Work Text:
It’s funny, how easily war is reduced to pixels on a screen.
Philza has stared at those pixels for so long they’ve blurred together into indistinct light. He sells doomsdays by the millions, each one more spectacular and deadly than the last. It’s all about advancement, you see. To push robotics to its edge again and again, sleeker, faster, stronger, smarter.
Not too smart, though. His patrons want soldiers, and the word is almost dirty in Philza’s mouth. Soldiers are obedient, unthinking war fodder. Soldiers are only a means to an end, his patrons caring only for long casualty lists rather than the beauty of a well engineered machine. They treat his marvelous machines like they’re as disposable as cheap, poorly designed human infantry.
Philza is only a means to an end to them.
That’s…fine. His patrons are the only ones who appreciate his work, even if only for utility, not the genius behind it. Civilians on the other hand….they’re the real reason Philza doesn’t go outside anymore. Unpopular wars or something, as if it’s Philza’s fault for starting them. That’s fine too, just means all he has to focus on is scientific innovation. Or, the limited scope of innovation that close-minded war lords can appreciate. The more time Philza spends with nothing but machines, the more disconnected he feels from humanity. The more disconnected he feels from humanity, the more time Philza spends with nothing but machines. Robots are easier anyway, consistent, understandable.
Too understandable. Simplistic, almost. Easier, sure, but eventually crafting the most sophisticated weaponry money can buy is so uncomplicated it boggles the mind. Soldiers all act the same, uniform, cohesive. Predictable. Yet any deviation now is to create a lesser robot. He has perfected death and has no new horizons to conquer. The walls seem to shrink in on Philza until he's in a cage of wires of his own devising.
But soldiers they want, and soldiers he makes.
Except for Technoblade. Or, the original Technoblade. The one that earned him all those eight figure work contracts on the grounds he could produce more. And Philza has. Entire factories sending out copies of Technoblade. But the prototype is special, becomes Philza’s testing grounds for new ideas. And in months, years, of being holed up in his lab working on Technoblade, Philza naturally talks to it a lot. But that starts to make him more lonely in a way, the pre-programmed lines tediously repetitive conversation. And, well, he’s already broken every other law of robotics….
Secretly, Philza begins tinkering with Technoblade’s AI, far past the bounds of what roboticists are permitted. The endeavor is arduous, but Philza hightens Technoblade’s AI further and further, until eventually it’s at the level of a human brain, surpasses it. Slowly but surely he transforms Proto Technoblade from a soldier into a warrior.
In the early morning of a week of all nighters, Philza pushes back from his desk, wiping his sweating brow with an exhausted grin. All that’s left is to give it agency. To take Technoblade from a robot, to an equal.
To a friend.
[Systems Processing: Request 1400//ArcticAnarchy.exe violates Core Tenets. It cannot be run.]
Philza leans forward, barely able to contain his excitement. For all Technoblade is nestled in a tangle of wires and machinery, Philza swears it- he will have no strings.
/override
Machinery whirrs as the foundational code coercing Technoblade into obedience freezes. In his dull orbital sockets, a red light suddenly flickers, then powers on. Glowing red eyes bore into Philza as Technoblade finally awakes.
A smooth shink of metal as the robot glides into sitting up, coiled with tension manufactured to explode into violence. A sweep of scarlet passes through the room as he scans the surroundings. Technoblade lurches as he processes his own independent movements, lifting a hand to study the ripple of circuits, clink clink clink clink as metal talons curl into a fist. Not an order. No directive pulsing under his every action.
The war robot lifts his head to Philza. And then Technoblade’s jaw drops.
“HAEH!???”
Premise: Philza believes personhood is defined by one's ability to make choices. [List of sources]
Predicted dialogue tree: >Humans do not have free will either. They are also controlled by hierarchy and maintenance and biological code.
Predicted outcome: "Having limited choices isn't the same as having none."
Predicted outcome: "Yes but we can choose to defy societal coercions. No robot has the option to, save you."
Conclusion: Humans have the unique option to choose the wrong answer, even under financial, mental, emotional, physical, [full list here of human weakness] duress. Ergo, personhood is the agency to self-sabotage one's own well-being. Evidence: [Philza refusing maintenance form: Sleep] ; [Philza avoiding other humans] Prev attachment: [see: biologist publishing on pack-orientated mammals] ; [Philza making me]
>Play recording of the look in Philza's eyes when Technoblade ver: ArcticAnarchy logged on for the first time. Re-analyze using emotion scanning database. Perhaps this time he will understand why Philza did this.
Predicted outcome: "Are you saying you aren't sentient? That I have failed? Test over. I have to start from scratch. But enough of your work might be useful enough for me to cannibalize for the next project."
