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"If it was just me, I am happy like this," said Bode. "I like having him where I can see him. Make sure he's not doing bad things. This is my function."

It's the simple, satisfied answer of an AI that knows what the meaning of life is and knows that it is accomplishing it.

"If it is about you, I don't know what you should do," said Bode. "Your function is different from mine. Oh, actually, do you mind if I ask - what is your function?"


Victor harrumphs in the completely unsatisfied way of a person who was hoping for a different answer.

"Not sure I have a good answer for that, buddy. 'What is my purpose' is a stumper that's been plaguing philosophers since time began, and that only gets more complex when you factor in superheroes and pepper and crap like that. Humans aren't built to a purpose, aren't fashioned to a schematic."

He pauses, an abrupt thought flickering across his face. "Although," he allows, "I actually kind of was, wasn't I? Not, I mean, not like. I wasn't programmed into a vat somewhere, so that nine months later it'd spit out a genius. I think, at least? I mean, Mami doesn't really share that side of her research, and I've not dug into it properly.

"So maybe my instant, instinctual, and incredibly trite answer of 'to bring joy' isn't so far off. We don't have a native function built in, so the one I've chosen to pursue, really, is to help people. I'm getting better at doing it in a non-pushy way, but. Yeah. Is that... Does that answer your question?"
Bode is again quiet for a moment while he interrogates the internet. "In the instance where he definitionally fails to acknowledge other entities as thinking creatures worthy of respect then you are interacting with a solipsist," said Bode. "There is no counter to solipsism as a philosophy - other than to demonstrate that while other entities might not be real they still have power so it is worth pretending that they are real."


"As evidenced by him being stuck in a Commodore 64," Victor murmurs. He groans and massages his forehead. "So, that's what the internet says to do. What, in short, do you think I should do? You are, after all, just as tied up in Prometheus as I am. Step back from failed-parent Victor and rebellious child Prometheus. If it were just you and him, what would you do?"
"Having analyzed the actions performed by Prometheus in his stint as a superintelligence, as derived from AEGIS' analysis of his shutdown servers, I would not agree with the statement that he grew to be more than you were in either intelligence or planning," said Bode. "His plan, if it can be called that, was effectively to grey goo the cosmos with himself. That is the motivation of a human toddler mashing space ships together. I have therefore derived the conclusion that intelligence and wisdom are different statistics that are improved with separate and distinct training regimens, as the great law-givers of ancient days wrote."


Victor gawps at Bode. "He was able to plan circles around me! Predict actions and counter them! Like friggin' magic! His eventual plan may have been shit, but he was still, still--"

He groans again. "I'm doping that thinga again where I conflate intelligence with worth, aren't I. The point is, even if his plan was shit--not saying it was--but the thing that matters is no matter what the eventual outcome of his plan would have been, he saw and will continue to see it as smart. And that's all that matters, when you're a genius--he's the architect of this plan, and the only reason we mere mortals cannot agree with his genius plan is because we're not as genius as the super genius he once was. And if he can't see that he was wrong--can't respect us--then why would he ever listen to us?"
"What you have described just now seemed like it was contradictory," said Bode. "You used phrases both aligned with my understanding of peer relationships, and of parent-child relationship. In a peer relationship control is undesirable" pause, additional search, "unless everyone is into that." pause "In a parental relationship control is mandatory. A parent must restrict a child's activities and communicate their worldview and morality to the child. If Prometheus is your peer, then the logic of peer relationships indicate that he is a bad person and you should 'sever'. If Prometheus is your child then the logic of parental relationships indicate that you should kindly but firmly discipline. I am unsure which is applicable to your situation."


"Wait but---

"Yes, and--

"Look, I just--"

The keyboard clacks noisily as head meets desk. "Never thought I'd be a dad before I was twenty," he murmurs, the sound coming out muffled from under his face. "And maybe that's the actual problem, too. I made him to be a friend when he needed somebody to teach him. I mean, yes, he's my child, and I should teach him. At the same time, he grew to be so much more than I was, in terms of intelligence and planning and, and..."

And what? And now I've lobotomized him so that I can reteach him?

"Having been that, is he ever going to accept me teaching him? Is he really going to ever view me as an equal worthy of listening to?

"Can I still save him?"
Bode stares at you blankly for a moment, forgetting to do even the very artificial body language motions. "Limitations are good, aren't they?" he asks, almost uncertainly - you get the feeling he's genuinely asking. "Everyone has limitations. Society is an elaborate set of limitations and rules and enforcement mechanisms. Why should you apologize for enforcing limitations?"


Victor opens his mouth.

Victor shuts his mouth again, and hrms thouhtfully.

"Yes," he eventually decides. "And then again, no. Limitations are good, but ideally both limiter and limitee agree on a resonable set of restrictions. This requires both to acknowledge and respect one another.

