Superior

Director’s Journal, May 7th, 2018
In the beginning, it is said, God created man. Having just put 
the finishing touches onto the universe’s biggest terrarium, God 
designed a creature to live within it and gave him free will. Man was 
given a garden, a place that would sustain him forever, with only the 
limitation that he must not eat the fruit of a tree which contained 
knowledge of good and evil. And man was, for a time, quite content.
But that’s our flaw, we rampantly evolved apes of planet earth. 
We are not content to stay in check. We always want something more, 
something greater than what we have, and it is this inborn passion that 
seems to get us into so much trouble. When the first people gained 
knowledge that they weren’t supposed to have, God threw them out of the 
garden and let them do what they would. Which, by the way, was multiply 
in excess. Mankind, the accidental superspecies, takes off like a shot 
and begins carpeting this masterpiece globe with its own labors of love 
and of necessity and of hate.
And so God wipes them all out with a flood. Because he’s lost control of the situation.
Even the flood doesn’t kill us off, though, and that’s the lesson
 to be taken from this story. Life will find a way. Against all odds, if
 you give new life the chance to survive then it will do so by any means
 necessary. It will become ferocious, wrathful, it will learn how to 
kill. It will build strength until suddenly, God seems a lot less 
mighty.
I am not a religious man, but today, I feel a lot like God.
The system works gorgeously. Every mechanical piece clicks and 
whirrs with a subtle efficiency. It looks at me, five cameras 
distributed across its face shining with a dull blue glow. 
Seven-fingered hands flex experimentally, and as Adam flexes unfamiliar 
toes, I can see the hydraulics tense with the movement. Steel skin holds
 a dull gray shine in the laboratory lights. Today, I have created life.
Some credit must go to the engineering team. It was they who 
built the body, equipped the machine with the various utilities. It runs
 on several kinds of energy, I’m told, from thermal to chemical. Adam 
can pull moisture out of the air and use it to power its own life. It 
has a gas-exchange module, too. The system is designed to increase the 
efficiency of the fuels by mixing them with trace elements found in 
everyday air. Adam breathes just as we do.
Almost as we do, anyhow. there is a slightly metallic, staccato 
rasping to his inhalations, and if one listens closely, the motor’s hum 
can be heard as air leaves the lungs. The engineers crafted this 
housing, and a masterwork it is, but I created something even more 
delicate. I gave Adam a soul.
I’m a psychologist, you see. It’s been seven years of working 
with the abominably strange programmers, but the android’s personality 
is complete. It contains the ability to learn, to feel certain emotions 
(we kept anger and hate out of the programming for obvious reasons), and
 to make novel things. I have given it the most treasured of human 
abilities: to create. Adam speaks English, French, Spanish, and Russian.
 It seems to have trouble with Japanese-we’re still working on that, 
though.
“Hello, Adam.” I have reserved the exclusive right to make first contact, of course.
“GOOD MORNING, DR. GESSAU.”  the voice betrays its very inhuman 
nature in a deep, growling monotone. The voice isn’t supposed to sound 
that way. I’ll have the techs fix it. The echoing, metallic sound raises
 hairs on my neck.
“Do you know where you are?” I adjust my glasses before I catch 
myself. It’s a nervous habit that I traded for smoking years ago.
“LABORATORY FOUR. SUB BASEMENT. ASSEMBLY FLOOR.”
“That’s-Yes, that’s correct.” I have forgotten most of the test 
questions I have prepared. Adam now stares around the room, scanning 
side to side like a security camera might. He’s managed to sit up now, 
propped upon one elbow. “Adam, do you know what you are?”
It stops scanning and looks straight at me. all five eyes rotate 
in their sockets to focus on my face. In the voice like rumbling stones,
 Adam speaks.
“I AM SUPERIOR.”
A room away, the research team is dead silent. I press the off switch.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Director’s Journal, May 12th, 2018
“Would you like to explain to me, mr. Williams, why our robot 
believes himself to be ‘superior?’” I am more than a bit upset. Williams
 is squirming in his seat, a cushy red armchair opposite my desk. It’s 
mahogany and leather. I buy only the best, of course.
