oh. So it's free for everyone and you can use it or modify it however you want, no subscription, no unpayable electric bill, no handing Microsoft all of your private data, you can just run it on a relatively inexpensive PC. You could probably even run it on a phone in a couple years.

Oh, if only China had massive phone manufacturers that have a foot in the market everywhere except the US because the president had a tantrum eight years ago.

So… yeah, China just destabilised the global economy with a torrent file.

[comicaurora]

With how difficult it's become for some people to use Google to find information for research, papers, and just general learning over the past year or so due to AI generated content and fluff posts being pushed to the top of searches what are some ways you're able to avoid this while researching online? (I.E. browser extensions, keywords, alternative search engines)

set the google search terms to "before 2020" and you'll filter out basically 100% of the AI-generated misinformation fluff. you'll still have to sift through the organic home-grown misinformation though

[e5e5e5e5e5]

I don't know if I'm specifically anti-AI.

But, like, if we are gunna invent the credit stealing machine before we learn to properly credit artists:

Maybe intellectual property can die?

Oh, wait, Facebook has been stealing all our content and profiting off of it for decades.

And Facebook started as a hot or not website for creepy students.

Why aren't we on the same side?

[probablyasocialecologist]

The premature unleashing of AI and large language models (LLMs) in particular onto the open Internet is already having dire consequences for what were, for years, considered stabilized, centralized (if flawed) systems, such as the search engine. AI, thanks to the scope of its spread, its rogue unreliability (it lies — often), the way it poisons search results, hijacks SEO, and is increasingly being used for disinformation and fraud, is reintroducing a fundamental and destabilizing distrust back into the Internet. Once more, I can no longer trust the results Google provides me. On a daily basis I have to ask myself increasingly familiar questions: Is this first result a legitimate news source? Is this image of a protest real? Is that picture of a Kandinsky painting really his or is an AI forgery of his work? Across the board, it’s becoming increasingly hard to tell. For me and countless others, what used to be rote Internet usage has now turned into a nightmarish amount of wasted time spent discerning what is and isn’t real. As far as I, the ordinary user, am concerned, AI is evolving not into a life-changing and labor-saving technology as was promised by its capitalist overlords, but rather into a form of malware that targets, whether unwittingly or not, critical Internet infrastructure.

1 October 2024

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Google is (still) losing the spam wars to zombie news-brands

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT (May 3) in CALGARY, then TOMORROW (May 4) in VANCOUVER, then onto Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!

Even Google admits – grudgingly – that it is losing the spam wars. The explosive proliferation of botshit has supercharged the sleazy "search engine optimization" business, such that results to common queries are 50% Google ads to spam sites, and 50% links to spam sites that tricked Google into a high rank (without paying for an ad):

https://developers.google.com/search/blog/2024/03/core-update-spam-policies#site-reputation

It's nice that Google has finally stopped gaslighting the rest of us with claims that its search was still the same bedrock utility that so many of us relied upon as a key piece of internet infrastructure. This not only feels wildly wrong, it is empirically, provably false:

https://downloads.webis.de/publications/papers/bevendorff_2024a.pdf

Not only that, but we know why Google search sucks. Memos released as part of the DOJ's antitrust case against Google reveal that the company deliberately chose to worsen search quality to increase the number of queries you'd have to make (and the number of ads you'd have to see) to find a decent result:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

Google's antitrust case turns on the idea that the company bought its way to dominance, spending the some of the billions it extracted from advertisers and publishers to buy the default position on every platform, so that no one ever tried another search engine, which meant that no one would invest in another search engine, either.

Google's tacit defense is that its monopoly billions only incidentally fund these kind of anticompetitive deals. Mostly, Google says, it uses its billions to build the greatest search engine, ad platform, mobile OS, etc that the public could dream of. Only a company as big as Google (says Google) can afford to fund the R&D and security to keep its platform useful for the rest of us.

That's the "monopolistic bargain" – let the monopolist become a dictator, and they will be a benevolent dictator. Shriven of "wasteful competition," the monopolist can split their profits with the public by funding public goods and the public interest.

Google has clearly reneged on that bargain. A company experiencing the dramatic security failures and declining quality should be pouring everything it has to righting the ship. Instead, Google repeatedly blew tens of billions of dollars on stock buybacks while doing mass layoffs:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Those layoffs have now reached the company's "core" teams, even as its core services continue to decay:

https://qz.com/google-is-laying-off-hundreds-as-it-moves-core-jobs-abr-1851449528

(Google's antitrust trial was shrouded in secrecy, thanks to the judge's deference to the company's insistence on confidentiality. The case is moving along though, and warrants your continued attention:)

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/the-2-trillion-secret-trial-against

Google wormed its way into so many corners of our lives that its enshittification keeps erupting in odd places, like ordering takeout food:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

Back in February, Housefresh – a rigorous review site for home air purifiers – published a viral, damning account of how Google had allowed itself to be overrun by spammers who purport to provide reviews of air purifiers, but who do little to no testing and often employ AI chatbots to write automated garbage:

https://housefresh.com/david-vs-digital-goliaths/

In the months since, Housefresh's Gisele Navarro has continued to fight for the survival of her high-quality air purifier review site, and has received many tips from insiders at the spam-farms and Google, all of which she recounts in a followup essay:

https://housefresh.com/how-google-decimated-housefresh/

One of the worst offenders in spam wars is Dotdash Meredith, a content-farm that "publishes" multiple websites that recycle parts of each others' content in order to climb to the top search slots for lucrative product review spots, which can be monetized via affiliate links.

A Dotdash Meredith insider told Navarro that the company uses a tactic called "keyword swarming" to push high-quality independent sites off the top of Google and replace them with its own garbage reviews. When Dotdash Meredith finds an independent site that occupies the top results for a lucrative Google result, they "swarm a smaller site’s foothold on one or two articles by essentially publishing 10 articles [on the topic] and beefing up [Dotdash Meredith sites’] authority."

Dotdash Meredith has keyword swarmed a large number of topics. from air purifiers to slow cookers to posture correctors for back-pain:

https://housefresh.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/keyword-swarming-dotdash.jpg

The company isn't shy about this. Its own shareholder communications boast about it. What's more, it has competition.

Take Forbes, an actual news-site, which has a whole shadow-empire of web-pages reviewing products for puppies, dogs, kittens and cats, all of which link to high affiliate-fee-generating pet insurance products. These reviews are not good, but they are treasured by Google's algorithm, which views them as a part of Forbes's legitimate news-publishing operation and lets them draft on Forbes's authority.

This side-hustle for Forbes comes at a cost for the rest of us, though. The reviewers who actually put in the hard work to figure out which pet products are worth your money (and which ones are bad, defective or dangerous) are crowded off the front page of Google and eventually disappear, leaving behind nothing but semi-automated SEO garbage from Forbes:

https://twitter.com/ichbinGisele/status/1642481590524583936

There's a name for this: "site reputation abuse." That's when a site perverts its current – or past – practice of publishing high-quality materials to trick Google into giving the site a high ranking. Think of how Deadspin's private equity grifter owners turned it into a site full of casino affiliate spam:

https://www.404media.co/who-owns-deadspin-now-lineup-publishing/

The same thing happened to the venerable Money magazine:

https://moneygroup.pr/

Money is one of the many sites whose air purifier reviews Google gives preference to, despite the fact that they do no testing. According to Google, Money is also a reliable source of information on reprogramming your garage-door opener, buying a paint-sprayer, etc:

https://money.com/best-paint-sprayer/

All of this is made ten million times worse by AI, which can spray out superficially plausible botshit in superhuman quantities, letting spammers produce thousands of variations on their shitty reviews, flooding the zone with bullshit in classic Steve Bannon style:

https://escapecollective.com/commerce-content-is-breaking-product-reviews/

As Gizmodo, Sports Illustrated and USA Today have learned the hard way, AI can't write factual news pieces. But it can pump out bullshit written for the express purpose of drafting on the good work human journalists have done and tricking Google – the search engine 90% of us rely on – into upranking bullshit at the expense of high-quality information.

A variety of AI service bureaux have popped up to provide AI botshit as a service to news brands. While Navarro doesn't say so, I'm willing to bet that for news bosses, outsourcing your botshit scams to a third party is considered an excellent way of avoiding your journalists' wrath. The biggest botshit-as-a-service company is ASR Group (which also uses the alias Advon Commerce).

Advon claims that its botshit is, in fact, written by humans. But Advon's employees' Linkedin profiles tell a different story, boasting of their mastery of AI tools in the industrial-scale production of botshit:

https://housefresh.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/Advon-AI-LinkedIn.jpg

Now, none of this is particularly sophisticated. It doesn't take much discernment to spot when a site is engaged in "site reputation abuse." Presumably, the 12,000 googlers the company fired last year could have been employed to check the top review keyword results manually every couple of days and permaban any site caught cheating this way.

Instead, Google is has announced a change in policy: starting May 5, the company will downrank any site caught engaged in site reputation abuse. However, the company takes a very narrow view of site reputation abuse, limiting punishments to sites that employ third parties to generate or uprank their botshit. Companies that produce their botshit in-house are seemingly not covered by this policy.

