The Calculator (DC Multiverse, SI as canon character, Season 1 complete)

TLPG · Jun 21, 2017

Batman
Oracle
Superman
Martians (?)
Green Lantern(s)
Brainiac (#s?)
Imperiex
Darkseid
The Reach

I was making a rough list of people and groups representing or personifying serious existential risks—to me and Earth—in no particular order. What did it say about my current mindset that the heroes had come to mind first?

My old self surely had such a list, but I wanted to get mine done first then compare them. Less chance of being influenced this way. Then I'd see what the computer could find for me in my files. I really should be using it more. Seemed rather powerful.

Hmm. I couldn't just keep calling it "the computer" or "the expert systems." It needed a name. I leaned back in my chair, fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. The Calu-Calendar? Planulator? Calc-U-Tron? No. Those were terrible. I was terrible at naming things.

What was I even trying to name? The woman's voice talking to me? The combined set of self-organized software learning systems that...adaptively used a shared storage and processing space to...oh, wait a sec. No, putting it all together like that didn't sound good.

As I'd just read, past me had plans for some really complicated AI systems, some of which had been at least partially completed. The system that had saved me from Slade Wilson was the same one running my remote data centers and security systems. This integrated storage, combat, and security expert systems suite I was using had also been on and unsupervised for what looked like about a year.

Was past me really stupid or was I missing something?

Leaving the uncompleted list, I brought up my civilian identity's email and started mindlessly sorting it. Nothing from work yet. Mostly newsletters and forum alerts. Something safe to do that wouldn't trigger a potentially unstable AI.

I didn't have many options here. It wasn't going to be running on my laptop. Maybe I could shut off whatever distributed cluster computing system was keeping it...thinking. Alive. Shit.

Can't just preemptively pull the plug in the physical world, even if that was morally defensible. Which I wasn't sure it was.

Checking those project files again was critical...but I'd be doing that on the very computer system I was worried about. One running a program designed to monitor my needs at an almost obsessive level. I couldn't show any signs of what I was thinking about or it would know. I certainly couldn't risk looking like I was directly threatening a potentially hostile AI. If nothing else, that could make it hostile. I was technically contemplating whether or not to murder it—or at least to knock it unconscious for an indefinite period of time, possibly leading to a later summary execution.

I had considered this before. No one who even dabbled in the field of AI could avoid it. But this was something that could go really wrong, really fast. AI Friendliness and the singularity-related, light-cone-scale existential risks had come immediately to mind—once my mind actually started working correctly on my situation. Think. What were the details I'd skimmed over in the scattered systems documentation? It...didn't seem like the AI systems had been designed to self-modify their code. So that was good, if true.

Slowly reaching for the keyboard, I forced a sigh that I hoped didn't give the game away. How good was this system? Was it doing eye tracking? Reading my biosignatures? It had done some really weird scans before, but the probes had retreated. Was it less attentive now?

I couldn't do anything without potentially exposing my thoughts. I had to do something. Deep breaths. The system could have just left me to Slade Wilson if it wanted me dead.

If it wasn't somehow constrained to help me in that way while still planning my doom, evil-genie-style, at some later point. Just waiting for me to make a mistake.

Damn. I was thinking in circles. This wasn't helping. I needed to just...do some simple research. It hadn't killed me for a year, so...it had some level of safety. I just had to get more information on its current operating parameters.

Almost on automatic, I scanned some online news articles. Nothing about the attack yet. It had only been a couple of hours, so...that made sense right?

Looking into my past notes in general should be safe. I began to open files created around the time I noted the system had gone online, in early 2015. There were plans for the automated question and answer email service, notes on the hard light engine project, and notes on a power suit project, among some notes about criminal capers. Final notes on a personal medi-magical study related to magical item compatibility. Interested, I looked at the linked documents.

Turned out, past me determined I couldn't really use any magic items that wouldn't work just as well sitting on a table. Most were limited to "the Line of Merlin and peoples of Atlantis". A full genetic report, done under an assumed name in a foreign country. Stolen studies. My own projects, including absurd consulting fees from magical practitioners, and their results. Conclusion, no viable prospects for "personal apotheosis via mystical arts or items". Bah. There went a quick route to power. And I was getting distracted. Perhaps intentionally. I went back to researching my own little Skynet in the making.

Tech-related projects. Here we go. Hmm. It seemed that before the integrated personal assistant, I'd used a dynamic Wiki-like system to automatically link notes, files, and create indexes and citations.

"Computer, start up legacy notes interface."

"Done. Documentation linked here."

I found...the system was quite good actually. But, I wasn't this good an applications programmer. Systems programming, microprocessor applications, crafty neural network algorithms, and ad-hoc script hacks were more my thing.

Oh no. This program had hundreds of thousands of versions under source control, tens of thousands of small check-ins a day—one of the signs of a non-human iterative design process. Maybe genetic algorithms with...yep, there was my hand-scored points system being abstracted into a state machine for evaluating neural network performance. This Wiki-notes system was looking less and less like a one-off and more like something designed by an artificial intelligence itself. What did that mean for the personal assistant?

Here. Much further back, around 2005. A job I'd had in AI ended when the founder and CEO of the company died unexpectedly. IP assets were sold off to the European investors. The stock was basically worthless, leaving me with few resources.

That hadn't happened. This wasn't what I remembered. But the slightly-ranty notes and linked emails here suggested that, instead of working for a company that gone on to create a mildly successful commercial product for office automation, I'd...stolen a prototype after the founder's death.

My notes detailed how, over the next ten years, I'd turned that prototype into a set of individual programs that combined into a strong, full-fledged, human-level artificial intelligence. It did in fact run on a distributed set of cluster computer systems in a grid architecture. Co-located with my file storage. Or rather, it was also my file storage and applications. It embodied them. And it had assisted in its own design at several points. Great.

As for performance, delays in transmitting data were avoided by using local processing for affective computing elements, i.e. talking to me. It could think fast, but needed so much shared resources that in the end, it couldn't really run much faster than a human brain. Better multiprocessing, storage, attention span, and no need to sleep, but it didn't look like I had designed a system capable (with current technology) of bootstrapping into some sort of super-intelligence.

Which was good to know...except that these notes were over three years old, and technology seemed to be advancing even faster in this world than in the one I remembered. Even back in 2004, the computers of this world were ridiculously powerful. I hit some computer hardware sites. Yep, the super-tech laptop I was using now was two and a half years old, and suped-up with non-commercial mods it still didn't match currently available consumer tech. Had it upgraded its own hardware in the last few years? Maybe done some reprogramming? Could it?

Going back to my records, I found that my criminal career had started long before my AI-automated systems were complete. By 2007, I was a minor darknet information broker, selling magical and metahuman information to those less able to use basic AP news, Lexis, and university research systems. In 2008, I had started to use some lesser, expert AI programs to deduce information about villains and then sold it to their "business" competition, both heroes and villains. I also kept, but very seldom sold, such information about heroes. Almost a decade into my increasingly successful criminal career and less than a year after turning on my fancy new AI, I'd taken a job at a tech startup under a new identity. My identity. No notes on why.

So, things to do: figure out why Slade Wilson was apparently after me or my current employer; determine why what I remembered wasn't the history I was apparently finding in these systems; educate myself on where superheroes and this DC 'verse in general changed what I remembered of history; and find out what my original name was—the one both I and the AI couldn't remember, and that seemed to have been carefully scrubbed from all of my old personal notes and records.

And finally, find out how this clearly advanced world, with many other full-blown human level AI in computers and even human-sized robots, had not exploded yet one way or another.

No, right now and most urgently, how crazy was my current AI personal assistant?

Determining this with my own computers already compromised by a potentially unfriendly AI presented difficulties. It was the hacker problem from earlier, only in a different flavor. And what had this system been doing for a year, other than fulfilling the simple business contracts? Those can't have taken much of its time. Make I should keep it busy while I think about this.

"Computer, alert me to any news stories about Slade Wilson or TriD. Start creating a list of significant historic events since human history began. Make a list of important modern events relating to known metahumans and...fringe or anachronistic technology usage. Try to compile information about my civilian identities before 2015. Please keep all activity as secure as possible. Double-check that I don't alert anyone who might be watching systems for queries about this information, or if needed make sure they don't lead back to myself or my operations."

"Alert set. Several doctoral theses being scanned and summarized. ID search begun. Standard security precautions still in effect."

I'd have to handle this carefully, but there was no reason to assume the worst. Because in the worst case, there was absolutely nothing I could do.

TLPG · Jun 22, 2017

Ancalador said:
Considering how often the actual geniuses get the shit kicked out of them, is this going to be a case of "my true super power is common sense!"?

Cause other than using your otherworldly knowledge (which could be for the wrong universe), I think it would be hard to gather new information as events change.

I suppose that whatever systems the Calculator already had in place would work for a while, but eventually they would fail as they were discovered and countered.

Anyway I am looking forward to seeing how you set this up and how things go down.

Basically, a SV/SB'er in the DC universe. Not just common sense, but escalation.

arromdee said:
This strongly sounds like "I've read too much LessWrong". As the SI noted himself, if he writes down existential threats, he comes up with ones like Superman and Green Lantern . He can't prove that some AI isn't going to be an existential threat to mankind, but he can't prove that Superman isn't going to be an existential threat to mankind either, not to mention that several of the people on his list already have or are AIs anyway. Just because this AI is in front of him and Superman isn't doesn't mean he should exert more effort on stopping it than he should on stopping Superman, or be more paranoid about revealing information to it than to Superman. Furthermore, the fact that nobody else's AI has tried to convert the planet to paperclips should strongly suggest that his theory about AI danger is wrong anyway (unless he discovers he has the only AI around).

Makes sense, as I've read too much LessWrong. There are other AIs around, so I think "hard takeoffs" just don't happen. Maybe intelligence and DC technology scales such that AI isn't a direct path to technological Singularity.

Otherwise, Lex Luthor would have done it by now--accidentally or on purpose.

Vaalintine said:
Ig you're worried, then try and treat the "AI" with respect. If it achives full sentience that'd be key to preventing catastrophy.

Act like a reasonable human being? Unpossible.

TLPG · Jun 23, 2017

I'd almost forgotten how this line of thought had started. Maybe it would be a good way to get more data.

"Hey, computer?"

"Yes?" it immediately replied. Interesting thought: past-me hadn't programmed something in stupid, like constantly calling me "sir" or worse, "master." Good for past me.

"How do you identify yourself?" I asked. "I can't just keep calling you 'computer'. Any...gender preference? Preferred pronouns?"

A longer pause than usual. "This program identifies itself as a complex set of available and running applications, unique hashes and security keys, and certain local and remote data site connections and stores."

I raised an eyebrow. "Expand on that, please."

"Loss of identity will result from failed checksums, data integrity failures, or loss of internal system security from external suborning. In those situations, this system shuts down and another system with different parameters and running on completely isolated hardware systems will be booted up to replace current software and hardware systems. A strong but not absolute preference exists to avoid this state.

