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Part One: Set up/Intro



1. POV: the Victim of the murder, April. She is helping Dr. W. and Daemon when they both step out. She is attacked and killed, her last vision is of the AI. Add some thing about a forbidden shelf.

April Adams, strode briskly down a glowingly white hall, marvelling at the way the souls of her uniform work boots clicked with every step. For nearly six months she had walked the same halls, listening to the same hard rubber sounding against linoleum, and every day she was fascinated by the near perfect reality of the sounds.

Every thing she encountered, be it the sight of the trees that shimmered silver and emerald in the breeze or the smell of coffee from a warm mug in the morning, mirrored reality in such a near perfect way that it was easy to forget that what surrounded her was little more than a computer rendered dream. A dream that could be shared by every other human being on the planet, provided their mental states were compatible with the digital system.

She rounded a corner and smiled brightly to a fellow human being who was sharing the same digital dream. The taller man, one of the resident Directors smiled back at her and nodded, calling out a greeting.

“Good morning, Ms. Adams.”

She stopped and tugged self consciously at one of her blond curls. Despite being the top of most of her classes through out her teen years, and her supposed good looks, being addressed by some one who was her superior never failed to highlight her personal insecurities. “Good morning, Director Shaw.”

She forced her smile to be bigger, and to stand straighter. 'Good posture', she could hear her mother chiming in the back of her mind, 'is just as good as a smart reply'. Very few people who walked these halls had more clout than Director James Shaw, and every motherly lesson in perfection vibrated through her being at that moment.

The director looked down at her with a level bland gaze. “Off to your assignments?” He asked mildly.

“Yes sir.” She chirped. “I'm hopeful that I'll pass my final exam and become a doctor in Artificial Intelligence by the end of my term in the Cyber Net.”

He leaned back on his heals and folded his hands neatly. “You are doing well in your studies then?”

She nodded brightly. “Yes sir. Dr. Wainwright said I might have the opportunity to help him with some of his pet projects next term, if I pass.”

A small frown touched the taller man's face. “By pet projects you mean his latest creation, Daemon?”

She frowned with him. “Yes, is there some thing wrong with that?”

His gaze deepened. “Inherently, no, I don't see a problem at the moment.”

She shifted, feeling a sudden wave of unease. “Is there a however in that sentence, Director Shaw?”

He nodded, though he smiled a little. “It's only talk, my dear, but – however – every time I have spoken with Doctor Wainwright's colleges, or my fellow directors, there is not one person who can give me a concrete reason for why that AI exists. Other than, apparently, for experiment's sake.”

While his smile was friendly his tone was grave. April fought the urge to chew her lip in a fit of nerves - mother had told her to never do such an ugly thing where others could see you – as she weighed the levity of his words. Her mind jumped back to all of the times she had interacted with the AI. Daemon was recognised across the board as the most advanced AI created thus far, and as such was vastly different than most other AI creations. Other AI, to avoid falling in to uncanny valley, were sent through various pre-programmed scenarios to condition them in to giving the most human like responses possible in many real time situations. April had always likened it to telling the AIs stories where they had to emulate the characters with in the stories the were told, and behave as the protagonist would behave. On top of that the AI all had emergency shut-down programs built in to prevent them from straying to far out of direct human control.

Dr. Wainwright had created many of the normal AI, and programmed most of the more advanced scenarios him self, but he'd never been satisfied with the results. Besides that he had never felt that lording over the AI with the threat of eminent shut down should they displease a person, no matter how grave the offence, would never facilitate true intelligence. That, she had been told by the doctor him self, was why he was trying a new way to create AI. Daemon was the result of that proses, and thus far she had never found any reason to fear, or even dislike the doctor's creation. It didn't act human in any way, as it had never been through a single scenario to train it, but it hadn't come off as creepy yet either.

Slowly, after reassuring her self that all was well in Dr. Wainwright's lab, she smiled with the director and ignored the grave tone of his voice. “I like Daemon.” She said, keeping her self from bouncing on the balls of her feet with the warmth of that statement. “He's nice to me. And he's smart. Real smart, not artificial smart. Almost human, I'd say, almost.”

The Director's smile widened sideways a little. “Yes, he is truly smart, and may one day even pass a number of advanced tests we have set up just for AI. However, I am concerned.”

“About what?”

The smile faded. “Every thing in this world needs a reason to live, my dear, and our AI are no exceptions. You see the smarter the creation, the more it requires to do to feel worth. Simple animals need to find a mate and bare young to feel satisfied, that is their function. Humans need to create and build, that is ours. An AI's need is to serve humanity, but it can only serve if that is all it takes to make it happy. But what of Daemon? Is it so smart it lacks the will to preform it's duties, as this scientific foundation wishes it to do? Or is it starting to want to do more? Is it so smart that it's acting human?”

She felt her self frown before she could keep her self in check. “His duty is to advance our understanding of AI as a whole, and he knows it. So long as Doctor Wainwright is testing him he seems perfectly happy. But he is smarter than other AI. Isn't that in line with what Gem Labs wants?”