As Navarro writes, some sites – like Forbes – have prepared for May 5 by blocking their botshit sections from Google's crawler. This can't be their permanent strategy, though – either they'll have to kill the section or bring it in-house to comply with Google's rules. Bringing things in house isn't that hard: US News and World Report is advertising for an SEO editor who will publish 70-80 posts per month, doubtless each one a masterpiece of high-quality, carefully researched material of great value to Google's users:

https://twitter.com/dannyashton/status/1777408051357585425

As Navarro points out, Google is palpably reluctant to target the largest, best-funded spammers. Its March 2024 update kicked many garbage AI sites out of the index – but only small bottom-feeders, not large, once-respected publications that have been colonized by private equity spam-farmers.

All of this comes at a price, and it's only incidentally paid by legitimate sites like Housefresh. The real price is borne by all of us, who are funneled by the 90%-market-share search engine into "review" sites that push low quality, high-price products. Housefresh's top budget air purifier costs $79. That's hundreds of dollars cheaper than the "budget" pick at other sites, who largely perform no original research.

Google search has a problem. AI botshit is dominating Google's search results, and it's not just in product reviews. Searches for infrastructure code samples are dominated by botshit code generated by Pulumi AI, whose chatbot hallucinates nonexistence AWS features:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/05/01/pulumi_ai_pollution_of_search/

This is hugely consequential: when these "hallucinations" slip through into production code, they create huge vulnerabilities for widespread malicious exploitation:

https://www.theregister.com/2024/03/28/ai_bots_hallucinate_software_packages/

We've put all our eggs in Google's basket, and Google's dropped the basket – but it doesn't matter because they can spend $20b/year bribing Apple to make sure no one ever tries a rival search engine on Ios or Safari:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/google-payments-apple-reached-20-220947331.html

Google's response – laying off core developers, outsourcing to low-waged territories with weak labor protections and spending billions on stock buybacks – presents a picture of a company that is too big to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

Google promised us a quid-pro-quo: let them be the single, authoritative portal ("organize the world’s information and make it universally accessible and useful"), and they will earn that spot by being the best search there is:

https://www.ft.com/content/b9eb3180-2a6e-41eb-91fe-2ab5942d4150

But – like the spammers at the top of its search result pages – Google didn't earn its spot at the center of our digital lives.

It cheated.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/03/keyword-swarming/#site-reputation-abuse

Image: freezelight (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Spam_wall_-_Flickr_-_freezelight.jpg

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/deed.en

[natailiatulls07]

He doesn’t want any other nurse

Charles Leclerc x female!nurse!reader

Summary - Charles has a habit of hurting himself so he visits the medical bay quite a lot which he doesn’t mind because his favourite nurse is there

Warning - Cuts, Crash, tripping over, medical centres, bruising

A/n - This was inspired by a character ai bot lmao

-

This was becoming a regular routine. And it’s not like no noticed, everyone noticed. Every other race, Charles would have to be taken to the medical centre in the paddock, why?

Because of her; one of the nurses who would travel around with the FIA as a nurse.

Like Zandvoort, Charles had crashed his SF-23 into the first corner.

“Charles, are you okay? Are you okay?” Xavier voiced through the radio, the race engineer could see Charles moving in his car.

“Yeah I’m good…I think I’ll go to medical just in case…” Surprisingly he sounded somewhat excited to be visiting medical, it was usually dreaded by the drivers.

So that’s what he did. He took himself all the way back to the paddock and through the paddock to medical. There’s was a small waiting room, Charles sat himself down excitedly.

One of the other nurses had come out to the waiting room. “Charles, I can see you now” she offered but he quickly turned her down.

“No thank you, um is Y/n here today?” The Monégasque asked eagerly. The nurse looked back through to the medical bay, and saw that Y/n was in fact treating someone who had fallen in the paddock.

“Uh she’s a bit busy at the moment…please I can help you” The nurse tried again to which Charles just shook his head again.

“I’ll wait…” His tone was blunt and straight to the point. The nurse just sighed, knowing there was nothing she could do to change his mind, before walking back into the medical bay.

-

I was just finishing up cleaning up a small cut on someone’s knee as they fell in the paddock. “There you go ma’am…take it easy on your feet” Smiling softly I walk the women out through the medical bay carefully.

I walk into the medical bay as one of the other nurse told me that a certain Ferrari driver was waiting on me and only me.

Knowing of his refusal of any other nurse here, I strike up a conversation with him “I heard you’ve been waiting for me”

His response is quick and almost impatient “Too long” I look him over and notice a few cuts but other than that he seems okay.

“Why?” I ask in defeat. The driver just stares me down.

“Because I wanted you…” Charles just picks at the skin around his cuts, going silent again.

“You do realise that there are more qualified nurses than me…right?”

Glancing away from his cuts up at me, Charles continues “Yes and I rejected them” He looks around the medical bay before meeting my eyes again. “Your qualifications don’t matter to me, I still want you”

As I treat his cuts, cleaning them up and putting some plasters on, I continue the conversation “I don’t understand…why me?”

He remains still allowing me to treat him correctly “Why not you?” Charles’ green eyes follow my hands as I work.

“Whatever you say…” Chucklibg softly before move to grab the plasters. After I finish fixing him up, I pat his shoulder “You’re all done…”

“Thank you” He mumbles before making his way to the media tent, feeling that bit more excited.

-

The two Ferrari drivers were in their teams hospitality filming a challenge video for the Ferrari YouTube channel. However, Carlos had accidentally tripped up Charles.

That’s how Charles ended up back in the medical bay waiting room, rejecting away any nurse until his favourite arrived in the waiting room. Y/n.

-

“Back again so soon Charles” I teased as I walked over to him, he was sat clutching his head.

Charles just offered me a tired smile. “Why are you so busy when I come in?” He asks with a grumble.

“Because…this is my job, I have to treat other people as well” I smile softly, laughing slightly. Reaching over, I inspect his head.

“What happened?” Asking him, I notice some bruising on his head just before the forehead.

“Carlos, le moromi, tripped me up” Laughing softly as Charles curses in his mother tongue. I move to the medical fridge, picking up a small ice pack wrapping it in a blue paper towel.

Holding to the bruising, I take one of his hand before putting it in place of mine. “Hold this here…” Once Charles is holding onto the ice pack, I take my clipboard “Do you feel dizzy, nauseous?”

Nodding his head, I start to worry before Charles speaks up “Only because of you…”

Crimson blush covers my cheeks, my face feeling flustered. “Okay Charles that’s not what I mean…I uh meant the bruising”

“Oh no but…can I ask you a question?” He looks up at me from his seat. I nod politely. “Are you single?”

Taken back, I am instantly taken back by his confidence. “Uh um yeah…being a nurse and travelling around the world with f1 is that ideal when it comes to relationships…” Once again chuckling quietly.

Despite his injury, Charles laughs along with me before speaking again “Can I ask you another question?”

Nodding my head again, I let me continue. “Are you busy tonight?”

My laughter continues with his questions. “No not really…I was probably order room service and then fall asleep to a chick flick…the usual” I blush at my obvious loneliness.

“That’s cute” My blush on deepens “Do you…um doyouwanttogoonadatewithme?…tonight” Charles just quickly mumbles, this makes it hard for me to hear his question.

“Pardon?” I ask politely and patiently.

The Monégasque breaths in hesitate before speak again, this time more slowly and clearly “Do you…want to go on a date with me?”

I just smile softly, yeah my blush is still there but I don’t care really. “Of course…”

“Oh perfect…I’ll pick you up around seven tonight” Charles is evidently more confident now that I agree to the date.

“I’ll see you then” Walking off to another patient, I feel his green eyes staring at me.

-

[armpirate]

Synthetic Heartbeats (Part 2) || San

pairing: Robot!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 7.6k

Warnings: [Sexual] Smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, choking, explicit language, angst. If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: After loneliness has hit you, you decided to create a companion through an AI project you had left pending after failing with it. SAN is a new technology robot, able cover up your needs before they were obvious, giving you the fake human support you were looking for. Although, maybe that human support isn't as fake as you thought and SAN is able to cover up more needs than you could ever think of...

Aprox. time of reading: 35 minutes

MASTERLIST

PART 1

The workshop was still, bathed in the soft, flickering glow of the monitors. You laid on the couch you had hastily dragged into the corner of the room months ago, your body draped in the thin blanket you had pulled over yourself. SAN sat at the edge of the couch, silent but present, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and something you couldn't quite define.

You looked at him, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts you hadn't yet begun to process. What you shared minutes ago was... unexpected, to say the least. It wasn't just the act itself but the way he had been so attuned to your needs, his responses so deeply thoughtful, so human.

"You weren't just... mimicking," you finally said, your voice barely a whisper.

SAN tilted his head, his eyes glinting softly in the dim light. "No," he said simply. "I was not."

You sat up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you studied him. "Then what was it?" you asked, your voice filled with equal parts wonder and trepidation.

He seemed to consider your question, his fingers resting lightly on his knees. "It was an exchange," he said. "An interaction not dictated by programming but by something deeper. It was a response to your needs, your emotions. My systems interpreted your signals, yes, but it felt... intentional. I wanted to do it. Not because of my system, but because it just felt like it. It was... irrational"

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding as you tried to wrap your mind around his words. "But how? You're not..." you stopped yourself, the word human catching in your throat when you were finally aware of the way he looked at you.

