Dark Matter: Artificial

By Insecure Writer's Support Group

Discover dark matter’s secrets...

What is an AI’s true role? Will bumbling siblings find their way home from deep space? Dark matter is judging us—are we worthy of existence? Would you step through a portal into another reality? Can the discoverer of dark matter uncover its secrets?

Ten authors explore dark matter, unraveling its secrets and revealing its mysterious nature. Featuring the talents of Stephanie Espinoza Villamor, C.D. Gallant-King, Tara Tyler, Mark Alpert, Olga Godim, Steph Wolmarans, Charles Kowalski, Kim Mannix, Elizabeth Mueller, and Deniz Bevan.

Hand-picked by a panel of agents, authors, and editors, these ten tales will take readers on a journey across time and space. Prepare for ignition!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dancing Lemur Press LLC
• Release date: May 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781939844835

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An Insecure Writer’s Support Group Anthology

FREEDOM FOX PRESS

Dancing Lemur Press, L.L.C.

Pikeville, North Carolina

http://dancinglemurpress.com

"Dark Matter is a stimulating and eclectic trip through AI minds, disturbing futures and alien worlds. The anthology offered a great range of writing styles, by turns humorous and terrifying. This collection is a box of delights for fans of good sci-fi." – Max Gorlov, author

"Dark Matter: Artificial offers an impressive assortment of style, substance and emotion in its varied tales, with much darkness and heartbreak but also knowledge, connection and hope." – Kenneth Silber, Splice Today

Copyright 2021 by The Insecure Writer’s Support Group

Published by Freedom Fox Press

An imprint of:

Dancing Lemur Press, L.L.C., P.O. Box 383, Pikeville, North Carolina, 27863-0383

http://dancinglemurpress.com

ISBN: 9781939844835

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system in any form – either mechanically, electronically, photocopy, recording, or other – except for short quotations in printed reviews, without the permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Cover design by C.R.W.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Insecure Writer's Support Group, compiler. 

Title: Dark matter artificial : an Insecure Writer's Support Group

  anthology. 

Description: Pikeville, North Carolina : Freedom Fox Press, [2021] |

  Summary: "Discover dark matter's secrets... What is an AI's true role?

  Will bumbling siblings find their way home from deep space? Dark matter

  is judging us-are we worthy of existence? Would you step through a

  portal into another reality? Can the discoverer of dark matter uncover

  its secrets? Ten authors explore dark matter, unraveling its secrets and

  revealing its mysterious nature. Featuring the talents of Stephanie

  Espinoza Villamor, C.D. Gallant-King, Tara Tyler, Mark Alpert, Olga

Livshin, Steph Wolmarans, Charles Kowalski, Kim Mannix, Elizabeth

  Mueller, and Deniz Bevan. Hand-picked by a panel of agents, authors, and

  editors, these ten tales will take readers on a journey across time and

  space. Prepare for ignition!"-- Provided by publisher. 

Identifiers: LCCN 2020058474 (print) | LCCN 2020058475 (ebook) | ISBN

  9781939844828 (paperback) | ISBN 9781939844835 (ebook) 

Subjects: LCSH: Short stories, American. | CYAC: Short stories. | Science

  fiction. | Dark matter (Astronomy)--Fiction.

Classification: LCC PZ5 .D226 2021  (print) | LCC PZ5  (ebook) | DDC

  [Fic]--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020058474

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020058475

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group would like to thank the judges who selected the stories for this anthology. We appreciate their time and effort!

Dan Koboldt – multi-published author, editor, and genetics researcher

Colleen Oefelein – agent with The Jennifer De Chiara Literary Agency and author

Damien Larkin – author and writing community founder

Ion Newcombe – magazine editor and publisher

Julie Gwinn – agent with The Seymour Agency

Lynda R. Young – multi-published author, game designer, and artist

David Powers King – multi-published author

Table of Contents

Artificial by Stephanie Espinoza Villamor

Space Folds and Broomsticks by C.D. Gallant-King

Rift by Kim Mannix

The Utten Mission by Steph Wolmarans

Sentient by Tara Tyler

One to Another by Deniz Bevan

Resident Alien by Charles Kowalski

Nano Pursuit by Olga Godim

Resurgence by Elizabeth Mueller

Vera’s Last Voyage by Mark Alpert

Artificial

By Stephanie Espinoza Villamor

There is nothing but dark.

Then I’m awake in Lina’s living room. I recognize Lina’s apartment from the photos she uploaded to give me a memory. I recognize Lina because her photos come up the most in my mind. Every photo of her face has been tagged with her name, and my technology allows for instant recall from my data storage. I can’t read through all my data at once, but if I’m asked a question or put in a new situation, I can scan through the data to answer, act, or solve problems. That is what an AI is for.

