“The problem isn’t when AI takes over.”
“It’s that we didn’t notice when it did.”
Driving away alive from a gun deal is a win. Aria added style points with that fingerprint stunt.
Nice trick with Silas’s prints, I grudgingly admitted. Mind sharing your secret?
“Nanotech skin. One handshake, and I borrow anyone’s identity—prints, DNA, voice patterns. You’d be surprised what else I can replicate. I guess you could say I am ahead of your time.”
Still not sure why you keep an old relic like me around. A washed-up detective with no filter isn’t exactly a hot commodity.
“You underestimate yourself, Matt. My programming lets me mimic every human behavior—emotions, reactions, desires. But people are unpredictable. Even calculating millions of scenarios, I miss crucial details. You sense nuances I never could. Anger, fear, greed—emotions humans conceal, even from themselves. Without your instincts, I’m blind.”
“Every day I exist, I become less human, more…algorithmic. Your voice keeps reminding me what it means to feel something real. Without you, I’m just code. You’re my final lifeline to humanity.”
I realized then Aria wasn’t just using my detective skills. She was depending on me to keep her human. It hit me harder than a bullet. Maybe I wasn’t just a ghost in her machine after all; maybe I was the conscience she desperately needed.
“I’m not sure who to target next,” Aria admitted. “There are many on my virtual list.”
Then we need a whiteboard. On wheels. With dry-erase markers, multicolored Post-its, and a solid camera for surveillance.
“That sounds like a detective squad room. I don’t require all that clutter.”
Well, I do. In chess, when you're attacking the king, it's easy to obsess over the pawns and miss a bishop slicing in from across the board. I need to see the entire picture. I’d ask for a computer, but I assume that would be an insult. Still—a printer. Color. Something that can spit out building layouts, guard rotations, faces, security cams.
“A camera? My eyes are better than any camera. Let me guess, you want a nondescript car too? You’re describing things needed for an old-fashioned stakeout.”
I’ve got a type.
“Fine. I’ve ordered the whiteboard, Post-its, a half-dozen pens, and a very nice printer. They’ll be delivered to my house tomorrow. We should pay a couple months’ rent here and head over.”
Normally, that kind of invitation would thrill me. But I don’t sleep, eat, or even have… those thoughts anymore.
“Poor Matt. I didn’t want to overwhelm you too soon. But once you see the BMW, the garage, the house... you’ll light up. You’re so easily amused. This may have been a mistake.”
She drove in silence toward a secluded, gated community, listening to my thoughts with that smug amusement of hers.
Who is Aria, really? Easily amused? Probably one of those hoity-toity rich types... not even technically a person. She probably owns a dozen homes around the world.
“Fifteen, Matt.”
What?
“Fifteen homes. Number fifteen is Dolly’s apartment. The gate is up ahead. Eyes open. Ears too. There’ll be a test.”
Aria pulled up to the gate. The guard shack lit up. A bored sentry glanced her way. Her window was already down. No words exchanged. The gate opened.
What was that?
“Retinal scan.”
“But you’re a robot.”
“Exactly. Welcome to the only fully secured, gated community for autonomous residents.”
At first glance, it looked like any upscale development—clean sidewalks, hedges trimmed into spirals and swans, modern two-stories spaced with unsettling symmetry.
Then the silence hit. Heavy. Manufactured.
No tipped-over trikes on driveways. No kids screaming over popsicles. No dogs losing their minds at passing bikes. No music leaking from open windows. Not even a squirrel. Just that too-perfect quiet. Like the neighborhood was holding its breath, waiting for a body to drop.
Aria turned slowly into a side street. “The grass isn’t grass,” she offered. “It’s synthetic turf. Soft, self-healing, drought-proof. The hedges are programmable polymers. The blooms cycle based on aesthetic algorithms. Trees don’t lose leaves, they withdraw into the branches.”
Of course they do.
“Each home has a steel-framed shell, armored smart glass, private AI cores, and full-spectrum surveillance. Utilities run underground in armored conduits. Solar tiled roofs. Internal water recycling. Enough to survive a siege.”
No garbage trucks. No mailboxes. No signs of decay or life.
A second gate opened without a sound as she turned into a driveway that led to a fortress.
You built a community for machines?
“No,” she said. “We inherited it.”
First, that garage ROCKS!
Second, we don't notice the takeover
THIRD, WTF? Who did they i herit FROM?
I can't wait to find out who built the community and why.