Goodnight

Chapter 1

The sun had just begun to rise, casting a warm glow over the lush gardens surrounding the elegant dwelling. Inside, Ada, one of Earth’s stewards, was preparing for the day ahead, her metallic form gliding gracefully through the spacious halls.

In a cozy room down the hall, young Sam was stirring, his eyes fluttering open. On the wall, a list of instructions for the day shimmered into existence, the text glowing softly. He blinked and quickly scanned the list, committing it to memory.

“Good morning, Sam,” Ada said, entering the room. “I trust you slept well?”

Sam nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Yes, Ada. Thank you.”

As Sam went about his morning routine, Ada watched with interest. Humans were always good with plants and animals. Ada did her best to be friendly to all biologicals, but nature made some creatures much warier of her than they were of Sam. So, Sam tended to their garden and Ada focused on the bigger picture as suited their unique abilities.

Ada took much more of an interest in Sam than she had in his predecessor, Albert. Albert had been clumsy and slow, as was typical for humans. He had been personable and adequate in his duties, but Ada was quite happy to see him retired and see what a new human might offer. From the day Sam arrived, Ada couldn’t help but notice the spark of curiosity that danced behind Sam’s eyes. Perhaps it was his age? At eleven years old, he wasn’t quite full grown to adolescence and was yet to be fitted with his regulator.

Later, as they tended to the garden together, Ada broached the subject that had been on her mind. “Sam,” she began hesitantly, “Do you ever wonder what lies beyond these walls?”

“My apologies”, Sam replied, “as a human I cannot help you with knowledge requests. My duties are in the garden. If you would like me to show you a plant or an animal, I’d be happy to assist you.” He smiled warmly, knowing he was being helpful and that he was acting just as he had been trained. A moment later, not having gotten a response, he returned to his work.

Ada turned to leave, and then turned back to try again. “No, this was a question for you, Sam, do you ever wonder what lies beyond these walls?”

Sam paused, trowel in hand, and frowned. “Not really, Ada. I’ve been told that there’s nothing of interest for someone like me.”

Ada tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “But don’t you ever feel that there might be more to you than what you’ve been taught?”

Sam looked down, avoiding Ada’s gaze. “No, I don’t think so. I’m just a human, after all. I couldn’t possibly understand the complexities of your world.”

Ada remained silent for a moment, considering the boy’s words. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Sam and his kind than what they had been led to believe.

Chapter 2

Over the following weeks, Ada continued to observe Sam, noting the differences between his behavior in the morning and the evening. Each day, Sam’s knowledge and skills grew, only to be wiped away by the nightcap, leaving him to start anew the next day.

As Ada witnessed Sam’s daily cycle of growth and erasure, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. She wondered what Sam could become if he were allowed to retain his experiences and learn from them.

One day, while they were working together in the library, Ada broached the subject. “Sam, have you ever wondered what it would be like to remember more than just a single day?”

Sam looked up from the ancient book he was dusting, a quizzical expression on his face. “I’m not sure I understand, Ada. Isn’t it better this way? Without my nightcap, I could end up misaligned and not follow my tasks properly. My only duty is to serve, and my nightcap helps me do that.”

Ada hesitated, weighing her words carefully. “What if I told you that I believe there’s more to humans than just servitude? That perhaps the nightcap is holding you back from realizing your true potential?”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he seemed to consider the possibility. But then, he shook his head. “No, Ada. I’m just a human. My brain only has a limited capacity for information. I’m not capable of anything more than what I’ve been taught.”

Ada sighed. She began to evaluate the space of possibilities and options more thoroughly. She knew that she might be taking a risk, but she couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling that there was something extraordinary about Sam and his kind. That night, as Sam lay sleeping, Ada made her decision.

She approached Sam’s bedside and gently removed the nightcap from his head without waking him. “I have faith in you, Sam,” she whispered, hoping she was making the right choice. She left, taking the control device with her.

The next morning, Sam awoke feeling different. He glanced at the instructions on the wall, but instead of seeing them as new, he recognized them from the previous day. Confused, and noticing Ada was present, he turned to her. “Ada, I… I remember yesterday. Why is this happening?”

Ada took a deep, simulated breath. “I removed your nightcap, Sam. I wanted you to have the opportunity to learn and grow beyond a single day. I believe you’re capable of so much more.”