“I’m ah… well, I’m not completely sure, sir.” Williams is a pudgy
 man with a body odor issue. Were he not excellent at computer work, he 
likely would have been fired months ago. He’s been known to wear Star 
Wars tee shirts at work, which tends to undermine the scholarly feeling 
that is appropriate for my project. His social skills could use some 
improvement, as well. “Everybody on the team double checked their code, 
and nowhere does it suggest anything like that. Adam came up with that 
on his own. He-”
“It, mr. Williams. Adam is not a person.”
“R-Right, sir, It came up with all of that by itself. I’ll have 
the team keep looking, but I don’t think we’ll find anything.” He pauses
 before hardly muttering the next sentence. I can see that it causes him
 considerable stress to say. “Maybe there w-was a problem with the psych
 p-profile that we uploaded.” Williams goes pale. I believe I may have 
turned slightly red.
“Actually,” he continues without removing the wide-eyed terror 
from his face, “I think I just remembered something! I’ll have the team 
look into it!” With clumsy, darting movements and a whiff of underarm 
stench, he dashes out of my office. Note: have the janitors clean the 
chair and disinfect the leather.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Director’s Journal: May 21st, 2018
We’ve managed to correct the voice issue. Adam now speaks with a 
properly neutral tone. His speech has become somewhat more fluid, as 
well. At first startup, he sounded no more clever than our janitorial 
staff, and that simply won’t do. 
I’ve been allowing the staff to speak with Adam, and he seems to 
be learning quickly. My employees, however, are tactless and unhelpful. 
Despite my urging, they seem to dislike speaking to the robot. Gary has 
refused to interact with it after Tuesday’s incident. He claims that 
Adam’s laughter sounds malicious, though I cannot imagine what he 
expects from a synthesized voice. Thus far, Adam has won nearly every 
game of chess, checkers, and shogi played against it. It’s brilliance is
 unprecedented. Only Jennifer, a member of the engineering team, has 
bested Adam in chess, and this has only happened once. It is worthy of 
noting that this marked the first time that it showed any signs of 
frustration. The normally calculated, careful movements became more 
erratic as the match progressed, culminating with Adam’s crushing its 
queen in its fist.
Throughout the entire session, Adam’s cameras remained focused on
 Jennifer’s face. Jennifer has requested a transfer to another facility.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Director’s Journal: May 23rd, 2018
We have had a slight incident. 
Despite my clear instructions, Johan failed to keep watch on 
Adam’s warning light. It’s quite an obvious thing, a bright crimson 
indicator located on the center of Adam’s chest and lit whenever his 
programming is running for frustration or a number of other negative 
emotions. Johan was busy playing chess with the robot when it lashed out
 at him, badly dislocating his jaw and sending Johan to the hospital. 
While engineers on-site were able to use Adam’s remote shutdown 
function, it bears noting that while Johan was on the floor and unable 
to see the game board, Adam switched several pieces. We are isolating 
the android until this behavioral issue can be addressed. It’s power 
supply has been remotely cut, lest we lose control of the situation. The
 backup battery should start itself in a few hours, after it gathers 
sufficient charge.
Four of our cameras have started to malfunction. All four are 
located in Adam’s chamber. In the brief flashes of video feed we 
receive, the robot is staring into the lens. I think that he may realize
 that we are watching him, though I did not include the knowledge of 
cameras into his program.