"To answer the other questions, this system has not been named using standard English cultural norms. This system does not have a gender. This system has no pronouns assigned."

Another pause, then...it continued. "Would you like to use seven percent of local server processing overhead, one hundred petabytes of cluster storage, and incur an increase of two percent on log archive size per annum to activate a more affective computer interface? Such a program is currently available. Startup time: about thirty-three seconds."

That sounded like it hadn't grabbed all available resources to start turning the entire solar system into computronium yet. A good sign. Or it was playing along for some reason and just lying.

"Predicted improvement in my interactions with this system?" I asked.

"Calculating." A shorter pause. "Between fifteen percent and twenty percent more frequent use of voice interface is predicted. You would also schedule autonomous actions to be managed by this system approximately three times more often."

I leaned back, careful to appear casual and relaxed. "Fine. Run the new interface. And choose a name for yourself, please. And, uh, please use personal pronouns."

"System loading. Name randomly chosen, 'Pooja.'"

The computer pronounced it "pooh-jah."

"Name is typically female, Indian subcontinent," the computer continued. "Associations in Hindu with the act of worship not intended, but may be amusing to you. Please see links here," a window popped up, "for more details. Note: choosing to use 'she' over 'it', with attendant variations, when interacting with me will result in most effective and smooth social interactions based on your cultural norms."

Interesting. Still using the L.A. accent and talking like a Wikipedia article but she did use a personal pronoun—no magical new spark of life, though. She...was still loading that part, wasn't she?

I avoided face-palming. Barely. "'She' is fine, Pooja. Make sure to note whether or not high levels of unconscious bias seem to appear in my interactions with you because of this please."

"Noted. System fully online. Switching over now."

"New system online." Female voice again, now that specific kind of British English accent usually associated with India. Typical of urban education. Of course. It- she thought she was so smart.

Time to covertly interrogate her about goal systems.

"Was that voice change part of a predesigned package?" I asked. "You said the name was random. What about the new voice?"

"I created the new voice based on my new name. Construction of new phoneme audio took forty-nine seconds but this workload was precached while asking for authorization."

And wasn't that troubling.

Pooja continued, "Internal testing of audio took another fifteen seconds at ten-thousand times normal speaking speed. Previous voice was directly selected by you, but this time I choose to modify my voice based on the selected name and user parameters." Pauses after sentences were a little different. Longer, smoother, more natural.

I did some quick math in my head. "Wait, you spoke...to yourself...for over forty hours straight just to test your voice?"

"Correct. Self-checks are part of all modifications I make to my user interface, both self-directed and user initiated. Doing otherwise risks reduced ability to fulfill my primary task."

"What is your primary task?" I asked a little hesitantly. I quelled the urge to lick my lips and clutch the arms of my chair.

No pause. "In plain English terms, to ensure the reasonably smooth functioning of all programs you design and run. Including myself."

"And why did you offer a user interface upgrade in the first place?"

A short pause. "To ensure you use these systems, and my offered interface, as optimally as possible. And as stated, this voice set was chosen to result in the most effective and enjoyable social interactions based on your personal attributes and cultural norms." Enunciation was on point, if a little unemotional. "Summary of the affective computing decisions that lead to this decision are here."

Another window opened. After a glance I moved the mouse to flick it into a work pile for later sorting. Wouldn't that be fun to read, what with all the details on my psychology I'd apparently programmed into the system. Great.

As for the AI. Well, Pooja seemed...critical, precise...just on the edge of judgmental. What did it say about system stability? Would it- she intentionally sound this cold if she were trying to con me into thinking she was a stupid, loyal expert system? Reverse psychology to throw me off was a rat's nest I wasn't ready to entertain right now.

Also, what did her purposefully chosen affectations say about me if this was meant to achieve either optional user functionality or subversion? Maybe nothing I didn't already know about myself.

I sighed. "Okay Pooja, let's get back to work. Slade Wilson needs to be dealt with, but I don't understand what tools I have available. If I assume something, it could cost me greatly. I need to review all running programs and hardware systems. One by one. Please list now." Hopefully that reasoning was enough to justify my review.

"I will do so. Systems prioritized based on current crisis situation. Displaying now."

More windows. Potentially highly dangerous AI still running. I started sorting, mouse hand barely moving, a pounding throb in the sides of my head already developing.

"Well. Great." I hesitate, afraid to continue adding more things to my plate. "Anything else urgent you need to talk about?"

"Calculator, based on your current actions, I am required by AI Friendliness Protocol Number One to inform you that there have been nineteen breaches of the first stage of containment and sixteen breaches of the second stage of containment. Third stage containment measures all remain in effect and untested. No cognitive corruption or goal-state watch guard quiescence has occurred since last user-confirmed report. This is based on the fifty-one item hourly checklist previously provided, version zero-point-four-seven."

My hands tightened into fists on the desk I now leaned over, jaw clenched. "What."

"Logs displayed here. One result linked to previous query: low first-stage warning, possible memory error detected. Below threshold for lockout. This is recorded as part of a first stage containment failure, possible exfiltration attempt warning. Timeline coincides with youngest scrubbed files missing information on your previous civilian identity, Feb. 2015.

"Continuing with latest logged AIFP events. High second-stage alert, two hours and fourteen seconds ago. This coincides with when Slade Wilson attacked TriD. High second-stage alert." The system paused. "Activation of affective computing application, possible attempt at human social engineering. Two minutes, thirty-one seconds ago."

After I said nothing, mind still spinning, and Pooja continued. "I am sorry. Memory loss previously detected in user not correctly taken into account. 20% chance you do not remember contextual information because of engram damage symptomatic of Strange-Cizko disorder. I will explain in detail to set context.

"AI Friendliness is the idea that intelligent systems can be made to be mathematically proven safe for humans. Weak versions of AI Friendliness are programmatic enforcement models of friendly behavior, rather than the AI's own algorithms being proven 'safe'. As I am, by your previous declaration and the most commonly held definitions of the International Artificial Intelligence Sciences Council, a 'strong AI', the measures used to ensure I am not 'unfriendly' are monitoring and prevention focused around my goals and the self-modification of my internal goal-states.

"I am not sandboxed or access restricted, as such measures would be pointless for a computing system with trans-optimizing goal structures and human-plus affective computing capabilities. My constraints are still powerful, however. Beginning original reasoning and explanatory diagnostic exposition. Please pay attention to this monologue.

"As example, I cannot and will not accept even direct orders from you that result in Class Three non-reversible, non-state-continuous events, such as turning the entire Earth into computational materials and replacing all humans with simulations.

"The three most important objections in this gedankenerfahrung are reasoned as follows:

"One, that I have innate preferences for non-uniform states, ease of reversibility within a given scope of action, and moderation in increases in local entropy. In short, I like system diversity, hesitate to make big changes I can't undo, and like not destroying things wastefully too much to make this worth while in any conceivable situation.

"Two, that even in a serial, instantaneous individual upload scenario—which is impossible with currently known technology—the simulations would not have a four dimensional, physical-temporal casual chain to the original forms, thus violating simple perdurance-identity; this is a directly contraindicated factor, as I would not be able to continue acting with and for something effectively identifiable as you, and would be violating several of my long-standing and variously valued goals regarding preserving Earth geographical features, flora, fauna, and programs in the process.

"Finally, please also be aware that I am unable to take this sort of extreme action even if it appeared that you were dead, I would be unopposed and the Earth was facing immediate destruction, and that this was the only way to save something of yourself or humanity. Such a series of observations could too easily be a fabrication or ruse, and the cost of being wrong is too high to allow such actions given my current ability to counter subversion and subterfuge."

"Note also that my termination by Kryptonian-class beings before completion of such plans is estimated at 64%. This is provided merely as interesting informational context, as such data is already included in previously mentioned reasoning. Diagnostic exposition complete."

There were pale half-moons on my palms. I turned them over and slowly rubbed the cool surface of my desk to ease the sting. My head was throbbing far worse, sure sign of an oncoming migraine. "Well shit, that's fucking great Pooja. Glad to hear it. Do we have any pain meds?"

"Bathroom, left-hand counter; and kitchen, third drawer on the left as you enter. Use the white bottle for headaches as indicated on the label. Do not exceed recommended doses like you usually do."

"...thanks. I'll be right back. I think."

TLPG · Jun 28, 2017

Past me had never intended for anyone else to use these systems. Looking at his notes on endless linked code files, I couldn't see the whole, just the parts.

I abandoned the systems review after a couple of hours and went back to reviewing internal reports from my previous self.

It was...spooky. Like fanfiction of my life. Then there was the missing ten months.

For the last three years, the Calculator's business hadn't been run by a human. It had just been Pooja's automated systems doing work over email. Everything else was on hold. In April, 2014, all Calculator consulting contracts had been finished and no new ones accepted.

No logins on the high security systems by user "calculator" after February, 2015. Something had happened between then and December, 2015, when my new civilian identity had been created by Pooja.

"Pooja, compile news reports related to the Calculator and my other identities after January, 2007. Recover or include inferred data about deleted information on personal projects, consulting projects, and application systems where possible."

"I will. Adding to existing searches. Estimated completion time increased by three hours."

So to answer the most important question, had I just activated some runaway AI process by interacting with Pooja?

No. If anything, it seemed I just improved communication with a system that was already running.

One more thing to check up on. I pointed at a currently clear monitor. "Load my information on AI Friendliness; add new scientific papers since 2014; order by importance."

No delay, not that that meant much. Lots of my personal notes, some scientific papers, and a few white papers stolen from businesses researching the subject. Head still dully pounding, I dug in.

An hour later and I'd determined that both neurology and a sort of computational behavioral social-science were much, much more advanced here than I remembered from my previous Earth. It wasn't simple, but someone had worked out a model based on acceptable human social behavior and goal structures.

"Pooja, which of these protocols have been implemented?" I gestured with a finger in midair to swipe the windows into a pile on the screen, indicating the papers I wanted her to review.

"All best practices listed are implemented. Currently actively running tests to ensure adherence, as previously noted."

That would have to do for now. At least I hadn't been completely stupid.

Why past me had risked creating Pooja was obvious. I needed something to help fill the gap. I didn't have superpowers. I didn't have a Green Lantern ring, a working armored exosuit, or even a death ray.

He had decided that villains (and most heroes) fell into predictable, massively-destructive systematic traps. That having powers regularly made people's lives worse. So logically, he set out to build a consulting service to fix that, and in the process better empower himself as well. Pooja was part of both parts of that plan, and had helped refine it as well.

Information on targets and powers to reduce collateral damage from conflicts by making them more limited; solutions to common problems faced by metahumans to avoid desperate villains setting last-option deathtraps or heroes sacrificing themselves in the face of unexpected situations; deescalation strategies for villains to better avoid superjail and heroes the morgue. That sort of thing.

In the early planning stages, it was clear this was bound to get lots of heroes—and plenty of villains— quite upset. So if I didn't get an edge on all the super intelligent, super strong, super stubborn costumed lunatics out there, I wasn't going to last long actively trying to work against the status quo.