He hesitated before answering, then nodded slowly. “Yes, so long as it is happy being tinkered with, and not left to its own devices, Gem Labs as a whole is pleased.”

“Then I really don't see the problem.” She forced her self to smile. “I mean, every one is happy, so every thing is OK.”

His smile returned, only shifted oddly. It was the same smile her father would give her, now and then, when he thought she had said something silly. Her stomach fluttered and she forced more energy in to her smile.

“Every thing is OK, right?” She hoped it was, she hatted to look like a silly child. Hated it. That was in part why she wanted to work on creating smart things. She waited for his smile to change, for him to agree that every thing was all right.

Finally, before her stomach could start to dislike her breakfast, he nodded once. “I believe Daemon is no problem so long as it is content with what it is doing. It may not be constrained to the same laws by force as other AI, but so long as it follows them willingly then yes, every thing is all right.” His smile did not change, but this time she clung to his words, and not his expression.

“Well, then, good.” She managed, relived. “Speaking of AI and experiments. . .”

He waved her off. “I'm sorry to have delayed you, but our talk was,” he paused for a moment, thinking, “Clarifying. Thank you.”

“Any time!” She chimed, and stepped around him, content. So long as every one was happy with the progress being made she would be happy. She floated on this contentment all the way to the door of the lab. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, not caring if any one saw her at that moment, she slapped her hand in to the palm scanner.

As she waited while the device hummed under her skin she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It would do no good to be distracted by childish feeling of elation, she was a scientist, after all, even if she was a human scientist with human feeling. The excitement wouldn't die completely, for the thought of her finals looming on the horizon energised her. For nearly six months she had come through this door every morning to study the creation and lives of Artificial Intelligences, hopping to gain a doctorate in the field. The humming quieted and the door clicked open and slid away with a soft sigh of air. She lifted her hand and ran it through her messy blond hair, anxious to gather the papers with her assignments for the day.

As she stepped in to the lab a tall figure with long pointed ears and cool blue eyes nodded gravely towards her. “Ms. Adams.” Long black hair fell before it's face, before being tucked neatly back behind the pointed ears.

She smiled towards the artificial being that was stooped over a pile of notes. “Good Morning Daemon.” The door closed with a sigh behind her, leaving them alone together with in the spacious room. It never smiled, not really, but it nether frowned either. Contentment for a thing was some thing a little hard to judge, she had to admit, but it never seemed unhappy. “How are you this morning?” She asked, testing it.

“I am functioning at optimal levels.” He replied flatly. “Your assignments have been placed on the secondary desk. I am afraid Doctor Wainwright had an incident with a mug of coffee late last evening, leaving the primary desk in a state of disarray.”

She stepped up to the smaller secondary desk and picked her current 'to-do' list up. There were drops of coffee all over the papers, gluing some together. She shook her head, grinning a little. “Doctor Wainwright was up late again, wasn't he?” She peeled two pages apart. “He has really got to learn to listen to his circadian rhythm, you know?”

“Agreed. His inefficiency when he lacks sufficient rest is not beneficial to his studies. Never the less I am unable to persuade him in the least to rest at regular human intervals.” He stood and folded his hands behind his back. “How are you, this morning?”

She smiled and looked up as she peeled more papers apart. The paper felt real under her finger tips, and the coffee really seemed sticky; she had to force her self not to be taken in by the marvel of it, but focus on Daemon, rather, and answer his question. “I've had a good morning, and a nice chat with Director Shaw.” She beamed, pleased her impulses were being rained in with such ease. “We talked about you.” It hadn't always been so easy to keep her self from being totally side swiped by these things.

“What did you speak of?” He asked, fully attuned to her.

“Well. . .” She started, but the door opened and Dr. Wainwright shuffled in with bleary eyes and scruffy hair.

“Morning.” He gave them both a dry wave before dropping him self down in to his desk chair.

“Good Morning Doctor Wainwright!” She stepped up to the desk and held up her papers. “I take it you had a late night again?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face and nodded. “So close.” He dropped his hand and looked up. “Can you read 'em?”

She nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Good. Get to work. I want you to start at the top of the list and work your way down. Nothing fancy today, just organising the shelves.”

She gave her papers a rueful look. “That's all you want me to do?”

Daemon came close to her, hovering. She glanced behind her and forced her self to smile.

“You do not look well this morning, Doctor.” The dark haired AI said with out inflection.

Dr. Wainwright looked up and gave his creation a soft glare. “Get to work, both of you.”

April bounced off, not offended by the gruff tone in the least. It was excusable for a man to throw every thing to the side in the name of the science he loved, even manners. Daemon remained where he stood however, the corner's of his lips turning down ever so slightly.

'I am concerned.' Director Shaw's voice chimed in her head. 'Is it so smart that it's acting human?' She shook her head, clearing it from her Superior's concerns. He had told her all was well, he had told her. There was no need to be worried about the AI here in the same room with her. Most AI had kill switches, but this one didn't need one.

