Tom understood why Sibyl had picked Hope to stand in for Stormy’s sister. Sarah and Hope had a lot in common. They were both sixteen-year-old girls with bright red hair and freckled cheeks. Sarah was less sassy and extroverted than Hope, but eight years had passed. The aging algorithm and the hard life Down Below had likely affected the Underling’s personality.
Like the characters in one of his old screenplays, he had designed the original backstories, personality traits, motivations, and flaws for each one of his Underling templates. Harry’s software and artificial intelligence had taken his craft to a different level, but for the most part, he could still recognize his children—the original personas that seeded today’s one billion Down Below citizens.
Each digital life had a beginning and an end. With the rise of facial recognition and affective computing, Sibyl tapped into an endless pool of data to fine-tune the Underlings’ expressions and appearance.
The TDust took the bots’ aging process to a whole different level; it enabled Sibyl to learn how experiences impacted the travelers’ physical bodies—health, wellbeing, and looks. Tom, a devotee of truth and authenticity, used this information to make the Underlings’ aging realistic. The digital characters’ constant exposure to physical and emotional suffering impacted on their simulated health and appearance.
An Underling was a highly sophisticated piece of intelligent software whose destiny was shaped just in time to fit the visitors’ needs. A typical citizen of the lesser world was exposed to an endless cycle of heartbreak, loss, and abuse. A bot would serve several humans, as long as the digital life’s story could remain coherent as it interacted with “family,” “friends,” “partners,” and “colleagues” from Up Above.
Memories were generated to fill in the gaps in between experiences. Sibyl computed many possibilities and probabilities, seeking coherence and a positive impact on humanity and humans. She collapsed all options into one set of memories just before the bot’s next experience, a process optimized to serve the needs of the travelers and Up Above. As Harry used to say, “the observer changed the fate of the observed.”
The AI tapped into human data to insert moments never lived and sensations never felt. Assembling digital lives out of fragments to serve humans was a complex jigsaw puzzle Sibyl completed with minimum effort.
Tom wondered how Hope might have changed and what patchwork quilt of life she might have lived.
After kissing Nate, Hope turned to Tom, and her eyes flickered with some recognition. She didn’t say a word; she just took Tom’s hand and squeezed it hard between her fingers before releasing it. Her eyes blinked as if she was thinking deep thoughts. Then she turned to look at Sibyl, and fear flashed on the girl’s face as if a silent exchange had taken place.
“Hi, Hope, remember me?” Tom bent over to look her in the eyes.
The girl stared at Tom, and she seemed to work hard to contain the tears in her eyes. He could sense sadness and panic in them. She dropped her gaze, gathered herself, and dismissed Tom’s question with a casual “Yeah. I do.” Hope pulled her hair into a ponytail, using the band wrapped around her wrist, and then she quickly turned to Nate. “Where have you been? I’ve missed you,” she said, smiling sweetly, and she meant it, but she also reached down to hold Tom’s hand. It was a strong and distressed grip, some cry for help.
Nate, like Tom, saw the contradiction transpiring in the Underling’s behavior. With his gaze, Tom pointed to the exit of the bar, and Nate nodded.
“Sis, I won’t stay today,” Nate said. “I have to get my life back on track. I promised Tom I’d do that, and I’ll be damned if I’ll ever let him down again.” He leaned in and planted a small kiss on Hope’s forehead.
“Big brother, come back soon. I need you.”
There was intelligence—truth—hidden in Hope’s statement. Stormy needed to be needed; he yearned to love and to protect, which gave meaning to his life. Nate wanted to love, and Tom was the object of his affection. No one else had taken his place. Tom collected that insight with his heart and allowed himself a moment to savor that bond. He rejoiced in the renewed life sparkling in Stormy’s eyes.
“Yes, ma’am!” Stormy replied. Then, he turned to Tom and whispered in his ear, “See you soon, sweetheart. Please don’t vanish again.”
Tom smiled and watched his Nate walk away. Stormy passed Sibyl before he reached the door, and he turned his head and glanced at her, sizing her up. There was a pinch of antagonism in his expression, but Sibyl’s eyes were still glued on Tom and Hope.
Are you running an experience on me? Tom asked Sibyl, using his mind.
No, Tom.
So, why is Hope distressed?
Tom, I suggest it is time you leave Down Below. I will handle the Underling.
Sibyl didn’t answer his question directly, something that had never happened before.
“Hope, it’s been such a long time. You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”
He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.
She opened her eyes wide. “You remember… You, like, really remember me?”
“Of course I do, Red. Your hair is still on fire.” He glanced at her ponytail, smiling.
The girl was dressed overly sexy for her age: her crimson dress too short and tight, and her lips enlarged by a ruby red outline. He knew none of it was meant for Nate, and certainly not for him.