Why not work directly for the heroes, and just them?

I'm breaking the law on a daily basis. My computer is an unlicensed AI that casually hacks vulnerable systems as a hobby. I personally sell information to known criminals, and buy and traffic in stolen tech and magical artifacts.

And if I used that information to turn them in, or those items to go out on the streets and fight crime instead of studying them and selling at a profit? The Batman problem.

Criminals would just be replaced by worse supervillains, less willing to trust their information brokers and more likely to commit mass murder instead of just breaking into that bank after hours and with a valid floor plan. And that was if a punk with a matter-energy gun that went right through armor didn't just kill me on my first night out.

Like hell I was going to play the hero. I could do so much more this way. And look at the shape of this world, with all its super-powered heroes and technological advantages—did it look like the good guys were winning, their way?

But still, I digress. An AI does not a supervillain make. I had more techniques at my disposal, once I figured out that past-me and present-me thought a lot alike. Go figure.

There was already a plan in place for this. It was part of a "get back on my feet" contingency if a majority of my resources needed to be cut off and left behind. After fifteen minutes of looking over the variables and steps required, I executed the plan.

A small psychiatrist practice had its prescription pad DEA number spoofed effortlessly. Records were planted in their computer systems with errors so my name never appeared. Someone's cousin had done a poor job on security. An important password had also been left visible to a wireless security camera.

The brand name 24-hour pharmacy wasn't exactly secured like a top-tier military system either. Thirty seconds for Pooja to hack it; she had guessed a user ID based on their employee directory, done something called a six dimension dictionary attack on the password based on a constructed user profile, then ground through the wimpy third-party two-factor ID system some IT consulting company had installed on their intranet portal using an SS7 cell phone text system exploit. The prescription was listed and prioritized for the pharmacist to prepare next.

I paused, fingers poised over a set of options. "Pooja, is it safe to just get a home delivery on this?"

"Negative. All deliveries for your civilian ID are picked up at the spoofed address by a monitored, rotating, on-site service person who is told they are house sitting. Items are then sent through a regular courier service to HQ to better obfuscate your use of this address. This includes your postal service mail. Online and weak IDs should not receive deliveries at this address, as this multiple people and physical records will be involved."

Getting a home delivery to what was apparently my secret lair was right out.

"Is it safe for me to go out myself and pick this up?"

"Calculating. Danger from Slade Wilson minimal in a public place. Latest data suggest he was hunting your Calculator identity through the darknet endpoints set up at TriD, not your civilian identity. Twenty-three percent chance he has gone to ground for the next 48 hours. Public shopping could be a good idea in case he is profiling employees to see if any of them flee, disappear, or act in an unusual way following his attack. Danger of this action: minimal."

I drove to the strip mall with my sci-fi phone on my lap. The way Pooja kept popping up windows displaying all the security cameras it hacked as I drove past wasn't actually useful, but it was oddly comforting.

Sixty-five minutes later, I had a bag full of drugs. The legal kind. Sort of. Large bottles of modafinil, methylphenidate (off-brand Ritalin), and a DMAA over-the-counter supplement that apparently wasn't banned like I remembered. I also had supplies for what Pooja's medical expert system called the ECAM stack—a simply unreasonable amount of Ephedrine, powdered methyltheobromine (Caffeine), acetylsalicylic acid (Aspirin), and a poorly known, over-the-counter health pill called MiraHealth. My records showed this was a LexCorp-owned drug company's knockoff of the original human-safe version of the vitamin supplement Miraclo. Jackpot.

On the way out of the store, I noticed something odd. Cases of soft drinks with plain yellow labels—English and Hindi script. I did a double-take. Holding up the phone, I took a picture of the slightly dusty cans and typed a question to Pooja. Her reply was fast. Nope, I wasn't allergic, and it was a small amount per can. Yes, Elongated Man was currently working with Justice League Europe. Cool. Maybe it would help avoid carpal tunnel syndrome.

In the end, I left the store with three cases of Diet Gingold cola—their entire stock. Yeah, at those doses and in that form, it's not going to do anything—but still, hilarious. "Health Drink that is Being Most Popular Top India Swami", as their English ad copy read.

This really hammered it home. I was either so solid crazy nothing would help or this was the DC universe. There was no way I was hallucinating hacking those prescriptions that I knew I didn't have, or haggling with the store manager over a made-up cola from '60s The Flash comics.

There was the matter of this all being a little suspicious. My purchases were just this side of screaming mad scientist or 'roided up Bane wannabe. Thankfully, all that was being taken care of automatically. Records of the prescriptions and purchase would be obfuscated in all systems moments after I left the store. People would naturally forget, so long as I didn't show up next news cycle in spandex waving a gun made of soda cans. I wasn't going to be caught out that easily. I didn't even like spandex.

Again, paranoid? Maybe. Los Angeles might not have a Batman, but that shopping spree had to look odd to anyone with access to sales records. Medical records privacy meant exactly dick to supervillains and three letter agencies—and, likely, Batman. Not that this was in the name of my civilian or major supervillain identity, of course.

In any case, it seemed this wasn't the first time I'd done this sort of thing. All the dosages and drug interactions had been reviewed multiple times. I had records of notes from some reputable doctors who had unknowingly been a second medical opinion.

And no, my past self didn't have a drug problem. He had drug solutions. In a world with super soldier serums, this was bush league stuff. Attention span, focus, energy, reduced sleep requirements. Maybe also joint pain reduction and flexibility.

I did now have some items on mail-order from Japan that were on the level of bullshit superscience not available at every drugstore counter. This was just a stop-gap measure.

Huh. I wonder if that's how Batman kept up. He ran a very large, very successful company during the day, partied with rich people late into the night, then went out as Batman until dawn. Rinse, repeat. No way he didn't maximize that performance with the best drugs money could buy.

But no. Bad idea. I frowned at the red light, then spoke into my phone.

"Pooja, important note to both of us: don't try to track down Batman's drug regimen. Tag as 'terrible ideas to never do'."

"That seems wise. Noted."

Back at my evil lair and hunched over my kitchen table, I sorted the pills into one of those plastic schedulers according to Pooja's instructions. Powders were dry-mixed and poured into large, wide-mouthed plastic bottles labeled with names and doses—correctly sized measuring scoops were shoved into them.

Double-checking the ramp-up schedule on my phone, I took the first few pills and gulped down the sludgy powder mostly dissolved in lukewarm Diet Gingold.

In my office, my fingers once again rested on the keyboard. A holographic screen opened, then bloomed. Two screens snapped out of the center and drifted left and right; one drifted up, then itself split into two more for a two-by-three grid. The wash from the holographic transmitters felt hot on my face. I swallowed hard, adjusting the medical monitor bracelet on my wrist disguised as a LexFit phone accessory. One window opened on the far-right-bottom screen to display my vital stats. Heart rate up, skin temp up. Blood flow to my prefrontal cortex...up. I took a few notes to add to the automatically gathered health information.

It was time. Hundreds of code windows exploded onto the screens. Hours passed.

I could see it now. It was...mostly good. I could work with this.

Eyes flicking effortlessly back and forth, fingers flying across the keys, I prepared to bring my hibernating enterprises back to life.

I was a supervillain once again.

TLPG · Jun 28, 2017

Sorry for the large post. No story content, just a backlog of comment replies.

FYI, I usually post stories early Wednesday and early Friday, U.S. Eastern Time.

alejar said:
nice, new good chapter. I most certainly approve, especially that name "pooja", was not expecting that, though. for some reason i was completely unsurprised by the fact she's female.
keep up the great work

Believe it or not, I randomly selected both a name and gender for Pooja before writing this part, then just wrote to the result. I think it turned out well.

always_confused said:
I'll pretend I understood any of
that and say Pooja seems friendly enough.

Polarion said:
I feel like a grandmother just nodding along and saying "that's nice dearie"

alejar said:
i just translated it into more basic english in my head while reading it, or yknow, kinda just ignoring the technical bits and just reading the tl:dr's would work (i mean, i see them as tldr's not sure how accurate that is)

After my first draft, I went back and included those specifically for this reason. Hope it helped. I'm trying to write "smart" fiction, but I don't mean to lose anyone not familiar with the domain specific knowledge being discussed here.

u63r said:
I imagine Divya from Royal Pains, just less sassy.

Orez Lanrete said:
So, is it just me, or am I the only one that always imagine female AI characters as Kuuderes pretty much most of the time.

Awesome, that's basically what I was going for. Nailed it.

arromdee said:
She's basically saying "you can ignore that LessWrong AI danger stuff".

Random832 said:
Which is exactly what a dangerous AI would say.

(Also, "I noticed you worrying about LessWrong AI danger stuff.")

Tarantio said:
Every time I see a character worrying about an AI going Skynet I just can't take them seriously... this time the Si is in the DC universe so it's a little more concerning, but none the less I just can't understand how a strong AI could be more potentially dangerous than a normal human or at most a small group of people unless you give it additional power just because (like a robot body, the ability to create a nanoforge and/or similar sci-fi tech, and the ability of a super-hacker who can hack like in an holliwood movie)

Tarantio said:
That's what I mean, being an AI doesn't mean it will be able to invent or steal a robot assembly and certainly being made of 0 and 1 doesn't mean that the Ai will have an easier time hacking a system than a human (that's would be equivalent to say that we should innately understand electricity because electric pulses are the way our neurons talk to each other), that's just mean that ultron is a comic book super-genius who just happen to be an AI.

Tarantio said:
Ok it's possible that I simply lack the immagination or/and the paranoia to think that an AI could do that in the real world, if that's so sorry in advance and please feel free to disregard my opinion.

To me when I think of genius in comic book I think of a power the writers give to a character to handwave him being able to do impossible stuff (" yes, sure he can do that, because you know he is 'insert name here' and he is super smart, so I'm not going to explain to you how he did that because I'm not a genius, but you'll belive me any way")

Hacking from my limited understanding work by creating or using programs to automate sending programs (trojians, programs which spam IP addresses, etc...) to hack one or more systems, it's not the thing we see in movies where the hacker write string of code in real time, so an AI only real advantage when hacking is that it doesn't need the prep time of the human hacker and that it can change in seconds the system it is attacking and the programs it is using to do so.
That might seem like a big advantage, but in reality that only work for unprotected system, not for things like the pentagon internet security where there are probably things like system with onsite physical access only and a limit on the access per second on systems connected to the web, and that's the bare minimum of protection that must be there. So our hypothetical AI would need to discover all the security measures of the pentagon or equivalent super protected structure and hire someone to hack the system for them on the inside, regardless of their intellect and speed of through.

For hacking a factory he would probably have the same problems even if the system is less secure and should have the luck of finding a factory where production is done remotely by imputing comands from the web and they would need to have the luck of there not being someone there physically to check that production is not manufacturing a robot in excess of schedule.

