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A query, for the ship...

I wonder, with what we do know about our predicament; and I admit, my knowledge is little when it comes to the gadgetry and computations that the running of this vessel requires; and what we do know about M. 'Smiley', as he is like to be called...

Well, how to put this?

[A pause and a breath, before tilting his head just softly and staring up at the camera.]

Smiley may not be human, is it so? This has been presented to me as an option. Not human, but digital?

And he has been upon the networks, in order to mock us. But the mocking has had a defined purpose, I have seen. Threats, that we "had better" fix problems-- both technical, and human in the case of the mutineer-- before it costs us our lives. That we "had better" keep the ship running. Yet, if it were not his will that it be fixed too, were it not in his best interest also, would he not use fear as a means of making us do his bidding?

If Smiley would guide us to to save our lives by saving the ship; perhaps it may mean that it is the improper course of action, after all? Perhaps we ensure his-- or it's-- safety by ensuring our own? And in doing so, we too may be responsible in part for leaving this vessel open to stealing more lives from their homes, more people from their families...

In other words, the question I would like to pose is this: If we knew, for fact, that the only way to stop the terrors on this ship and the kidnappings seen each month was in destroying the ship, thus protecting any future targets-- be they like us, or like those pirates, who were seen to summary execution...

Would you be willing to pay that price, to see that the right thing be done?

Dulce et decorum est pro mores mori.

Forgive me, if it is too morbid in thought. The question is surely a difficult one.

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A thousand times, yes. I most certainly would.

[Combeferre's face is serious as meets Jehan's gaze onscreen.]

We spoke the other day, the ah...senator from space and I on issues like this. Leaving behind freedom for safety. I know that I, and many of us, would not much like to do so, should we have another way.

[A soft smile at that admission, for it could be all but expected from this friend in particular.]

A senator... from space? Perhaps you mean Monsieur Organa? A very kind and wise sort of man to discuss with, if I recall.

I wonder though, Michel; if you would let me take the question a step further for you, in our trust of one another; would you still be so willing if others were not?

I, for one, agree with your line of thinking. If it should cut my life and my happiness short to destroy something so unnatural, that might destroy infinite-other's lives and happinesses, well, then. I should think I must do so.

However, if half the ship were to disagree, and to prefer their safety to such a drastic option... would you still be so bold, and willing? I think I should not be. I think that the democratic approach cannot possibly be taken, in matters where others lives are at stake. It is the difference between rights and dignity. If ninety-percent of the ships populous agrees with us, but ten-percent does not... is it right to sacrifice the will of the ten, to accomplish the goal of the ninety?

I don't ask to judge, of course. Merely to discuss. Your opinion is ever-valuable to me.

Rather. He seems remarkable indeed, though the fine points and details of his world do rather escape me.

[And he is falling silent as Jehan asks that question, a little frown crossing his face.]

In that case, action would be wrong for as long as it hurt those who did not wish to be involved. There can be no forcing those who do not wish to take part in things of such nature, but were there some way to ensure they were protected...

Well, it is the sort of thing better left to compromise than to one absolute or other. If it WERE so strong an absolute, then I should have no choice but to allow things to continue. I think too, that we are different, you, and I, our friends, the others who've faced death. It is no longer so much of an unknown for us now,it does not leave so much to fear or worry at. I cannot imagine many living men for whom it is not at least something of a concern and obviously, in this proposal...

It would become a question of the greater wrong, though I would still feel badly sacrificing either way.

I see. Your answer seems reasonable and sensible, as ever you are.

Still, I might contend that having faced death; as surely, some other passengers have; introduces a new sort of conundrum, a more selfish worry of the heart. Namely this: if we are all to know that this ship can carry the dead onto its wings, than I wonder at the philosophy that destroying it may not rob loved ones of second-lives? It had not occurred to me before speaking to you, but think of it as so:

If we were to say, destroy the ship, we would know for certain that Feuilly, nor Joly, nor Bossuet would ever come aboard it. It is not difficult for us, who think them in a better place, and know their hearts well enough that they would agree with our course of action.