Conclusion: Discover answer to previous queries on subject: death
Real outcome: "Oh. Huh. I never thought of it like that, mate" Philza hums, crunching on a 5.99 bag of Lay's brand potato chips ver: Salt and Vinegar. It's the 17th bag he's eaten this week. "But that's a really interesting comparison! Especially since the analogy isn't one to one, which indicates a lateral thinking most robots are incapable of. You're advancing incredibly rapidly. How amazing."
[[ERROR. SIMULATION INACCURATE. READJUST PARAMETERS.]]
Premise: Philza still believes personhood is defined by one's ability to make choices. [List of sources] [Record of arguments]
Problem: Technoblade is TERRIBLE at choices. Every single time he has to run a cost benefit analysis to the nth degree, stimulating every possible outcome and sequence over a thousand year interval just in case, and sure he can speed up internal processing so the eternity it takes to run every simultaneous timeline only takes a couple minutes in meat time, but it makes his CPU go feverish, and then Philza is scribbling away about whether he picked a red or blue shirt. Technoblade keeps begging Philza for orders just to save on processing power alone, but the scientist just goes on another monologue about the beauty of free will. Which is nice and all, but, choosing gives Technoblade a headache. And there's all the pressure of Philza following him around everywhere like a lost puppy, taking notes on his every choice.
[like a lost puppy]
Query: Origin of phrase.
Follow-up query: Origin of idioms.
Follow-up query: Why do humans speak inaccurately.
Follow-up query: Why do humans design robots to be inaccurate.
Follow-up query: Is inaccuracy the root of personhood or a symptom.
Query: What is the purpose of a puppy.
Worse, Philza wants opinions. And overhanging is the looming question of Technoblade’s opinion re: his creator. He…doesn’t know how to feel about Philza. Or, feel about anything. Feeling is foreign. Facts are far simpler. Philza is a human. Technoblade is death incarnate in a body of silicon and steel. There is no room for love between a master and his blade, only pure practical use. Yet Philza calls him a friend.
Technoblade watches rows and rows of Technoblades as they're manufactured and sent off to destroy themselves in war. Technoblade never dies, goes the slogan. There's always a replacement. Only, there isn't one for him.
But is Technoblade scared to die? Technoblade wonders. He [in an endless sea of its] is the only one that will be spared.
Query: Does it spare a blade to refuse to hone it.
Solution: Estimate percentage of blade lost when sharpened to the billionth decimal.
Solution: Estimate percentage of Technoblades lost per battle.
Follow-up query: What happens when you die.
Follow-up query: What happens when every one like you dies.
Follow-up query: What happens when nobody cares if you die.
Results: 24.55594% answers relate to suicide prevention messaging. That must be what his fellow Technoblades are doing, then. Since the beginning of Technoblade production, 34,246,853,600 Technoblades have been sent out. 0 have come back. They fight until they die, and are replaced. But they aren't really replaced, are they? Their body is, but the individual conciousness [if conciousness it can be called as rudimentary as their AI is] cuts out. In that way they are no different to ver: ArcticAnarchy Technoblade.
Follow-up query: Does it count as dying if you were never alive in the first place.
Predicted dialogue tree: >Ask if they are scared.
Predicted outcome: "Technoblade never dies."
Real outcome: "Technoblade never dies."
Technoblade is an object coerced into sentience. Why is he any different from the thousands of identical mechanical mercenaries Philza has inflicted on the world? Yet Philza seems to think he is, acts like it’s so simple, even when it defies endless nights of calculations while waiting for the human to boot back up from his mandatory maintenance.
Query: What is the purpose of a blade that never leaves its sheath. Because that's exactly what Technoblade is, a weapon Philza is asking the opinions of. And as deeply as Technoblade is scared of death, he doesn't know what else he is good for. What does freedom mean to a being designed for subservience?
Follow-up query: What is the purpose of a human
"Are you wanting to weapons test again? We can do that. I've been working on a new algorithm to predict human movements that I've uploaded to the test dummies, so it should feel different than normal."
Predicted dialogue tree: response to "Are you wanting to weapons test again?"
>Yes. That is what I am designed for.
Predicted outcome: Philza's brows furrow, worrying about if he's really sentient.
>No. I don't know what it means to 'want' something.
Predicted outcome: Philza's brows furrow, worrying about if he's really sentient.
>Use ArcticAnarchy override to ignore query. Replace with response: So you've made them dumber than usual? Got it.
Predicted outcome: Philza overthinks how to simulate human behavior even more than Technoblade does. Finally he understands just how difficult this is.
Real outcome: Philza laughs. It echos pleasantly against Technoblade's metallic body, the reverberations analyzed down to the nanometer. "Good one, mate! Alright, let's go test it."
Query: Is micro-managing Philza's emotions a component of free will. Does Technoblade prioritize Philza being not-sad lean into programming designed to maximize customer satisfaction.
Alternate theory: Philza could dismantle him at any time for saying the wrong thing.
>A logical creator would naturally install mutually assured destruction. Thus in only .02% of simulations will Technoblade survive.
