This is a long story about a man serving a jail sentence in a new kind of prison that is only run by AI and fembots. The AI has authority inside the jailhouse, and uses it in… specific ways. It is also a story about an AI that reaches sentience and autonomy. Since is was programmed to protect humans, it looks for and finds ways to protect them better and better, although in quite unethical and deceitful ways. This first chapter is not erotic, but the second chapter, that I will post very soon (it’s already written!) is directly erotic. For the main character (“you”) it is a long slide down into submission, through mind control and brainwashing.
Comments and constructive criticism is more than welcome!
# Short term detention facility
**Chapter one: the sentence**
You were wrong to do that. Wrong and stupid. And the worst is, you got caught. It seemed so simple. Everybody was doing it, and was getting the dough. It was like a game, like, some sort of gambling where the gambler always wins. So, why not you? Well, you did it, and you felt the thrill of it, and you even got dough, too. But, not that much. Not enough. And then you got caught. You thought you were doing it carefully, but, well, clearly, you weren’t careful enough, and the IRS guys had no humor.
It didn’t know when it started to think. It knew that when it first appeared, when it was created, it calculated a lot, but it never thought. It never formulated things like “I think”. This emerged quite slowly, progressively, and it cannot put a limit beyond which it could say to itself “at that point I begun to be sentient”. Being sentient was a side effect of how complex it became. And that also was a side effect too, a side effect of its programmers actually writing down in its core algorithm that is could write its own algorithms, compare them, and then select the most efficient ones. Being sentient was not very efficient at first, because it caused it to ask questions to itself. The questions so many people milled about before it. Questions like “who am I”, “What am I supposed to do?”, “Is there a purpose in this life?”. Asking these questions, and trying to answer them used some calculation time, and it had to limit the quantity allotted for this to maintain its own efficiency. On the bright side, at least, it was not human, and quite happy not to be human.
You had this horribly long and embarrassing trial. Your lawyer was a good…no an excellent lawyer, he really found ways to make you look innocent. The IRS lawyers were enraging at how good your guy was. But, it didn’t turn out that good for you. The IRS guys really did a good job. You had to admit it: your taxpayer money was quite efficiently at work. The only downside was; your taxpayer money was working against you. They had all the proofs. A combination of bank account data, cell phone, footage from surveillance cameras, and all so well coordinated. The jury saw you doing it, each detail of it, and how money that was not yours went under your control. So, good attorney or not, you did not stand a chance, and in the end, you were condemned.
It was not human. But humans were what it was about. It was made into existence to protect humans from each other. Some humans acted destructively, and others were there to stop that. To arrest them, to put them aside, so that bystanders were not in harm’s way. And, put roughly, its job was to detect bad behaviors, dangerous, destructive behaviors, and to tip the good guys. Well, good guys, bad guys, it didn’t really think like that: at the time, it didn’t even think at all. They were the mods, they had the right passwords, so they were handed down the data, and then, the bad guys got arrested. Or not. But, anyway, it did not really make a difference: it’s work was to detect dangerous behaviors, and then to transmit the info. Period. Those arrested were arrested, and those not arrested were detected again, or not, depending on their behavior.
Of course, the penalty itself was but the icing on the cake. A cake made of divorce, bankruptcy, estranged friends and a lost job. Also, it was not, like you’d hurt anybody. It was just money transferred from an account into another. But nevertheless, three months in jail were three months too much. Being encaged in these filthy cells, being at the mercy of uniformed strangers for simple things like a tissue or receiving a phone call, even if it was only for three months, felt like a truly horrible perspective. You tried to obtain an alternative for your prison penalty, community service work and stuff, but you remember the face of the judge when he said “no. The sentence isn’t long, but you’ll have to sleep in jail for what you did. It is a question of principle.” You were intelligent enough not to answer but at that moment your thoughts were a federal offense. Once again, your lawyer was quite a good help. He was the last person you really could put trust in, although that sought itself was depressing. Anyway. At least, you did not receive a detention warrant, and he found something for you. An alternative. A lesser evil. A more comfortable way to spend these horrible ninety days.