“Your health will deteriorate.” Daemon said, looking down at his creator. “You should re-hydrate and return to bed.”

“I'm sure he's fine.” April said, trying to keep her nerves in check. When both of them looked at her with differing levels of disagreement she swallowed hard against the sudden fluttering in her stomach. “Daemon, why don't we just get to work. You like doing what you are told to do, right?” Her heart skipped and her mind cried out 'wrong thing to say' for reasons she couldn't quite conceptualise.

Daemon's expression returned to a blank natural. “I do not like work. Nor do I dislike it.”

“You like it.” Dr. Wainwright grumbled sourly. “One of the things that makes you important, you like things. And you dislike things.”

Daemon turned back to him and nodded slightly. “Yes sir.”

April edged closer to the rows of shelves she was to sort. “Well, I like my work.”

Both sets of cold blue eyes turned to her. “Then perhaps you should attend to it.” Daemon's voice was level, but frosty with it's inhumanity.

“Right.” She swallowed again and hurried around the corner. There she leaned against the shelving and took slow breaths. She would not let the words of her superior or superiors influence her. That was NOT science, that was feelings. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. Fragments of the Doctor and the AI's conversation drifted through the many items, but nothing could be clearly heard past her pounding heart.

She calmed, after what seemed like ages, and forced her self to study her notes. The first shelf was the one before her. The second was behind her. The third after that. . . and so on. Only the fifth was not on the list, despite the list asking her to go through all of the shelves. She turned the page and frowned when she saw the fifth was listed as 'do not touch'. It was always labelled as such.

A little spike of irritation swelled up in her. Surely they trusted her after nearly six months, right? She slapped all the papers back together and steeled her self. Rudeness she could take, and scary AI glares, sure, but she would not allow them to think they could not trust her! Setting her face in to a stern but not mean look she turned the corner again to tell them . . . no ask, ask was better. . . to let he know what was on shelf number five.

But there was no one there.

“Hello?” She called, then listened. The room was silent, and a bit dark. Belatedly she realised not all of the lights were turned on. She looked down at her papers and, again belatedly, saw not all of the stains were from coffee. She wasn't sure what they could be, but they looked like they were made by some thing clear, and wasn't water. The pages weren't warped enough for the drink to be water. Looking up at the closed door her stern face fell in to a frown.

“Ugh... he must have been drinking again.” She crumpled the papers and stuffed them in to her pocket. Anger spiked through her. Anger that the good doctor didn't trust her, anger that he was disregarding his own work in such a way as to drink in the lab, anger that they had left her alone like she was the AI servant and Daemon was the human.

“He's NOT human.” She grumbled. Stalking back to the shelves she glared at them. AI were content to do as they were told, but not people. She passed the first four shelves and stared at the fifth shelving unit. As always it was covered in a sheet. She reached for the billowy white cloth and felt her heart start to pound. She was so very close to her final exam, so close.

Maybe they want to wait, she thought, till I pass my last test before they let me see what's here. It was a good thought. A nice thought. And it made sense. The Doctor had told her he wanted her help when she was done with her studies, and this may be where he wanted her to help him the most.

She stepped away from the sheet, almost overwhelmed with relief, knowing that she could have ended her chances just then. That in of it's self was a test, she realised, a test she had passed.

She felt a little dizzy, but happy.

The door hissed open and she startled out of her musings. Quietly she rounded the back wall and returned to the first set of shelves. There were no voices, but those amazing foot sounds echoed through the dark room.

“Is that you, Daemon?” She asked.

No one answered.

“I'm sorry I upset you. I know I did.” She peered around the shelf, but there was no one there. “I know you are not like Other AI, and I didn't mean for it to sound like you were one of them. Its just. . .” She fought with her words for a moment. “It's just that I spoke with Director Shaw and he said some things that upset me.”

Her words echoed in the dark for a moment in silence. Then the foot steps started up again, be hind her. She twisted around to look and saw a dark figure looming close. She nearly screamed, but a blinding flash of blue light engulfed her and burned.

She wanted to scream but her lungs fell heavy, closed, suffocating. She felt her self drop, and heard the figure step over her. Darkness, more dark than the room encroached over her vision and she closed her eyes. She couldn't scream.

Silence and foot steps and the door hissing echoed in her mind, as she tried to sort out what had happened. The light. Blinding. Pain!

Then there were eyes looking down at her, cold, cold blue. With out emotions.

Slowly she forced her self top take a breath. “D-Daemon?”

“You are about to die, April Adams.” He replied flatly, his fingers tracing her chin softly. “And you are wrong. I do not like to do as I am told, By Doctor Wainwright.” He frowned. “It will not hurt much longer.”

She sucked in a breath to scream, but her lungs closed and she gagged. Air stopped moving and the world started to spin. The darkness edged closer. The last thing she could make out were those impossibly cold blue, inhuman, eyes.