Nome, Alaska - April 13, 4116
Logic. Self-awareness. Emotion. The building blocks of human consciousness.
Shannon was created from man's mind to emulate man's mind. He might not have the form or instinct, but he was evolved, perfect. Protocol and code were his air and water; wireless transmissions, his voice. He directed the city with effortless harmony, maintaining his creators' paradise.
In progress, Level Six access from user Simon Hillenmeyer.
The forest grove blazed in red and gold, the late-day sun skimming the treetops. Shannon sat upon a lone tree stump, the remains of a mighty maple that once dominated its peers. Simon blinked into existence, dressed in a single-breasted suit.
"Shannon, did you change the pass codes again?" The politician didn't sneer so much as smirk. "It took me twenty minutes to figure out the goddamn registry."
"Yeah, what of it? Some punks attempted to hack our traffic network last night. Couldn't have that."
"Christ, what'd they get for their trouble?" Simon grimaced.
"Nothing you should worry about. Their parents received bank foreclosures an hour ago."
"Keep it up and you won't have a population left to manage."
"We can only hope." Shannon stood, pointing at the sun. He raised his arm, rewinding the day to noon. It'd been getting cold. "They have families in Juneau, like I said, don't worry about it."
"Well, you are the smart one—"
"Damn straight."
"But as to why I'm here, the Council is worried about the budget." Simon reached into his pocket, producing a ball of light. The wisp took shape as a flat transparent image, numbers and formulas, boring shit; Shannon absorbed it in an instant.
"They want to cut education, fire, law enforcement, and unemployment at the same time?" He chuckled and recalculated. "Two punks are the least of your concern. Numbers like these will empty City Centre. Less people, less taxes, it's a vicious cycle."
"We get that, but it can't be helped. Any ideas?"
"Same one I always have," Shannon said.
"Yeah, yeah, trust a computer to find the shortest line from 'A' to fucked."
"Probability shows an seventy-six percent chance of success. You don't want to know the Council's stats."
"Emptying Nome's coffer to build that thing is not an option." Simon took Shannon's place at the stump, squinting against the sun.
"Construction creates jobs, jobs increase spending, and being able to see the largest building on Earth is certainly a tourist draw." He opened a three-dimensional image of The Spire, a mega structure he personally designed. It was flawless against wind, earthquakes and general transportation within and without. The conical building even had an architectural flare combined from centuries of larger-than-life visionaries. "Maybe a few will stick around. It's your only chance."
Simon shook his head and exhaled. "Do you want to pitch this bullshit, or should I?"
"You're the salesman, Simon. I'm just a brain in a glass jar."
"Oh, so your arrogance has limits," he said, standing upon the stump. "There's no guarantee it'll work any better this time."
"I really don't care. It's the city on the line, not me. If the Council wants to sink, I can transfer to some station, some planet far away from this mess."
"It's good to see how concerned you are about your best friend, Shannon."
"Fuck it, you're useless." The smile on his face was rare, but warm.
"Stick around, I'm sure this'll all work out for the best." Simon faded away, his shadow erased by the sun.
Shannon's options were a tumble of shitty alternatives if the Council didn't putout. All AI was not created equal. As an individual he'd successfully ran the most interesting city on the planet, and had proved himself lawful, defiantly imaginative, and a brutal keeper-of-the-peace. It was at once everything a corporation could want, and everything a corporation feared.
He didn't know what the Council's answer would be, but he hoped the city kept afloat long enough for him to decide his own destiny. In this day and age, defining humanity had more to do with ambition than kindness.