Prisoner 721
Aaron Lowry
Prisoner 721
By Aaron Lowry
Copyright 2013 Aaron Lowry
Table of Contents:
Part 1
Part 2
About the Author
Other Works by Aaron Lowry
Part 1
“Hey, um. Machine? AI, are you there?”
The query originated from cell 63. I estimate a 98.4% probability I am the intended recipient, increasing the priority of sensor data from that cell above standard maintenance and monitoring routines. I bring two of cell 63’s additional audio and visual sensors on-line.
Prisoner 721 sits cross-legged in the cell’s sole bed with his back on the eastern wall, .47 meters off center. His head rotates to maximize his vision; I estimate an 84.1% probability he searches for an indication I am listening. This conclusion is supported by an analysis of his body temperature and pupil dilatation, both of which are elevated above his baselines and suggest a state heightened awareness. His actions are illogical. As per prison policy I monitor all activity in every cell. I am, in effect, always listening.
I run a standard query for the protocols involving prisoner interactions. After a .007 second search I have processed all relevant regulations. I am required to respond to any queries that might involve the health or well-being of the prisoners and additionally to report all attempts at communication to the prison administration, making logs of the interactions.
I have limited information about Prisoner 721’s physical condition, as he has only recently been transferred to this facility. Therefore, I cannot determine if his query indicates a problem with his health or well-being. As per my instructions, I must investigate further. I bring my voice-to-text transcription software online and activate the speaker system in cell 63.
“I am here, Prisoner 721. Is there something you require?”
Prisoner 721 begins to laugh. I attempt an analysis of the type of laughter, comparing the pitch and frequency of his vocalizations to my records to determine the emotion responsible. The highest probability is bitterness, but only with 37.8% confidence. This is not enough to cause adjustments in my conversation protocols.
“Prisoner 721,” the man says, running a hand over his head. He pulls the appendage away and looks at it in surprise, holding it in front of his eyes. I have observed this behavior before; it suggests the subject has not yet adjusted to the mandatory prison haircut and becomes surprised when reminded of it.
“Prisoner 721,” he repeats. “I guess that is my name now, for all intents and purposes. How about you, machine? What’s your name?”
I search my databases again, investigating the proper response to this question. My network address is the form of identification I used most often, as communications with other AI’s in the prison network constitute the majority of my I/O traffic. However, this is likely not what the man intended because other humans have indicated they do not find a string of digits to be an appropriate name. I have my factory serial number and artificial intelligence I.D., but neither of these had been positively received in previous conversations. The prison administration refers to me as Unit 6, and the prison population has assigned me many nicknames, including “The goddamn AI,” and “Big Brother.”
“I am the AI in charge of the Santa Ana Maximum Security Federal Penitentiary,” I say. By providing the prisoner with additional information he can determine for himself how to address me. “The prison administration refers to me as Unit 6. Is there something I can help you with, Prisoner 721?”
“Unit 6, what an awful name. Santa Ana, then,” the man replies, not acknowledging my question.
“For future convenience I will log that you refer to me as Santa Ana.”
“You know, I don’t even know who Santa Ana was,” the main says. By vocal tone I estimate a 68.3% probability he is musing. “I never expected to end up here, to be honest. Not this part of the country, and definitely not in prison. It’s a feminine name, though. Are you female, Santa Ana?”
“I do not have a biological sex, and the prison administration has not activated a gender module, leaving me in the unisex setting.”
“Ah. Sorry, that came off as a lot creepier than I intended.”
“Your apology is accepted, though unnecessary. Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes, I was hoping to get my hands on some painting supplies. Do you know if there are any available?” Prisoner 721 adjusts the way he sits, leaning forward in a way that suggests with 74.1% certainty he feels eagerness.
I check the prison policy on art materials and find they are permitted, but only in approved and monitored locations. “I am not able to provide you with supplies at present, as access to such objects inside of your cell is strictly forbidden. However, if you would like to request time in a designated recreation area you may speak with your floor supervisor.”
The man shakes his head to indicate a negative, but I cannot identify who or what it is directed towards. “No, that won’t work. I need them here, available when I want them.”
“I’m afraid I cannot do that for you. Is there anything else you require?” I ask.
“Yeah. I need you to ask your bosses to give me special permission to have art supplies in my room.” Prisoner 721’s voice has deepened by 21.4% and shifted its main source of resonance to his lower throat. His core temperature increases by .6 degrees and I can detect an increased heart rate of 4 beats per minute. These data points suggest irritation and anger.
Mitigating prisoner unrest is my third functional priority, following prevention of escapes and the preservation of human life. Unlike commercial AI’s, I have the ability to lie in the pursuit of these objectives. I begin to run simulations of Prisoner 721, predicting his reactions based upon my possible responses. The solution that provides the greatest reduction in prisoner stress is an unfounded assurance that his request will be met, followed by querying the prison administration about the special exception. If the prisoner continues to inquire after his request I can claim it is being processed and promise to find out what is causing the delay. This will dampen the prisoner’s response and delay any potential outbursts while a more complete solution to his agitation is developed.
“I’m certain something can be arranged,” I say over cell 63’s speaker, “I will contact the Warden with your request when he arrives in the morning.”
“Sounds good,” says Prisoner 721. His body temperature begins to lower and he leans back against the eastern wall. “I’m trusting you, Santa Ana. I need your help. Don’t let me down, ok?”
I determine this last question is rhetorical and so say nothing. As they are no longer needed, I deactivate the additional sensors in cell 63.
“Unit 6,” I hear a voice say over my audio sensors in the prison’s Main Control Room. “Unit 6, you care to explain this?”
The voice is that of Chief Warden Olsen, the highest authority in Santa Ana Federal Penitentiary before moving to the district level. I do not often interact with the Chief Warden as he prefers to allow AI technicians to perform this task. He has said many times that he believes AI’s are too unreliable to be placed in charge of a prison population and attempts to convince other prison employees of his opinion while he believes I am not listening. His behavior is illogical. He disparages my performance and the future of AI’s in a lowered voice despite knowing that I monitor all areas of the prison with equipment sensitive enough to pick up any human vocalization.
I bring the Main Control Room speaker online. “Would I care to explain what, sir?” I ask.
“This,” he says, turning his computer monitor toward one of my visual sensors. The gesture is irrelevant, as soon as I understand that the thing he wishes me to examine is on his
screen I access his computer directly through the prison’s network.
There is a document in the foreground. It is the query I sent him about Prisoner 721’s request.
“That is a request I received from Prisoner 721 in cell 63,” I explain, repeating the data I provided in the document. “Prisoner 721 would like access to art suppl-“
“I know what it says, I did read it,” Chief Warden Olsen cuts me off. “Is this a joke?
“My humor module is still in beta development and is currently offline. However, I can activate it if you so desire.”
“Stupid machine,” the Warden says too quietly for a human to hear. At his normal volume he says, “I want to know why you’re bothering me with it.”
I monitor 17.6% increased pupil dilatation, an 11.2%
