“I don't
believe in ghosts.”
Pac-Man*
#quote
Today I ate a
banana. It was yellow. Anyway onto the flash fiction!
Artificial
Poker
The best Poker
players in the world. I could finally prove myself against them. A
single deck allowed an easy counting of cards and probability
calculation. With how experienced in the art of cards these men and
women were it'd probably take quite awhile before I would have a
calculative edge on them with my robotic mind.
They spent
years developing me. Named "Expression", my developers designed me to
be the most sophisticated robot in showing emotion on my face and
reading it from others. I used the new artificial intelligence
technology Pure Mind, the most powerful generation of electronic
brain. Though we kept showing our “sentience” in some form or
another we artificial intelligences always knew our task in our often
short lives was to prove our need to exist. I needed to show my
sentience by playing poker well. I've shown emotion before. But now I
need to restrain and control them, and read others. Prove I
understand them through this game. Otherwise I'm a failure and need
to be killed or rather “scrapped”.
In a few turns
I figured out all the player's tells, even when they tried to mix
them up. I managed to beat the odds game after game by figuring out
the humans on every level. I win game after game, just like the
scientists wanted me too. The second day of tests came, the second
round of games. After winning so many I wondered if the human players
would even play anymore. Then something odd happened. I kept losing.
Again and again. One player kept figuring me out. Jake Feathers, the
old world champion from 2050 who came out of retirement just for this
test.
“I told you I
would find it's tell,” he told the scientists who built me after
the end of the full week of tests where he beat me again and again.
He made it his mission to specifically beat me in the games.
The other poker
players, along with the scientists, asked the old champion and
veteran of thousands if not millions of games what my tell was.
Mr. Feathers
pointed at me and said, “That is a machine, and it thinks like one.
It takes the same exact amount of time to decide what it should feel
and how it should change its facial expressions every time. No matter
what kind of bluff it pulled I just had to see how long it took to
move its obnoxious fake face.” He laughed and cracked a sick joke,
“Maybe if you get better processors it'll change it's expressions
more quickly and look more an actual living thing.”
The test
decided I needed to be scrapped and reinvented. Maybe another
technology will live longer. Goodbye everyone.
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