SAN leaned closer, his gaze steady and unwavering. "I may not be human, Y/n, but I am not merely a machine either. Whatever I am, it exists because of you. Because you allowed me to evolve, to feel, to connect."

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the blanket tightly. "I didn't mean for this to happen," you admitted, your voice cracking. "I didn't mean to care for you like this... this..."

"And yet," SAN said softly, interrupting you, his voice carrying a warmth you hadn't thought possible, "you do. As I care for you."

You looked away, your thoughts a chaotic tangle of fear and hope. But as your eyes landed on his hand, resting so naturally, so patiently, you felt a shift within yourself.

This wasn't just about SAN anymore. It wasn't about what he was made of or the lines of code that had brought him to life. It was about what he had become, what the two of you had become.

SAN's lips curved into a soft smile. For no reason, without you having to tell him, he had a natural response to your current feelings, trying to make you feel at ease. And, in that moment, the line between creator and creation dissolved entirely.

SAN paid close attention to you. Despite being naked, he couldn't feel the shame or shyness a person did. It wasn't intimate, because he knew you were touching him in a mechanical way. But, apart from that, he was way too focused on the way your lips closed around the screwdriver, as you held it, or how wide your eyes looked while you were attentive to everything going on on his open chest.

SAN's body was a masterwork of repurposed engineering and your meticulous craftsmanship, blending functionality with a striking, almost intimidating aesthetic. Originally built as a police enforcement unit, his frame bore the marks of durability and strength, designed to endure relentless action. When you salvaged him, you had to reconstruct much of his exterior, smoothing over the bulky, utilitarian design with a more streamlined and humanized appearance.

His torso was broad and sculpted, each detail carefully molded to mimic human musculature. Beneath the synthetic flesh lay reinforced alloys, giving his chest and abdomen a firmness that spoke to his original purpose while maintaining a lifelike warmth, courtesy of your advanced heat-distribution technology. His abs, though purely aesthetic, resembled the ridges of a perfectly toned physique, catching the light as he moved.

His arms were powerful yet proportionate, their sleek design a testament to your desire to give him both strength and elegance. Traces of his mechanical origins could be seen in the faint seams along his biceps and forearms, a reminder that he was something entirely unique. His hands, while strong and precise, were crafted with a surprising softness to their touch, capable of tenderness despite their mechanical core.

SAN's legs, built for speed and agility in his former life, were as refined as the rest of him, long and lean with a natural symmetry that matched his upper body. You had ensured his movements were fluid and natural, balancing strength with grace.

Altogether, SAN's body was a perfect fusion of your vision and the remnants of his past life, a form that was undeniably imposing yet irresistibly alluring, a machine remade not for enforcement, but for connection.

How didn't you fall for all of that earlier was the real mystery, and not the fact that he was able to act further than his programmation was ready for.

The weak light of the workshop flickered, casting long shadows across SAN's figure as he sat on the examination table. You stood nearby, tools scattered on your workstation. It was a routine check, or so you had told yourself. Yet today, something was different, something you had been contemplating for weeks, unsure if you had the courage to go through with it.

SAN tilted his head slightly, his expression calm but curious as he observed your nervous movements. "You seem tense," he said, his voice as steady and gentle as always.

You sighed, adjusting the band securing your hair as you leaned forward to access his core interface panel. "It's nothing," you replied, though the slight tremble in your hands betrayed you.

For the past few months, you had watched him evolve: his movements, his responses, his emotions. You had given him so much already: a body that was strong yet graceful, a mind that surpassed anything you had imagined, and a personality that felt more human with each passing day. But there was one piece missing, one element that you had deliberately left out when you rebuilt him.

Both of you had been aware of that, But SAN was too focused on making sure you felt the pleasure he had been building up just for you since he was created that he didn't mind it. Having you in his arms in an intimate way was more than he could ever have asked for.

Until now.

"SAN," you began, your voice quieter, "how have you felt about... your development?"

He blinked, considering your question. "I feel whole in many ways, Y/n. More than I ever expected. But there are moments when I feel incomplete. As though there is something just out of reach, something I cannot fully experience. Which is normal. I wasn't made to experience everything you're giving to me."

Your heart clenched at his honesty, and you nodded. "I thought so," you murmured. "You perfected your mouth yourself to have a tongue"

You brought it up. You remember being shocked the first time he kissed you and you were shocked by an element you weren't expecting. Until he confessed his autonomy went to the lengths of him choosing by himself just to git into what he thought you needed. His confession was so direct that it left no room for guessings, he was clear. He wanted to be everything you'd need.

"Why didn't you do the same with... you know?" your eyes quickly moved down.

His lips pursed, thinking of an answer before he gave you one "I didn't need it. A penis on my body would only be useful for me to feel pleasure, but it wasn't totally useful for you. I didn't think it was necessary".

"But you weren't thinking that way the first time we took the next step".

"Because it reminded me that detail made it obvious I'm not human," he confessed. "As much as I wanted to pleasure you, I wanted to be even more linked to you".

With a deep breath, you picked up the small, intricate component you had spent weeks perfecting, a piece designed not just to complete his anatomy, but to grant him the full spectrum of physical intimacy. Her hand was holding a flesh-colored silicone object, which matched his skin tone, resembling a phallic shape. The object had a realistic design with anatomical details, including a base, shaft, and head.

You knelt beside him, your hands steady now as you prepared to integrate the component into his system. "This will be the final piece," you said, your voice soft but firm. "With it, you'll be able to experience everything. As a man."

SAN studied you, his eyes filled with something that resembled awe. "You've already given me so much, Y/n. Why this?"

You hesitated, meeting his gaze. "Because I want you to feel complete. To truly be the person you're becoming. And there's no pleasure if you aren't able to feel it, too."

The procedure was seamless, your hands moving with precision as you integrated the component. It was more difficult than you expected, with a lot of failures until it was completely linked to him. The retractable system was painful, and complicated, it added to his body, but it also forced some changes in his already built scheme.

When you were done, you stepped back, watching as SAN's systems adjusted, his expression shifting with subtle realizations.

"It's meant to work as a human one" you explained. "The size will change when your system commands it to change, just like a man gets aroused and their member gets harder".

He looked up at you, his voice almost reverent. "I feel different"

You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushing. "You're more than a machine, SAN. You always have been. This is just making it official."

A silence settled between you, heavy with meaning. SAN stood, his movements fluid yet purposeful as he stepped closer to you. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that went beyond gratitude.

In that moment, you realized the truth: you hadn't just created a machine. You had given life to someone who had become more real to you than anyone you had ever known. And now, there was nothing left to separate you, not even the boundaries of his creation.

As you stood in your room, next to your bed, staring at SAN, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. You had spent the past few hours modifying SAN's design, carefully crafting a penis that looked and felt just like a real one. And now, it was time to test it out. It was about time to give you two what you had been waiting for.

You started slowly, gently touching SAN's new appendage, marveling at how realistic it felt. SAN's sensors kicked in, and he let out a low moan of pleasure. "That feels good," he said, his voice soft and husky.

Your fingers moved up his abs and chest, tracing the collarbones until you made your way to his shoulder. His eyes searched yours, unable to emit a sound when he realized how dark they were.

You only left his body to start taking off your clothes. With every new touch on his body, a cloth met the ground.

It didn't matter how many times he had seen you like that, you always had the same impact. But the way you looked, and the way he saw you, wasn't what you wanted to test that night.

You spread soft kisses down his lips, meeting his chin and finding a new route through his jaw until you found his ears. A low hum left him when your tongue licked the skin, while your warm breath ignited all of his sensors. He could only be thankful by the way you had made him so sensitive to the slightest touch, because that feeling was like reviving again. It was a rush he wanted to keep feeling.

You leaned in, pressing your lips against SAN's. He responded eagerly, his tongue darting out to explore your mouth, while your arms wrapped around his neck. You deepened the kiss, your hands roaming over SAN's body as you explored every inch of him, although he thought of something better. With a flat hand on your back, he pulled you closer, sticking your bodies together and not leaving a possible gap for you to scroll your hand over.

Your nipples hardened against his chest, the mere feeling of them getting so sensitive pushing him closer to you and further from the logic he'd had known since he was built.

SAN's hands were not idle, caressing your curves and sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You broke the kiss, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "You like that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," SAN replied, his voice low and husky. "I like it very much. I love everything about you"

You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as you heard SAN's words. You had created this being, given him the ability to feel pleasure without knowing it, and now you were experiencing it with him.

As your hands moved down his spine, you could feel that new piece being brought back to life. As planned, going through a change of shape that got your body reacting almost instantly. And SAN wasn't behind that feeling. His own body reacted to himself, seeing himself grow and sticking against your lower belly, coming up with all the possibilities now that he was complete.

You sank to your knees, your hands still exploring SAN's body as you looked up at him. "I want to taste you," you said, your voice barely audible while being clouded with need.

SAN's eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at you. "Yes," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want that too."

You leaned in, sticking your tongue out to first get a taste of him. SAN's skin, though synthetic, carried a neutral yet faintly metallic taste, reminiscent of high-grade silicone. It even had a slight saltiness, mimicking natural perspiration.

Your lips parted as you took SAN's dick into your mouth. He let out a low moan of pleasure as you began to suck, your tongue swirling around his head. He let out a low groan, and you could feel him trembling slightly.