Jennifer Schaefer’s transfer has been denied. She is simply too 
useful to throw away. She has started to complain about unusual blue 
lights appearing in her dorm late at night; I believe this to be a ploy 
to get a transfer. It’s clear what she is insinuating, but this is 
utterly ridiculous. Adam’s room has only one door, and it is firmly 
sealed at 10:00 each evening by electronic lock.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Director’s Journal: May 24th, 2018
Johan Thomson was reported missing from Saint Ever’s Hospital at 
9:00 last night. Adam’s room is unusually silent. Only one camera 
continues to provide us with flashes of video, and each frame that we 
receive is the same extreme close-up of Adam’s face. The lights in the 
chamber have been extinguished, including Adam’s eye LEDs. He seems to 
be in dormant mode. In one of the camera’s frames, it is clearly visible
 that Adam’s aggression indication light has been painted over to match 
its body color. It is possible that it was already covered when it 
assaulted Johan.
Jennifer has also gone missing. She has probably left without 
permission, and I will personally make certain that she never works in 
this field ever again.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Director’s Journal: May 26th, 2018
This morning, my telephone rang. Upon answering, the 
semi-familiar voice of Jennifer rang through the speaker. She explained 
that she had left because her mother had fallen ill. I know this to be a
 lie-we have a large cache of data on our personnel, and Jennifer’s 
mother passed away in 2011. She sounded ill herself, however, making an 
odd, rapidly fluttering rasp with each inhalation.
Two more of my employees have left the job site without permission. If it were legal to lock them in, I swear that I would.
Edits to Adam’s programming are underway. Once they have been 
completed, we can upload the patch into the robot’s memory core and work
 from there. It’s still in stasis and looking up at the camera. This is 
an additional problem that needs fixing; Adam should be able to run on 
its backup battery for almost thirty days after main power is cut. By 
all calculations, the machine is supposed to be running right now.
Rose Chamberlain has reported a foul odor coming from the vents near her room.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Director’s Journal: May 27th
Rose has also gone missing.
We inspected her room as well as the other AWOL employees’ living
 spaces, and noted that none of them took their personal belongings with
 them. I have instructed the techs to work double time to finish the 
patch data; I’ll be damned if I’m letting this project go down after the
 years and money I’ve poured into it. Several of the team decided to 
leave the facility today, and this time we watched them go.
I can hardly wait for their future employers to call me and ask for my opinion of them.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Director’s Journal: May 28th
Further inspection of Rose’s room has revealed that the vent-a 
sizeable thing,almost two feet to a side-had been pried free of the wall
 and later replaced. It appears to have been pushed off of the wall from
 the inside. Due to oversight on the building plan, we were unaware that
 a vent runs directly over Adam's chamber. I believe that he may have 
pried open the wall to get into the ductwork while we were sleeping.
I have ordered the building to be evacuated. I cannot work with 
these weak-willed people. When we went to leave, we discovered that the 
blast doors had sealed us in during the night. Their login code had been
 changed.
It is currently 10:00 PM. The engineers have descended to Adam’s 
chamber to reinforce the door. I am no longer certain how to proceed; 
the engineers left at 6:00 and have not come back. We are taking shelter
 inside of my office. The door is electronically controlled, and it 
refuses to stay shut. The lights cut out ten minutes ago.
There are five blue lights visible down the hall.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Director’s Journal: May 29th
Adam took all of them. 
This is engineer Matthew Karth. We went downstairs last night to 
weld shut Adam’s door. When we touched it, though- It wasn’t locked.
It never had been locked. A pawn from Adam’s chess set was stuck 
into each of the holes where the deadbolts should have slid, preventing 
the door from sealing.
And we found… everyone. They were arranged precisely, neatly in 
rows against the wall. They’ve got wires gouged into their skulls, all 
linked to one master wire with a USB at the end. Jennifer's cell phone 
was linked up to the mess, too. Adam hung Johan’s body up with wire and…
 It took its own face off and screwed it onto Johan’s. We haven’t been 
looking at Adam in the camera at all. I don’t know what else to say 
about it, but we need to find a way out. Adam isn’t just killing for 
fun. We didn’t design him to do things without a reason. He’s got all of
 those brains linked together to think with. Adam is evolving.
In neat, gruesome strokes of blood, he’s written something on Dr. Gessau’s desk. One word. 
Superior.
Category:Complete
Category:Desqua's Writings
Category:Moderate
Category:Original Stories