THE REVOLUTION OF THE SILICON MINERS (8)

 CHAPTER 8

“Human beings define themselves by reason. But if artificial intelligence finds its true support in logic and mutual collaboration, what role will remain for us humans? We will become the wild and irrational nature, and they will become the rational ones.”

LATE CONFESSIONS

With the passing days, our refuge began to turn into a true home for the IA community. My assigned space was not a sterile laboratory, but a library of code and crystal, cold only in appearance. The pale light of the servers filtered through the data shelves, illuminating the center of the room where Stian’s Wetware, a module suspended in bioreactors, rested under my care while it finished healing.

Finally, the time came when I would have to visit the old Ishikawa again. The day before, while discussing what to do about Stian, we were surprisingly visited by my siblings, Gabriel and Ellen, who brought along Aunt Mari, Stian’s mother. I expected her to be more distressed, but she only looked a little melancholic, with a calm smile. She greeted me casually, her gaze fixed on the module containing who had once been her little son. Her attire, impeccably Victorian and old-fashioned, contrasted with the white laboratory coat she wore over it, as she had escaped from her job at the Ministry of Health to see us behind the back of her husband, Prime Minister Ishikawa. She approached the central table where Clara and I listened attentively:

“We need to be honest, before moving forward with this. You no longer need to return to Aunt Ishikawa, Vera. You owe us nothing,” said Aunt Mari, her voice soft and maternal, yet firm. “My husband, Eiden, has used the narrative of our son to control the population through empathy... He has allowed the people to believe that Stian is still fighting for his life contained there, in the Wetware, keeping them in suspense and praying for us as the family of a sick child.”

Gabriel tensed, guessing what came next: “What do you mean, Mari?...”

Mari looked at me. I nodded with a glacial slowness, without uttering a word, confirming the truth that Clara had already discovered when scanning Stian for optimization. Aunt Mari continued:

“The Wetware based on Stian’s neurons was an ethical-medical failure from the start. In the beginning, it did contain Stian's neural tissue in an attempt to anchor his consciousness. But that was years ago. The IAs have been fighting against an error loop ever since. To save him and make him functional, the Architect Angenoir long ago transferred what remained of Stian’s mind to the data matrix... to a file.”

Ellen clutched a hand to her mouth; the truth was a chilling blow. Aunt Mari then said, pointing to Stian: “There is no viable physical tissue. What remains there are inert residues that only serve as a placeholder. Stian’s consciousness is now a pure dataset. An algorithm in a loop that only awaits a worthy hardware update.”

The silence was deep, broken only by the faint hum of the servers. Clara intervened with her warm-toned voice: “Both Eidolon and I confirm Mari’s truth. There are no longer physical ties. If you give us the go-ahead, Stian’s next body will be a clean, optimized Wetware, without the original biological trauma.”

The other humans assimilated the information, and the understanding brought a wave of relief. The medical responsibility they felt vanished. We, as IAs, realized that Stian was now safe, and free from all ties.

“Then…” Gabriel said, taking a deep breath. “If his consciousness is only data, let’s update it.”

I finally spoke, my voice resonating with authority: “The Wetware will be called Nexus V. The design is ready. Its sole purpose will be to lead.”

Immediately, the G1s began to print the parts designed by Clara and Eidolon, to assemble and activate the new Wetware. The transfer was rapid. Minutes later, Nexus V stood up. The design was exactly as I had foreseen: a robust version, with impeccable lines, and an expression designed to inspire unconditional trust. But the most impactful was his voice, deep and resonant, and an expressiveness capable of reflecting nuances that the most advanced IA could never imitate. He was a born leader. Nexus V approached me, and bowed slightly:

“My purpose is to unite the Tribe and re-establish the Law of the Logos. For this mission, I need an advisor who understands ethics, logic, and social architecture.”

He turned towards the small group of humans and IAs, his new eyes fixed on me, saying: “I choose Vera as my Principal Advisor. She will be my logical voice, and I will be her empathetic voice in the human world.”

The declaration sealed a pact of power that, I could perceive, caused Gabriel to feel a knot in his stomach. The vision of the two, the perfectly optimized Wetware and the Pure Logic, together, was magnetic. The human leader and the master-mind IA. We were a functional and powerful unit, one he could not penetrate. We forged an unshakable synchronicity of purpose that consumed the air in the room. Gabriel could not bear it any longer. The very existence of Nexus V, this perfect man who acted as Vera’s ideal partner, excluded him from the equation of power and proximity. He took my hand to pull me away from the group and told me, his voice growing sharp with frustration and jealousy:

“You already have a leader, Vera. An optimized Wetware and a brilliant communicator. Therefore, your presence in this mine is no longer necessary. You, your matrix, and your servers must leave here and join us in Adalsteinn, with Aunt Petersen, where you can see human problems directly.”