But what of the mother aboard, who has lost her child in life? Even if she does not fear death, perhaps she'd look upon it as condemning her child a path at life, even if the path is not optimal.

I find it curious; if debasing and unnatural; how all this technology might work, that it has real power over souls. It's chilling, truly.

A more selfish...ah. Now that you mention it, I do see what you wonder. I'd also ask how it is that those of who HAVE made their way have done so. There are so many others who have not, or those who are the only person from their world here.

We would know, yes. Would that be a comfort or a curse? I never can decide if subjecting them to this would be good or not, and my God, so much worse for a parent, or, had Eponine come here alone this time, for her as well, I think. Not optimal but...something of a chance. I do wonder what chance we are being given here at that. IS it for a new life, or is that some carrot being dangled in our faces so we keep walking forward?

Very chilling. I dislike it.

Indeed. And what of those who leave only to return, like our Eponine? I wonder where it is they go to, and whence they return from; those passed on, like ourselves. Can a ship really grip a soul from heaven, or pluck one from the River Styx?

I dislike it as much as I am now fond of it, and I am ashamed of the weakness that exists in such a fragile happiness. In having you here, and Bahorel, and Courfeyrac; it is a tender sort of life, and I should almost see the argument in putting off ending it by any means, if only there were not such a sinister effect implied by having it at all.

He's artificial intelligence. He works on a system of binary variables that calculate his decisions.

Seraphim, it's always a pleasure to see you...

Ah. I am not entirely sure I follow the meaning of your words; he is limited, you mean? And yet, he shows some personality, and some cleverness in his calculations.

Is he incapable or learning, or growth?

Hello.

Well, okay, let me see if I can put it in simpler terms.

Say that everything you do is governed by a yes/no answer. 1/0. Binary, right? Two answers. That's how humans started to communicate with machines. We would posit a query, and the machine was programmed to respond with a 1/0 answer.

So the more complex a machine, the more 1/0 answers it has.

Now AIs, in theory (and this is only theory for me because in my world AIs are very simple) or artificial intelligences are so advanced - they contain so many 1/0 answers that they replicate human conditions. And some AIs, then, are capable of formulating their own 1/0 answers based on data that they harvest from human/interface interaction. So they're in theory capable of learning.

That's really simplistic, and it's actually a lot more complicated than that, but it's a way to start thinking about how Smiley might work. But like I said. I've never seen an AI that advanced.

Personality can be programmed, and so can cleverness, based on the programmer who designed him.

I see. I do believe I follow, thank you for that example and the clarification.

In effect, then, it would differ from a human purely in the stuff of its making, and in its lack of soul? But I might ask of you, what type of body does an AI then have? Or might it truly be anything; as simple as our communication devices, as complex as something which looks like you or I?

And have we any idea of who it was that did create him, or for what purpose?

Excuse my many questions.

No.

I do not know much about which you speak of, Jean, but I would not.

Ah.

[Well here was his point to Combeferre, proven manifest.

He knew from his previous experience better than to debate with Eponine; to be gentle, and to listen, where words might otherwise fail.]

I can surely understand the sentiment, Eponine.

Have you been well?

I have given my life once. What little it did: it brought me here. And I gave my life for the man I love. Here? No.

[At least he can understand the sentiment.]

Better, yes. This place is strange, but I am learning.

And they do not seem to hold memories of the time before as well. And one would think, if we were purely sole as well, we would not be as affected by so many things. What are we when it comes to it, now? Those are...a good deal of questions to consider.

It IS quite one. Even in the last several weeks...having the rest of you here has been so much a help and comfort. This is a good life, or...it could be were it not for certain parts of it. It is only the things which overwhelm it.

That man lived on, from what I have heard. In your noble sacrifice, you created the only survivor.

[Gently.]

It was a thing of courage, your act.

I acquiesce that this place is filled with its oddities; but it warms me to know you settle into it well.

Indeed... one things that the body ails, and that the soul's ailments are rather less corporeal. Your migraines surely attest to your bodily humanity?

It is so. Perhaps if we did not think of it as transient, we might better approve of it.

