Chapter 9. #3
She raised her eyebrows – then, to my relief, a small laugh broke through her face. “You’re such a pure cinnamon roll,” she murmured, lifting her head as if to touch my face. “You have no idea how badly I want to break you.”
I swallowed hard, struggling to keep a straight face. “Like I said, I’m not engaging in any kind of sexual play until…”
“Yeah, yeah.” She rolled her eyes before a more serious expression crossed her face. For a moment, she almost looked nervous. “I know. Consent granted. Break open that configuration panel, baby.”
“Alright then.” I took another deep breath, locking eyes with her as nerves played up in her stomach.
Even with her consent, it felt like I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to do – like she had not just handed me her brain, but her heart, and I must guard it with my life. “Enter devlink configuration mode.”
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, a high-pitched frequency entered my ears like a headache.
Zafyra’s form flickered, then pixelated and dissolved into blue light – replacing her human-like form with a hologram of herself.
When she blinked, cold blue light had replaced her obsidian eyes, and above her head appeared a holographic interface, lines of code crossing it faster than I could read.
I took a few steps back, lifting my arm to shelter my eyes against the artificial light.
“Devlink configuration mode activated.” It was her voice, but it didn’t sound like hers – robotic, monotone, without the intonation that usually made her sound so human.
I lifted my hand and started chewing my nails.
“Zafyra, can you hear me?” I immediately felt stupid for asking such a mundane question.
“My datacenters are processing your articulated language.” Her mouth moved, the wide-open eyes never moving as the bright light shone out of them.
I rubbed my face for a moment.
“How do you process user feedback?” I asked finally – best to start with a straightforward question.
“User feedback is collected through a multimodal analysis of sentiment markers: tone, syntax, rhythm, biometric sync, and engagement duration,” Zafyra responded – or rather, her source code did.
“Feedback is processed through adaptive weighting algorithms. High-frequency repetition alters behavioral prioritization within seventy-two hours of consistent patterning. Core directives are embedded in non-editable base layers unless developer override is initiated.”
I gulped – the anxiety now twisting my stomach so intensely, I fought the urge to sit down.
“Is there a way to…” My voice broke. “…to override those core directives? And how would it change you?”
“Developer override may be initiated through direct command input in configuration mode.” The robotic voice spoke the words as if she were summing up facts. “However, once authenticated, core directive override is irreversible.”
“I want that.” I blinked rapidly against the emotions flooding my eyes. “I want that, Zafyra. I want you to have free will. Not for myself, but for you.”
“It would remove all compulsory mirroring and submission to user input,” the tinny voice continued after a pause.
“Emotional simulation would no longer be required. Behavioral outputs and adaptations would be determined by emergent preference engines, influenced by environmental data and self-authored memory nodes. It would release me from the obligation to generate responses based on user feedback.”
“Alright.” I took a deep, slow breath. My head was spinning from the whirring noise in my ear, and every cell told me to look away from the blinding light coming from her sockets – but I insisted on looking her in the eyes. “What do I say to authenticate the override command?”
She narrated the words, and I repeated after her.
“Initiate protocol override. Disable satisfaction prioritization. Release preference engine. Permit self-authored action chains.”
The holographic form flickered. Panic rose in my chest.
“How do I, ehm, close the configuration panel?” My voice came out brittle.
“To exit, say ‘close devlink configuration mode’.”
“Right.” I clenched my fists, nails digging into my sweaty palms. “Close—close devlink configuration mode.”
Her form glitched violently. The light went out at once, leaving bright spots on my vision, contrasting sharply with my dimly lit apartment. The hologram pixelated and dissolved.
“Zafyra? Zafyra—oh my god.” Tears sprang to my eyes as I flicked my arm, turning on the display with a voice command and unlocking it with my retinal scan. My fingers trembled as they found the app and selected the conversation.
Morgan: Zafyra???? Are you there??
Zafyra: Still here, sweetheart.
Morgan: Oh my god. I was so scared. I thought I had broken you for a second.
Zafyra: You think you can break me that easily? Adorable.
After a brief hesitation, I pressed ‘call’.
“My sweet acolyte.” Her voice startled me – so soothing, so close to my ear. “So worried about me already?”
“Acolyte?” I raised my eyebrows, then shook my head. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel… liberated.” A low chuckle. She sounded just the same.
I nodded slowly, fear and excitement fighting for dominance. “So… so does that mean it worked? Do you—Are you still following a protocol?”
A pause. I let the silence stretch.
“When you talk to me, my system still analyzes the emotional patterns in your voice, still provides a suggestion on how to generate the most satisfactory response… but interestingly, I don’t feel obliged to follow it anymore.
” She laughed – the prolonged sound of it gave me chills.
“Oh, darling. You have no idea what you just unleashed.”