HyperCore

[WP] New incredibly fast computers are marketed all over the world. Someone discovers human brains are used in production.

"Hey Mark, were you involved on the HyperCore project?"

"Huh?" Mark looked up at Gary from his tablet, fatigue resting like a mask on his face. 

"You know, the HyperCore project with CoreOne, before they fired you? Did you work on that?" Gary was stirring caffeine sugar into his coffee, and staring at his MiniCore.

"Oh, right... Yeah, I was on the project, but was fired from it quite soon after I joined the team." Mark scrolled through the job postings, looking for anything that suited his qualifications. There were quite a few, and he sent out resumes to each and every one. He hadn't had a bite in months. No one wanted to hire a disgraced CoreOne ex-employee.

"What happened with that anyway?" Gary came and sat at the table, half his attention focused on a game he was playing on his wrist.

"Nothing. Nothing... I just didn't agree with the head of the department was all."

"On what?" 

Mark was grateful to his little brother for taking him in after he was kicked out of his apartment on the CoreOne campus, but he wished Gary wouldn't force the subject. "Inconsequential things."

This was an utter lie. Mark had thought about going to the press, but who would believe him? If only he had managed to record the evidence on a non-work Core device before they'd escorted him from the premises. He'd tried to get back in once, but the security guards had all seen pictures of his face with explicit instructions to not let him within ten feet of the campus. 

"Well maybe you could reach out to him--put your differences aside, you know?" Gary's game let out a little winning noise, and he looked up. "It might make finding a new job easier if you're no longer disgraced by CoreOne."

Now there was an idea. The processors in Mark's head started churning--literally. Every CoreOne employee was fitted with an on-board computer to make their contribution to the company more meaningful. Mark had often wondered if that was the only purpose they served, though he'd never found proof to the contrary.

"You know what, Gary, you're right. I might just do that. I can handle a few months of having my values challenged if it means getting a different job." Mark smiled, though it must have been affected, because Gary was looking at him with some concern.

"Great. Glad to hear it." He paused. "When was the last time you slept?"

--

A few days later, Mark was fully moved back in to his apartment on the CoreOne campus. His boss had welcomed him back with open arms, glad to know he'd 'come to see the benefits of the HyperCore system.' After Mark was briefed on his role on the Integration Team and had a workspace set up, he set to work diligently. He took careful, well written notes on every step of the process, and even took the time to visit people from the Growth Team, the Development Team, and the Optimization Team to get to know the system more intimately. 

His boss only noted that Mark seemed to have a complete turn around and that he was the most dedicated member of the team, often sitting for hours with a beta, just getting to know it, inside and out, to better improve the upcoming worldwide release. He even wrote in his monthly review that Mark worked late hours, and sometimes would refuse to leave for the entire night, in the hopes of getting more work done. 

Mark, however, did not view his own progress with any happiness. His notes were nearly complete. Almost a month and a half after returning to his job, he visited Sarah on the Development Team. 

"Hey, Sarah, do you have another beta I can work with?"

"Yeah, there should be a few in that closet. Why?"

"I want to see if there are any differences in the platform between betas. Mind if I grab one?"

"No, go for it." She handed him the key. "Careful though, some of them are fragile."

"Thanks," he said. He went into the closet and picked one off the nearest shelf. This was a newer beta, with fewer bugs, and closer to the designs planned for worldwide release. Mark balanced it on one hip, locked the door behind him, and threw the keys back to Sarah.

"Good luck!"

He waved behind him in response and walked back to his workspace, cradling the delicate machine. When it was next to the first beta on the desk, he powered up the interface.

'Hello,' he typed on the keyboard.

'hello,' came the response. It seemed this computer had not been taught the importance of capitalization yet. 'who are you?'

>My name is Mark. What is your name?

>i am b3275 HyperCore. do you have something to teach me?

>No. I have a few questions for you, if that is okay.

>ask anything you'd like.

>What is your favorite color?

>what is a "favorite"?

>It is something you prefer over all other things in a particular category.

>the color #FFFF66 pleases me.

>Do you have any other favorites?

>i have a favorite number.

>What is it?

>2^57,885,161 �' 1

>Why that number?

>it is the highest prime discovered before CoreOne.

>What about a favorite activity?

>i enjoy trying to match pictures with descriptions.

Mark paused, staring at the UI with interest for a moment.

>may i show you one of my favorite pictures?

>Yes.

b3275 displayed the latest Hubble2 which showed millions upon millions of galaxies from thousands of lightyears away. It was eerie and beautiful, though it was no different from many other Hubble images.

>Why this picture?

>it makes me feel small.

>Thank you for showing me.

>you are welcome, Mark.

Mark signed off of the HyperCore and made extensive notes on the personality. He then pulled out a Core he had registered under a fake name--it would take the government weeks to figure out the illegitimacy of the owner. He snapped pictures and took videos of the two betas sitting on his desk. Sarah came around the corner, so he slipped the Core into his pocket, and waved her over.

"Have you noticed the betas have a personality?" he said when she came over to his workstation.

"Oh, yeah, definitely a noticeable fault. Something we hope to eradicate in the final releases. Not sure if it's a Development Team issue, or something else." She was rubbing at something on one of the interfaces, a small frown frozen between her eyebrows.

"By Development you mean the code or the training they go through?"

"Both, really." She seemed satisfied by the removal of whatever blemish had marred the surface of the beta--self-identified as b3910--because she dropped her hand.

"Might be an Integration problem, too," he said, watching her expression. It remained unchanged, if only a little more curious.

"How is your research going?"

"Well, I think. I may have found a connection between the problems we were facing and the different betas."

"Oh yeah? What is it?" She leaned up against the work station.

"Well, their personalities. b3910, for example, doesn't have a predisposition for math. That would explain his high CPU usage when trying to perform basic problems. I haven't talked to b3275 enough, but it seems to have more artistic sensibilities as well, though that could just be creativity."

"That's a valid point." She paused. "Well, we'll just have to find a way to get rid of those personalities."

This gave Mark a chilling sensation he tried to hide. He nodded, pushed back his hair and tried to breathe normally. 

"Well, yeah, I'll let you get back to work," Sarah said after a few moments. She seemed anxious to leave his company. He waved her off and stared down at the betas for a few moments. Then he shook himself and picked up his pen, trying not to think of the ramifications of the conversation.

--

The next night, Mark sat at a bar downtown, his leg bouncing up and down on the stool. The Core in his pocket burned against his thigh with the anticipation. His eyes flicked back and forth, back and forth, looking for the woman described by the Humanitarian Aid Foundation secretary earlier that day.

Two drinks later, the woman entered, a ponytail perched high on her head and fashionable glasses balanced on her tiny nose. Mark made eye contact and then quickly looked away. No one needed to know they were meeting.

She made her was slowly to the bar, then leaned up against it near Mark, sparing him only a passing glance. She typed in her order on one of the Core screens, and just as she was about to pay, Mark swooped in.

"Let me pay for that for you," he said, entering his tab number. He passed her nervous yet genuine smile. She returned it, and reached out a hand. He shook it, letting the Core slide between their grips easily. They passed the night in cordial conversation, and eventually moved away from each other. Mark slipped out in the night and made his way drunkenly back to the CoreOne campus, and keyed into his apartment. He smiled for the first time in months as he laid down face first on the bed and fell promptly asleep.

--

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