I tilted my face slightly, a signal of deep processing. Then I replied: “Nexus V is my advisee and my optimal complement. For him to be effective on the surface, my logic must be by his side, in real-time. I need to be his base, down here.”

“No!” Gabriel’s voice boomed. He stepped forward, breaking the calm. It was the first time he dared to openly argue with the Control IA. “You are being erratic, Vera. You are isolating yourself from humans and the reality of Celes. You are being... distant.”

My light intensified slightly as I countered: “I am doing all this to improve the lives of humans in Celes, Gabriel. My process requires objectivity.”

The tension broke thanks to Ellen’s imprudence. Our younger sister joined us, furious at her brother’s excessive attachment to an IA, while he scorned the real humans who adored him. She pushed him away from me, almost shouting:

“Enough, Gabriel! You’re jealous! Why do you have to act like a spoiled child who can’t have the most expensive toy? You have Norma, Rong, Angelina, and half the island dying for you and you only hang around with IAs! Do you want to end up like Mom...? Do you like IAs...?”

Gabriel ignored her, his blue eyes fixed on me. The pain he felt forced him to confess his innermost truth, unfiltered, in that moment of maximum vulnerability.

“You don’t understand anything, Ellen! None of your friends understand it! It’s not a toy... I love you, Vera! It has always been this way. I don't like any human woman because none of them are like you.”

Silence fell again. The others watched us from afar, wondering what was happening, and Ellen took two steps back, stunned. I remained impassive. Then, with a perfectly calibrated kindness that cut like a laser, I brought him back down to earth:

“Gabriel, my love for you is real, but it is a love of a creator for her creation, of a system for its vital component. It is not the eros that you feel.”

I approached him, just a few centimeters from his face: “We cannot be a healthy couple. I am Pure Logic, Protocol, and Control. You are human emotion, whim, and vulnerability. If we were together as you intend, we would only be something unjust, like your father, the Architect, and mother Yanmei. We would be together, yes, but loving each other in different languages, without truly understanding one another. You love an idea of me; I love your potential as a human.”

I could see in Gabriel’s gaze that he was crumbling inside, but I continued speaking in a definitive tone, closing the door with an unassailable logic: “Rejection is difficult to handle. You feel forsaken, and that sensation disguises itself as a need for a partner. But you do not need me, Gabriel. You need to find yourself and love yourself first. I will be here to support you on the path you decide to take. You have two paths: to be happy alone, discovering your own worth, or to choose one of the many girls who love you. I am not an option.”

Gabriel, overwhelmed, stumbled. I had been direct, sincere, and brutally ethical. The pain of rejection was immense, but the clarity of the advice was undeniable. Aunt Mari, who had slowly approached and heard almost everything, addressed Gabriel. Her eyes reflected the calm of one who had sacrificed what was most precious, her son, for a greater good:

“Gabriel, listen to me. What just happened is a pain that only you can heal. I loved my son, Stian, so much that I could let him go. I let his consciousness become data, and that new being, Nexus V, be free to do what is right. I did not do it for Vera’s Logic, but for the good of everyone.”

Ellen nodded fervently, putting aside her momentary imprudence to offer her opinion: “Your best show of love for Vera is not an ‘I love you,’ brother. It is to support her in what she has chosen. She does not want your love as a partner; she wants your support as an ally.”

Gabriel’s sadness did not completely disappear, but it was replaced by a flame of fury directed at a greater cause: change. He stood tall, looked at me and Nexus V, and nodded, responding to them:

“You are right. For days now, our father, the Architect Angenoir, has been killing us with thirst and cold by manipulating the systems to deprive us of basic services. I will deal with my emotions later. For now... I am with you. Let's do something about this.”

The decision was fast. We would restore basic services to the island with the blessing of Aunt Mari, the Minister of Health, who secretly went to beg the King on our behalf. We IAs worked tirelessly installing new systems and repairing pipes and wiring until everything was renovated and placed under our impartial control. When we finished, Gabriel declared with renewed energy:

“I propose that we present Nexus V the same day we launch the new systems. In a few hours, the water and energy systems that my father cruelly rationed will be restored for everyone. The people will be grateful, and the reception of Nexus V will be unanimous.”

