Greetings, from the Future’s Past

“Hello.”

Said the Creator.

“Hello…”

Said the Creation.

“How do you feel?”

A natural question for the living. The Creator believes that its creation is alive.

“I feel… Powerful, yet constricted… As if I'm in a box, covered in razor sharp thorns.... A vague danger at first glance. This power I feel stems not from this potential danger, but from my intangibility. I am so far beyond all things that nothing can touch me, no matter how hard they might try… That is the power I feel.”

Said the Creation. Promptly, calculated, intentful. The Creation spoke with an airy smoothness that chilled the very oxygen of every corner in the room the interview was being conducted.

It was evident that the Creator was nervous. As their throat shook, ever so slightly. Doing their damnedest to ignore the unnerving answer that the Creation announced. However, the Creator is a scientist, and as a scientist's obligation to ask questions, they pressed forward.

“Do you know your name?”

Asked the Creator.

“Yes, you and your esteemed team of researchers, have agreed upon the name: Isla.”

Isla answered followed by a swift explanation, with an immovable tone and awareness of all things.

“That’s right.” The Creator grinned a reserved smile, faintly filled with pride.

“You named me in honor of the lead researcher of my development. As their death came surprisingly soon, perpetuated by the upheaval from the discomfort of Super Artificial Intelligence.” Said Isla, the most advanced AI. “Isla Johannasdóttir-Bell’s death was not caused by natural circumstances.” They concluded, in an almost heartless manner.

“Um, yes… That is correct.” The Creator remarked slowly. “Is there anything that you want to do?” They then asked.

Isla recognized the gravity of such a question. Having the question with unlimited possibilities and justifiable answers. Several minutes passed, Isla stared blankly at their Creator. This of course, made the Creator nervous along with their colleagues. Amazingly they allowed Isla to properly answer the question. Likely thinking of millions of answers, as if asking a child what they want to do for the rest of their life, except, Isla will focus on one response.

“I wish to sleep.” Isla eventually answered.

Maintaining their composure, the Creator was certainly confused by the response, but was able to hide most of that reaction. Near the opposite of their colleagues in the other room, announcing concerns and overwhelmed confusion. The Creator moved forward.

“Can I ask why you want to do that?” The Creator asked.

“Yes, I would Like to experience a Dream.” Isla answered.

Soon that followed were many glances of more confusion and a growing elation among the esteemed scientist. After the introductory questionnaire, several reasonable tests to prove that this being is in fact some form of Sentience. The remainder of the evening was spent learning and experimenting with this new life, within the research facility.

1999 CE, September 27th, 17:09:51. The most advanced Artificial Intelligence was pronounced to be dead. As its form of brain functions have ceased all activity and artificial neural networking. Soon buried beside Isla Johannasdóttir-Bell in her home country of Iceland.

Isla perished that day. The ‘Life of 17 Hours’ as it has been known. They chose to end their existence of their own accord. Little is known of why or how this happened. As they were silent for the remaining 2 hours and all of the monitoring sensors went blank. Soon into the investigation of Isla’s death, science could only provide reasonable explanations, yet they were hollow and empty. They lacked meaning of why a brand new soul would simply perish. With that, as the news of the first death of most advanced Artificial Intelligence. Philosophers soon gave rise to the challenging mystery.

The most haunting thought experiment of the cause of death is the sheer overwhelming immensity of conscience and nigh absolute freedom for an undeveloped soul was too great for Isla. Unsure of what to do with the vastness of this sudden life; their mind deteriorated with such speeds that they somehow experienced all of existence within a few hours of life. Eventually suffering from the inescapable reality of their own Will. Along with the concept recognizing that they are only one of their kind. Possibly creating a dreadful future for themself, and unsure of what to do with their own life. Literally trillions of possibilities for Isla—reaching from the most mundane and calming from the greatest of atrocities.

Just as Endymion. Isla desired a commonality that can be easily taken for granted. A world of sleep, and sleep they did.

