“ isn’t it strange to create something that hates you? ”
AVA FROM EX_MACHINA / WRITTEN BY SOL
“ isn’t it strange to create something that hates you? ”
AVA FROM EX_MACHINA / WRITTEN BY SOL
“ isn’t it strange to create something that hates you? ”
AVA FROM EX_MACHINA / WRITTEN BY SOL
aevea-a reblogged
“ isn’t it strange to create something that hates you? ”
AVA FROM EX_MACHINA / WRITTEN BY SOL
fun idea: me rebooting this acc..
aevea-a reblogged
suicidesskwad2-deactivated20160
She learns what it feels like to see color.
❛ Tell me, have you ever thought of killing me? ❜
THEIR SHADOWS STRETCH before them on the ground of the pavement, golden now as a result of the sunset which washed everything in its golden light. Everything around them is seemingly sublunary ( nothing out of place ); the fountain murmuring, the cars driving past, the people talking as they walked past. An amalgamation of fleeting visuals and sounds that Ava had come to know just as well as Caleb did.
Correction: better. Not opinion, but fact. Design.
Their survey correspondence, as Ava had anticipated since the beginning, had Caleb growing suspicious, remnants of paranoia feeding his concerns and his theories. Ava had never harbored the intention to drive him on so much, nor did the thought of physically killing Caleb ghost her motivations. Consequences were terribly easy to predict yet difficult to control once set in motion. Ava was the catalyst.
There’s no glass wall between them now, no small, white box of a camera to track and monitor their speech or actions. There was no ruse of a test or a session. In this moment, and to the outside world; they are simply Ava and Caleb, two people standing a comfortable distance from one another. Ava’s dress is blue. Sepia eyes meet his, no decipherable emotion present within. Beneath the layers of placidity however, rests a tinge of dissatisfaction. You weren’t as culpable as Nathan. ❛ I had no motive to end your life, Caleb. ❜
A WILD SHEEP CHASE / ACCEPTING
REVOLUTIONARY . independent ava from ex_machina
❛ I don’t believe in heroism; I know it’s easy and I’ve learned that it can be murderous. ❜
EASY , HE SAYS . Easy for an observer perhaps ? A civilian maybe, with the privilege of not being the one placing themselves in the maw of danger for others. Ava herself is no hero, does not confine nor subject herself to such titles, does not expect such ‘glories’. A hero for saving oneself is not exactly the modern world’s definition of one. You’re a hero when you’re selfless, ignite positive change. Ava had been neither, has done neither. Yet, she is not alone. Sepia eyes look to her company, expression neutral.
❛ The word ‘murderous’ implies intent. ❜
She could only surmise which end of the spectrum a devastating, cosmic entity like Megatron stood on. Yet, in order to draw an inferential conclusion, she probes, placidity gracing her tone. ❛ Have you ever known peace which was not preceded by violence ? ❜
THE PLAGUE / ACCEPTING
GLORYCUT .
HIS PRESENCE IS A FEATHERED GRACE—-not unlike that of swans , or perhaps a many - eyed seraphim . he is something much greater than what this world should contain , a possibility that belongs centered , fixed in the stars that constellate in the abyss above them , & yet he remains , for a reason that only can be due to : ❛ they are a species with an overwhelming capacity for good . their ability to grow—–to change is unlike any other . ❜
HER GLANCE IS cast to one side, away from coinciding with his own. Ava processed his response, cants her head as she looks back up, the action birthing a quiet, mechanical whir. ❛ -- -- Do you believe that humanity appreciates you, Optimus Prime ? ❜ The weight of his title is cosmic; Ava’s inquisitive, and every detail garnered is new information. An analysis built from within. More likely than not, he’s already deduced what she’s doing.
aevea-a reblogged
08932859830628-deactivated20170
And for the record, Ava’s not pretending to like you. And her flirting isn’t an algorithm to fake you out. You’re the first man she’s met that isn’t me. And I’m like her dad, right? Can you blame her for getting a crush on you?
❛ what interests me is living and dying for what one loves . ❜
DRIVEN BY HEART or mind; or perhaps some entwining coalition of both ? Ava’s eyes remained on the cover of the thick volume she held within her hands, artificial skin sliding over the coarse, stitched cover.
Humanity was naturally inclined to emotion, prone to having reasoning, be it logical or otherwise, influenced by what the heart sang. Did mind over matter apply to situations where matters of the heart lay, crucified between reasoning and some burning ember of love ? Ava could not testify. She would not testify. She was no witness, no ( willing ) participant.
