A. I. Please Don't Die

A. I. Please Don't Die

A Story by James Whitefall

A story I wrote that started from a writing prompt from a friend, S.M. Melling, a fellow writer here on Writerscafe. I wrote this for week eleven for my fifty-two week challenge.


    The room was dark and cold. A single florescent light flickered above and lit a small path among the rows of glass capsules along the walls. A clearly marked yellow line in the center of the room went off into the distance and into the black. The room sat in the twilight of a majestic darkness that crept deeper during each lengthy strobe overhead.

            “Where am I? What is this?”

The man’s voice was muffled by the structure he was in. He rustled inside, trying to free his hands from thin metal straps that were loosely locked in the center of his wrist just above his head. Without much effort they opened and release his arms.

            “Anyone there?” He said.

To him the room was eerily quiet. He had to wipe at the cold glass to get a glimpse of the outside. He tried to study his surroundings, but every breath fogged up the view he had just swiped at with his palm. This was getting him nowhere, so after a few minutes of assessing he decided to pound on the glass.

“Let me out of here. Someone open this thing… Let me out!”

Green lights suddenly flashed at him from the sides of the structure. At first their glow was soft and at a slow pulse, but as he pounded on the lid for freedom, they brightened and sped up rapidly. A voice echoed inside his chamber. “Thaw cycle complete.” The monotone humanoid female voice startled him. He pushed up hard on the lid, letting adrenaline take over his thoughts. Fight or flight kicked in and he wanted out. A loud hissing noise slammed against his ears and the top opened slowly, mechanically.

His feet were bound, but those too opened easily, letting him free. He tossed his legs over the side and stood up on the cold cement. “Jeffrey A. Miller, ID Number 21801127, please follow the yellow line. As he stood staring at the floor wondering where the path went, he saw the fullness of his body, nothing covered by the smallest amount of cloth. Goosebumps showed themselves as he began to warm up, still shivering inside his skin.

“What is this place?” He continued to whisper other questions to himself, but decided that standing around wouldn't get answers, so he followed the voice’s instructions. Each step revealed details he was surprised to have noticed, but he did. The floor was hard and pieces of concrete loosened as he stepped.

“Jeffrey A. Miller, ID Number 21801127, please follow the blue line to your right. Continue until you reach the door.” After a few minutes of walking in partial darkness, he was before a door awaiting further instruction. When none came he knocked on it.

Without warning the door swung open and a thick cloud of odorless smoke rushed out. He jumped back in surprise, feeling more vulnerable now then he did in the capsule. “Come in,” a voice said. It was the same monotone sound, but this was a males, raspy, with a slight modulation. He took a few steps inside as watched as the smoke cleared.

The room was lit in a brilliance of deep ruby red colors. A green circular crystalline structure in the ceiling pointing down to the center of the floor. Bolts of lightning struck randomly throughout, starting within the green crystals.

“Where am I?”

“21801127, please sit down.”

He saw a red chair make shape from within the wall next to him. “I want to know what's happening here.”

“Please sit down,” the voice said again.

“Your voice, it's inside my head. What are you doing to me?.”

A bolt slammed into the floor, and then dissipated. He grabbed at his head and considered for a moment that wherever he was, he was at the mercy of whoever was speaking. He walked over and sat in the chair.

     “Don't move,” the voice said.

The chair produced clasps that wrapped over his wrists and ankles. They were tight enough that he couldn’t slip his hands through, but they didn’t cut off circulation.

            “What is this?” He said.

            “Precaution, 21801127.”

The door closed slowly and the room filled with a cloud-like humidity. Lightning shot out from the roof to the floor, and then across the brilliant red walls covered by mist. They continued, bolts striking at random through the thick moisture, and as they did so he could just barely make out an object coming towards him. He screamed.

            A silver looking mass came fourth. It bubbled and pulsed as it folded in on itself. At the top sat a single emerald green rod that pointed to the sky. It floated closer until only a few feet remain to his face.

            “I am AIMS.”

His eyes opened wide and his face contorted to produce a soundless scream. Horrified, he froze in place.

            “Don’t be alarmed, 21801127.”

            “Let me out. Let me out of this chair!”

            “I cannot.”

            “Release me now.”

            “If you move, you will die,” the voice said.

            The mass moved back and the shackles released, disappearing back into the chair. He grabbed at his wrists and rubbed them while not removing his eyes off the thing before him. He coughed and the copper taste of blood filled his mouth. He wiped his lips with his forearm and saw a dark hue mixed with spit.

            “What’s happening to me?”

            “You are dying. My records state terminal cancer. You had asked to be cryogenically frozen until technology had a cure, but you have run out of time.”

            “Why are you telling me this? Why unfreeze me just to tell me I’m dying?

            “21801127, because we both have run out of time.”

            An image projected through the thickness and he saw the Earth. It was blackened with an eternal fire that raged on. He watched as trees burned, and the air was thick with black smoke that filled the sky. He saw barren lakes and low seas. The scene only worsened as it showed different parts of the world and it’s decaying inhabitance.

            “I am dying,” the raspy voice said, “The Earth is dying.”

            “What am I supposed to do? I’m just me. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

            “Humans created me, Artificial Intelligence Management System. You are the last human. Fix me before I die, or the planet will die.”

            He coughed again, chocking on the blood that spewed from his mouth. His body convulsed as he fell to his knees, dropping to the floor. Electrical activity filled the room. He twisted halfway to his side, resting on his left arm and reaching up with his right.

            “Help,” he said with a rushed whisper. His voice faded and his arm dropped to the floor.






© 2016 James Whitefall

Author's Note

James Whitefall
A short story. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

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Added on July 17, 2016
Last Updated on July 17, 2016
Tags: A. I., writing, amwriting, short story, short, story, editing, amediting, awesome


James Whitefall
James Whitefall


I'm an american writer who aspires to be an author. Sci-Fi and Fantasy are my muse, but I write whatever. Follow my journey at jameswhitefall.wordpress.com Email me at [email protected] more..