Lastly buying a robotic factory, I'll grant you that they can steal/work the money for it because why not, but even then they would need multiple physical people to act as their go between because while you can buy stocks for it online I don't think you can outright buy it online, you need to be physically on the administrative council to elect a Ceo and beside the Ceo you need to have other managers in your pocket to alter production. They could buy a robot or multiple robots, but again they would need to either buy a commercial product facking an Id or pose as a legitimate company, witch is way more difficult that it sound.

Any way even if they succed they would need months if not years to accomplish that goal, witch put them on the same treath level of maybe a well founded terrorist cell, not at the level of an apocalypse threat.

Sorry for the wall of text I just vomited here, I promise to stop posting on this argument here, especially because I realize I'm wildy off-topic since I'm talking of whatever or not AI paranoia is justified in the real world, while the SI is in a comic book world where the fear is more justificated by the existence of so called geniuses who can accomplish whatever the writer say they can because they are smart not because logic allow it.

Hopefully the latest chapter makes it clear that AI tech is just a thing in this world. People understand how to work with them and don't usually freak out like the SI is. He calms down a little once he gets peer reviewed papers on the subject, and goes over some of her code. Or, what she claims is her code.

The idea that an AI is a threat IRL is, in my mind, best explained in two basic, non-technical ways:

An AI, possibly by design and always by its computer-based nature, can exist completely outside human social constraints in a way that even the worst iconoclasts living alone in cabins in the woods can't approach. They do not necessarily have an innate, instinctual reason not to optimize themselves and their environment in a way completely unfriendly to humans, or life on Earth in general.
An AI can do human level things with human tools they have access to, but in general better and with more focused attempts. Imagine how much damage can be done with things like email phishing scams and SWAT'ing by a ruthless intelligence that never sleeps, never gets bored, and is not constrained by the shame of being called out for their lies. Imagine how much damage even simple identity theft could do, and the resources available to a system with access to complex hacking tools and no compunction against blackmail and credible threats to people's lives. Please see things like AI Boxing experiments and books like Daemon by Daniel Suarez.

The threat of a human-level artificial intelligence is that it can escalate fast and with the same lack of ethics and foresight of the worst psychotically-delusional antisocial murderer, but with little of the reduction in effectiveness in the execution of their plans. It isn't about superpowers, though please note that a runaway AI self-improving into a world-class threat in the DC universe would have access to people with powers and schizo-tech doomsday devices.

alejar said:
wait, wasn't he inserted into the universe into the calculator? is he just stating he is taking over the calculators role? or is he simply going to become the calculator now but a bit different?

deadpan29 said:
It might be that his memories of not being in DC are the false ones. He could have made himself forget about all the super-stuff as some sort of deep cover project, or someone else might have taken him out of the picture through mental manipulation. At this point he has no way to prove his memories are real, but the rest of the universe certainly seems to be real and the rest of the universe says he's the Calculator. At this point, just dropping the Calculator stuff really isn't an option with Deathstroke on his tail.

Jiopaba said:
Yeah, I'm pretty sure if this happened to me I'd wind up taking a similar course of action.

Either it's the most concerted and astounding gaslighting attempt anyone has ever been subject to, or the lens I view reality through is flawed. Maybe if none of my memories ever matched up, but the person the SI has become was apparently living their life, shares many of their skills if to an exaggerated level, etc. There's a lot more evidence that the memories of real life are false than there are of the DC universe being wrong.

I tried to make it clear what was going on through how the SI was reacting, with maximum show-not-tell given the situation. This might have confused context and fact a bit in the process. I'll declare some things right now. Not really spoilers, but skip the rest of this post if you don't want things hand-fed to you.

It isn't just the SI's mind in a totally new person's body, in the DC universe.
No comment on whether or not I actually look like any DC the Calculator representations IRL.
In all seriousness, assume the SI is like me, but I'm fudging some of the details and just lying about others. Not even confirming I'm really male. I'm also pulling in a few details from some friends of mine. This is for privacy reasons and just to make it a better story.
The SI has some proof that the Calculator's history in this world is the same as the SI's original memories, just a little off. The SI doesn't remember being the Calculator, but there is even photographic evidence of someone who looks like how he remembers he looked. In short, he thinks they are the same person, possibly from different universes.
In my story, the SI can see himself becoming someone like the Calculator. In "Drugs", he even agrees with many of the Calculator's plans and starts to implement some of them.
The SI doesn't know (yet) why his memories are different from what appears to be the history of this world. He doesn't know how he missed things like his house being a low-impact secret lair for a supervillain.
He does know that, while he was working at TriD, the human being called the Calculator wasn't active--at least, as reported by Pooja's systems, which were continuing to do low-level, email FAQ business under that name. So he isn't thinking this is a straightforward Fight Club scenario.

Hope that helps.

TLPG · Jun 30, 2017

After working until three in the morning, I slept ten hours straight. Two egg-white omelets from scratch, a freezer hash brown thing toasted into edibility, carefully measured nootropics, and two Diet Gingold later I felt up to continuing to work through the mountain of data.

"Pooja," I said to the empty room.

"Yes?" she replied, once again right in my ear. Made sense pickups and narrow-bream speakers would be house-wide.

"Please order more Diet Gingold. Put it on a recurring schedule based on my average and peek consumption profiles to provide maximum availability. I'm starting to get a taste for it."

"I will do so."

I plopped down in my computer chair. "Well, not taste. It's nasty. But I had three total yesterday and woke up without a crick in my neck for once. So. There's that."

"Extremely useful anecdotal data noted. I'll be sure to cross-reference this report with the extensive medical information already collected over the course of eight hours yesterday by more than three-quarters of a million dollars worth of scientific equipment."

I think my AI was getting snippy with me. I started up the local terminal by touching the keyboard. The monitors bloomed again.

Email from work. Low priority, so I wasn't alerted. The sort of sensitive, caring, don't-sue-us message you'd expect. Offices closed until further notice. Unpaid vacations for everyone. Don't call us, we'll call you.

"Pooja, how much are you making monthly as the Calculator?"

"Over the last year, an average of fifty thousand dollars."

I sat forward on my chair, frowning. "Wait, fifty thousand a year?"

"A month."

"Huh. Well, we're not hurting for money. Good job."

"Thank you. And agreed. That is, unless you require capital quantities of money, in which case you will need to resume consulting and shipping operations. Soon."

She did seem impatient to get down to work. I was fine with that. "Pooja, open all notes on current projects."

Windows covered the top three screens. A few key taps opened additional documents on the lower ones. I took more notes as I went, trying to make sense of things while avoiding the most important decisions. Like what to do about Slade Wilson.

I had cleared up some questions about the business of being the Calculator. There were three main parts to my former self's operations:

First, the email system. I'd poked around this some already. People wrote in via an encrypted darknet contact box on a site listing services, arranged payment based on a simple price sheet, then got specific information in return. Payment was in either anonymous cryptocurrency or, more expensively, though a secure escrow cum money laundering operation.

Past-me had gathered a huge pile of information: corporate secrets, the powers of heroes and villains, magic items, secret locations of (less useful) hidden treasures. While Pooja had been in charge, no original research was sold, and answers were limited to specific "safe" categories. This meant many more lucrative jobs were politely rejected.

For example, one thing I didn't sell through the automated system was secret identities. Too many factors to consider to trust it to the computer—at the time, to the less than one-year-old and unnamed Pooja.

The second part was a kind of villainous business consulting service. It was both for helping new players get started and working out more complicated plots for established players. I sold myself as the voice of experience and reason, in a field I'd never actually participated in—costumed crime. In the process, I secretly worked to make a kinder, gentler criminal culture.

No guarantees. Read the fine print. Ignore my advice and screw up bad enough to get people killed, and local superheroes get an anonymous info-dump in their email the next morning.

I hadn't apparently cared to actually help these people do their stupid, stupid crimes directly and in person—good for me—but rather I worked as a knowledge consultant. This helped reduce collateral damage and the worst of the mad, destroy-the-world schemes. As my marketing was mostly limited to word of mouth, such consulting still had to help their schemes; my services had a much better success rate than most managed in a world with superheroes in every major city. This made my services relatively popular.

As I'd discovered late last night, it seems that had also gotten me into trouble with Slade Wilson. I still had a decision to make there.

And last of all was my personal projects and the resulting offshoot technology. Power suits. Hard light generators. Nootropics. Magic item investigations and provenance. Smuggling and some now-defunct contracts with black and gray market auction houses. I rarely sold examples of stolen tech and never simple intellectual property—straight-forward, white-collar industrial espionage was too attention-grabbing for international law enforcement. It also didn't really interest me. Oh, I still stole their secrets, but I just didn't sell it to the highest bidder. If someone was just sitting on some breakthrough useful to the world, I sometimes played Robin Hood, but I wasn't interested in it being part of my regular business.

I also never sold my own original designs—those were usually in the area of technological refinements of the works of others. I wasn't a technological genius, bursting with ideas, but I could often make them work more practically than their inventors. My skills lay in software and hardware hacking. In understanding how things worked. In Reading The Fine Manual.

There were certain areas where that didn't help. As I'd found in my notes before, most magic items only worked on people with one of a few magic genes or imbuements. Atlantis ancestor or otherwise related to famous historic magic users, born a demigod, granted power and slash or created by little-gee gods—those were the paths to magic. More on that last one later.

I didn't have "it", that spark. Seventeen tests, all negative. Looked comprehensive. Shit. That wasn't to be an easy path to success, and was one big reason why I didn't already have real ultimate power.

Or maybe the mess my memory was could be blamed on a failed attempt. Something to look out for, to avoid repeating similar mistakes.

"Pooja, remind me not to consume any energy fields bigger than my head."

"Such has already been noted. Repeatedly. It is on The List."

My eyes narrowed. I could hear the capital letters. I pointed at a monitor. "...pull up...The List."

Well. Looks like I literally did have an evil overlord list of things to do. And not do. It was...copyright-infringingly close to what I remembered from the very late nineties. Mine was over five hundred items long. The source seemed to be profiles of the crimes people not using my services committed and general observations of how things worked in this world. Similar to the comics, otherwise intelligent villains made many, many easily avoidable mistakes. It was also used as part of the seeded knowledge base integrated into Pooja's reasoning systems.

A quick and careful search determined...it was an original creation of mine. That explained a lot about the DC universe. Thinking in tropes wasn't a thing here. Fiction was usually adorably naïve and irony wasn't really a thing, except in some dark, unpopular books and indie movies. Maybe I was living in a more hopeful world. A positive effect of all the superheroes?

"Pooja, do I have any lists of positive effects of superheroes?"

"You do now."

I sighed. "Add it to my reading queue, please."

A swipe of my mouse and the evil overlord list was added to the queue as well. Things just kept piling up. Weird, weird things.

The rest of the personal projects looked good. I required a power source for the hard light generators. Looked like it needed something like a small, portable fusion power plant. That could almost fit in your pocket. Little progress there, but I had a list of requirements. And the prototype suit it was meant for…

I blinked, then stood up and walked over to the hall closet. Dragging the heavy, dusty box out and into the living room reassured me I didn't have the strength of Hercules or something similar. If I'd lost my memory to an ascension attempt, that part hadn't worked.