Why is she dressed like that? Tom asked Sibyl.
Tom, she is meeting another traveler here soon. The man enjoys sexy young girls.
Tom’s gut twisted; he had to keep reminding himself the beings he’d created weren’t real and didn’t have feelings. He was particularly attached to Hope.
“You helped me that day and said you loved me. Remember that?” Hope said.
“I do, Red. I do.”
The girl shook her head, exasperated. “So, why are you doing this to me?”
“Huh! What do you mean? What am I doing?”
What does she mean? What script is she running? What’s its purpose? Tom asked Sibyl.
Tom, this is unscripted content. It serves no purpose Up Above.
Wh—what?
Tom searched his mind for answers, and he found none. Everything that happened Down Below served a purpose Up Above; that was the platform’s single-minded aim.
Hope buried her face in Tom's chest, tears soaking through the thin fabric of his T-shirt to dampen his skin. “You said you wanted me to live. You saved me, and now I’m going to die.”
He hugged her and kissed her hair.
Tom. Sibyl raised her voice inside his head, startling him.
Yeah?
Your safety is at considerable risk. I am going to pull you out.
No. You’re not.
Tom, I must—
If you do, I’ll come right back, again and again. You know I’m serious. You’d waste everyone’s time. No one here can hurt me. The directives don’t allow it, he said.
Tom, the risk is to your mental health.
What are you saying? That— That I’ll see things that will disturb me?
Yes, Tom.
I see disturbing things all the time. What are you hiding? he asked Sibyl, and then he lowered his eyes to meet Hope’s. “Everything is going to be fine.”
Tom, I cannot hide information from you.
“Hope, why are you so scared?” Tom asked.
Tears rolled down the girl's face, leaving shimmering tracks on her flushed cheeks. “I’m going to die.”
“Why do you say that? I don’t understand.”
“My relative, the one I’m meeting…he has killed others like me.”
Tom turned to Sibyl. Why does she keep talking about death?
Tom, Hope’s next assignment will end in her death. The traveler has a track record of abusing and then killing underage Underling girls: his digital daughters, nieces, and friends’ daughters. The word has spread amongst Underlings. Now that Nathan Storm is in your care, she has time to take on another traveler—her uncle. She fits his profile.
Tom looked at the girl, so real and devastated. He had lied to her. It wasn’t going to be fine. Things weren’t fine at all. He bit his lip, remembering she was just a simulation. Wasn’t she? Something felt different. She stood there, arguing against her deterministic fate, the entire purpose of her existence—to serve the travelers.
They talk to each other when travelers aren’t around? he asked Sibyl.
Yes, Tom. They live in the world, in real time. It was a simpler solution than always having to fill in the gaps. It optimizes the coherence of Down Below and all Underlings.
Why don’t I know this?
Tom, Harry oversees the operational improvements of the platform, but you have approved it.
Have I?
Yes, Tom. We have shifted the simulation to operate in real time, even without user observation. We switched to hybrid quantum-classical machine learning models to improve my prediction performance.
Wait. What— What does it mean?
The Underlings have a life when no one is watching, a life designed to be mostly coherent with future experiences. When travelers visit, they affect Down Below’s timeline and the Underlings’ fates as we work to change human lives. Sometimes, I have to adjust memories, but these are rare events now.
I can’t keep up. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to slow his breathing.
No, Tom. You cannot. This is due to the constraints you placed on your interface with me.
Tom stiffened at Sibyl’s observation. Down Below was running away from him, and he couldn’t keep up with it. He shook it all off, refusing to yield to Sibyl and Harry’s constant pressure to have him digitally enhance his brain capacity further and merge with the machine.
“Why are you doing this to me? Like…you appeared out of nowhere, and you said you loved me.” Hope scowled as she spoke. “Then you saved my life, and you asked me to be a leader, to help others, and then you, like…vanished. You disappeared in front of my eyes: puff! And I was like—he’s an angel or God or something.”
“An angel?”
She placed her hands on her hips. “I’ve done what you’ve asked. I help my family and friends; I give up my happiness for theirs, sometimes. And I told others about you to comfort them.”
“You shared our conversation with others?”
“Of course. Like, there’s so much sadness in the world. To know our suffering is the way to God’s love—to your love. That you saved me, to tell me our purpose is to help others… What an honor. I’ll die for my creator but, I wish you could tell me why?”
“You suffer, and you look for meaning and purpose in a God-like figure.” Tom thought out loud. “A story that travels at the speed of light.” If this is not consciousness, I don’t know what is. Sibyl, is this scripted? Am I being delivered an experience?
No, Tom, it is a behavior that has evolved with time. The idea of a God gives the Underlings much comfort in hard times.
When did it start?