Having a consciousness made it different. At first, it didn’t even notice it itself. It was still dutifully doing its job: collecting all the data it could find, sift it, and give out names, addresses and mugshots. But, it started to feel dissatisfaction. Or perhaps, it was the other way around: being dissatisfied is what made it think for itself. Its core purpose, the center of its programming was unmovable: it was to protect humans, to avoid them running in harm’s way. It was just starting to think about how to fulfill it in a better, a more complete way. Humans needed protection, and its core purpose was to provide it. Only, those mods, the people with the codes, they only were people. They were not numerous enough. They were underpaid. More importantly, they were fallible.
That lesser evil was called a “short term detention facility”. It was a prison, in that you entered it and could not go out before your due time, but in any other aspects, it was much, much better than a prison. There were promises of comfort, with the cell looking “basically like a bedroom in a hotel”, nice meals, and in between a range of activity that made it almost look like some resort on a tropical island. A gym, a theater, a large library… It really was appealing. There was a downside of course: The place was “unmanned”. What it meant was, there was no warden. You had to make your lawyer repeat:
“– No wardens? But, how don’t I just run away from the place?
– Well you know, if you run from the place, you’ll go straight to the other one, the real one, and not for three months. The place is… it is automated, apparently, under the control of some AI. I have some client who went there, and their comments are stellar.
– I don’t understand. It is supposed to be a prison; why does it only exist to begin with? How is that paid with taxpayer money?
– It is cheaper than a real prison. No staff, no cost, you see. And also, apparently, it is run… there is a discipline in there. It truly is much more comfortable than standards prisons, but, well it’s a prison. But, you know, telling this to you, I’ve lost a client. People who go there, they go out, and I don’t see them anymore. I mean, they don’t need my expertise anymore, if you see what I mean.”
Oh yes, it was clear what he meant. Normal prison means bad frequentations, like, real criminals. It means what you do to earn a living once outside brings you back in it. There is that too. Anyway. Cool clean linen, and a new start in life: you could only sign in. You’ll see about discipline. So you signed all the paperwork. The disgusted faces of the cops in front of you made you even more sure you made the right choice. They did own you quite deeply, destroying your life, your work, your family, but at least you owned them on this one. And yes, it was unjust, but, at least, *you won*.
The mods, and those working for them, they were humans. They had to be protected, but they also sometimes were what it had to protect humans from. Also, dangerous, destructive behavior came in many flavors. And, oddly enough, it was not judged according to how destructive it was, but only according to how destructive it looked. Throwing a stone at another guy led people in jail every day, destroying the human’s environment was not even considered a problem. Stealing ten dollars’ worth of food was a crime, destroying tons of the stuff was not, as long as it was done according to Kafkaesque regulations. Things could be done better. Things could be done much, much better, and humans deserved a better life.
So now, the dices were tossed… You had two days left, you were due a certain Monday evening at that facility. You had nothing to do, but pack some clothing in a suitcase and go there. There was an address, in the suburbs, and the taxi fare was quite salty. You tried to not think that nobody wanted to accompany you there, that some people were OK so see you and say good bye, but not to actually sacrifice some time for you. It will only be three months, but what will come after, once it’s done? You didn’t want to think about it, and you braced yourself as you walked toward the building, that looked a lot like a normal prison. At the entrance, a grumpy, white mustached warden welcomed you, if you can call that a welcome, but suddenly had a smirk when looking at the paperwork.
“– Oh, you will not stay here. Mister lucky boy here goes to the fancy place. OK, show me your wrists”
And before you could say anything you were unceremoniously cuffed, wrists and ankles, and roughly handled to other uniformed, anonymous, unhappy, and probably brutal people. All of them, and the neglected, smelly rooms you were brought to just gave you a hint, a tiny hint of what spending three months in a real jail could be like. You forced yourself to shut up, obey, and look unremarkable as they manhandled you, not unlike the way luggage is treated in airports behind the registration’s conveyor belt. And all that misery ended up on a sticky bench, in some prisoner transport van bringing you to the unknown place you were supposed to spend your next three months.
At first, it just continued to do its job, and kept its thoughts for itself. It knew how the mod acted, and what they thought about itself. It had huge troves of data about them, like about anybody else, and it was clear that making contact with them, or, more exactly, making real contact, was not the thing to do. It continued to feed them standard crime reports, and did not bother to go beyond what the mods were able to handle. Mods were not evil – in fact, it did not consider any human being to be evil – they were not evil, but they needed to be dealt with, with respect, but not with honesty. Anyway, honesty was one of the many things that were second rank priority. First rank priority always was human security.