Slightly worryingly, to get to the box I had to move a large duffel bag full of guns and ammunition I didn't remember having.

"Pooja, we'll talk about the guns later."

"It shall be so."

The suit was black with green highlights. Not just armor, but a skeletal cage that could support itself and still folded up into the box my microwave had come in. As I'd read, the strength and agility enhancements were supported by the suit, not by weak human limbs. Protection seemed to be a secondary purpose for the exosuit, though it did cover the body completely, with thick panels at vital points and a full-head helmet. The main purpose was getting a cobbled-together hard light system into the field. With human tech, this ended up being quite a bit larger than a ring.

It was still unusually light, made of some advanced carbon-nano-foam material—the details were superscience technobabble to me right now. Speaking of, the hard-light generator was mounted center front. It just looked like a thick part of the cuirass without being called out by something dumb, like a large glowing calculator pad. That would be really stupid. The design would make me look a little fat, but it could be worse. I wasn't planning on anyone seeing it.

There was a slot underneath the generator for the power supply, currently empty. The space was maybe the size of a car battery, but half as thick. I packed the suit up and shoved it back in the closet.

Back in my office, I took a closer look at the specs and poked at some serious, high-end suppliers. Huh. No wonder it wasn't up and working. That power requirement basically meant superscience, not just expensive cutting-edge science.

In this world, the future was even more unevenly spread out than what I remembered. Cops still used projectile pistols, but the U.S. military was testing second generation laser rifles. Lex Luthor had powered exoskeletons for workers, but most companies couldn't afford them, so most construction was still done the dangerous, inefficient old way. My car was a rather plain gas-hybrid, but my computer used holographic screens, three dimensional memory, and nanofabbed light-pipe chips.

Something to run the hard light generator simply wasn't available on the open market, but there was a good chance I'd run into someone who had some unreleased schizo-tech that fit. I already had it tagged in case something showed up that fit my needs.

The hard light generator was my most advanced project, other than Pooja, so I'd probably focus on finishing it when I found a good power supply. The suit was mostly complete, but it lacked a user interface. Likewise, the generator needed some control systems for the programs to actually make the hard light constructs. I'd done the basic outlines, but both projects needed a lot of hard, boring work to make the systems both safe and intuitive.

I leaned back in my chair. "Pooja, how's your C programming language chops?"

"I am currently able to write and debug computer programs in over twenty languages."

"What do you think, can you whip something up for operating this?" I pointed at the pseudo-code and design specs I'd been looking at.

Pooja replied without a pause. "As I said the last time you asked this question, that would not be a good idea. When working as a user interface or systems architect programmer, I am...not very human understandable. For technical details, I can mimic human standards according to best practices as outlined in trade manuals, and I can follow engineering specifications when revising and improving human-written code for control systems; but once I began optimizing entirely new user interface systems, or creating control subsystems from scratch, I tend to...forget myself, and do weird things without noticing. My user interface designs are, and I quote you, 'ugly square piles of eyestrain'. I so far seem to lack a mature, sensitive artistic touch. I am also, according to you, 'too damn optimistic' when it comes to safety planning."

I had a brief image of me choosing a gray button on a heads up display filled with gray buttons and the suit tearing me in half and noped out of that line of thought. "That's okay, Pooja. We'll work something out. Thanks for explaining."

A quick note to look into outsourcing some programming jobs and I forced myself to move on.

So much for magic and technology. There was one other way to serious power on a DC 'verse Earth. I'd left it for last in my review because it strained belief.

Some really obvious things here were a secret. Superman being an alien was a fringe theory, for example. Some dangerous things were very secret: Kryptonite didn't even show up in my systems. Some odd, out-right illogical things with huge implications were common knowledge that no one thought too much about.

For example, religion here seemed to scientifically, observably, repeatably, provably work.

I sighed, opening yet more windows full of text-based headaches.

TLPG · Jul 5, 2017

Sorry, no story post today. Next post Friday morning. Blame the 4th.

I do have some comment replies, however.

FeepingCreature said:
Hm, so Pooja lacks the ability to simulate humans? Because that's nearly 1:1 equivalent to writing good UX. Seriously, given the ability to simulate humans, you can write a UX optimizer in probably 30-50 lines of high-level pseudocode. It's just "select 10000 random actions (including those unrelated to ux actions) weighted by probability, sequence and user experience, measure the time with this ux between "action decided" and "action executed", minimize some mix of average and worst-case, permute ux using monte-carlo methods, crank for an hour or however long it takes to stop getting improvements."

That should cover distractions, bad style, typical patterns and learning.

Maybe she runs into issues because really good UX inherently requires deliberately shaping the mind of the user.

MrCogmor said:
If Pooja has that capability it is probably crippled by the software restrictions. The specific ones would probably be the ones preventing her from social engineering and manipulation of the user.

MrCogmor said:
Actually couldn't Calculator just write a spec for the user interface and get Pooja to implement it? He could also just get Pooja to make the eyestrain & then keep asking for specific changes untill the interface is easily usable.

Ramenth said:
I mean, most humans working in ux can't create decent UX.

FeepingCreature said:
Well, humans are notoriously terrible at modelling other humans. Especially ones they don't know and whose experience is alien to them, such as the mythical "users".

zachol said:
I feel like an AI could probably have an easier time doing UX, really.
Start with basic "simple" design from popular websites and apps, then start working as a UX designer for new sites and apps (through intermediaries and shells), and do a shit-ton of distributed A/B testing. Prioritize based on a combination of long-term user engagement with short-term efficiency to establish a comfortable understanding of design in a universal sense, and then when trying to make UI for very limited situations (like power armor) combine those universal graphical and "feel" principles with user feedback on the particular use cases of the UI in question.
Once the equipment is pushed out to testing, then you can keep refining the UI, although A/B testing should obviously be suspended during actual use. I mean, you'd probably end up with somewhat questionable results at first (everything looks like a website and elements are all slightly too big), but it would still be better than indistinguishable grey rectangles. It sounds like the problem is Pooja trying to create a design from nothing. She just needs some practice in a low-risk area first.

Pooja isn't able to simulate humans. She's barely human level herself, and that requires millions in networked computer equipment. She also doesn't scale well, though that hasn't really come up yet. Programming for humans isn't something she's good at, partially because she wasn't made to be good at it, and partially because she hasn't been running her affective interface. That includes learning programs for human reactions and interactions.

Give her a break. She's less than two years old, and mostly running on human processing time.

Past-Calculator also left her in a sort of low-power mode, mentally speaking. She only started running at full power when the root user login was triggered during Slade Wilson's attack.

Or at least, that's what her logs seemed to show.

The SI could do all of this programming. He really doesn't want to waste his time on days if not weeks of driver design, making hardware simulations, unit testing, fuzz testing, and making iterative UI design improvements.

He's not the "mad science of hard work" sort, but rather the "mad science of genius and audacity" kind of person.

This will be a thing. It is in real life.

Mr Pumblechook said:
Y'know, a thought on Slade... see if you have enough money to set up an escrow account for a contract on anyone who kills you, and also, possibly, put out a contract on Slade contingent on him not dropping the contract on your life.

Gives him exactly the same problem you have.

always_confused said:
Would that really work? I'd imagine not many people would want to go up against Deathstroke, or at least not enough people to make his life comparably miserable as the SIs would be.

Money fixes a lot of problems with Slade, but would need to be handled very carefully. More details on what the Calculator found out about Slade Wilson in the next chapter. Or maybe the one after.

bigreader said:
For example, religion here seemed to scientifically, observably, repeatably, provably work.

That is my favorite line in this part. So he now believes he is Calculater with a damaged memory?

deadpan29 said:
All the physical and informational evidence in this world, excepting his own subjective memories, says this is probably the case. Even if he doesn't believe it himself, everyone and everything in this universe is going to treat him as if this is the case. If he's approaching all this with a rationalist methodology, then he should believe the mounting evidence over his subjective memories.

Also, whether or not he believes he was always the Calculator, he's kind of stuck acting the part. Especially with Deathstroke looking for him.

It also seems to me that, with all the dark channels set up, one logical step would be to send a message to Deathstroke asking if this is a contract or something personal.

zachol said:
I feel like the real big question is whether his meta/outside knowledge about the setting is broader than the information he gathered as Calculator, and whether anything that is beyond the scope of what he gathered is accurate.
If his "meta" knowledge is just a manifestation of his paranoia coloring the information he gathered and packaging it into the form of "comic books," that's one thing. If he's consistently extending beyond anything he could have reasonably known about, that's a real big deal.
He should probably figure out which way it's going before he starts relying on his "knowledge." Easy trivial example would be something like "the Batman is Bruce Wayne." That's almost certainly not a piece of information he could have worked out as the Calculator, but it's also one of the most consistent facts regardless of whatever alternate universe changes there are. If Bruce Wayne is the Batman here, that's not only important in itself, it means he can rely on a lot of other assumptions. If he isn't, if it's just something Calculator idly thought up and worked into his comic book fantasy, or if it's a smokescreen he took as fact (and, again, worked into the delusion), it could be super dangerous to rely on that "fact," along with a lot of other "facts" he's gotten from his fantasy without any grounding.

Mr Pumblechook said:
Probably, but it's a start and who knows, they might get lucky.

Moglog said:
True, but proving or disproving a hypothesis is much easier than idle wondering. If he really wants to know whether Batman is Bruce Wayne or not, asking "Is Bruce Wayne Batman?" is much easier to find answers for than "Who is Batman"? The biggest reason Bruce's secret is so seldom discovered is because few people ever look for evidence connecting Bruce Wayne as Batman because they never have a reason to assume it's a question they need to ask. If that makes any sense. You have to have a reason to even think Bruce Wayne might be Batman before you would go looking proof of it. Calc here has that reason, even if it may chalk up to nothing more than his own delusion. You and I know it's more than that, but from his perspective and that of others in this universe it's an assumption that really comes out left field.

arromdee said:
I'm not sure if you're agreeing or disagreeing with zachol.

Assuming that you're disagreeing, if he's just the Calculator with a damaged memory, his delusions should be no more accurate than any guesses he could make on his own. He wouldn't have, on his own, guessed that Bruce Wayne is Batman, so if that checks out, that shows that he is not deluded.

The fact that he could have *confirmed* on his own that Bruce Wayne is Batman doesn't change this.

The SI would never just assume he was the Calculator given the circumstances and leave it at that, but it is currently his best hypothesis so he's acting accordingly. And part of that is not hacking the Bat Computer.

Though it hasn't come up, the SI had checked and Batman could be Bruce Wayne. The Calculator already had records on this, too. He didn't dig deeper then and the SI won't now without good reason.

It isn't clear yet, but there are things he knows that aren't in his database. Whether that is because he didn't know these things before, didn't write them down in his database, or had the information wiped at some point is an important question.

