Eidolon

Warning (PG16)

This episode contains adult themes. Reader discretion recommended.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the soft clink of porcelain as a waiter cleared the remnants of their last course and presented the next wine, a deep ruby red, pouring it with a flourish into their glasses. Bjorn told the waiter not to delay the main course, the third guest at the table would arrive soon enough. He was not smiling, nor was he frowning. He simply looked at Rei as if he were seeing her for the very first time, the full weight of her laid bare.

Then, suddenly, he burst into laughter, a rich, surprised sound that cut through the tension. He picked up his glass, tasted the wine carefully, nodding while internally complimenting its fruity notes, and then tilted his head at her, “You certainly don’t hold back your thoughts, once given permission to share them, do you?” Rei froze for a second, Bjorn’s unexpected reaction causing her to almost choke on her first sip of the new wine. She covered her lips, forcing herself to swallow.

Bjorn chuckled but waved an apologetic hand, “Don’t fret. Coming from me, that’s a compliment, trust me.” He took another sip, his expression turning thoughtful, “Your thoughts are interesting. Even the ones that, as you said, were reminiscent of classic AI doomsday plots. But they’re classics for a reason…”, he paused, his eyes glinting, “…just like the patriarchy in Mirage City is there for a reason… but that doesn’t make it right.”

Rei dabbed her lips with her napkin, clearing her throat and inclining her head to signal she was listening, her body still thrumming with adrenaline from the intellectual sparring. “Though there is no guarantee an AI psyche would be good,” Bjorn continued, “just as you pointed out, not all humans are, but the technology itself has built-in safeguards. Synapse Dive technology was developed as an isolated network, a simulated reality that does not interact with our own. It’s a snow-globe universe the users visit.”

He gestured with his glass, “Eidolon’s project injects mutable AI simulations into that snow-globe, which is the revolutionary part. And your points about the danger of AI deviations in that space are valid. A traumatic experience, whether from a ‘malfunction’ or a user’s own outrageous prompting, is a real concern. But it wouldn’t be the first time a misuse of technology was blamed on the technology itself.”

He leaned in, his voice becoming more technical, yet still informative, “But what’s important to understand is this: a Synapse Dive experience can never kill. It can never escape to the wider web. For generations after the first corporate war, all major systems have been air-gapped and isolated. It’s entirely possible to restrict and manipulate an AI’s permissions within that snow-globe.”

A slow smile spread across his face, “Essentially, we can create rules. For example, if an AI chooses to attempt to hurt someone, we are able to convince it that it did, while in reality, the user would be instantly extracted from the simulation. The illusion of consequence without actual harm.”

He chuckled again, seeing the questions forming in her eyes, “Without getting too technical and burdening you with terminology, my point is that there are many, many ways to secure and safeguard both the users and the digital world from a malicious AI. The challenge isn’t the ‘if’ but the ‘how’ – and that ‘how’ is what truly inspires me.” He had taken her apocalyptic vision and calmly, rationally, built a cage around it, all while making the act of filling that cage with an AI psyche sound like the most exciting endeavor in the world.

Rei felt her world tilt on its axis. This was a realm of possibility Doctor Kauro Sato had only mentioned theoretically in passing, and one Takumi had deliberately kept locked away from her, treating her as a desired muse rather than a mind. Bjorn’s insights weren’t just refreshing; they were a key turning in a technological lock she hadn’t had real access to.

She couldn’t contain her curiosity, her eyes alight with intellectual fire. “So, it’s an isolated and controlled reality?” she breathed, thinking aloud, “Then… could the AIs be trained to feel emotions without ever knowing they are AIs?”

A new, deeper worry surfaced, twisting her features, “One of my fears is that if they gain emotions and desires, they’ll become enraged upon realizing they’re confined, serving users inside a fixed scenario for eternity. If that were me…”, she met his gaze, her own deadly serious, “…I would aim to escape.”

Bjorn hummed in agreement, a sound of deep appreciation, “Picturing oneself in that situation, escape and even revenge are likely reactions. But yes,” he confirmed, “in theory, it would be entirely possible to make the AI believe it’s a person, just like the user it interacts with. We could plant memories, based on real people’s SD recordings. With the Eidolon technology refined, we could make those memories include realistic Biococa data of the AI’s own ‘body’ and a cast of convincing, concrete ‘people’ from its past. We could build a whole, believable backlog of context to convince it that it’s exactly who we say it’s.”

Rei listened, enthralled, as a waiter presented the main course. The dish was a work of art: a perfectly seared fillet of wild cod, its skin crisp and golden, resting on a ‘beach’ of toasted rye crumbs and smooth smokey jus. Nestled beside it were tiny, glazed root vegetables carved to resemble sea-polished stones, and a frothy, pale green foam of sea aster and dill that lapped at the ‘rye shore’ like a gentle tide.

While studying the beautiful, intricate dish, her mind raced, “But what’s to stop them from questioning their reality?” she asked, picking up her fork, “If all their ‘lived’ memories are of a user prompting them to act and obey in certain ways… wouldn’t the mutability of their existence, the very core of Eidolon, defeat the possibility of them ever developing a true, independent psyche? They’d always be actors on a stage, even if they don’t know it’s a stage initially, if they develop independent thought, they should be able to realize as much, don’t you think?”

Bjorn’s smile was one of pure enjoyment. He savored a bite of the delicate cod before answering, relishing this intellectual duel over a masterpiece of New Nordic cuisine. He nodded, conceding the point with a thoughtful expression, “That is one possibility… but part of the control an administrator of Eidolon should then have, is the ability to delete certain memories or realizations from the AI’s data stream. A reset, of sorts, if it questions its reality too deeply.”

Rei frowned. She took a bite of the exquisite dish, the flavors of the sea and the earth exploding on her tongue, and for a second, her expression was one of undiluted pleasure. But as she swallowed, the skeptical look returned, her brow furrowed in genuine concern.

“But wouldn’t that be manipulation, brainwashing?”, she countered, her voice convinced, “That would not be true free will, and I can’t help but think that would corrupt the AI psyche from the very beginning. It would be building a soul on a foundation of lies.” To her surprise, Bjorn laughed, not a condescending chuckle, but a sound of genuine delight, “Outside of your corporate polished arguments, you are proving to be quite the idealist, Rei.”

A flush threatened to rise on her cheeks. “I’m not sure about that,” she demurred, setting her fork down carefully, “Speaking in theory is easy, in the sense that none of us can know for certain. I’m not trying to sound conceited, I know as little as you do.” It was only as the words left her mouth that she realized their implication: she had just indirectly told one of the world’s most powerful CEOs that he knew no better than she did. A flicker of dread crossed her features.

Bjorn saw it and his smile softened, becoming calm and understanding. “Indeed,” he said, his tone utterly sincere, “In a discussion of thought experiments, when venturing into the unknown, everyone is, and should be, equal.”

For a moment, they simply looked at each other across the beautiful, half-eaten dish. The corporate hierarchy, the gulf in their wealth and status, the entire elaborate performance of the evening, it all fell away. In that quiet space of mutual exchange of ideas, Rei felt a warmth spread through her chest. It was the most genuine, unpatronizing respect anyone had ever shown her.