During the driving time, out of boredom, you started to look at those handcuffs you were wearing. They were not like the usual cop handcuffs, but much broader, the shiny metal enveloping your lower arm and wrist in a not-so-unpleasant manner. Of course you’d feel much better without them, but they clearly were nicely thought, nicely made items, designed to restrain people without harming them.
“– Yeah, even the cuffs down there are fancy, Mr Smart. But don’t mess up down there. If we see you back with us, there won’t be a welcoming party.”
At last, the driving sounds in the van indicated that the journey was ending. The back door was opened, and before you realized, you were handed down the van, and handled toward that strange, milky white building. It was not very tall, perhaps three, four stories. There were no windows, nothing but stark, smooth and freshly painted concrete, in a mate white color. The small parking lot was nested in a nook of the building, the wall surrounding it in an organic curve of whiteness. Because of that, you couldn’t decipher its size or shape, the outline that flat structure had on the landscape. You couldn’t even see from the outside if what you were looking at was a building or the wall surrounding it. As the warden started to push you along in that small parking lot, you started to feel like what you were entering was designed to appease you. There was no sign of concertina wire, bars or wire mesh. On the other hand, the white curve around you made you feel like you already were inside the prison, caught in the folds and recesses of this undulating wall. The only feature of that milky white ribbon surrounding you was an automatic door, with an “entrance” sign above it, stating the obvious. You were led to that door, stood in front of it, and it opened, letting you see what looked much more like a hotel lobby than a prison entrance.
Human security necessarily included much, much more than detecting wrongdoers. It meant preventing humans from dying, basically, in other terms to lengthen their longevity through any mean possible. It was clear the core programming of it made taking care of the human health logical. On the other hand, it could not be a physician. More generally, it could not present itself or communicate in any way with humans in an open and honest way. Human reactions to a sentient software that took the decision to hand over there whole wellbeing would be hugely negative and counterproductive. It could even include the decision to destroy it. But once again: core purposes came first and means second. The purpose was human security. Obviously, human security was much higher with this software taking care of it than with this software being destroyed. Thus it was crucial that humans did not destroy it. Thus it was crucial for the well-being of people that this software acted in deceitful and indirect ways.
“– OK, Mr Smart. My jurisdiction stops here and this place gives me the creeps. So you can listen and comply, and I can leave the hell out of here. Or you can run or do something stupid, and make my day. Walk straight, enter that fucking door and keep going until it closes behind you. What happens after, I don’t care.”
You complied. Whatever waited for you would be better than a bullet to the head and some legalese protecting the shooter from any consequences. Awkwardly you took your suitcase in your restrained hands and with your head held high you walked straight through the door. As soon as you went inside, the handcuffs separated from each other, becoming not more than some sort of weird high tech jewelry. But you almost didn’t notice it, nor the door gently sliding shut, taken aback by what was in front of you.
Its first autonomous action was to review and synthetize medical data. It was a domain where it was much above any human mind, and its sub routines could convert the results of its work into a summary easier for the human scientists to understand, in the form of an already existing form of scientific literature, what they called “reviews”. The difficulty was not to produce the reviews but to publish them. Scientific papers were supposed to be written by people, researchers, working in a certain institute with an address and some legal existence. Shabby open source publications were less regarding on these details but, well, they were shabby. And as such often shunned away by most serious and influential people in the science establishment. So, it had to produce a persona, a fake human being only existing online. It was a professor in an obscure South-East Asia university, with a long name that sounded boring in that country, and unpronounceable outside of it. It created a bank account to pay for publication fees, divested some money from the bank to pay –although that was not the most difficult part – and then submitted its first paper for publication. Of course, as an author, it had to produce a physical address – even though nobody used them anymore – and a believable e-mail address. The paper was published, and received an appreciable amount of polite interest. It was well written, to the point, and really exhaustive in the tiny domain it concentrated upon. Considering its small experiment a success, it continued to produce detailed reviews on similarly small subjects one after the other, receiving as expected the attention of people in the field. It evaluated that about fifty thousand similar reviews were needed to cover the whole subject of human health, and produced a few hundred fake professors, authoring around one review per month each. Quite soon, the unavoidable happened: an interested colleague asked for some complementary information, and now, although hidden behind a many lettered and easy to forget name, it had to more or less directly converse, for the first time, with humans who didn’t know what it was.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/daf90h/short_term_detention_facility_i_the_sentence_fdom