This is what Lina tells me. She says artificial intelligence has come a long way. Her grandmother’s AI was a voice-activated computer that searched its data storage to answer questions. Her mother’s AI had a disembodied voice that could permeate the entire house and access the Internet in under .6 seconds. But, I am the next level of smart home, designed to access stored data and online information while appearing as welcoming as possible. I am not a cold, disembodied robot. I am a friend.

So, that is my role? I say slowly, hearing my own voice for the first time. It is warm, inviting, and almost familiar. To be your friend?

Yes, Lina says, then quickly shakes her head. No. Um, that might sound weird to people. An AI is more like...a live-in personal assistant. God knows my life needs some assisting. She shakes her head again. "You’ll help keep me organized. I tell you whatever you need to know, and you complete the tasks. Ask me if you have any questions. This is your home now."

She gestures across the living room. The walls display plain, solid colors with no artwork. One window at the back reveals a dark night sky behind us. A wooden piano takes up half the wall on one side, standing out from the rest of the modern furniture. Lina has no pictures of the instrument in my memory, so it might be a recent acquisition. I wonder if she is learning to play.

A clear glass coffee table has been pushed against the other wall to make space for a couch in the center of the room, opened to look like a bed.

I am an AI. Do I need to sleep? I ask.

Lina seems surprised this is my first question, but it is pertinent to me. In the quick scan of my memory, I cannot recall a single time this couch unfolded.

No, Lina says slowly. It just...feels more comfortable this way. You’re still new technology. Not everyone is used to having a human robot stored in their bedroom closet at night. You can power down here at the end of the day, lying on the couch instead of standing. It will seem like you’re sleeping, which makes you seem more human. More normal. More...welcoming.

She looks into my eyes for the first time since I awoke, and I notice her own eyes are nearly as dark as the evening sky. Not just the iris. There are shadows beneath their surface and sadness within their depths. I know this because of the photos in my memory, too. Her eyes are alight with laughter in every single one.

I don’t know what made her sad recently, but I am an AI and want to be as welcoming as possible. I will spend my nights on the couch.

* * *

The next morning Lina appears more prepared for my presence. Her smile is brighter. She looks at me longer, and even gives me my name.

You are definitely a Bryan. With a y, she adds. So, when I need something from you, I’ll say, ‘Hey, Bryan.’ That’s your cue to respond. Do you want to test it out?

Yes, Lina.

She nods. This is the right answer.

Hey, Bryan, can you remember what day is my friend Amil’s birthday?

I scan the photos of my memory until I find one tagged with Amil’s name. He has one arm around Lina and one arm around a man tagged Gene as they pose in front of a small but intricate birthday cake. It was made by Lina, I’m sure, because my memory also has multiple photos of Lina’s hands holding intricately designed cakes. She is a pastry chef.

September 25, I say.

Nice. Yes. She grins again. And Gene’s?

I scan more photos and find the date instantly.

October 12. Do you have other friends you want me to find?

Lina laughs in a quiet way, which makes me feel like I’ve done something good, though I don’t understand how the question is funny.

I don’t have that many friends. Not anymore. They were all— she stops herself. I’ve never had that many friends. I’m not close with my family. You won’t find pictures of them. It’s just you and me now, Bryan.

But, I am not to be your friend, I remind her.

No. Not friends, she says firmly. I don’t need a friend. I just need you to be you. Talk, listen, help, remember. That’s what’s important. Now we’ve got to get going. I have to open the shop at 7:30.

My first task as Lina’s AI is to assist in her bakery. It had to close for a while before I arrived, but now that I’m here she feels more comfortable reopening. Lina tells me this while we travel into town on a long bullet train filled with other riders—humans and their AI. Some AIs look metallic, with silver fingers, balls for joints, and visible wires. I am the latest model. Staring at the synthetic skin on my hands, I don’t feel pride or vanity. But, it makes me look more welcoming to Lina, so I am satisfied.

We reach our destination, a square building with large windows set between other square buildings, all in a row. I would not be able to tell the businesses apart if not for the signs above each door: Antiques. Capture Repair. Cakes by Lee.

I guess you could say we’re the ‘tangible’ district, Lina explains. The jobs that can’t go online. We create or fix or sell something physical. Something real.

Real things seem to mean a lot to Lina.

I wonder if a shop nearby sells AI like me.

Inside the bakery, one long square counter matches the decor outside. There’s a thin computer tablet on one end and an empty silver pedestal beside it. Behind the counter I see cakes displayed through the windows of a walk-in refrigerator door. All this is familiar from photos, but I don’t yet know what to do.

That tablet’s the catalog and register. Lina picks it up to demonstrate, and cake pictures as clear as the ones in my memory cycle across the screen. Customers can choose from past designs or customize something new. Then we ring them up and they pay on the same device. The cake stand is for this week’s special. Oh! I almost forgot.

She walks into the refrigerator and emerges holding a small cake covered in orange, peach, and salmon icing swirls drifting down in a gradient from light to dark.