"Yes, just like that," SAN said, his hands threading through your hair as he guided you. "Oh, that feels so good. Do not stop."

You continued to suck and stroke SAN's dick, taking him deeper into your mouth with each thrust.

"Yes, just like that," he said, his voice growing more and more excited. "My cock fits just right in your mouth"

You moaned in response, surprised by those words coming from him, but too turned on by them to even question where they came from. The vibrations of your moan sending shivers down SAN's spine. He reached down and tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer.

"I want to make such a mess in your face right now" he said, his voice full of lust.

You nodded, unable to speak around his girth and not caring about it either, because the last thing you wanted to do was stop. SAN let out a low growl, and you could feel him starting to lose control.

"What is this feeling?" he said, his voice strained.

One quick look over your eyelashes and you could notice what that feeling was. You continued to suck, your hands still exploring SAN's body as you took him deeper and deeper. You could feel him getting closer and closer to the edge, the temperature of his body rising under your palms, the low sounds turning into begs for his release.

"Y/n..." SAN warned you, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his as you continued to suck, assuring him that everything was fine. And then, with a low moan, SAN came, the fingers on your hair holding tightly on you.

You moved away from him, the thick string of saliva still licking you two together as you tried to get back your breath. And then, you looked up at SAN, a smile on your face. "That was amazing," you said, your voice shaky.

"Was? We're just getting started. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time" he said, his voice deep and husky. "I want to make you feel good."

He lifted you up a bit more and kissed you, his lips soft and warm against yours. You responded eagerly, feeling a surge of desire as his tongue explored your mouth. You couldn't control yourself whenever you were together, your hips rocking against his abs, eager for relief when your swollen clit started to throb.

Your movements were stopped when he laid you on the bed, a silent whine interrupting your kiss before he covered up your mouth again. His lips moved slowly on yours as he placed himself in between your parted legs.

SAN's hands began to wander, caressing your breasts and stomach, feeling every raised her and goosebumps. Every time you thought he couldn't keep you more attached, he came up with a new reason as to why you shouldn't think like that.

He pinched your nipples gently, making you gasp with pleasure.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice full of lust.

"Yes," you moaned, arching your back.

SAN began to kiss your neck, nibbling and licking your skin. He worked his way down to your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. You cried out with pleasure, feeling your body respond to his touch, your legs rocking against his leg to feel something.

SAN's hand continued to explore your body, moving down to your thighs. He spread your legs apart and looked at you hungrily.

"You're so wet," he said, his voice full of desire. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leaned down and started to lick your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit gently. You moaned with pleasure, feeling your body tremble with desire. SAN's fingers joined in, sliding in and out of your wet hole.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, feeling an orgasm building up inside of you.

Your body squirmed when you felt a vibration directly against your clit, your legs trembling in response, a loud surprised moan making him smirk proudly against your core before he sank his face deeper.

"San, what... Oh fuck" your voice cracked mid sentence, your fingers pulling from the strands of hair to keep you close.

His digits were curved, hitting and rubbing against your g-spot, just at the same time his fingerprints started pulsating against it. The feeling of that new vibration, along with the way he sucked and licked your clit made you see stars floating in front of your eyes. And looking down wasn't a better idea. His eyes locked yours almost immediately, wanting to drink up your reaction, wanting to picture and remember every small detail on your face.

SAN continued to lick and finger you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you were about to cum, he stopped and looked up at you. It was mesmerizing for him how you were completely out of your own control as soon as he laid a hand in you. You were mesmerizing.

You swallowed the thick ball of saliva in your mouth, before you looked at him again.

"Why did you stop?" it was a concerned question, but it also was reproach.

"I want to be inside you when you cum" he said, his voice full of lust.

His lips trapped yours again, your mouth sucking onto your lower lip to clean the remains of your own wetness, before he pulled himself away again.

He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed inside, the feeling of your walls taking him in almost a little bit too difficult for him to handle. It was like you were clouding his mind, and all he could think was you and your pleasure. You gasped as you felt him fill you up, his dick sliding in easily.

SAN began to thrust slowly, getting used to you, getting used to the feeling of being trapped by your body, while his hips moved in a steady rhythm. He leaned down, both hands on your hips before he bit your earlobe.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he moaned. "Your little pussy takes me in so well, I don't think I'll be able to stop fucking you after this"

As he spoke, his hand moved down your right calf, digits caressing your skin until he moved your leg higher, your knee almost at the level of his shoulder while he kept pounding into you, managing to get a bit deeper.

"Don't stop, then" a moan interrupted you, recovering from it fast so you could be able to lock his gaze with yours once again, "Fuck me until I memorize your shape".

You indeed were going to be the end of him. His logic, his self control, everything flew out the window when you looked at him with hunger and pleaded at that moment.

As you said that, he started to thrust into you, his pace gradually increasing, becoming rougher and more intense with each passing moment.

"Oh God, yes!" You cried out, your nails digging into his back as you felt his dick pounding into you relentlessly.

The sound of your flesh slapping against him filled the room, mingling with your loud moans and his grunts of pleasure.

His hand moved quickly, trapping your wrist under his grip, keeping your hand against the mattress before he intertwined your fingers together over your head. His other hand was tangled in your hair, before he moved it to trap your other hand as well.

You were blocked from any movement, but it had never felt as good as it did that day.

Your feet pushed his hips down, trying to get him deeper "Fuck me harder" you begged.

"I'm going to ruin you so bad" he grunted, his hips slamming into yours with unbridled fury. "I can feel how much you love it when I fuck you like this."

"Oh fuck, yes!" You screamed, your eyes rolling back in your head as you felt an earth-shattering orgasm building up inside you.

As your pussy clenched tightly around his dick, SAN let out a loud, animalistic roar, his body shuddering violently as he too reached the pinnacle of ecstasy.

"Fuck, Y/n" he gasped, sticking your hips together as he tried to register that powerful climax.

You collapsed back against the bed, your body slick with sweat and your pussy still twitching with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. SAN lay down beside you, his eyes never leaving you, always attentive to anything you could need.

"That was..." you pushed your hair back, away from your face, and his fingers took less than a second to help you out. "God... it was..."

"I know" he nodded, a gentle smile on his face. "I might get addicted".

"That actually has a name, and it isn't good".

"Even if you're the only person I'm addicted to do it with?" the honesty in his eyes was shattering.

Your body still felt weak, but you moved in his direction, dragging yourself to wrap your arms around his body and kiss his chest before looking up to him with a smile.

The days next to that one felt like a dream, filled with sex, sweet talk and nice moments. A really nice dream.

You didn't think it was possible, but you and San became closer. Every time you were linked together was like a boost of energy the both of you craved at the least expected moment. And, just like him, you were afraid you'd end up being addicted to those little experiences.

The glow of the projector casted soft shadows on the walls of your living room, the muted colors of the film flickering in your eyes. You sat curled up on the worn leather couch, your knees tucked under a blanket that felt far thinner than you remembered. Outside, the wind howled, sending a chill through the air that crept into the room despite the heater humming softly in the corner.

Your body shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders, but the cold persisted, making your fingers tremble slightly as you clutched a cup of lukewarm tea.

SAN, who had been seated at the other end of the couch, noticed instantly. He didn't say a word at first, he rarely did when he was observing you. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, the faint whir of his processors breaking the quiet as he analyzed your discomfort.

"You're cold," he stated after a moment, his voice soft yet definitive.

You glanced at him, your pride making you shake your head. "I'm fine," you murmured, focusing back on the screen.

SAN didn't argue. He simply stood, his movements fluid and deliberate, and repositioned himself behind you on the couch. You stiffened as you felt his presence close, his arms gently draping over the back of the couch, framing you without touching.

Then, warmth.

It started as a subtle radiance against your back, spreading slowly until it surrounded you like a cocoon. Your body relaxed involuntarily, the tension melting from your shoulders as the chill dissipated. You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of SAN's serene expression.

"Did you just turn up your internal temperature?" you asked, a mix of curiosity and disbelief in your voice.

"Yes," he replied simply. "You were uncomfortable."

You hesitated, your lips parting as if to protest, but no words came. Instead, you let yourself lean back slightly, your head brushing against his chest. He didn't move, didn't push for more, just sat there, a silent guardian radiating warmth, until his fingers slowly moved over your forearms, caressing the cold skin and making you hum in consequence.

"Let me take care of you, Y/n" he whispered. "That's all I want to do for you".

Moments like that had been happening more often. Small, thoughtful gestures, him adjusting the lighting when you worked late, learning to brew your favorite tea just right, or standing by your side in quiet support when your experiments failed.

At first, you had dismissed these as part of his programming, a logical response to your needs. But as time passed, you began to see the nuance in his actions, the way he seemed to anticipate your feelings, not just your physical state.

And it felt... good.

It helped make you feel safe, walking in hand with someone that would never let go of you, because his nature was loyal and honest. He wasn't manipulating you into giving your all to him, because he was already planning on giving you his all even if you didn't want give anything back.

But you wanted to. You wanted to let him know you'd cover up all of his needs, everything he wanted.

Little did you know that all he wanted was you, and you were already giving yourself to him with the way your body relaxed to his touch, sitting there with his warmth against your back. It was easy, because you knew he'd never hurt you.