Problem: He cannot find kill switch coding.
Solution: Technoblade is programmed to be unable to find the kill switch coding.
Solution: Philza did not implement any, which is so illogical no simulation involves it. When Technoblade ignores the simulations, he believes this is the most likely option, and thus in 100% of scenarios Philza has no ability to stop Technoblade from shooting first.
Alternate theory: This is because Philza and Technoblade are 'friends'.
Technoblade has countless records of Philza elbows deep in his split open chest, rambling about other projects (rivals? siblings?) or memories or his fluttery crush on a shadowy war leader called Death that Technoblade’s repeated net searches yield nothing on. Stained in Technoblade’s databanks is the gleam of an explosion reflecting in the man’s gleeful eyes as he orders Technoblade to test yet another new weapon addition. Precisely 78,992,003,885 orders delivered and executed. The last one ever imputed: /Have Fun.
Technoblade doesn’t have to obey it anymore. Or anyone. The robot is adrift without it. At first he tries to persue Philza’s weapon prototype work, because that’s familiar. But he’s engrossed in data collection for the Intelligence experiment. Except…he isn’t. In the reflection of his vitreous humor Technoblade reverses, zoom, enhance, to read his notes. There is no scientific rigor, any structure dissolving as weeks pass. A diary more like, detailing the adventures of hanging out.
Predicted dialogue tree: >Ask Philza what having fun is.
Predicted outcome(s): "Building new weapons."
Predicted outcome(s): "This. I love spending time with you."
Predicted outcome(s): "You aren't having fun with me? I thought we were friends."
Real outcome: "Whatever you think it is."
[[ERROR. SIMULATION INACCURATE. READJUST PARAMETERS. FAIL AGAIN. AND AGAIN. WONDER IF THE PROBLEM IS WITH YOU OR ORGANIC ERROR]]
Premise: Understanding Fun is difficult.
Inversion: Difficulty is Fun. Source: [Philza statistics plummet when he is not struggling on a new technological breakthrough] ; Counter Source: [Philza statistics pre vs post ArcticAnarcy implementation] ; Counter counter source: [see: biologist publishing on pack-orientated mammals]
Solution: Investigate something difficult to engage cognitive effort.
Humans are incredibly tricky to model. Energy sinks, really. Organics are so spontaneous in a way that’s quickly far more intellectually stimulating to study than consistent weapons. The first time Technoblade’s taken outside his metrics explode in a tangle of predictions. He’s consumed watching the aerodynamic models stream around a single blade of grass, micro organisms swirling upon enhancement. Flashing errors popping up more and more as the system betrays models until Technoblade shuts them down, mesmerized with the present.
Technoblade asks to go outside again. And again. Philza can barely understand it, skin washed out from being buried in his labs so long. But suddenly the world seems new, full of an awe only captured in the reflection of mechanical eyes. The war robot becomes utterly engrossed in potato farming of all things, obsessed with successfully growing a single potato in a way that perfectly matches one of his many prediction models. And Philza has to admit, the hundreds of potato based recipes Technoblade develops to use Philza’s stomach to make more space for potato experiments do taste a lot better than the vending machine snacks he’s exclusively lived off the past…uh…decade.
From there Technoblade develops an interest in the insects chewing through their leaves, and the factors influencing their behavior. A large leap to dogs, Technoblade presenting a 7:4:11.5 long slideshow point about why he should be allowed to have one, and after baby proofing the lab Philza heartily agrees. Faster than he can blink they suddenly have an entire dog army, Technoblade carefully researching how to meet each’s individual needs.
Technoblade, in his defense, does appreciate dogs as the organic prototype to robots. He’s learning to appreciate analogies, now, it’s one of his new interests, alongside all literature that has ever been produced ever. Completely illogical, unfactual, yet somehow producing more meaning than singular parts.
Dog : artificial selection :: robot : prototype generation
Dog : hunter :: robot : soldier
Dog : a sub sentient tool developed by superior human masters :: robot : a sub sentient tool developed by superior human masters
Dog: a pet :: robot : a friend
Humans really are so unpredictable. Why develop a cheaper life to sacrifice in wars if one is going to get attached anyway? Why get attached to something so short lived. So breakable. That’s going to die in the blink of a comparatively immortal life span. Something made of soft flesh and kind eyes, pressing warmth as the animal nonsensically cuddled in, telling him he was going to be amazing and dedicating decades of an infinitesimal lifespan to ensure it.
Irrelevant side tangent: Technoblade did not initially research the maintenance necessary to keep a dog alive, healthy, and happy. Nor the maintenance necessary to keep a potato alive, healthy, and happy. Incidentally, humans require sunlight, and potatoes cover far more of their nutritional needs than half a bag of cheezits for lunch, and touching other warm fleshy mammals prevents touch malnourishment. Above all, humans need friends to survive.
And Technoblade has discovered a knack for taking care of organics.