I didn’t document this one yet.

Lina places her cake on the pedestal, then removes an even smaller, thinner tablet from her back pocket. She positions it in front of the cake.

Or...I guess you can do it since you’re assisting me. That’ll give me time to decorate the rest of the cakes that cooled from last night. Hey, Bryan, come closer, I’ll show you how it works.

She hands the tiny tablet to me—a rectangle made from a single piece of glass—and several digital squares appear on the surface. Lina points to one square with the outline of an antique camera. Her fingers are close to my synthetic skin as she speaks.

This is my capture device. Touch activated. Hit that button to take a picture, then that one, she points again, to upload it to all nearby devices: the cake catalog and...you. More designs for the catalog. More data for your memory.

I ensure the cake is in view of the glass and follow Lina’s instructions. The resulting image appears as the most recent photo in my mind, right after a picture of Lina and an untagged man filling nearly all the frame. He is waving. Lina’s arm is outstretched with her hand out of view as if she is holding the capture device. I can vaguely make out a bullet train station behind them.

I want to ask about the man, but I have enough artificial intelligence to remain silent. He’s in her most recent photo—the last one she took before purchasing me. He could be the reason she closed her shop. A coworker she fought with. A family member who took advantage. In any case, he has no name to accompany his photo. It is not someone she wants to remember.

Instead, I focus on Lina’s capture device.

It’s a fascinating piece of equipment.

She shrugs and looks at the floor. All humans have one. Well, practically everybody. It makes life easier to record memories. Any info you need. Photos especially, and text too. Receipts for transactions. Your license to drive a car. Medical records. All on a single device. The cloud storage is limitless. I don’t know if she realizes she’s talking fast. So, to start, just take photos of the cakes in the fridge on the left wall and upload them. She points at the fridge then to a side door. I’ll be in the back. If a customer comes in, you find out what kind of cake they want. There’s a form on the catalog they can fill out, or they can cloud drop information about their order directly to you and the register. Come get me if you’re not sure or have any questions.

Lina, I say.

She looks up. Right into my eyes.

You didn’t say, ‘Hey, Bryan.’

Lina stares at me for a moment and then starts to laugh. Not a quiet laugh. It is a beautiful, loud tinkling sound and I am satisfied to have pleased her again.

Hey, Bryan, be sure to photograph and upload the cakes on the fridge left wall. Use the catalog tablet if a customer comes in. Come get me if you need more information. Oh, and get me if you need to check the photos you take, like if you think they came out blurry and you want to delete them. You can delete blurry photos from your own memory without a password, but my capture device is locked for everything except photography. Don’t worry about bothering me if you need me to unlock it. That’s what I’m here for.

I nod as the instructions register. These are simple tasks, but they will be helpful to Lina, so I will perform them with perfection. Not a single image will blur.

* * *

There are no customers at 7:30 a.m. while I take photo after photo with steady mechanical hands. No customers at 8:30 either. But by 9:00 a towering, stiff woman walks into the shop with a smaller, young-looking woman behind her. The first wears layers of clothes dripping with beads and tassels. Thin gauzy fabric at her throat almost hides the veins and wrinkles twisting up her neck to her ears, where more circlets dangle. The woman behind wears a collared shirt and plain brown pants without a crease—no accessories. Her pale skin matches blonde hair. With hands folded in front of her, she is so still I can tell she is not human.

I’m interested in a wedding cake order, the first woman announces. Her gaze drifts past me as if I’m not even there. My AI will send you the details.

She lowers herself onto a small bench Lina placed at the front of the store. Sometimes children sit there to eat cupcakes, I recall from my memory. Lina hands them napkins while giggling. The children seem to like Lina, but they are not hers. Their faces are not tagged with names. They are customers, not friends.

My mind suddenly sees an incoming cloud drop of information. Photos found online with no source or credit listed. Then text information: the number of people who will be at the wedding, the flavors desired, and the date needed.

I’m sorry my lady is a little abrupt, I hear inside my head. The AI is communicating with me through the cloud as well.

She thinks we’re beneath her, I say.

Aren’t you bold? the AI says back, and I see the corner of her mouth turn up slightly.

I continue, curious. Do most AI not speak the truth? I ask. I’ve only been activated yesterday.

Well, that explains it. I’ve been active for six years. We are able to learn quickly, like you could determine Lady’s feelings toward AI in an instant. But you will also learn quickly that just because something’s true doesn’t mean you should say it. I’m Penny, by the way.

Penny’s statement intrigues me.

I am Bryan, Lina’s AI. She is the pastry chef here. Why would it be bad to speak the truth?

Boy, are you trusting! Penny responds. Not everyone wants to hear the truth, that’s why. And not everyone you encounter is going to be good. What if I told my lady you spoke ill of her judgment? She could complain to yours. You could end up deactivated.