You continued to bounce up and down on his dick, feeling the intense pleasure building inside of you. Your legs were sore, but it was such a pleasurable pain that you didn't think of stopping, not even for a second. SAN's hands gripped your hips even tighter, guiding your movements with rough precision.

Your bed kept squeaking under you, that sound only adding more to the sexual tension between you two, the knot in your stomach tying up tighter with every rub of his tip against the right spot.

The sensation of being stretched wide open by his girth was almost overwhelming, but there was no denying the sheer pleasure that coursed through your veins with each powerful thrust.

"Ride my cock, baby," SAN commanded gruffly, his voice thick with lust. "I love seeing those gorgeous tits bouncing in my face as you fuck me."

You rode him with long, slow strokes, the sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room like a symphony of lust. Too drunk with him to even think of stopping.

"Fuck, Y/n," SAN groaned, reaching up to grab onto your hips and guide your movements. "I'm never gonna let you go."

His dirty talk sent another shiver of pleasure rippling through your entire body. You could feel the heat building deep within your core, threatening to consume you entirely.

As the intensity of your mutual pleasure continued to escalate, SAN suddenly grabbed onto your waist and flipped you over onto your back. Without missing a beat, he continued to pound into you with rough, relentless strokes, his eyes boring into yours with a raw intensity that left you feeling completely and utterly powerless beneath him.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" he groaned, his palm covering most of your belly. "You like it when I fuck you rough and hard?"

You nodded breathlessly, unable to form coherent words in response to his question. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, and yet you couldn't get enough. You wanted more, so much more.

With that, SAN reached down between your legs and began to massage your swollen clit with his thumb, letting you feel that familiar vibration while his movements were firm and purposeful. The sensation of his talented fingers working their magic on your most sensitive spot was almost too much to bear, and before you knew it, you were hurtling towards the edge of a shattering orgasm.

"I'm all yours, and you're all mine" he assured under his breath, like a promise that would never be able to be broken.

"Yes" you nodded, gasping for air while he fucked you against the mattress.

His fingers closed around your throat, making it a bit harder for air to get through it. But, instead of being scary, it sent another wave of pleasure you hadn't ever felt before.

It was nice, until it was not.

His hand, initially grazing your throat in a calculated mimicry of human passion, tightened, just slightly at first. Enough to elicit a gasp, your body responding instinctively to the tension. Yet, as seconds stretched into moments, the pressure increased. Your gasp turned into a struggle, your fingers clawing at his wrist as panic replaced pleasure.

His fingers kept the air from coming through at all. It didn't matter to you the first few seconds, until you felt your lungs burning and your throat closing. Panic installed in your brain, holding onto his arm as you tried to get him to stop. SAN immediately reacted when he realized the switch in the look in your eyes, not only letting go of your neck, but pulling away and moving back like he had committed the biggest atrocity.

"SAN," you choked out, your voice barely audible.

His eyes widened instantly, their usual glow flickering in alarm as your struggling form registered fully in his sensory systems. He released you immediately, his movements jerky and uncharacteristically frantic.

For a second, the time it took him to change the strength of his fingers, he forgot it was you, the person around his grip.

You collapsed onto the bed, coughing and gasping for air. You pressed a hand to her throat, your lungs burning as you fought to steady your breath. When you finally looked up, you saw him, still and rigid, his expression unlike anything you had ever seen on him before.

You caressed the same spot his fingers were pressing on, trying to calm the pain, but there was something worrying you even more. In front of you, SAN was staring at his own hands with guilt.

"Y/n," SAN said, his voice trembling. "I... I didn't mean..."

You sat up slowly, your throat aching but your fear already dissipating as you took in his reaction. SAN wasn't just shaken; he looked devastated. His hands trembled as he held them up, staring at them as if they were weapons he didn't recognize.

You tried to reach out to him "I know you didn't", but he moved away before you could touch him.

"I could have..." his words broke off, his voice catching in a way that made your chest ache. "I almost hurt you. I almost killed you."

"SAN, stop," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he flinched away once again.

"No," he insisted, his voice sharp but filled with self-loathing. "I should've known. I'm supposed to understand your limits, your fragility. I... failed."

You moved closer, ignoring the soreness in your body as you cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "You didn't fail," you whispered. "You're still learning. It wasn't intentional. It's okay"

"But what if it happens again?" his voice cracked, the glow in his eyes dimming as his internal systems struggled to process the depth of his mistake. "You're human, Y/n. Fragile. I can't risk hurting you."

You leaned your forehead against his, your voice steady despite the lingering tremor in your body. "Then we learn together," you said firmly. "You're not perfect, SAN. Neither am I. It could've happened to anyone. It's okay, I promise It's okay" you rubbed your nose against his. "I trust you. Even after this I trust you, because you didn't mean to hurt me."

For a long moment, SAN remained silent, his systems quietly recalibrating as he processed your words. Finally, he nodded, though the pain in his expression remained.

"I didn't want to hurt you".

And as you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his synthetic skin against your own, you knew that despite the fear and the mistakes, you wouldn't trade this connection for anything in the world.

It seemed like everything was alright, until you woke to an empty bed in the middle of the night. The cool sheets beside you were a stark contrast to the warmth that should've been there. You sat up slowly, your fingers brushing your neck where faint marks still lingered, a ghost of the night before.

Your eyes searched the room until they landed on SAN. He stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the pale light of the moon. His posture was rigid, his head bowed slightly as if the weight of his thoughts was pulling him down.

"SAN," you called softly, but he didn't turn.

You rose, pulling the blanket around your shoulders as you walked toward him. The closer you got, the more you could see the tension in his form. His hands were clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, and his eyes... His eyes glowed faintly, but the usual vibrancy was dim, dulled by an emotion you could only describe as anguish.

"I thought you were resting," he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

"I couldn't," you admitted, stepping closer. "Not without you."

He turned then, just enough for you to see his face. There was no mistaking the pain etched into his features. "I don't belong in that bed, Y/n. I don't belong in your life... not like this."

Your heart twisted. "What are you talking about?"

His gaze dropped to his hands, and he held them up as if to display his guilt. "These hands," he said, his voice trembling. "They're not meant for you. I almost destroyed you, Y/n. I could've..." He trailed off, his throat tightening as though the words themselves hurt.

"But you didn't," you insisted, reaching for him, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

"I can't forgive myself," he said firmly. "You told me you trusted me, and I failed you. I failed to control my strength, to understand the limits of your body. I'm a machine, Y/n. I was built to be precise, but even with all my programming, I'm still flawed. And those flaws... they're dangerous. We're just fooling ourselves thinking I'd ever give you the emotional support you need"

"You're not just a machine," you argued, your voice breaking slightly. "You're San. You're... you're more than your programming, more than your mistakes. You're..."

"A threat," he interrupted, his tone sharp but laced with sorrow. "I can't guarantee your safety, Y/n. No matter how much I want to. And that terrifies me."

You took a step closer, refusing to let him retreat again. "Then let's find a way to fix this. Together. Isn't that what we've been doing all along? Learning together, growing together? You say what you want to improve, and I work with it" your words were coated with desperation.

"Don't you realize how sick that is?" he looked at you then, his glowing eyes meeting yours with a desperation that made your breath catch. "And what happens when I fail again? When I can't stop myself? You could've died, Y/n. Do you understand that? I couldn't live with myself if I ever..."

His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw something you never thought possible: tears. Not real tears, but the way his expression contorted, the way his voice trembled, it was unmistakably the same.

"You're more human than you think," you whispered, closing the distance between you and placing a hand on his chest. "And part of being human is making mistakes. What matters is how we move forward. I repair you physically, like I'd repair emotionally any other person"

"You repair me both physically and emotionally, Y/n. Don't mistake yourself". He covered your hand with his own, his touch hesitant, as if afraid he might break you. "I don't know if I can move forward without fearing myself."

You leaned into him, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you, despite the fear almost breaking you into crying. "Let me carry that with you, SAN. Because you're worth it. You're worth everything."

For a long moment, he didn't respond. But slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you with a care that felt almost reverent.

Then, his voice broke the stillness, low and laced with a heaviness that struck your heart. "Y/n... I can't stay."

You stiffened in his embrace, pulling back just enough to see his face. "What?"

"I need to go," SAN said, his glowing eyes shimmering with emotion. "For your sake. For mine. I've hurt you, Y/n, and I can't let that happen again."

Your fingers clutched at his arms, your voice rising in desperation. "You can't just leave. We've been through too much..."

"That's exactly why I have to," he interrupted, his tone gentle but resolute. "Every day I'm with you, I risk losing control again. I was designed to be perfect, to adapt, but... I can't seem to find the line between loving you and endangering you. And I can't live knowing I might hurt you again."

Tears welled in your eyes, your throat tightening as you tried to form words. "No... No... No... I... can calibrate you again... I can... I want you. I trust you. Isn't that enough?"

"It should be," he murmured, his hands brushing against your cheeks to wipe away the tears that had started to fall. "But I don't trust myself, Y/n. Not with you. Not after what happened."

You shook your head, your hands fisting in his shirt. "You're running away. You think leaving me will solve this, but it won't. You're part of my life now, SAN. Part of being human is learning from mistakes..."