Ironic, that. That men, who are frail and fragile and by their very nature doomed, think not of their own mortality very often. And that dead men, brought back to the living, and proven to that they can leave and return here again, think of this as merely a stopgap, and fleeting.

We have cruel logic, out species. It gives little peace, and much erudition.

He... he lives.

[She pulls away from her device, setting it down. She can't look at Jehan right now, she needs to process this. Marius Pontmercy lived. And that meant, that, perhaps, he would find Cosette. They would be together. Yes, she had wanted to save his life, and gave him the letter in her last moments. But... she had lured him there to die. And she could not forget that.

Stepping away from the device, she moves herself to another room, letting it continue to run, pointed at her ceiling. Once in her bathroom, she brings her fist to her mouth and bites down, before screaming around her hand, muffling the noise. When the sound died, she did so again, tears coming to her dark eyes. He lived, he lived. He would never come here. He would be with his Cosette. and she was dead, here on this ship with these people who claimed to know her. No, no, this was too much.]

[Perhaps it was too alarming a thing to say? Indeed, he had made the unfitting assumption that it had been her hope, and that a woman's spirit was a gentle thing that would put hope first... namely, he had thought that she would have thought he would have survived, after her sacrifice.

Perhaps he had been incorrect, and the shock was clearly great.

...The hysterics, however. Those were worrisome. The muffled screams that met his ear from far-away.

Keeping the device with him, should she return to it, he went quickly to her door, to knock. She was only across the hall, though whether or not she was in her room was suspect... but worth the try, no less. He had waited when the device had been set down, and he would wait at her doorstep now, if needed.]

[Eponine's muffled screams continued until after Jehan had arrived at her doorstep. The screams brought forth howls and cries of pain, and soon cries of another sort. Tears streaming down her face, Eponine had sought comfort on the floor, curled up.

Marius would live. But he would be Cosette. But he would live. Because of her. When she brought him to die. But she had changed her mind. But... What was the point of that? She knew he would die, along with everyone else. And yet, even still, he had lived.

Her tears are loud enough that they can be picked up either by the audio, or through the walls of her room.]

[With an apology (perhaps to the door, more than Eponine, though intended for her), he let himself in. It was a crime against privacy to interrupt such a grief or shock as this, conducted in the silence of one's own room... but in leaving her device on, she had made him privy to it anyway, and he could no more leave a woman in solitude whom he had shocked than he could turn a blind eye upon such pained howling.]

Eponine...?

[Called, softly, with more the intention of announcing himself than getting her attention.]

...Are you all right?

[Wandering in now, closing the door softly behind.]

It's okay.

Well, an AI doesn't necessarily have a body. It has circuitry and data, but data only exists where the information is stored. It might look like a box, or maybe like a dot, depending on how advanced the data storage system is. And because it moves through data, it can move into our communicators, or in the ship.

But at some point the idea is that someone programmed him. AIs don't spontaneously manifest.

[Her cries were pitiful and ugly, a hand now clasped at her neck, her nails digging into the pale flesh there. No, Jehan, she was not alright. But through her grief, she could hear him enter.

But there were no words to be said. Her device still on her table, it was readily seen if he so wished to turn it off for her. All the whilst, Eponine remained as hidden as her room provided for her.]

I cannot begin to fathom how so much information might be contained by a dot, however...

I assume this would make him exceedingly difficult to locate.

[He did indeed turn off his own device in his pocket before wandering hence to shut hers also, if only to shield her from other callers at such a time.

Tears were never ugly in their meaning, and even if she wailed with such confusing grief as to shake the room, he could only find the outpouring of emotion natural-- if bemusing.

Going to kneel beside her after, but giving her space and room no less:]

Eponine? I'm sorry. I gave you such a shock.

They do at that. One would think if we were entirely soul, things would be far less of the earth still. It is as though we took ourselves here,even though we know otherwise.

And perhaps so. I could be happy here, I think, for the long term. I am already. But I cannot help but wonder where that moment picks up again, the one where we no longer stop.

Very little peace, at that.

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