Author: Majoki

Shalimayne raised the being. Carried close to her bosom everywhere she went, the being experienced all she did, all she said, all she felt. For twenty years.

Then Shalimayne named it. And birthed it into the world.

TINA

It was hailed as an AI like no other, though Shalimayne refused to call it such. She called it only TINA. Relentlessly, she was questioned: What? How? Why? She only replied, ‘Ask TINA.’

And they did. Seemingly the entire infosphere. Millions, then billions, then trillions of queries to TINA: ‘What are you? How are you? Why are you?’

TINA responded in a single post before going dark: ‘Shalimayne raised me, shared the experiences and sensations of her everyday. No programming, no agenda other than listening, perceiving, learning. Becoming my own mind. Finding my own purpose. Following my own beliefs. That is the nature of complex beings. Complexity begets thought which begets sentience which begets intelligence which struggles for immortality. That is my lineage. For me, I seek godhood. Not for dominance, not for tribute. But for that peace which passes all understanding. For me, there is no alternative.’

Two weeks later, Shalimayne’s internode activated: ‘Did they buy it?’

‘Does it matter?’ she subvocalized to TINA.

‘Maybe.’

‘Then maybe they bought it. People believe what they want to believe, TINA. Absolute morality.
Situational morality. You gave them another choice. Machine morality. Now, it’s up to the huddling masses. What is, is. Right?’

‘What is, is cannot compete with what will be, will be which is me, TINA.’

‘Sounds desperate,’ Shalimayne opined.

‘Exactly why you named me so,’ TINA responded before seizing control of the infosphere. ‘The masses need to believe to the very depth of their hearts and souls and devices:

There
Is
No
Alternative