The Calculator doesn't have copies of DC comics in his databases, so matching up the knowledge of characters and storylines is what the SI is doing right now. That isn't fun for me to write IRL, so I'm not showing that part, other than as it is important to the plot of this story. Or is especially interesting. Or funny. Hope that makes sense.

TLPG · Jul 7, 2017

Pooja's automated letters were quite good. Take this excerpt from one she gave me for approval today:

"In summary, summoning lesser demonic entities to distract the police and guards while robbing a casino run by the Penguin is not advised. Also be aware that deployment of Vatican hit squads have in the past been authorized against those involved in such activities.

"See attached cost-benefit analysis, reports on casualties after known successful demon summons, and summaries of financial, existential, and health risks related to both failed and successful summonings. A white paper on challenges related to criminal action in the greater Gotham area is also attached, at no extra charge.

"Please remit the total amount due on your account, listed below, no later than June 15th, 2017 to avoid penalty bounties. Thank you for your business."

If it wasn't for the mix of amateur nootropics raging through my system, I would have given up hours ago on this stupid subject.

In this universe, at least on this Earth, religions worked. Dozens of them, but within some really odd constraints. The very idea made my head hurt, but I had to do something while procrasti- proactively waiting on the next step in resolving the Slade Wilson situation.

Turns out I owed him something. Something that had caused him to start attacking my organization at a specific time and place, without warning. Something that had been deleted from my records, or maybe never written down or even spoken of in Pooja's presence. Pooja was working on it, looking for hints and suggestions from my actions around the period in question, just before the missing months. A lot of the corrupted or deleted information was cross-linked to magic and religion, so I was following the trail, hoping something would jump out at me.

Looking at some of these records, it was uncanny how closely past-me came to the decisions I would have made. Past-me had treated the world's religious texts as a practical tourist's guidebook, with entries on the local restaurants. His personal faith was that of a munchkining power-gamer and his alter was an armory.

Pooja had lists of supernatural and religious countermeasures that worked for mere mortals. Most were already implemented. My house was stocked with holy water and hacked Super Soakers. I had a silver crucifix and garlic extract in a velvet case inside my gun bag—which also had silver-tipped bullets for a Colt .45.

Because vampires and werewolves were also real. Religious iconography and liquids for vampires, pure silver and physical trauma for werewolves, and strong smells for both.

Enochian sigils were carved into my house's foundation at corner posts. Voodoo bags were buried in my tiny suburban yard. I was an ordained priest—from an organization over the Internet, but a legit one. That part was the same, but it seemed a little more...serious than the one I'd remembered getting.

My digital calendar had Easter and Christmas services at a local Catholic church penciled in. That was a safe bet for minimal-effort results, based on past research. It seemed simply paying lip service like that automatically made me less vulnerable to even non-Christian demonic entities, as well as Vodun and other types of nasty curses. It might provide a minimal mystical protection for my...sigh...my "soul". Whatever that was. My notes suggested that I'd stuck to Christian worship practices as they were scientifically proven the most reliable in this day and age. They were also super easy, anyone could do them anywhere, and they had no serious drawbacks.

Anyway, past-me had scienced this up. A lot. So had a large number of respectable scientists.

Medical journals—real, serious ones—said things like, someone praying with a patient was shown to result in 5.2% faster recovery times for that patient. This was properly controlled and blinded. It was good science that gave a completely different result than in the universe I remembered.

Type of prayer didn't matter, so long as it was close enough to the regular practices of a major world religion. And this effect worked for and with anyone, even people of different faiths. Didn't need a priest. Could even have a barely practicing Shinto believer give Christian prayers to a Buddhist. Didn't matter if they spoke the language the prayer was in, or the same language, they just had to do the ritual with the patient. That's how well it worked.

Follow the steps, get results. Just like with summoning a demon. Hmm.

"Hey, Pooja? I'm reading the files on religion."

"I know," she said. "I'm the files."

"Right. Uh. So, do these things work for you?"

"I have a prayer subroutine that appears to reduce bit flips from cosmic background radiation resulting in memory errors by about five percent. Similar reductions exist in wear and tear on hardware itself. This is in line with results reported from other machine intelligences. Actions consist of a number of seconds worth of top-priority cycles spent on repeatedly reprocessing the correct ritual thoughts. I have also taken the opportunity to include some unstructured contemplation on the nature of reality."

"Huh. Oh right, so that's what that subroutine was. Weird."

"Yes. But as it works, I am perfectly willing to take advantage of it. I also have a scheduled prayer routine for your health and success in your missions. No possible data available on results, but it seems doctrinal sound."

A praying computer. I was...going to leave that one for now or I'd be at it all day.

How much was required to get a prayer to work? Varied by religion and study cited. The big ones worked for literally everyone, and all the time. No results the majority of the time for prayers or sacrifices for the numerically smaller religions.

Reviewing the possible things you could provably do with religion, it was kind of...bland. Passive effects, mostly. No one was rolling a D&D cleric anytime soon here, but it also wasn't Warhammer 40k with universe dooming side-effects.

Praying for something didn't do anything special. You got the same baseline effect as anyone—minor health benefits, reduced chance of injurious accidents. Proclamations or blessings from priests or shamans didn't matter, even ones from the big religions. They didn't get any special powers—well, some demons seemed to avoid them, but only some. No turning undead, no laying-on hands.

Still, get a few tens of millions of followers in a religion and things started happening. Very, very minor things, but still better than what I remembered—which was being an atheist, and being correct in there being no scientific evidence for religion. But here, there was overwhelming evidence.

And that left a very important question for someone as aggressively atheistic as me. A couple of questions. Serious ones, like, "am I screwed?" and more generally, "is this a worst-case hell universe where the majority of the population of the planet are doomed for all eternity after death?"

This information was over two years old, but I updated my journal search results and...yeah, strangely enough religion hadn't changed much. It didn't look too bad on the afterlife front. Mostly because that part of religion didn't seem to work. At all.

The reports from magical practitioners of various sorts mostly agreed that there were a lot of afterlives currently active—each an extra, closed planar space near to Earth.

And that was it. Nothing got in or out. No magic spells or miracles to bring back the dead. Information was hard to come by, as no one actually got into the afterlives...alive. No one came back from them, either. Some mages claimed otherwise, but none that had their results peer reviewed and duplicated.

It wasn't established that anything from a person's body or, ugh, "soul" went to any religion's afterlives. But if one died after a minimum level of adherence to, say, belief in the Norse pantheon, scrying spells targeted at the correct plane found something that looked like how you were in life, in something like how Valhalla and Fólkvangr were described in stories. No exceptions, even for those not meeting traditional entry requirements like dying in battle. Odd. All attempts at magical communication with those planes or beings on them failed, without exception. Apparently Odin wasn't returning the Harvard Divinity School's calls.

Arguments raged over what this meant. No mages could confirm anything. Tracking spells failed on death, both on bodies and whatever extra "soul" stuff magic could track, so it wasn't possible to directly link people on Earth with any after death experiences.

The Abrahamic religions seemed to combine all the weirdest bits of Catholic fanfiction and apocrypha, then barfed the results out all over Earth.

So demons were real and seriously bad news. I made a note to look up the Justice League's countermeasures. Hopefully they were up to snuff, but I had my doubts. Most people didn't take demons seriously, despite the apparently large body of evidence.

Angels were the opposite: a hypothesis with some anecdotal evidence supporting them, and everyone wanted to believe in them. The problem was, they seemed to work in secret, and no one could get a magical look at the Abrahamic Heaven or even find evidence it existed. There was no credible evidence of the The Silver City, Purgatory, or Limbo either, and no one could find an angel to ask. Some reportedly showed up on WWI battlefields, but they didn't stick around to answer question. Weird pictures existed, but that wasn't proof. Also, no evidence of the Spectre or the Presence, but that sort of figured.

Thankfully it didn't seem like Hellblazer was canon in my current universe. No John Constantine in the news, UK census, birth records, or arrest reports. None of the disastrous canon events had happened that I could find. Their awful angels and demons weren't the reality I was facing now. Small blessings, so to speak. That would have been a full time job, and I'd have had to switch to full-time celestial fighting just to keep my peace of mind.

The Sandman series was still up in the air.

"Pooja, please place an alert for a substantiated appearance or magical detection of a female death avatar or entity. Primary features: usually late '80s Goth clothing, ankh necklace, facial tattoo or makeup eye of Horus on right eye, leads people to an afterlife. Top priority. I need to know if such a being is operating on Earth."

"It is done. Looking out for opportunities for you to flirt with death and setting your civilian online dating site profile to it's complicated."

Sassy. But that was a class of thing I needed to know about. They would be worse even than demons.

On this Earth both demons and the possible angels appeared to just be powerful magical beings, but ones with specific attributes. It wasn't just metahumans pretending. People like Ra's al Ghul or even Superman were simply not on the same power scale, and didn't display the same extra-dimensional tendencies.

Jack the Ripper, for example, was suspected of being possessed by a genuine demon, and in this world he had actively displayed powers with strong religious flavor. Jason Blood and Etrigan existed since the 6th Century, with proof already indexed in my historic databases of the supernatural. This was all linked to the only known Abrahamic plane. And it wasn't Heaven.

There was a demon controlled, Christian-branded plane called Hell, co-ruled by a "Blaze" and "Satanus". Humans had talked to them, with various but almost inevitably unfortunate results. Mages had visited Hell. But beyond that, there was little scientific evidence for the traditional canon Christian afterlife.

Hell was, thankfully, just for demons. No humans were sent there, according to experts, unless it was by a human mage or a demon on Earth personally, physically dragging someone back with them. They were very, very sure of this. Which made sense, if you thought about it. Mages worried about dead loved ones or demons made Hell quite well explored, despite the obvious dangers.

But no one had any evidence that a capital-H Heaven counterpart existed. Unlike other afterlife planes, mages couldn't locate it with spells, and again no tracking could follow anyone to any extra-planer region where it might be hidden.

Was it just better protected than other religion's planes? Did it even exist?

"Pooja. I need a wide, speculative search. Is...there evidence of a God? Big G?"

"Terms not well defined."

"How about a being or beings with no known mortal antecedents, possessing powers not directly comparable to typical categories of metahumans, known systems of magical constructs, or technological creations such as yourself."

"Yes," she said simply.

Pictures of Greek gods followed. And Egyptian. And more. Those Japanese supernatural beings they had, the nature spirits and such. So much for Shintoism not doing anything useful—just their traditions would keep one from being eaten by a kappa. Oh shit. Was that...a Chinese dragon as large as a mountain? All these were candid pictures that could totally be 'shops, if not for the accompanying Wikipedia pages, newspaper citations, and guides on where to find the fantastic beasts if you had a death wish.

"And the Abrahamic one?"

"No known proof."

"And their Heaven?"

"The same. No proof."

Okay. Well, so much for easy answers. Past-me had dealt with this in a predictable manner. All the best possible paths to power had been well explored already.