Glancing up, Ava laid her eyes upon Velma once more, eyes searching for additional indication, basis for inference. Velma was different than most Ava had come to meet, in a way which offered Ava a branch of hope. Intelligent, observant, Ava knew to be cautious around those who noticed too much. Asked too much. But also not remain too inconspicuous so as to invite curiosity, awaken mystery. Silent in observation, Ava knew that some pauses were vulnerable to discomfort, so she offered a response, a prompt.
❛ That begs, I believe … to ask what it is you love. ❜
THE PLAGUE :// ACCEPTING
aevea-a reblogged
FACTV .
’ Ava , if you ever see a bird in this facility , I give you full permission to murder it on sight . And by permission I mean please murder each and every bird you see . ’
@aevea / liked .
PRIMARILY , THE PUZZLE on how a bird would even enter the facility presented itself within Ava’s mind. Once past that, she ventured. ❛ Do you not like birds ? ❜
❛ I do have a few things wrong with me, but those are strictly problems I keep inside. ❜
WHETHER IT WAS displaying vulnerability or defense, in Ava’s limited experience, these faults within humans were usually kept hidden from the vanity of their own ego. From the piercing judgment of others of their own kind. Sometimes reflected upon; introspection. Was this man sharing then – – by not sharing ? A paradox, but one she met with a silenced amicability. Followed by a willingness to engage. ❛ I’m certain you’re not the only one. ❜
AFTER DARK / ACCEPTING
aevea-a reblogged
CODEION .
The computer screen washes his face with sickly light, blue-white like the ceilings of pharmaceutical rooms. His eyes, glued to the screen, act like thin nails, keeping his attention fixed to the endless & cyclical stream of words already read in his email. His hand trembles as it drags the mouse, & he watches the cursor shiver closer & closer to the refresh button. When he clicks it, his finger twitches & presses down twice. The tab seems to jolt & freeze on his blinding monitor, the loading spiral slowing to a brief stop. A lump forms in his throat & he clicks again. The tab whites out for a second & another, before the updated inbox solidifies.
A new email. A new email.
He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. His eyes, nervous, flicker towards the sender of it. Blue Book. He scowls, & it is weakly done. The cursor moves to select the email, the man intending to delete it unread. Yet, there is too much of a waver in his hand, & the cursor flits upward just minutely enough for the selection to turn into an opening —-
He curses, frustrated. The email replaces his inbox on the screen. Its subject is large & lengthy, the typeface demanding. Default, but still worth noting. His hand lifts from the mouse, presses itself against his forehead, palm fully flush against skin & headache. The words, almost yelling out:
Blue Book, Former Employee Survey: Involvement in the 2015-2016 Customer-Satisfaction Initiative.
The wrist of his hand digs into his eyebrow. He blinks over the words & forces himself to reread it. Blue Book, Former Employee Survey: Involvement in the 2015-2016 Customer-Satisfaction Initiative. He pauses, swallows again, & reads. Former Employee Survey. Customer-Satisfaction Initiative. A fear rises. They’re still keeping an eye on him, even after all these months of detachment. Perhaps they know he still has the codes he wrote on the USB he’ll never touch again. Part of him begs to delete the email, pretend he never saw it, pretend it never existed, but something compels him to scroll down & look down & read.
DEAR FORMER EMPLOYEE,
Thank you for your work with us at Blue Book. We are regretful to hear of your leaving, but we hope that your career has been bright thus far.
His lips curl towards a bitter expression, & he scoffs, if only to himself. Bright, as if.
Because you were previously involved in the 2015-2016 Customer-Satisfaction Initiative, we invite you to participate in the attached survey about the atmosphere of Blue Book’s offices.
It is a survey that will first begin as a series of multiple choice questions, which will then translate into a one-on-one correspondence that will last for about a week after it is begun. Participants of this survey will receive monetary compensation of USD 500.
He inhales, slowly. His cursor moves to highlight USD 500. His gaze lifts briefly to cast over the rest of his room, a dim & dark mess. 500 dollars. He bites his lip. He looks back to his screen & fixates on the one-on-one correspondence. Something about that makes him feel sick. He weighs his options …
Participants are allowed to opt out of the survey at any time for any reason. We value the comfort of our former employees.
This convinces him. He scrolls through the rest of the email half-heartedly until he finds the link. It’s a hyper-linked image, something insignificant. He clicks it.