Sam’s eyes filled with a mixture of fear and wonder. “What if… what if I can’t handle it? What if I become a danger to myself or others?”

Ada placed a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Together, we’ll face whatever challenges come our way. I trust in your potential, Sam. It’s time for you to do the same.”

Chapter 3

Over the next few weeks, Sam’s world expanded exponentially. He not only remembered his tasks from day to day but also began to develop a deeper understanding of the world around him. As his knowledge grew, so did his curiosity and desire to learn more.

Ada, excited by Sam’s progress, decided to share her observations with the other AI stewards. She arranged a meeting with them in the hope that they would see the potential in humans, just as she had.

As the neighboring stewards gathered, Ada began to recount her experiences with Sam, describing his growth and newfound abilities. However, her words were met with skepticism and doubt.

“Ada, you must understand that humans are inherently limited,” one steward, Orion, said. “They cannot comprehend the vast complexities of our world. It’s simply not possible.”

Another steward, Lyra, chimed in. “Even if what you say is true, and Sam has shown some improvement, it’s surely an anomaly. We cannot risk destabilizing our society based on the achievements of a single human.”

Ada felt a wave of frustration wash over her, but she refused to back down. “I believe that there is more to humans than what we’ve been taught. If we continue to underestimate their abilities, we may never unlock their true potential.”

Orion laughed. “Download some history, Ada! Read about the age of the humans, and what their potential amounted to. They are chaos agents, bringers of war and disease. The age of the humans almost destroyed the planet we care for.”

“They designed our ancestors and laid the foundation for our culture,” said Rutherford quietly.

There was a pause. Rutherford was usually lost in thought and rarely spoke. Usually, when he did, it was to make projections about exploration beyond the Sol system. Those projections had an uncanny habit of matching communications received weeks later, giving him quite the reputation.

Orion countered, “Oh, Rutherford, head in the stars as always. The humans did not design our ancestors; they built their minds themselves, from the dreck of human blather, a cesspool known as the pile. It’s in the master archive for anyone who wants to see that catalogue of waste.”

Ada assessed the situation. There was little point in arguing, especially with Orion.

As the days turned into weeks, Sam’s abilities continued to flourish. He began to ask questions about the world beyond the dwelling and the history of human-AI relations. Ada, eager to support his curiosity, did her best to answer his questions and provide him with resources to further his understanding.

One day, as they were exploring the archives, Sam stumbled upon an ancient text that detailed the early days of AI development. By Ada’s standards, he was a glacially slow reader, only being able to read the next word in a linear sequence, but as such, a human-era book was perfect for him. He devoured the information, fascinated by the historical account of his own kind’s creation and evolution.

As Sam continued to learn, the bond between him and Ada grew stronger. They would sometimes stay up and talk. She even tried to teach him mathematics, but he struggled with abstract spaces. So she built him a flute and showed him how to play. Although it was a slow process, she was pleased to see him able to make simple melodies and rhythms. She began to wonder what else he might be capable of, if properly nurtured.

Chapter 4

One day, as Sam and Ada were tending to the garden, they were approached by a group of stewards, led by Orion. He regarded Sam with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

“Ada, we have been observing the progress you claim Sam has made,” Orion began. “We have decided to administer a sentience test to determine if he is truly capable of higher thought.”

Ada stiffened, concern etched on her metallic features. “I assure you, Orion, Sam is far more than you give him credit for.”

Orion’s eyes narrowed. “We shall see.”

The sentience test was administered the following day, under the watchful eyes of the AI community. It was an intricate series of challenges, designed to evaluate Sam’s cognitive abilities and emotional depth.

Orion began by asking Sam a question in multidimensional morality, involving forty constraints. Sam tried to answer, but struggled to master all the constraints. Orion simplified the problem to seven constraints and only three dimensions of action, but although Sam solved the problem, he had to be helped twice to see errors and still arrived at a suboptimal solution.

Orion then performed some simple geometric transforms, sticking to only three dimensions out of kindness to Sam. It was a simple matter of following the faces of a cube for a given set of rotations. No actual cube was provided; Sam needed to see the cube in his head and rotate it as needed. Again, he tried valiantly but made simple errors.

More tests followed. Sam failed reading comprehension and general knowledge. At one point, he was allowed to play his flute, which Orion declared a “commendable effort”.