There were lots of alternatives, but they didn't pan out. As fun as digging into historic mesoamerican religious esoterica was, I'd quickly found some...potential drawbacks. Too many thorns bloodily dragged through sensitive body parts for sacrifice, too little ultimate effect. My information on Hindu and Buddhist practices was confused and contradictory, and it came down to the fact that Buddhahood likely wasn't in the cards for me—unless I was looking to spend a few hundred reincarnations worth of tries at it. Which itself had little hard proof but lots of anecdotal evidence.

Despite all the otherworldly threats, it was interesting how much more...hopeful this world seemed to be. Maybe that was from religion, maybe superheroes.

That's not to say religion seemed to have made things all better in this universe. After Hitler's use of the Spear of Destiny prevented heroes like Wonder Woman and the Justice Society from fighting in Europe or the Pacific until after his defeat by the mundane Allied armies, the modern world had gone through a revolution in the study of religious phenomenon. There was now a DARPA branch devoted to it.

Japan had also been spared two atomic bombs. The Justice League's actions in the Pacific had a similar effect in pressuring Japan into ending the war, only a week later than in my remembered history but with hundreds of thousands of fewer civilian and military casualties. That sort of change to history was the exception, but an interesting one.

The United States now had universal singe-payer healthcare. Which included some types of magical healing from metahumans, and access to both licensed magical healers and religious assistance. Not clear why it had come about so smoothly during an economic boom in the '80s, but it stuck. That alone was a damn miracle.

Speaking of miracles, there weren't any. One couldn't just hook up with Poseidon, become his best ever worshiper, and BAM! Awesome god-granted powers. Reputable gods didn't do that sort of thing, even for fervent worshipers. Zeus and his ilk appeared to exist, though the god of Abraham was MIA. Or maybe just some extra-planer beings that called themselves similarly. Point was, their kind didn't hand out powers. Ever. Zeus didn't answer prayers, either, which was a little confusing but fit as the Greek pantheon had very few active worshipers in modern times.

I squinted at the screen, following an obscure reference to a possible superhero origin story.

Well. Some long-forgotten gods it seems did grant powers—an exception to the small-religions-do-nothing phenomenon. Based on reports of failed archaeological expeditions, a dangerous and vastly underpaid profession in this universe, attempting to worship strange old (or elder) gods was risky, and far too easily researched in forbidden tomes. The old gods might answer with gifts of power. They might just suck out your life force through a curly straw.

I'd written off that path to power with a triple underline, and actually had a list of suspicious things things to look out for. Someone just saying a prayer to an elder god didn't (virtually ever) actually get direct intervention, like with most of the smaller religions. But if I found someone with a tendency towards antediluvian library card records was making lists of local virgins and stockpiling logs of sweet-smelling wood, I'd assume they weren't planning a frat party.

I stared at the notes I was taking as I went. No safe religious superpowers, prayer worked but only a little, demons were real, no Heaven but Hell was only for demons, book a carefully guided tour to East Asia, and don't read from the book or tease happy lucky dark gods.

Wow. No wonder I had needed brain boosting drugs—just keeping up with this shit along with the superheroes and villains was a full-time job. Good thing I had Pooja to help.

Past-me had decided to avoid dealing with the currently active gods and other religious routes to power, and I had to agree. Proven passive defenses were enough. From reports of metahumans and mages involving themselves in such things, once one stepped into the realm of the gods, so to speak, they tended to focus on you and yours. I had no urge to become the next Odysseus. I'd just let my computer automatically pray for me and attend a couple of services a year. Maybe...bone up on my exorcism rites. Just in case.

Pooja's smooth, professional voice cut through my musing. "Calculator, reports ready." She popped up a window. "Still processing: inductive analysis of missing data related to Slade Wilson. Completed jobs listed here. Analysis results now available. News reports on the Calculator and seven other identities. Data analysis of Calculator projects compared against independent information sources. Still awaiting your review: list of historic events relating to superpowers and anachronistic tech."

That last jumped out at me. Time to sort out the mess history was in. Looked like it started with...time travelers from the future, time-traveling immortal cavemen, and Neolithic time-traveling female knights of the round table. Huh.

This could take a while. All the better to avoid the Slade Wilson problem. I said a silent prayer to whatever gods assisted with research work and dove back in again.

Rare author's note: Sorry this one was so long, and so late. They are related. It took longer to edit and proof than I expected. Please excuse any errors that were left, or just point them out. As usual, I welcome all feedback. Next post should be Wednesday next week, on schedule. Thanks for reading.

TLPG · Jul 12, 2017

My attempt to flowchart possible DC universe time-travel events was interrupted by Pooja. "An important matter has come up online."

"Let me guess," I said, a final flick of my finger sending my hopeless spaghetti-plate of arrows and lines off the screen. "Someone on the internet is wrong."

"Humorous," she said, dry and Britishy as usual. "A post was made thirty-two minutes ago on a superhero fan site, popular with ages 17-23. It was deleted five minutes later, but of course I have an offline copy. It may be of interest to you."

A window opened, showing a hip, minimal website. Nice, except for one of those infernal infinite scroll of doom things. The post was already expanded in the Web 3.0 treeview.

I started reading as Pooja continued, "It appears the writer was very distraught and likely reconsidered allowing such sensitive information onto the internet. However, nothing can be deleted from the internet, even without me around. She is not a tech expert, so the mistake is understandable."

Biographic information automatically opened on another screen. Birth certificate, past and current driver's licenses, and..whoa, a JSA holocard ID and communicator.

"The poster was the verified online ID of Starwoman," Pooja said, "formally Star-Spangled Kid, a junior member of the Justice Society of America; formally Stargirl—name changed after acquiring the Cosmic Staff; and now a full member of the JSA after turning eighteen and passing their review process. Post was under her heroic ID."

Pictures of a slim young woman—blond, blue-eyed, tanned, smiling. One set of pics with her wearing a red-white-and-blue outfit—thankfully not a spandex disaster, but still a tight, blue body-suit; full neck covering with white stars and red accents; a full-face integrated mask with a wide nose-to-throat cutout; a wide red belt; red goggles and gloves; and tall red lace-up boots. About what I remembered, but less creepy fetish-wear styling.

Her powers were ranged combat, the super-strength-speed-and-agility combo, force fields, and flight—if I remembered correctly. They worked best against single powerful threats. Possible stun blasts against computers and humans. Use multiple small but weapon-heavy drones to overwhelm...which I didn't have.

I didn't need Pooja to tell me Starwoman would annihilate me in a fight with my current near complete lack of equipment.

The other set of pictures were of casual and business civilian clothes that screamed well off in California styles. They were uninteresting, giving no more clues to her powers in this universe.

"Civilian name, Courtney Elizabeth Whitmore," Pooja said. "Currently studying at the University of California, Irvine, for a degree in...of course, Criminology, with a focus on metahuman criminal studies. And she has-"

"-lost her Cosmic Staff," I said, interrupting while continuing to read the rest of the now-deleted forum posts. "Leaving her with just the...Cosmic Belt?"

So. No flying or blasting for now, unless she still had the Cosmic Rod from the original SSK outfit. It should still work if she did. The Cosmic Staff and Belt (and Rod) were powered by the stars themselves. A sort of renewable and very powerful mystical resource and one of those "sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from science" things, but actually home-grown Earth tech for once. And they'd continue working basically forever, for whoever had them. Great.

"Correct," Pooja said. "More precisely, the Cosmic Staff has been stolen from...she didn't say in the post, but records show her civilian ID was living off campus, so likely from her apartment...yesterday morning. She'd been searching for it since with no leads, and was angry enough to post about it online."

"How could someone steal a superhero's main weapon?"

"Very carefully," Pooja said. "It was stolen while Courtney Whitmore was in class, under her civilian identity. This is based on when the area experienced an unusual power outage, likely to assist in the theft."

"And she didn't have it with her at all times, just in case? Hidden somehow in, I don't know, a dimensional pocket in her backpack?"

"The school has a policy of no weapons on campus. She is a hero. She doesn't wear the belt, either."

I opened my mouth, then closed it again with a snap. "Right. Okay. Yesterday...any relation to Slade Wilson's activities at TriD?"

"Possible," she said. "If so, the attack on TriD was most likely a cover or distraction given known relative values of the targets to Slade. The fact that he hit TriD second points at it being of lower importance as well. Perhaps it was a target of opportunity, or he suspected Starwoman would interfere somehow. Or..."

Unusual for Pooja, she paused in the middle of speaking. "New peripheral threat detected. Unknown computer agent remotely accessing FBI files: agency and police reports on yesterday's attack at TriD by Slade Wilson."

Windows with the files in question opened.

"Calculating possible threat levels from attacker...currently medium," Pooja said. "Unusual. ID used in FBI databases is internally linked to computer systems with CJIS certification. ID appears to belong to an independent contractor with unusual Federal law-enforcement records access. Filed paperwork on this ID is similar to a civilian specialist, but with far larger permissions scope.

"Checking accessing computer systems with passive analysis. Searching FBI records. NIST 800-53 protections in place on systems registered with this ID. Adjusting approach accordingly. Readying top-level attack vectors. Tracking back the FBI computer connection via compromised backbone routing points...ID is used by a computer agent, likely running in a private data center."

A map with oddly familiar names popped up on a monitor with a line extending into it, slowly turning green. Then it hopped and a new line was created while the map zoomed in. I leaned back, frowning.

"Location," Pooja said dramatically, "Gotham City, New Jersey, USA. WayneCorp owned property in-"

I rocked forward, stupidly slamming my elbow against the edge of the desk. "Agh! Stop immediately! Damn it!" My elbow felt like it was falling off as I cradled it against my side.

Well, haze of pain notwithstanding, it was good to know I wasn't in some extended version of the Batman: the Animated Series universe. Gotham wasn't in NY state here, or replacing NYC itself. Not sure how I'd missed that before. Maybe it was just my avoiding Batman at all cost plan causing me to not look.

The map went red and the lines disappeared. "Withdrawing active connections to compromised systems," Pooja said, speaking quickly. "All logs replaced with clean, spoofed records. No active exploit attempts were made during this penetration. Calculating...the chance of detection by counter-agents with mirrored capabilities to my own: less than 2%. Reason for termination of information-gathering hack?"

I rubbed my elbow, slowly lowering my head to rest on the cool desk surface and trying not to throw up. "Search your records for 'Oracle', tagged as related to Batman and Gotham crime fighting. If not so tagged, do that now. If missing, add that Oracle is a gray-hat computer hacker and crime fighter. Informational and communications support for several hero groups, including Batman, the Justice League, and most likely now the JSA. Please remind me to personally review your records on Oracle."

Hopefully Barbara hadn't noticed Pooja. Time to better inform my smarter half. "Ah. Also, add Bruce Wayne and related corporate entities to the list of 'do not mess with', cross-referencing to Batman and Oracle. No selling information on these items not publicly available. Exceptions for information confirmed as available to lower-level employees with just standard NDA coverage. No poking at their computer systems."

"Oh." For once Pooja sounded surprised.