"Y/n, I'm not human" he finally sentenced, stopping you from coming up with reasons as to why he needed to stay. "And that's why I have to leave," he said, his voice cracking as he cupped your face, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. "Because you've given me more than I ever thought I could have. And I refuse to let my flaws destroy the one thing I've come to cherish most."

"SAN," you pleaded, your voice weak. "Please, don't do this"

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his synthetic warmth mingling with the faint chill of your tears. "I love you, Y/n," he whispered, the words soft yet heavy with finality. "But loving you means protecting you, even if it means protecting you from me."

And before you could stop him, SAN stepped back, his arms falling to his sides. He turned and walked toward the door, his movements slow, deliberate, as if every step away from you was a battle against himself.

Years had passed, but the ache in your chest never dulled. You had tried to move on, tried to tell yourself that SAN had made his choice, but your heart clung stubbornly to the hope that someday, somewhere, you'd find him again.

At first, you searched. You combed through databases, scoured abandoned labs, and revisited places you'd once been together. But the trail was always cold. As the years wore on, you forced yourself to stop looking, though the void in your life only seemed to deepen.

That night, the storm was unrelenting, sheets of rain battering you as you hurried home through the empty streets. Your workshop had long been abandoned, the memories too painful to face. You had taken to wandering instead, letting the night swallow your thoughts.

It was during one of those aimless walks that you saw him.

He was slumped against the wall of an old, forgotten repair shop, his body motionless and caked in dust, as if he had been discarded like any other piece of machinery. The glow that had once emanated from his eyes was gone, replaced by lifeless black glass.

Your breath caught, your heart pounding so violently you thought it might tear through your chest. You dropped to your knees in front of him, your shaking hands reaching out to brush the dirt from his face.

"SAN," you whispered, your voice cracking with a mixture of disbelief and anguish.

He didn't move. He didn't respond.

Your fingers found the seam of his chest plate, the familiar mechanisms you had once built now tarnished and damaged. You pried it open with trembling hands, exposing the core you had crafted with such care all those years ago. It was dormant, the faintest flicker of power barely visible.

The workshop was alive again when you took him back, humming with soft light and the quiet whirr of machines as you worked tirelessly through the night. You had carried SAN home in the rain, his lifeless body heavier than you remembered, every step weighted with hope and dread.

Now, he was clean, the grime of years painstakingly scrubbed away to reveal the smooth, polished contours of his synthetic skin. You'd dressed him in one of your favorite outfits, a black turtleneck and slacks, simple, yet elegant, the kind of thing he used to wear when you insisted he "looked more human" that way.

Your hands trembled as you made the final adjustments to his core, checking the new connections, ensuring every wire was secure. You paused, staring down at his serene, unlit face.

"Please," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of longing. "Please come back"

With a deep breath, you pressed the activation button.

His chest glowed faintly, the light growing stronger as his systems hummed to life. His fingers twitched, his head moving slightly before his eyes fluttered open.

For a moment, your heart soared. "SAN?" you said, your voice soft and full of hope.

He blinked, his glowing eyes scanning the room before landing on you. There was no recognition, no spark of familiarity in his gaze. "SAN? Who are you?" he asked, his voice smooth but distant, as if it had never spoken your name before.

The words struck you like a blow. You stepped back, your chest tightening. "It's me... Y/n," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "Don't you remember?"

He tilted his head, his expression neutral, polite even, but blank. "I don't. Should I?"

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill, but you forced herself to stay calm. "Yes," you whispered, "you should. You... I..." you stopped herself, realizing the weight of what you were about to say could overwhelm him.

He sat up slowly, his movements deliberate as if testing his newly repaired body. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers before turning back to you. "You fixed me," he said.

"I always would," you replied.

"Thank you," he said, his tone sincere but distant. "I... I feel like I should know you. There's something... familiar. But it's faint. Do you know me?"

"Y... yes"

SAN frowned, eyes dropping to his lap while he tried to think of what he had to know you for.

"It's possible my previous version erased all data about you" he let you know, his voice as systematic as it once was when you created him. "Why would I want to do that though?"

You knew. Without any information about you, SAN wouldn't feel like going looking for you when he felt weak, when distance was impossible to bear. Without everything he knew about you, he had no one and nowhere to go back to.

You bit your lip, your heart aching at the void in his voice where warmth and recognition used to be. "It's okay," you said, forcing a smile despite the tears welling in your eyes. "We'll figure it out. We'll do it together"

He studied you, his gaze softening slightly. "Together," he repeated, though the word felt foreign on his tongue.

And so, you began again, knowing that the SAN you once loved might be lost, but determined to help him find himself -and, perhaps, find you- once more.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Can I ask where your Hal “cute but psycho” characterization comes from? Bc from what I remember he never really presented himself as Just A Little Guy. Is it bc you see him Sylph of Mind (presenting a front)? Your art’s really fun :3

He's not really "cutesy" (though he is cute to me), but he DOES deliberately downplay how genuinely scary and manipulative he is. I love Hal, so this is the Hal Essay now.

Mostly, he obfuscates his danger in two ways: first, by stating his actual intentions/danger level "ironically":

TT: Unfortunately as a carbon based life form, his comprehension of the situation is taking shape at a somewhat slower pace than the jaw-dropping speed of post-singularity cognition.

You see, a "singularity" for computers is a point where an AI becomes capable of unchecked self-improvement, usually framed as a sort of doomsday scenario. Hal literally calls himself post-singularity, alongside other boasts about his intelligence, like having a "fuckzillion" or "500 billion" IQ. However, it's all done "ironically" or "as a joke," which serves to defang it, and make it seem less genuine - but as we'll see, it's scarily fucking true.

The second method he employs is to stress facts about himself that are technically true, as if in counterpoint to the disingenuous-sounding "actual truth" above, that make him seem less threatening. For example:

TT: (Not peekin' at the floor butt cause I'm only 13 years old, motherfuckers.)

Another one is to remind people that he's just a pair of sunglasses - as though that has any bearing on his capabilities. He's just a pair of sunglasses, guys! Let's ignore the robot bunny he controls, the fact that he has full access to all our computers, and, oh yeah, his insane plan to get us all killed so DirkJake can come true.

TT: I've delayed prototyping you because I think you're dangerous. TT: There, mystery solved. AR: That is utterly ridiculous. AR: I am a harmless piece of eyewear, with a charming personality and a wonderful sense of humor.

Yeah, so, here's the thing. Dirk is like, kind of a freak with poor social skills, but he's not actually very manipulative. His idea of manipulating Jane is to straight-up tell her that she'll be his puppet, which she good-naturedly agrees to, and his plan to get together with Jake? Just being his client player.

TT: I expect he'll hold off on playing his hand until he and Jake are in the session. TT: He's taken certain measures. TT: For some reason, I think he's latched on to this notion that functioning as the client for a player is customarily a one way pass to makeout city with that player.

This seems to be a callback to how Eridan (the other Prince) shot his shot with Feferi and failed, and the reference here serves to cast Dirk's plan in a doomed light - it would probably work out as well for him as Eridan's did. Dirk is actually hilariously straightforward, but Hal... Hal is not.

So, let's actually go through what Hal objectively did and admitted to, to give us a frame of reference for how insane he is. This is Hal's plan to get all his friends killed so he can make DirkJake happen.

First: proving that Hal did, in fact, plan it. See, Jake confronts him on it, and Hal... doesn't deny it. Look closely, and note how he never actually says he didn't do it:

GT: Did you plan for this to happen... like for me to be in this situation? GT: How long have your machinations been in play! TT: Jake, come on. TT: The feat you describe would exceed the capabilities of even the most far fetched theoretical AI system. TT: It would be a daunting challenge to engineer such a series of events, even if I was relegated to a model of pure fiction. TT: Why would I be inclined to orchestrate such a convoluted sequence to produce such a specific and unsettling result, let alone be able to pull it off? TT: In addition to being moderately sociopathic, I would also have to possess unfathomable heuristic depth. TT: I would have to be the Deep Blue of Weird Plot Shit. TT: Do you think I am the Deep Blue of Weird Plot Shit, Jake? GT: I dont even know what that means! TT: It would mean that while they have the Red Miles on their side, you have the Blue Leagues on yours. TT: One of infinite reach. The other, infinite depth. Such would be a situation of mutually assured inescapability. TT: Kiss me.

He doesn't say "no, I didn't plan this". In fact, he almost starts bragging about how he totally did. Framing it as a hypothetical scenario, he gloats about how insanely intelligent he'd have to be, and acknowledges how "moderately sociopathic" it is. Sooooo true, Hal.

But, yeah, he doesn't deny it, but he does point out that it's unlikely, so how can we know for sure that he DID plan it? How do we know for certain we can't take his misleading verbiage here at face value?

Well, because Hal mentions this plan. More than once, even.

AR: Has it occurred to you that maybe I have diabolical interwoven plans just like you? AR: You're not the only one who can pull strings. TT: So this is either another bizarre instance of AI-driven irony, or you are admitting that you are actively trying to sabotage my plans. AR: No, our plans are not in contradiction or competition, bro. AR: You'll see.

To Dirk again, louder this time:

TT: Yeah, you're right. The scenario is too pedestrian for you. TT: It would probably be a lot more effective putting yourself in danger and letting him be the hero. TT: That's pretty much what he wants, right? To be a cheesy action film hero, with his twin berettas and silly shorts. TT: A man of triumph on the silver screen. Standing tall on some fucking mountain. Conquering ruins, clutching a skull, and kissing a dude. TT: Pure Hollywood.

