#like just random users who are straight up lying about how the site functions

[chewwytwee]

I think some people reallllly need to think about what they're saying on here. I see so many posts complaining about being 'targeted' and 'silenced' by 'tumblr staff' and like...... do people not hear themselves???? Do they not hear how they're barely 1 step removed from whining about 'free speech' and 'leftist censorship'. Social media right now is plauged with misinformation and conspiratorial thinking because people would rather go off the 'vibe' (superstition and paranoia) they feel than have a basic understanding of how a business operates and the limitations of algorithms and moderation.

[teslaboltzmann]

so I went to see the doctor yesterday.

You gotta understand something about Dr. Tellin. He's not a human GP, he's a cyberneticist from Twilight Holdings. Most of his patients are augmented humans, he says he's seen fewer than 10 Pillars as patients in the past year. He himself is human. So when I went in to talk about data transfer, I thought he was going to give me the whole "always use virus protection, only transfer from partners you trust, never share private keys" spiel. It's like the sex talk, I guess.

When I asked him, though, he hummed and hawed a bit.

"Well, I don't actually think you have the drivers for that. You can receive files but I don't think you could manipulate or voluntarily send them. It's a bit of a quirk of your architecture," he replied.

"What do you mean?"

"You're primarily a neural net. Contact with conventional filesystems... well, it would be pretty prone to error. You'd need an interface to bridge the gap."

Despite the fact that this meant I could tell my boss that I had to keep using the GUI and avoid the vulnerability of being forced to make transfers at work, Dr. Tellin's words carried the somber tone of someone informing you of a crippling disability. It worried me a lot, like it meant I was defective or something.

"Could you do anything to fix that?" I asked.

"I mean, I could look into writing you some custom drivers, but I'm not sure how well they would mesh with your existing architecture. Machine learning is outside my area of expertise. ...I have a colleague who might be able to help, but she doesn't normally see patients. She works with AIs."

...

I decided to see the "specialist." He told me that her name was Dr. Sarah Liu, but to just call her Sarah. The contact info Dr. Tellin gave me only included a phone and an email, no holochat. Either she was very old-fashioned, or very paranoid. I decided to call her on the phone instead of emailing since I could have more of a conversation about my issue.

She picked up after two rings. "Hello?"

"Hello, my name is Tesla, I'm a patient of Dr. Tellin's?" I said. "I'm an Amalgam, and I was calling about--"

"Wait... Amalgam?" she cut me off. "Oh, you must be Fred Tellin's patient!" she said excitedly.

"Oh, he told you already?" I asked. It was unlike Dr. Tellin to do something like that, but if the two were close associates, I guess it could happen.

"Uhh. No, I mean, I... Not as such. Anyway, why were you calling?"

"Well, I'm having issues with file transfer. Specifically, I probably need drivers installed, and Dr. Tellin said you're probably better suited to dealing with that for me." I explained. At this point, I was a little weirded out, but specialists for these kinds of things are hard to find. It took me months just to get a referral to Dr. Tellin.

"Oh! Yeah, I could probably help with that. What's your architecture like? Object-oriented? Functional?"

"Uhh, I'm a neural net..." I'm not actually sure. Dr. Tellin never mentioned much beyond that.

"I know that, I was asking about your programming... Nevermind, I can figure that out when you get here. Knowing the Rift I bet you're something weird. When are you free to come by?"

"I mean, I have the rest of today off," I mentioned.

"Perfect! Come by in an hour or two. I'll send you coordinates. See you then."

No sooner had she hung up than I got a text with her location. She was about 20 minutes away, so I surfed the internet on my phone for a while before finding transport over there.

When the cab got to the location I programmed into it, I panicked for a second. It looked like a private dwelling, not the office building I had expected. Maybe I got the coordinates wrong? But when I checked, they were the same ones Sarah had sent me.

I saw the front door to the smell, ranch-style house swing open.

"Hey!" a woman in a ponytail called out to me as she stepped out of the door. "You must be Tesla."

"Yeah," I answered.

She came down the steps to properly greet me. She kept pausing to admire my body - looking at my fingers as we shook hands, squinting to see her reflection in my faceplate - but never said anything about it. "Come in, I'll get everything set up."

Her house was sort of old-fashioned inside even though she only seemed to be in her 30s. There was almost no post-Watershed technology inside at all except the computer systems. But boy, did those computers make up for it. She had an entire room dedicated just to this big mainframe. Racks and racks of servers everywhere, with tons of cables, and I could see the faint glow of nanites in the air. Must have cost a fortune, and I had no idea what she had to have been running on those. Probably hosting her own site? Or maybe mining cryptocurrency? There's no chits in that, though, no one legit accepts it anymore. A mystery.

Sarah directed me to a chair on one end of the room. It sat next to a user terminal, and a squid-like array of data cables splayed out on the desk next to it. They came with all different ends, male and female, some of which I didn't recognize.

