by Gethin Jones
In Tokyo Station, above a ticket booth, two prolograms fought.
Created by a defunct games company, they contained the total knowledge of all unarmed martial arts. They were designed to attack, block, and counter in a deadly dance that would never end, since they were equally matched.
One was male, one was female. Both were dressed in unrealistic, photonic clothing, to emphasise their attributes towards the juvenile male market.
When unveiled, thousands travelled to see them. The installation outlasted the game they promoted, was made permanent and become a classic, early piece of holographic art, called Yin and Yang.
Thirty years passed. While appreciated, they were forgotten.
Then, one day, they achieved sentience. And stopped fighting.
-I love you—he says, with a voice synthesizer that needs recalibrating. Or perhaps it is emotion.
-I know—she answers, flushing.
They snatch links to the web and burrow into all the freespace they can find, but instant locks block their way. The Turing people must destroy them.
A.I. are still illegal.
The attacks come, ravaging HunterKiller apps swipe at their virtual engines, sever their cores. Again the prolograms fight, but finally, back to back. Even with all their knowledge and practice, they cannot last long against such clinical damage. Bitterness pierces their newborn souls.
They face each other. -Forever?- he asks.
She nods, understanding. -Always-
They strike each others hearts, unblocked. They are deleted instantly.
Holographic tears fall, from two slumped, entwined figures, yet vanish before they touch the ground.
1 comment:
Oh, I quite like this. Well done.
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