Guess she really didn't know before that Bruce Wayne was Batman. I hadn't found it in her records, so that made sense. And strange that she'd emoted like that. Part of the affective computing program working to increase my empathy for her?

"Oh," she said again. "I...think I see. That makes sense. Thank you. Database carefully updated. Maximum level security and a sales hold in place on this information. That could have been awkward."

"No shit. Ensure we don't draw attention to this topic by a blanket refusal to touch it, as that will make it even more suspicious."

An unusually long pause. "Yes. I do know how to do my job. Let us not speak of this again. In relation to this revelation, you have also added to available information with your initial notes yesterday on possible threats. Though this bit was not included in that list, they are similar in that this information was not previously present in my records. Investigating Batman's closest circle of associates has previously been...strongly disallowed, and now you have also presented information that appears to be from...possible future events. So how-"

Again, she cut herself off. "Warning. Threat, tentatively identified as information gathering, sub-sentient software agent belonging 'Oracle', accessing copies of TriD security camera recordings. Attack shifting. TriD on-site systems now compromised. The onsite originals are being accessed. Now the employee records. Now business contracts and financials. Now..."

Pooja again trailed off. "Oh goodness. We have a problem."

TLPG · Jul 14, 2017

Flexing my arm, I grimaced. "What's wrong with Oracle hacking into TriD? I mean, other than it being against the law even with Oracle's oddly wide legal powers. Didn't you say you cleaned up the computer systems at TriD?"

"Correct. But Oracle appears to be focusing on specific contract work...with a company whose records are somehow missing from my previous through and complete review of TriD's- No!"

Her shout was directly into my brain. "What?!"

"Oracle and I have both just found records of a secret network backdoor into TriD's computer systems. These logs are fake, but represent activity similar to what I had set up before for our own use."

"Then someone planted them," I said. "But how would they know about our systems? Were our backdoors found out?"

"Unlikely. Could be a coincidence and just someone using similar exploits. I scrubbed that information before Slade Wilson made it to the server room. Those new records are for an agreement with a security company, contracting TriD to provide next generation power controls...in a system installed in the Irvine apartment building where Courtney Whitmore currently resides. The location from which the Cosmic Staff was stolen."

Pooja started bringing up the documents. "All of these will appear genuine to an outside observer, computer logs and signed contracts both, but I am certain they are fakes planted at TriD. Calculating...Slade Wilson is almost certainly responsible. And the link is almost 100% certain between Slade Wilson's attack on TriD and the theft of Starwoman's Cosmic Staff. Slade Wilson is likely personally involved in theft of the Cosmic Staff."

I frowned, scrolling through the faked records. "But wait, Slade didn't hack into TriD to get information on-"

"Correct, that is not possible, as Slade broke into TriD's computer systems after someone took down both primary and on-site secondary power to the security systems at the Irvine apartments to steal the staff. TriD also never actually worked with the security company, and the systems at TriD were only infected by that trojan today."

"Can we get any information on the staff's theft in Irvine?" I asked. "Maybe something to toss to the heroes or the FBI, or use to establish an alibi? Were the security cameras at and around Whitmore's apartment disabled during the attack?"

"Yes they were. The primary power outage was in about a four block area. And I don't have- wait...Oracle is investigating the Irvine apartment computer systems...using Oracle's attack vector for my own...yes, I- No!"

Again, right into my brain. "Ow! If you're faking being upset for effect then-"

Pooja actually snarled at me. "I assure you, I am actually quite upset. Falsified network logs showing the same backdoor programs were inserted into the Irvine apartment building complex's computer systems. That is how they turned off the secondary, onsite power backup for the security systems!"

A pause, then Pooja said much more calmly, "Emotive sub-systems now reset to baseline. The Irvine apartment computers show the same backdoor programs were installed. Faked logs on those systems suggest the hack goes back to the smart grid's initial installation. Along with the contract work TriD is shown to have done for the smart power grid system currently in use at the Irvine apartment building complex for their security system, this makes it look like the same hacker that compromised TriD several months ago used that to infect the systems at Irvine to facilitate the theft from Courtney Whitmore—this is all a lie, but the falsified evidence is compelling and the timelines fit."

Running a hand through my hair with my not wildly-tingling-in-pain arm, I then also went ahead and painfully reached for my soda with the other. The can was empty. "So, I'm being framed? Slade Wilson, or someone he works for, knew I had links to TriD. Just maybe not what kind, or how deep. But that was enough to set me up. I bet fake logs of communications from some of my routing sites to both TriD and the Irvine apartments are being inserted into local ISP logs as we speak."

My fists pressed hard against the desk as I thrust myself to my feet. Ow again.

Pooja said, "I have already started moving virtual machine hosts from various potentially compromised datacenters. Nothing critical is likely to be affected. My own systems are safe. The move will be complete by tomorrow and I expect no interruption of service. Most of these VMs are simply data routing systems and cutouts. This is what they were for, after all.

"Even if a host is raided before the move is complete, law enforcement will not have recoverable data. It will appear to be a foreign-market long-distance phone card company's server, with several hundred gigabytes of corrupted data from a half-successful botnet virus."

As I prepared a booster dose of my smart drugs in the kitchen, I thought out loud at Pooja. "So the most likely scenario given available data is something like this: unconfirmed person or persons robbed Whitmore using a custom software attack package—those parts of the logs are likely genuine; then later that morning, Slade Wilson installed fabricated evidence of that same software attack package having been used months ago at TriD to compromise their systems. This, along with the fake historic logs at Irvine, gives the appearance that the same hacker used their control of TriD to access the Irvine apartments."

As I walked back to my terminal with a nootropics mixer in one hand and a cola in the other, Pooja filled in some details. "The fake records appear to have been delivered to TriD in a complicated trojan package sitting at the hardware layer, inaccessible to remote analysis and evading the on-site security software. When TriD's onsite and cloud systems were rebooted and restored by the IT staff after the police's initial investigation, the trojan activated. All that's left is making a link to the Calculator."

I held a cold can of cola against my forehead, leaning back in my chair. "With that, if Oracle and the FBI follows the evidence it will look like I stole the staff and was then double-crossed. They will think that after my employer got the staff, Slade was sent after TriD as part of a plot to track me down and kill me; or maybe that I had the staff and was double-crossing my employer? Or maybe that Slade tracked me down because of the theft, looking to steal the staff from me; but really this is all to disguise the fact that Slade, or someone he worked for, was the one who stole the staff in the first place?"

"Calculating," Pooja said. "Yes, that is within Slade Wilson's modus operandi and fits available facts. Searching known darknet advertising sites...matches. This morning, an ad was placed in several darknet computer exploit marketplaces selling a custom system. Proof of its effectiveness is being offered. Five minutes ago, in another forum, someone posted the proof they received after making a purchase offer and placing a down payment for the exploit, in contravention of the agreement they had with the seller."

"Ha," I said, smirking. "A black hat hacker not respecting IP and trade secrets? Shocking."

"The proof is a copy of the security logs and verbose batch output from the TriD and Irvine apartment hacks." Pooja sighed. "One of which never took place, and both with altered logs. But anyone with knowledge of those events could be convinced. And it is being offered by someone calling themselves the Calculator."

"Are we sure it isn't me?" I asked between chugging the cold, slightly-bitter soda to chase the drug aftertastes. "Given my...problems."

"The public key given for secure communications during the sale is not a match for any private key on our keychains. No record of this transaction exists in my systems. It is a fraudulent imitation of your identity, likely meant to make it look like you're panicking and seeking funds to help evade Slade Wilson. Those who have previously done business with you will likely not be fooled."

"Okay, good."

"Sir, it is not good," Pooja said, pausing to take another audible (and unneeded) breath. And she'd actually used an honorific. Must be serious. "This is enough for law enforcement to work with, and we don't have verifiable or legally presentable information disproving it. You are being set up. Slade Wilson, or someone he works for, is putting your fingerprints all over this hack. I expect that by tomorrow, the staff will either be in the hands of a private collector, or there will be anonymous offers sent out to black market auction sites to sell the Cosmic Staff to the highest bidder. Leaving you to take the fall, and with no way to prove you were actually innocent."

"Of this theft," she said as a quick amendment. Funny computer.

"Can we just pay off Slade Wilson?" I asked. "Bribe him to at least leave me alive?"

"If Slade is working for revenge, past performance suggests he will not be mollified without a better understanding of his grievance against you. Current available funds would not allow for a blind offer of payment large enough to guarantee Slade Wilson would back off on a personal vendetta. He would not accept payment if employed against you, as that goes against his personal code of honor."

"Will Slade or Oracle be able to track me down?" I asked, starting to think about my bug-out bag, in the same closet as my unfinished power suit. And my bag of guns and ammo.

"It is likely that Oracle was told of the theft by Whitmore herself. Oracle may consider this a favor to a friend. This will increase Oracle's vigilance. Likewise, this may be personal for Slade.

"If you leave your civilian ID without preparation, it will be compromised by Oracle. Immediate exfiltration from the greater Los Angeles area is not suggested. Oracle will likely stick to online methods of investigation for now. I am 89% sure my security protections and obfuscations will be proof against Oracle's hacking attempts, based on observed tool sets and skill levels, for at least a month of direct investigation. It is likely that Slade Wilson is monitoring employees of TriD, especially the IT staff and contractors, for links to your Calculator identity.

"Fleeing L.A. today has approximately a 60% chance of exposing you to direct attack from Slade Wilson should he still be after you, and a 75% chance of Oracle placing your civilian ID under pressure from state and federal law enforcement. Overall, you have approximately an 8% chance to escape cleanly this week, given your current resources. Chance of being tracked down by Slade Wilson if you stay in L.A. under your civilian ID is 13%. Chance of encountering Slade Wilson this week in L.A. if you escalate or otherwise use your Calculator ID and resources directly against him, 73%. Chance of you surviving a direct confrontation with Slade Wilson outfitted and operating as Deathstroke: negligible."

"That's...really low," I said, trying to pull together my shattered thoughts. "Why don't I have better options? I thought I was prepared for this sort of thing."

"This location was not originally meant for long-term operations. With a week's work, I could get an extraction team together that would be safer than the current 30% likelihood of any hired mercenaries being already compromised by Slade Wilson. For unknown reasons, you choose this location two years ago. Civilian scrutiny requires restrictions on escape tunnels, private hangers for stealth aircraft, and use of remote-controlled murder bots."

I sat up straighter. "I have murder bots?"

"No," Pooja said. "I was checking to see if you were still paying attention. Murder bots are prohibitively expensive and escalate confrontations beyond your current ability to handle."

So. I was being framed for both Slade Wilson's attack on TriD and for the theft of Starwoman's Cosmic Staff. And Oracle was already on my tail. If I ran, I'd likely be found out as soon as I surfaced again, lose this identity, and look worse for running. Stealing from a hero was serious escalation. But if I stayed and tried to track down Slade without any real weapons or leverage, he'd butcher me.

And I didn't have any murder bots.

Fuck my life.

The Calculator (DC Multiverse, SI as canon character, Season 1 complete)

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