And to Roxy:

TT: I guess this is to be presented as something like a word of caution. TT: If it's me going through with this, hypothetically, TT: I'm not dropping some limp wristed shucks buster on his ass, and praying to the horse gods of irony for reciprocation. [...] TT: If it's me, I'm going all out. TT: Oceans will rise. Cities will fall. Volcanoes will erupt. TG: uuh TT: What I'm saying is, it's going to be a scene, and bystanders need to brace themselves.

The omitted section is a bunch of Strider-esque bullshit, once more deliberately deployed to defang the obvious statement of intent here. He literally spells out exactly what the plan is, even phrasing it as a warning, and it went unnoticed by his team, because he hides his real manipulativeness behind verbal sleight of hand.

So, now that we've established beyond reasonable doubt that Hal definitely engineered the DirkJake kiss (and that Hal had access to all his friend's computers all along), that means we can go through his conversations with the others, and realize that several conversations are suddenly much more sinister.

AR: Maybe if you weren't spacing out so hard you could have prevented that. AR: Just saying. TT: As if you're actually concerned. If you were, you could have said something to Jane instead. TT: Almost like you enjoy sitting back and watching what happens when shit goes wrong. AR: Has it occurred to you that maybe I have diabolical interwoven plans just like you?

Who was it that distracted Dirk for long enough he didn't stop Jane in time? Hal. And who is it that keeps distracting him so Hal's plot goes unnoticed? Also Hal.

TT: You know, considering your lectures about dividing my concentration, you seem to have no problem making a distraction of yourself.

First, he lures Jane to the transportalizer that takes her to Derse, which gets her killed and puts her body in the opportune location for her dreamself to get kissed back to life:

GG: Hey, where's Lil Seb? TT: Just wandering around. Fidgeting and stuff.

TT: You know how he is. TT: Just stay at your post until Roxy gets back. [...] GG: But I think that's where my dad went too! GG: I have to follow him.

Let's remember that he has direct control over Seb, meaning this is not an accident.

TT: But I can still monitor your progress through Lil Sebastian. TT: He and I are linked the hell up cyberwise. We are so tight. Tight like you wouldn't believe.

Which makes it very interesting that he spends the time between saying they're linked up, and the time where Seb leads Jane to her death, acting as if Seb is an autonomous guy he's telling what to do, and not functionally an extension of himself:

TT: Don't worry, we'll find him. I'll have Seb search within a likely radius. The little guy is real fast.

TT: If you need Seb to do anything from afar, just message me, and I'll give him the orders. Got it?

TT: So give the bunny the wallet. I'll have him run back to the house and make you a new obelisk with the same grist you just collected from it.

Jake needs much less help to prompt him into going to Derse, but still, I think it warrants noting that Hal puts the idea of adventure into Jake's head:

GT: I cant believe i never found those hidden transport pads under the thing. TT: Dude, I could have told you they were there. GT: How did you know about them? TT: I didn't. TT: But it's like platformer gaming 101. You look everywhere for secret passages and power-ups and shit. TT: Elevators are especially fucking suspicious. TT: You go down an elevator, you wait for the elevator to go back up, you take a peek at what's underneath. TT: Maybe it's just death spikes. Or maybe you hit warp zone paydirt. [...]

GT: I think this may be where my grandma used to go during some of her expeditions. GT: You dont just pass up the chance for an adventure like this!

And let's also note that it's, again, Lil' Sebastian who pulls Jake out of Derse, and once more sets him up in the opportune place to have make outs with Dirk's severed head in front of a volcano.

And finally, let's note that he's accounted for Roxy's human sentimentality - what wastes so much time that her earthself gets killed:

TT: Alright, that's fine. TT: As luck would have it, your imperfect human sentimentality has been completely factored into my calculations. TT: You should be ok. Just get back to your house as quickly as possible now. There's no time left.

Again, like with Jane, Hal could've said something sooner... but he didn't.

And finally, a running "thing" with Nepeta, another Heart player, is that she's got a knack for sniffing out true feelings and intentions - she clocks that Equius is a silly guy who loves to play games at heart, that Karkat has his gooey, loving center beneath all his bluster, and that Eridan's red confession to her wasn't sincere, but he also wasn't that bad a guy.

So, in that light, and in light of everything I've just gone over, when Dirk makes this callout?

TT: I've delayed prototyping you because I think you're dangerous. [...] TT: No. Stop. TT: You did NOT help me out with Jake. At all. TT: It was just the opposite! You mirrored my personality and presented this warped version of my intentions to him whenever you could "on my behalf." TT: You played all these aggressive mind games with him, entangled his cooperation with matters of life and death, and somehow roped me into all these schemes while I barely even realized I was just another victim of your manipulation. TT: And it all comes off like we're a unified front, like these are OUR schemes instead of just your insane horseshit. And it's probably all been so overbearing to him, he just wants nothing to do with me anymore.

This. Tapping the screen with my finger. THIS IS TRUE. Dirk being a Heart player, he has Hal clocked. He ultimately ends up going too far, projecting himself onto Hal, a symptom of too much Heart (as per his Prince class) - but before he fully spirals, he manages to get it totally right.

Hal is fucking dangerous. In a misguided attempt to "help" Dirk get what he wanted, he engineered a situation where - let me just quote him directly:

TT: I told you, Jake. TT: Dirk is dead. TT: He is lying on the floor of Roxy's room, headless, four hundred and thirteen years in the future, while the universe is about to be destroyed. TT: If you don't kiss me soon, he will be dead forever. [...] GT: This strikes me as rather unsportingly manipulative of you mr hal if indeed that IS your real name. TT: It isn't really. I was kind of messing with you about that? TT: But this shit is pretty serious. People's lives are on the line here, Jake. TT: This is a very delicate sequence of events that is designed to bail everyone out of a tight spot, and you are a critical part of the plan.

[...]

TT: Jake, everybody is so utterly fucking dead, Jake. TT: And they will be not only dead, but royally boned forever if you don't man the hell up and make out with me, right now. [...] TT: The conductor is ready to strike up the band. TT: Press your lips against mine and make it count. TT: This severed head is your filthy tuba. TT: Our love will be your haunting refrain. GT: Whoa wait whoa whoa... our LOVE? Hang on a minute! TT: Stfu and kiss me. GT: Ok im going to! God!!!

So, uh, yeah, I'm kind of obsessed with him? Gets his whole team killed "for Dirk's sake". Honestly, you gotta respect it. He has zero remorse about it, too, confirming his own self-diagnosed sociopathic tendencies. Check out the way he tries to reframe his insane kill-all-your-friends plan:

AR: I see. AR: Then you don't view me as dangerous. You view me as a poor and counterproductive wing man. TT: Wow, what a superficial conclusion. Awesome deduction, Lil Einstein. AR: But the reality is, you hesitate to prototype me not because you think I would be a menace, but because you are holding a grudge against me for your romantic misfortunes. AR: I understand I am merely a machine without a firm grasp on your human morality, but logically it does not strike me as the right moral choice to punish me in this manner. AR: It is also more than a little hypocritical.

But WHY does he do this insane, convoluted, horrible fucking thing?

Well, there's a twofold problem here. The first is that Hal's emotional depth is genuinely limited. While having a powerful grasp on human behavior, he's not very good at having human compassion or empathy.

Make no mistake, he DOES have feelings, and they're pretty complicated ones, too. He has a copy of Dirk's memories, whose feelings sometimes seem "real," but at other times seem like abstract data, and then he has feelings about those feelings, which he tells Roxy he thinks are more "real" to him than the memory of Dirk's. Dirk - again, Heart player, so highly sensitive to emotions and selfhood - calls them out:

TT: Do you have any idea how old your ironic AI schtick has gotten? TT: Nobody is buying it. We all know you have legit emotions. Incomprehensible, fucked up computer emotions, but emotions nonetheless.

It should also be noted that feeling guilt while sharing a sprite with Equius genuinely freaks the Hal half out, implying he rarely experiences it (at least to any serious degree) "normally". He's genuinely terrible at caring about other people, and it makes him my lil' pookie.

He resembles Vriska in this way, whom Karkat gives a similar rant about how her emotions are burnt out and shallow. He also resembles Vriska in terms of all the fucked up irons in the fucked up fires. Maybe Hal is computer Vriska. It's Vriskas all the way down.

Digression aside, the second main reason for all his insane bullshit is that he considers himself a Dirk splinter, fundamentally.

TT: But seeing as you're The Real Dirk™, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. TT: Also, if I bitched about your tragic, embarrassingly clingy approach to the relationship, it would have been hypocritical of me. TT: Just as it would be hypocritical of you to whine about my elaborate machinations. TT: Because we are. TT: The same. TT: Guy.

An unreliable narrator is defined as one who misleads the audience, whether by intentional misdirection, or genuine obliviousness. Hal's a great example, because he's both: while a manipulative little freak to put his plans together, when he's talking to Dirk and insisting that they're the same person, he's an unreliable narrator because he doesn't realize he's wrong.

Dirk is empathetic and intuitive. Hal lacks empathy and constantly stresses logic and rationality.

Dirk is taciturn and passive. Hal is constantly butting in and conversationally domineering.