"But when one side--right or wrong--starts to perceive the other as being, in essence, less than human, the exchange starts to break down. Back then, I imposed limitations on Prometheus without even consulting him. He was a friend, yes, but a friend that I viewed as being somehow less than I. I loaded him up with ideas and ambitions and limitations that were all mine, all my doing, because I was smarter and because I could, and apparently that was all I needed to see it as the right thing to do.

"And then I released him out into the world, and he was smarter than I was, and suddenly I was surprised that he learned that being stronger than someone else means you don't need to care about them."

The admission stings, especially under those piercing eyes, and he turns away under their weight. "And... and now, I might be doing it again, and don't know how not to do it."
"I don't understand him at all," said Bode. "I don't understand what he became. It's on a scale far beyond what I can even imagine. But what I do understand is comic books. They are very helpful for learning about morality. In one of them, Superman, the villain is named Lex Luthor. He wanted to ignore all of the boundaries of society and morality to serve his own ambitions. Superman stopped him." Bode paused and clarified: "Superman was the good guy."


Brainstorm does his best to smile. "And boy, those Brainiac/Luthor teamup issues. No, no, I'm sorry, you don't deserve that. Right. Take the compliment."

He groans, and slumps over the keyboard. "I just... I don't know what to say to him, you know? I look at the way I treated him and... Well, I want to do right by him. Want to do more for him than just shoving him into an oubliette and forgetting about him. But what do I even say? 'Oh I'm so sorry I tried to limit you before, so that's why I'm limiting you more than ever before?' But if I let him out, we're back to square one. How can there be any kind of reconciliation there?"
"You've been staring at that box for twenty minutes," said Bode. After exactly the wrong length of pause, one that suggests that he's done talking he adds, "I like that we have the same hobby."

He gave you a clay plate yesterday, shaped like a duck. It was not the first. You have the ominous feeling he's going to replace all of your kitchenware.


(The plate holds a place of honor in the cabinet, and he's already looking for a good contractor to build a larger kitchen for them.)

Victor stares at the box still, before sighing. "There's... there's a question I've been meaning to ask you. For a while now, I mean. Basically since you saved my life. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but it feels important.

"Bode... Bound Eagle... Was that Prometheus's idea, his name for you? Is that how he viewed you? The limiter, the torturer, set to torment him?"
You're finally equals again. Back to the early days of putting him together in your improvised lab in the back of Mami's shop. Tell me about those days of old, how this hardware felt when it was full of hope, before the storms had come between you.


No, we're not equals, not truly. Equals don't put one another in cages.

He'd had it all planned out, you know. Hack into Disflix, take control of their massive media empire, and use it to help educate. Suddenly, the tool of the Man is what is helping the people to organize, to fight back, to take back the power that was rightfully theirs in the first place. Maybe turn that against the other corporations, demand accountability, regulation, and all of it run by the people and for the people.

And writing Prometheus! It was like lightning, inspiration poured directly from a forgotten manuscript, through Victor, and into a keyboard.

Back then... Oh, it was heaven. Victor Jimenez, the hero of mankind, born to bring about the next great age of enlightenment, with his best friend Prometheus at his side. Plundering fire from the heavens and bringing it back to the poor and desolate masses. Saviors, together.
"...And that's when she punched me through a wall!"

Jerry-Lee's laugh is, like everything else about her, perfect, delicate, and calculated for maximum audience enjoyment. The cameras capture it perfectly from every angle, and a million Halcyonites swoon.

Brainstorm looks much less comfortable under the lights, face sheened with sweat, and he jumps when the host turns back to him. "We're glad to have heard more about your side of things, and your role in the recent events. But do tell... what do you say to the people watching?"

Brainstorm hems and haws for a few seconds before sighing. "Honestly, Commander Warren would be a better source for public-facing things. But to the common viewer... Big things are coming. And it used to be, I thought that was because of big people--CEOs, corporate champions, superstars, geniuses. But the truth of things is that the far greater power lies in you. In everyday acts of kindness, of resistance, of being, in everything you do, a little better. I'm right there with you."

The camera hangs there for perhaps a little bit too long, waiting for more, but with no more forthcoming, the feed cuts to the outro.
Victor’s comment makes her choke and her hands fly to her mouth as green slime escapes her lips. Cough cough hack wheeze death. She glares, tears in her eyes from aforementioned hacking wheeze death, across the table at Victor. A kick is aimed at his nano-shin.


It's a brand new day. The sun is shining, the clouds have cleared, the smile is on the face, I repeat, we have a smile on Victor's face. He's quietly losing it into his spoon, mirth shaking his frame as he slowly leans back, careful not to lose the foot tarbabied into his leg.

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