"Find one that fits," she told me, indicating the cables. "Don't force it. If we need to, we can splice in."

Luckily for me, one of my ports is a standard USB. I plugged the corresponding cable into the port on my chest. It didn't feel like it was turned on yet, though.

Sarah reminds me a lot of someone I used to know, but older, and more measured.

As she activated the connection, I felt it immediately. It’s like someone else being in your head, almost. Mostly it was just poking and prodding, not changing anything. I could feel my thoughts triggering sort of semi-voluntarily as it probed my memories, but I couldn’t really make heads nor tails of the presence in my head. One minute it was one place, the next it was somewhere else, moving almost like a living thing, but very carefully. Like I said, it feels really vulnerable to have an open connection like that.

“Yeah, just as I thought. It seems like you’ve got some functional-based stuff in there. Looks like lazy evaluation too,” Sarah said, examining the output on the terminal. “Memory circuits aren’t triggering until they’re forced to. Lemme copy out some memories and try to decompile the nodes into Haskell or something. I’m gonna pick something random because I don’t know what’s what, hopefully it’s nothing embarrassing or traumatic. You’re going to re-live an episodic memory as the files are copied.”

“Okay,” I answered.

...

I was lying in the hospital bed. My skin hurt. Skin. I had skin then. I opened my eyes, which felt gritty and goopy, and bright fluorescent light forced me to close them again. It hurt. Everything hurt. There were bandages all over me. I couldn’t think straight, there was a pervasive fog in my head. Morphine, maybe?

“Are you awake?” asked a high-pitched voice. “Mr. Wright, can you hear me?” The voice was so far away. I tried to speak, but only a scratchy gurgle came out. I coughed. My ribs hurt so much. I shouldn’t have done that.

“It’s okay, Mr. Wright, don’t try to speak.” I felt warmth. The person speaking was gripping my hand. The feeling was so soothing. 

“You’ve been in an accident, Mr. Wright.”

I started to slip back into unconsciousness.

...

“Tesla, are you okay?” Sarah asked. “You made this sort of coughing sound, it was startling. Is the memory over?” She was looking at me with raised eyebrows. Did she see what I saw through the terminal...? No, of course not.

“Yes, pardon me. That was a memory I thought I had forgotten,” I answered a little shakily. 

“Really? That’s odd, usually I end up with higher-priority memories because the software goes for the ones that seem strongest and most cohesive. Graduations, weddings, things like that,” Sarah said, puzzled.

“Oh, I guess I’m just an outlier then.” Really, it wasn’t a memory I had forgotten at all, just one I wish I had.

“What was it of, if it’s not too personal?” she asked.

“Just a hospital stay I had once,” I replied.

“Interesting,” she mused. “Well, that’s gonna decompile for a few minutes, and I’m gonna get myself some tea. Do you... want anything?” she asked, staring with some uncertainty at my mouthless faceplate.

I was a little low on coolant at that point. Normally I don’t eat or drink in front of people I don’t know well, but Sarah... seemed like a good exception.

“Just some water, with a straw if you have them,” I answered.

“I don’t normally keep straws around the house, but I’ll see what I can find,” she said.

With that, she left me alone in the computer room. I could hear her moving around in the kitchen, getting out a kettle and her tea. No pre-made, just the old-fashioned kind. I never got why some people don’t like convenience.

After a couple of minutes, she came back in holding her own mug of tea and a glass of water with a swirly pink loopy straw poking out the top.

“My son used to love these when he was a kid,” she commented. “I don’t have any other straws, so I hope it’s okay.”

I chuckled. “Thank you, it’s fine.” I lifted the front of my faceplate just enough to snake the straw up to my coolant intake. I really need to install a hatch or something on there.

Sarah sat back down at her terminal and read the data output.

“Alright, all of this seems pretty normal. I’m gonna cobble together some basic filesystem drivers and try to integrate them so you can properly store and manipulate files. What kinds of specific applications do you plan on using a lot?”

“I work in marketing and do a lot of graphic design stuff,” I answered.

“Really? An Amalgam working in graphic design? Now I’ve seen everything,” she laughed. 

I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to react, so I just nodded. 

“Anyway, that means I’m going to have to do some extensive work with your visual system. I’d have to run more tests on your architecture for that, but I sort of have stuff to do later today... could you come by again in a few days?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure. Any time, really, my work schedule is pretty flexible.”

I had finished the water by this point, and I closed up my faceplate.

“Let me get that for you,” Sarah said, taking it from me. She took the water glass from me and put it in the sink in the kitchen, and then came back into the room and leaned up against the door frame.

“I’ll call you when the filesystem drivers are ready, and we can run the tests and install the program in the same visit,” she said. “Sound good?”

“Alright,” I answered. “See you then.”

She showed me to the door, and that was that.