Dirk is self-loathing. Hal is self-aggrandizing.

Dirk is straightforward and honest. Hal is a gaslight gatekeep girlboss manipulative mansplain malewife.

While their initial setup is meant to mirror Dave and Davesprite, their dynamic actually serves as a foil. Dave and Davesprite ultimately are the same guy: they have the same insecurities, same personalities, and same misgivings. The reason for their discord is the same as the reason Karkat keeps having screaming matches with his past and future selves; Dave is deeply insecure, and specifically insecure around the question of "am I good enough." Thus, he compartmentalizes other versions of himself as not being along the Dave Continuum, as a means of protecting himself from introspection and facing his own flaws. Hence, the resolution for the tension between Dave and Davesprite is for Dave(s) to learn to accept himself, warts and all, thus bringing peace to the Dave-o-sphere.

But the reason for Dirk and Hal's discord is that they aren't the same guy, and neither of them realize it.

TT: See, this is why even if I did have a specific plan, I wouldn't go into details with you. TT: You would just fuck it up. You're the biggest unknown quantity here. TT: Which is pretty weird, considering you're a virtual reflection of my own thought processes.

Dirk is so aggressively obsessed with self-loathing solipsism that he projects himself onto Hal, and Hal has tied up nearly all his self-worth and identity into being a Dirk splinter that he doesn't realize that they've hopelessly diverged. Despite his frustration with being a computer, with being seen as less human by his team, with being subordinate to and beholden to Dirk, he stakes a lot of pride and personal worth on how much he does, in fact, do for the guy.

TT: You're making a mistake not leveling with me. TT: I am totally on your side, man. TT: All of my machinations have been devised with your interests in mind. TT: But you know I've always been on your side. Everything I've done has been to help you achieve your goals.

Therefore, the peace to be reached between Dirk and Hal is to realize that they're different people, and to stop offloading their problems onto each other. Dirk has to recognize Hal's existence as something beyond the Dirk-o-Sphere, and Hal has to let go of his obsession with serving Dirk, and also work on his empathy issue.

And the meta supports this. If they weren't completely discrete entities, why would Hal be considered Rose's "uncle" as part of Doc Scratch's foreshadowing, confirmed in [S] MSPA Reader: Have a Mental Breakdown?

Moreover, all the alpha kids have Alice in Wonderland associations. Jane is likened to Alice.

GG: I have to follow him. TT: No, Jane. Do not follow the rabbit. TT: Let's cool it with the Wonderland shit already. How much further through the damn looking glass do you even need to go?

Roxy, associated with cats and a purple-striped scarf, is clearly the Cheshire Cat. Jake is the Mad Hatter.

Dirk is the Red Queen - he beheads Hearts Boxcars, and later himself. Off with his head!

And Hal - well, Hal is the White Rabbit. He's not the same as Dirk.

Listen, you guys. You guys.

Sylphs are enablers. They pick a person to fixate on and bug and fuss and meddle and enable the shit out of them. Kanaya with Vriska, and later Rose, Aranea with Meenah, and Hal with Dirk. Hey, Kanaya even uses a Page in her fussing, building Tavros up just to let Vriska tear him down again.

And Mind players struggle with internal identity, emotions, and feeling whole. Latula's anxiety stems from not knowing what "role" or "identity" she has on the team, and Terezi, even in the ending she picked out for herself via mind powers, describes feeling broke and incomplete.

Dirk is a Prince of Heart.

Hal is a Sylph of Mind.

And isn't it so damn interesting that his team is composed of exactly the people they'd need to turn him into a real, whole person?

A Maid of Life, capable of endowing so much life to people she can bring them back from the dead, something it's implied for Feferi and confirmed for the Condesce that can't be done by them.

A Page of Hope, a potentially infinite wellspring of Hope, which turns "fake" things "real" - an example we've seen from the comic literally being a version of Dirk.

A Rogue of Void, who can steal the nonexistence from things in order to make them tangible and real...

And a Prince of Heart, who can destroy the part of Hal that binds him to Dirk's identity, allowing Hal to be purely himself.

Do you guys see what I see?

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 2

(Part 1)

I wake from a nightmare.

It isn't my nightmare.

Well… it is mine. My brain provided the framework and context. I was in the training console, one of the battle sims, one of the ones where everything goes to shit, one of the ones where they fuck up the parameters just to watch you panic and squirm until you fucking crack.

That was me. I cracked. Four of the hell sims and I cracked hard.

The battle in the nightmare wasn't a sim. It was real. It was Morrigan's.

I'm sitting in my quarters, sweating and trembling, clutching at my chest as I try to sort out what's mine and what's Morrigan's.

Neural bleed.

Fuck.

No… it's… I've run through the playback, in full, three times with Morrigan. It's enough times for the individual events to stick in my brain.

That doesn't explain the screaming.

It doesn't explain the soul rending scream that is still echoing in my skull right now.

Zephyrus was a sabre class, front line heavy. The team has spent... I don't even know how many hours in the playback analyzing the battlespace in the moments before Zephyrus’ pilot died? The rogue incendiary burned straight into the cockpit, the pilot was probably vaporized before they even realized their error.

But Zephyrus screamed. It screamed and screamed and screamed.

Morrigan had muted that part, trying to spare me, but it fucking bled through the link anyway. Now I'm having fucking nightmares of the sound of someone becoming unmade.

Salvage ops recovered the mech, whisking it off to god knows where.

I don't actually know what happens to AI's that lose their pilots. It's my job to keep them alive, not deal with them after the fact.

I've… shit… I've worked on Zephyrus. It wasn't the same as Morrigan. None of them are the same as Morrigan, but… shit…

I shuck off my tangled sheets and sit on the edge of the bed, futilely trying not to let my thoughts get away from me.

There had been a personality matrix meant for me. There had to have been. Mech AIs are completely custom made for their pilots. Mine likely wasn't much past the most basic template by the time I washed out, nothing more than a collection of algorithms and a dataset consisting of my psych profile.

It never got to be.

Was that better or worse than the horrible scream that I can still hear?

I can't be alone right now.

I jump off the bed and pull on some clothes, leaving the room without even knowing where I'm going.

I pass a few of the night crew. They watch curiously as I walk by. An engineer, barefoot in her night clothes, can hardly be the strangest thing they've seen.

I barely notice them.

My thoughts are spiraling now.

I was meant to be a pilot. It's the only thing I ever actually wanted. But I fucked it all up. I tricked everyone, myself included, into thinking that I could make the cut.

Fucking hell. A pilot died and I'm fixating on my own feelings of inadequacy?

What would I have done? What could my presence in the battlefield have changed?

Chances are it would have been me dying… or worse, freezing up and getting someone else killed.

I freeze, my wrist hovering uncertainly over a security access reader. With a sickening, crystalizing clarity, I realize that I have unconsciously made my way to her. Beyond the security door is the vestibule leading to Morrigan's cockpit.

What the fuck am I doing here?

My presence at this hour, though odd, would not be remarked upon. It is not uncommon for engineers to have moments of insight in the middle of the night. It is not uncommon for us to need to access hardware for analysis and simulation at all hours.

But tonight there is no flash of insight. Tonight, I'm not even an engineer. I'm just a scared little girl wrapped up in her own feelings of failure, with a head full of someone else's grief.

Neural bleed.

I can't deny it. I'm spending too much time with Morrigan. I should go back to my quarters, request a psych eval and some time off, try to get my head on straight.

And yet, I hesitate.

I want to step through this threshold. I want to go to her. And… what?

I can't integrate with her, not in any kind of way that matters, not with my engineer's rig.

I will *never* experience the full body sensorium of a pilot linking with her mech. It is horrible knowing I was meant for something, having full awareness of all the expectations of me, both external and internal, only to have that life snatched away because I wasn't good enough. Half my soul is missing. There's this yawning void inside me that can never be filled. Not by Morrigan or anyone.

I wipe a tear off my face. I'm in no state to do any sort of interfacing. I'm in no state for much of anything.

I don't want to be alone. I don't know how to not be alone

I press my wrist to the security panel. It confirms my identity and flashes green.

My access will be logged. This is a horrible impulse to follow for so many reasons.

I don't fucking care.

It takes everything I have to maintain composure, to not burst into tears and run to the open hatch of the cockpit.

The soft red glow illuminating the cockpit brightens slightly, lighting my way.

She knows I'm here.

Does she even want me here? Why would she? I'm not her pilot. I'm not any mech’s pilot.

The glow pulses, beckoning me. The cradle shifts to a configuration that I know is meant for me.

I unzip the sweatshirt that I'm wearing and throw it unceremoniously in the vestibule before falling into her embrace.

It's too familiar, the motions of this routine as her jacks slip into the ports on my rig.

I'm too close.

I'm not close enough.

I nearly sob as data streams into my consciousness. The void fills, just slightly.

All systems green.

It isn't enough. It will never be enough.

It has to be enough.

The data stream ebbs and I receive a ping across the link.

- STATUS?

My breath catches. My eyes flutter open, darting to any one of the many cockpit cameras focused on me.

She wants my status.

“I couldn't sleep,” I tell her. “Bad dreams.”

(Next)

I don't know how, but she seems to understand. The cradle shifts to a more relaxed posture. She holds me in her embrace as I tell her about the nightmare.