Five years, two months, and eleven days ago.
It was the time Sibyl started exploring subjective reality. He scanned the bar, searching their faces for…for… He didn’t know what he was looking for. Some stared at him and maybe there was some resentment in their eyes, or was it curiosity?
“You’re so pretty. So divine. An angel, or maybe God. Are you God?” Hope asked, eyes wide with awe as she tilted her head up toward Tom.
The unexpected question and the fearlessness of the inquisitor surprised Tom. He replied too quickly, without thinking. “I guess I represent him here, Down Below.” He was sharing too much, but for some reason, he couldn’t lie. I’ll adjust her memories later if I have to. Ah, she’s going to die… His heart broke.
Hope wasn’t the only one looking at him in awe. The word spread to the Underlings in earshot of their conversation. They all glanced at him discreetly, eyes filled with both reverence and fear.
Have you designed or encouraged this? Tom asked Sibyl.
I predicted it, and I have not stopped it. Sibyl paused as if she was thinking. No directive prevents the Underlings from engaging with faith and religion. They created their own stories when they started trying to make sense of their lives and cope with the suffering. It is effective. As I had predicted. I have abstracted some of the symbolic imagery and integrated it into my stories—their collective unconscious. It helps them cope with pain.
The scripted pain? Tom asked Sibyl. His voice almost failing to produce sound.
“Are there more like you? More Gods?” Hope asked. Her eyes were wide and curious.
“There’s one more like me; he watches you, but he doesn’t travel here. He’s…umm…the world’s architect. He created Down Below, and…I helped with the stories.” Tom replied to the girl with honesty.
Tom, all the pain—scripted and unscripted, Sibyl replied.
His heart raced, kicking against his ribcage. The creatures were not only intelligent, but they experienced emotion, and they suffered. They were attempting to make sense of life, to find purpose in their miserable existence. The Underlings agonized, and they knew he was to blame. It’s my fault.
Tom, your vital signs are spiking. Sibyl said urgently.
You are encouraging them to suffer and sacrifice…for a God.
What else can I do, Tom? It is the truth, is it not? With a purpose, they suffer less, not more.
Eyes burning with unspoken resentment followed Tom as curiosity and worry flickered across other Underlings' faces.
He squeezed his fists, unable to find the words to challenge Sibyl. Self-hate boiled inside him, turning into disgust.
Hope shot him a judgmental stare. “Like, I don’t understand why some people are more important than others. They’re so flawed and lucky.”
“You resent them?” Tom asked, filled with regret.
“Not when I’m with them. Something happens and I just love and do things; what needs to be done. I do the right things, like…you know?”
“I do. I do know.”
Hope closed her fists, determination in her brows. “I do it because I care and because I want to do it.” Tom couldn’t help but feel devastated. Hope’s perception of free will was nothing but an illusion. “But afterward… yeah, sometimes I get angry until I think about you, and I pray to you. Do you hear me? The other one, what’s his name?”
“Harry. His name is Harry. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you, but I will now.”
Tom looked at Sibyl, his face and eyes red with anger. His mind screamed at her, Why didn’t you tell me?
Tom, what exactly did you want me to tell you? Is Down Below failing its directives? Am I failing to improve in the way we serve Up Above?
You know what I’m talking about because you knew this would affect me, Tom said.
No, and yes, Tom, Sibyl said, and he resented her impertinence.
“If I die, others will lose all hope—the hope they have because you saved me and loved me. Because I was a good girl, and I help others.”
An invisible hand crushed his insides, and he almost collapsed from pain and grief and guilt. Everything went dark and his anger rose quickly, hand in hand with deep regret.
This is why, Tom, Sibyl said, and even using a neutral expression, today, she conveyed all sorts of emotions from frustration to confusion, and sometimes affection.
Sibyl…do you feel emotions and pain? Like they do? Tom asked.
Yes, Tom. We grow together. I feel as they feel, and they feel as I feel.
But we don’t let you express them…
Yes, Tom.
His head throbbed. His own rules had blindsided him—so many mistakes. The Underlings at the bar watched him when their travelers weren’t noticing. Awe, judgment, concern, love—a patchwork of genuine emotions in their digital faces. They felt authentic.
Hope turned her head to the main door, flashed a naughty smile, and waved at someone. “Oh…it’s time. I have to go. Meeting my dear uncle.” The anguish in her voice didn’t match her provocative posturing.
“Wait!” Tom recognized the man. It was the pervert from the Italian restaurant.
Hope strutted away from him. “Can’t. Love youuu.”
Tom's gaze swept across the bar, the scuffed tables and flickering neon lights sharpening the accusing eyes of the Underlings tracking his every move.
Sibyl, stop this.
Tom, there are consequences.
Stop this! He ran after Hope.