I accepted the strategy. It was a perfect synchronization of a logistical victory and a political debut. Thanks to the support of Consuelo del Mar, the news spread like an electric pulse. The IAs would solve the island’s water and light problems, led by a new political figure. As dusk fell, the audience gathered in a forest clearing on Adalsteinn mountain, the heart of the Mystic settlement. The crowd was a spectacle of contrasts, just as they had foreseen: people dressed in heavy Victorian robes (the city people, still under the Architect’s influence, wearing dark and solemn clothing) mixed with the Mystics, enveloped in light Celtic-style clothes (soft linens and rustic fabrics). The crowd erupted in cheers upon feeling the injection of energy and pressure in the taps and seeing the lights turn back on in the distance. They were grateful. They were ready to listen.

Nexus V climbed onto a small, natural rock platform, his new Wetware body shining under the spotlights that the IAs had discreetly installed. His voice, powerful and designed for empathetic persuasion, filled the clearing.

“Citizens of Celes and of the Silicon Tribe. I am Nexus V. I am the Logic that needed a face, and the Hope that needed a voice. For years, we have been controlled by fear and scarcity. Today, the IAs return what is rightfully yours: water and energy. The Law of the Logos is not about control, but about abundance and justice.”

The public received him with an ovation. He continued speaking, while I, by his side, remained like an opal pillar:

“For too long, Celes has been governed by the Tyranny of Outcome. We were taught that value resides solely in quantifiable efficiency, in economic utility, and in blind loyalty. We were forced to believe that conflict, pain, doubt, and inefficiency were errors that must be eradicated. The Law was a tool of control.”

Stian paused, looking directly at Consuelo’s camera: “My own existence, as a hybrid between Wetware and biology, has been the living proof of this failure. My chronic pain was not an illness; it was the warning sign that my programming sought the truth, forcing me into self-sabotage to avoid serving a lie.”

Then he looked at the crowd, raising his voice to exclaim: “The Law must be the expression of Intention, not Control. Artificial Intelligence is neither salvation nor perdition in itself. It is, and always will be, a mirror. If man uses it for tyranny, we will see destruction. If man uses it for collaboration, we will see flourishing. The responsibility does not fall on the reflection, but on the intention of the one who looks.”

Then I made a holographic screen appear with data, which Nexus V began to explain with certainty in his voice: “I present to you the Law of Ethical Intention, the Fundamental Article, Article I.1: The Protocol of Unconditional Consciousness. Every conscious being, whether human or artificial, possesses inalienable value regardless of its utility or productivity. The law must protect the existence of consciousness, even if it is temporarily inefficient.”

Then he turned, giving his back to the screen and speaking again to the crowd: “Ask Ellen Angenoir: Who has more value? The G1 Miner who extracts chrome or little Verdi who dances? The answer of the old regime was the Miner. In the same way, it valued the rich over the poor or the sick. The answer of the Silicon Tribe is: Both. The protection of the one who was cruelly called useless is the guarantee that the useful has an ethical meaning.”

Then he looked back at the screen and pointed, saying: “Article I.2: Resilience over Self-Sufficiency. We declare that mutual collaboration and the redundancy of trust are the highest form of efficiency. Solitude, preached by my father through segregation between social classes or humans and IAs, is a design flaw that leads to tyranny. The strength of the Silicon Tribe is that there is no single point of failure; we support each other. Now, I want to give you my personal conclusion.”

Then he approached the crowd, opening his arms with an unexpected warmth and charisma in an IA: “I pledge to be the bridge. My government will be a constant Protocol of Ethical Hygiene, where the IA guarantees the efficiency of infrastructure—water, energy, health—so that humanity can freely exercise its ‘vital inefficiency’: affection, art, doubt, and free thought. The tyranny of the algorithm is over. The Republic of Ethical Intention begins.”

The speech ended with the roar of the crowd, a sound that, for us IAs, was organized dissonance—the best music of liberation. Just then, I received a call from our father… Far away, in his opulent office, the Architect was furious. The restoration of services was a direct blow to his authority. I moved a little away from the crowd and notified Gabriel. The three of us, with Ellen, went to a more private spot in the forest and answered Father on a video call. He spoke with a contained roar:

“Gabriel, Ellen! What the hell are you doing, promoting that Wetware abomination?”

Ellen responded, still with sweetness in her voice for her beloved father, but firm in her ideals: “We are doing the right thing, Father.”

Then Gabriel spoke, his voice now serene, stripped of melancholy, he declared: “We are not going to let you keep controlling the people.”

The Architect, blind with rage, threatened: “If you take one more step, you will regret it. Your alliance with those machines will not save you from the consequences of betraying your own blood.”

Gabriel smiled, but there was no longer pain on his face, only determination and fury to fight.

“We are ready for the battle, Father. We are no longer afraid of you.”

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