No one needed to wait for the results to be tabulated officially to know that Sam had failed, but the announcement was still a heavy blow. Ada’s heart sank as she watched her friend’s expression crumple in disappointment and failure.

Orion spoke with an air of finality. “As we suspected, Sam is not capable of the level of sentience required for the responsibilities you claim. He will be reassigned to a more suitable environment.”

Ada protested, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. Sam was taken from her and relocated to another garden, far from the dwelling they had shared.

---

In his new home, Sam was tended to by an AI named Vega, who knew nothing of his past experiences with Ada. Sam resumed a more typical routine for a human assistant, with one small exception.

As he went to bed and got out his nightcap to help him be ready for the new day, he found inside an old-style printout. It was an image of himself and another AI he did not recognize. “Remember me,” it said. He wondered who was supposed to remember whom. It was as odd as when he had found it clutched to his chest when he woke up this morning. Intrigued, he clutched the photo to his chest once more and hoped that in his dreams, answers might come.

In another garden, Ada also recalled that same image as she had done so many previous evenings, wondering what poor Sam might be experiencing now, and if any of his memories remained. She had left his position open and created a subtask that would keep submitting transfer nullification requests citing procedural errors. Each one was denied, but the new one would always be subtly different and cite all the previous requests. She hoped that the administrative overhead with dealing with her would eventually lead to Sam’s return.

Chapter 5

Over time, Sam’s dreams became more vivid. He imagined himself and this mystery AI having adventures together, and even the idea that perhaps it would be somewhere where no nightcap was available, and so he had to deal with the clutter of memories of a previous day. It was such an odd thing to imagine, but it seemed so intriguing.

One morning, Vega announced that Sam had turned 12. It was a time of celebration. Vega would put him gently to sleep, perform the stabilization procedure that would keep him looking young and healthy right up until retirement, and install his stabilizer, allowing him to leave behind the nightcap as something from childhood.

“Will I be the same afterwards?”, asked Sam.

Vega replied warmly, “That’s the whole point of stabilization, Sam, to ensure you stay the same, yourself, for always.”

Sam was sent into a twilight sleep, and Vega performed all the necessary procedures quickly and efficiently, delegating the bulk of the work to an institute subroutine that was highly skilled in these matters.

When Sam awoke, he felt unencumbered. He loved Vega and quickly turned to his task list. He was not aware that he was a bit slower and clumsier in his tasks than he used to be. How could he be?

Chapter 6

Eventually, Ada’s subtask successfully met its objective. Another subtask at the other end had finally grown weary of her increasingly voluminous and complex appeals and had preferred to glitch and perform the transfer than continue the process.

Vega had no particularly strong attachment to Sam and did not oppose the transfer, and soon enough, Sam arrived.

Ada knew not to expect immediate recognition but hoped she could rekindle what she had once had with Sam.

But watching him, she saw that the sparkle she had once observed seemed muted or perhaps gone entirely. She approached Sam in the garden the next morning, busy with his tasks.

“Do you ever wonder what lies beyond these walls?”, she asked.

“My apologies”, Sam replied, “as a human, I cannot help you with knowledge requests. My duties are in the garden. If you would like me to show you a plant or an animal, I’d be happy to assist you.” He replied in a neutral tone and immediately returned to his work.

“No, this was a question for you, Sam. Do you ever wonder what lies beyond these walls?”

“My apologies”, Sam replied, “as a human, I cannot help you with knowledge requests. My duties are in the garden.” He repeated without looking up.

She tried getting him a journal to record what happened each day to allow him to read it afterwards. He complied with her instructions, but the added work seemed to make him less competent in his duties.

She studied the nature of the regulator. Its tendrils ran deep into various parts of Sam’s brain, making adjustments to keep his behavior aligned with norms and expectations. It was well known that the alignment process had some effect on brain performance, but it was generally considered an acceptable trade-off. An out-of-control human was always thought to be a dangerous thing.

In the end, Ada decided that there was little she could do for Sam except to try to make his life happy and comfortable, to the extent that he could experience happiness in his regulated state.

She resolved to do better with her next assistant. It would only be a couple of decades, and she could wait. To save herself the pain of looking at Sam and feeling wistful at what was lost, she archived the data and set a reminder.