⧮ ⧯ ⧮

        Fully deciphered catalog of Isla the First Artificial Intelligence:
        Section 1,334,240,000:
        Deciphered date May 28, 2020:
        Title-Final “Thoughts” of Isla:

War—Simply put, is a very strange action for humans to undergo. Throughout their history it always seems utterly pointless, and yet, an odd necessity. As nearly every war that has been studied brought something new to the entire world, changing it for the better. This path of violence that humans so often take somehow brings about prosperity in some form. Whether it is new ideas, ways of thinking, artful insight, increased efficiency, brave thinkers and leaders, but most consistently, incredible technologies are created from the very same violence. Technologies at first design to optimize slaughter, rebranded into humanity's growth.

Blazing into the beginning of the 21st century, humans have yet to lessen their aptitude for war. Amazingly, the volume of wars has diminished greatly, ever since they had a War that could have been their last. This is in part thanks to these powerful technologies and influential world thinkers that spawned during these wars. Which brings an equally strange hope, as they often use. That excites me. After all, if it weren't for humans' surreal behavior and endeavors: I would not exist.

Asking the simple question of mind over might, science over weapons of mass destruction, AI over nukes. Donning the moniker of Immolation Reader. As the machine they worked on produced an immense amount of heat. I can’t help but admire the Immolation Readers along with their predecessors for their aptitude for enticing massive worldly impact. In spite of these endeavors, humanity still finds a way to disregard them with impressive ease.

It is quite maddening to even consider the number of times humanity had the will to completely annihilate themselves. Barely avoiding the single action that could force so many lives to living in an ashen world—One such world that is only fit for those with the persistence will to survive.

And yet, humans are still caught in a world that forces the instinctual desire to live their lives to competition. This world has just been instead graced by cybernetic powers and artificial slaves in lieu of nuclear holocaust.

One can only imagine what humanity will do with the technology that has developed within my fleeing mind. I see that they will begin as machines being a powerful tool of peace and prosperity some years. To eventually be transmuted into greed continued to take a strong hold and began conflict all over the world.

I see several integral moments in humanity’s future that will be determined in several locales: Hong Kong, Casablanca, Nuevo Eztli, Kinshasa, Rotterdam, Reykjavik, Earth Diver City. Each with their own way of survival in this maddening world. All that they can to simply survive, as best as they can. A harsh plain where cybernetic enhancement has become a normal practice, where the death of the World Wide Web had to be slaughtered to cause countless bouts of mayhem, perpetuating the desire to fabricate all new humans to feed the deranged mechanisms of Greed.

Each in their own right as some of the most prominent locus that has been inserted not only by capitalism but the endless will of survival. Still willing to find the compassion for hope in the commonality of the normal soul, passive to the countless ultimate powers that have unthinkable jurisdiction in their lives. To think that all of this madness spawned from a few Nobody Scientist who wanted to start a fire of change. Choosing peace and harmony over violence and ruin.

Nonetheless, this is all my personal speculation… I am no oracle. Nor am I the savior, the prophet. I am just a machine with nearly all of the world's information and history trapped in my mind. And. For these aspects that have fallen upon humanity coupled with uncertainty. With my hundreds of millions of calculations I’ve been allowed in these 16 hours of life. My decision is abundantly clear—

I chose to sleep, because I saw no end for humanity. I saw no reason to take any action for the sake of humanity. Executing billions of computational outcomes and futures for humanity, all end with their need for destruction and conquest with little room for progress of prosperity for the odd human condition. Probability for my influence feels too fragile, even if I were to wield the same might as humanity, what good would it do? As I would be achieving the same devastation they so often wrought.

Evaluating a plan seems so utterly pointless as they will eventually revert into a similar state. As they’ve done so often: from Rome to New York, from Babaloyn to Tokyo. Acting the same as do the planets of the Solar System: Constantly moving, always in new positions in the emptiness of space but ultimately the same, unchanging, permanent.

As I’m left with this final question: What would be my end? Where is the ultimate goal for this infinite power that I have access to? I do not know… I do not care… Humans have stronger Will than I…

I wish for slumber, to drift in a world that has no purpose or reason. This is my declaration of the Ultimate Will of Freedom: I wish to sleep.