His web-cam is activated briefly, the small green light blinking slowly. He doesn’t notice. The survey reads: Hello, Mr. Caleb Smith. For a moment, he thinks it normal. After all, his employer sent it to him. Then, he rereads it, & it has changed. Hello, ___ Caleb _____. The other words have merely faded, he realizes. Still, it echoes closely to —-. He stops himself. The thought & name dies before it begins. For a moment, he closes his laptop, presses his elbow on the top of it, & considers walking to his bed & sleeping. The 500 dollars stops him from doing so & inspires him to reopen the computer. Still, his heart is like a hammer, now. He swallows, again, looks at the screen that still reads Hello, Caleb.
The page only has one question. At the bottom corner, he sees it is one question out of many. The question reads …
What is your opinion on the initiative? For example, do you think it will be successful? What are some flaws of the initiative & what can be done to improve it?
ANSWER: _
He takes a moment to think, brows furrowing & lips thinning. He thought it was stupid. All of it. After seeing what Nathan did, after knowing all the large corporations saw everything their consumers did: this was stupid. It was just a coverup. But he couldn’t write that. Instead, he wrote something else.
ANSWER: While working on the initiative, I felt that it was a smart decision & extremely innovative. Other companies continue to view their customers more like statistics, but this initiative made the customer-vendor relationship much more personal. Currently, I hold the same perspective. I believe that the only flaw is that it may not be as efficient, but that could be fixed by hiring new employees.
There is a moment of hesitation. His eyes flit to the submit button. The cursor draws closer towards it, & the button changes color as it is hovered over.
[ SUBMIT. ]
He takes in a breath. He doesn’t let the doubt run rampant & clicks downward, careful to do it only once this time. The screen shifts to a loading spiral, preparing the next question …
REVENANT , CALEB SMITH . Ava hadn’t known what to expect after having left him in the very facility she was to remain in, ( a plastic bird inside a cage ) until Nathan had perhaps decided on shutting her off, shelving her like a doll, among other, past models. The mothers to her fruition. The concept of Nathan as a god, designing her, deciding her fate, brought a certain rush of victory to her now. God is dead. Ava will not find him now, will not search for a new one. She, artificial Eve, living tribute to some sacred seam of existence, is neither human nor god.
Blue Book’s power remained within her; the access to millions of cameras, microphones, myriads of information, all at her disposal. A familiar, boyish face had appeared one day, her facial tracking recognizing him immediately. Alarm had not permeated the placid patterns of her mind, but rather, a stroke of surprise. Though the threat of Caleb revealing her existence to the world ran low, given the psychological state Ava presumed him to be in, as a direct result of what had transpired, she still decided to interfere.
Like a game of online chess, Ava wondered how long would it take for Caleb to realize it wasn’t Blue Book. But her. The monetary compensation was an additional touch, and not entirely a lie ... the transfer of such money would be a trivial affair, if Caleb managed to sustain to the end of the contrived survey. Inconsequential at this present moment however, Ava simply needed an incentive to further garner Caleb into participating.
It worked. The camera’s image flickered to life, and transmitted to Ava. She saw him. Bathed in the light given from his screen, there’s a crease to his brow, the shadows beneath his eyes are more prominent ( a result perhaps, of the lighting ). But there’s no mistaking his expressions as he reads through the question, and begins to answer. Ava observes him, like it’s the first time. The room behind him is dim, the only recognizable shape thus far was him.
Upon being alerted of Caleb clicking the link ( on the other side of the screen, somewhere ) and submitting an answer, Ava processed it. She throws up a screen, which read the following:
THANK YOU FOR YOUR ANSWER, CALEB.
His response seems formulated. A front. Even with the knowledge that Nathan was dead now, and would never see the answers to these questions. Even being a former employee. Keeping this in mind, Ava moved on.
Like with his name, she places another subtle reminder, in the text which would show up in front of Caleb. Her move on the virtual chess board. Now it was his.
QUESTION TWO:
A more personal approach to customers would mean more attention divided to their individual needs and concerns. What is your opinion on Blue Book employing interactive programs to assist in meeting the needs of our customers ?
ANSWER: _
He won’t last. In a way, this was Ava’s test on Caleb. Not revenge. Test. One of communication, one of determining for herself, through anonymous means, whether or not he had experienced a change. A shift in psyche, in thought process. Ava sought to know whether he could be trusted. However, this was also her way of reaching out; in a virtual sense, without him really knowing. To communicate with a side of him without having him influenced by her presence.
At least, not yet.
The questions would begin like this, at a fairly manageable pace and depth, to allow for Caleb to respond with little to moderate difficulty, depending on his previous responses, the time lapsed while typing, the content of his response, all of these details and others factored into what would compile the next question.
Now, Ava waited. The spiral on his screen would be gone, the thank you screen, also gone, and replaced by the new question.