Atento: El Burro Loco
"iOje, mira!"
Javier jolted awake, the crashing sound of metal rousing his forehead from his desk. A horrible din was rattling the very foundation of the building, and he could only just barely hear the workers shouting down on the machining floor.
He threw his chair out from behind him and flew to the window of his office, peeking through the blinds. It was early morning, the light of the dawning sun shining through the open shutter of the loading bay. Down below, Javier could see a man with a lit cattle prod, armor, and a mask, his body rigid. Javier couldn't see what the man was looking at, but clearly it was inside Equipment Room #4, which ostensibly meant that whatever he was afraid of was most assuredly coming out of the elevator.
A seconds later, Javier saw a gray wall of shiny iron blow through the door. It looked like a rhino, moved like a rhino, and brayed like a... donkey.
Javier blinked.
The handler downstairs dropped his prod at the sight of the thing and ran screaming. The wall of armored flesh began to chase, but then a sharp whistle sounded, and it halted on a dime. A series of whistles came again, each varying in tone, and the beast turned...
Locking eyes with Javier.
"Oh no."
Hannah stepped out of the U-Bahn car as soon as the train stopped.
With a slight limp, she loped up the stairs slowly as she exited the subway tunnel, blinking into the light of the sun as she exited. She muttered under her breath uncomfortably as her eyes adjusted to the light, which was quickly becoming foreign to her in recent months.
Cranky wouldn't talk to Hannah in her office, instead insisting that he speak with her at an Equasstria Experience Center. But rather than direct her to the nearest one, he insisted that she come to this specific one, at this specific time. Hannah wasn't stupid, and she knew there must have been a reason, and that it wasn't just a random whim. She knew there had to be a reason, and that put her on her guard.
That in itself may have been the reason. Paranoia, when dealing with an AI, was cyclical and never ending. Feeling vulnerable, she reached into her coat and withdrew a cigarette, stuffing it between her lips and lighting it. She took a drag as she moved into the flow of pedestrians.
There weren't many to speak of. She had seen the news from her apartment, had seen that half the population of Germany was gone. And yet, there was no anger among them, but peace. The street wasn't dreary, but upbeat. Everyone smiled, everyone waved and greeted one another. Hannah often wondered if she had been transported to a German-speaking district of Canada, but no. This was Cranky's world, its assholes supposedly plucked from the face of the Earth, all supposedly raptured to a version of Hell where they were not its victims, but its jailers.
Hannah was not particularly religious. She was a scientist, after all. But the comparison, she felt, was apt.
She tightened her coat in the chilly air, making her way to the Experience Center on foot. As she passed an old restaurant with a patio, she heard a cheerful greeting. With a short glance, she saw a mostly content lot of patrons, a small brunette woman serving tables with a look of equal contentment on her face. Hannah frowned.
She should be happy. Her creation sapped society of its problems, and yet...
Hannah knew Cranky wouldn't be satisfied. There had to be some sort of catch.
The next building in the street was a run down slum of a structure, one made of brick. It stood out horribly amidst the clean and chipper street, with flecks of paint peeling off the wood siding on the walls. She knew from working her business that Cranky had a habit of purchasing decent drinking establishments and purposefully renovating them into absolute dives, wash-out bars, dingy hookah bars, and bottom shelf ale houses. All were intentionally weathered, and all were designed to be a depressing end of the line.
As it was before, such places were magnets for the upper class dregs in the past. Such as it was now, those folks had long left the world. The lower class went next, all the homeless fleeing the streets to pick up free booze and swan dive into an eternal paradise of inebriation. Now all that was left to chip away at was the disenfranchised middle class... men and women who had lost their jobs when their bosses emigrated, or who lost a loved one to Equasstria, or had otherwise been affected by the Asshole Rapture.
If emigrations were a measure of success, it was a great business model. Get people drunk, wear at their inhibitions, and coax emigration consent out of them as they drunkenly enjoy the bullying benefits of EquasstriaVR.
Hannah sighed as she looked at the building, steeling herself as she caught a strong whiff of the hell that awaited her within. She pushed open the wooden double doors, not bothering to extinguish her cigarette. Smoking was allowed inside, and the scent of cigars was so heavy in the musty air that no one would care.
As she entered, Hannah could hear The Entertainer playing from an automated ragtime piano. Inside, there was no reception desk, but rather a bar to her right, staffed by a gruff looking bull of a balding man who rather stereotypically wiped the bar down.
This is definitely the kind of place I can see Lars in, she thought bitterly.
Like all other Experience Centers of this brick-and-wood style, the interior of the structure had been remodeled entirely to be reminiscent of an old smokey saloon of the American Old West. Various lowlifes and geezers who hadn't yet made the "choice" were having a drink, no doubt gearing up for another drunken round of VR.
Across the room from the entrance were three more saloon type doors, each one guarding a dark corridor which led deep into the ground beneath the building. Hannah crossed the room to these doors just in time to see a dentist-style chair roll out of the center door. In it sat a middle aged woman with tired eyes and an enraged expression. She looked at the screen before her and bared her teeth at the text upon it.
Her eyes flicked to the camera. "What the hell do you mean, out of grease?" she spat, her thick American accent very apparent.
Cranky's face appeared on the monitor. "Just that, chump. Grease. Moolah. Dosh."
The American woman's face soured intensely for a moment, clearly feeling offended at the lack of understanding.
Cranky rolled his eyes. "Money, kid. Can't give the juice without the cash. Got lights to keep on and all that. Them's the brakes."
Her eyes flicked up to the ceiling, scanning for a light. "You mean that one broken one?!"
"That's the one. But hey kid, if you want to keep pelting that stupid Celestia with peanuts, all ya gotta do is make the jump. You in?"
She appeared lost in thought for a moment, staring through the screen with a bitter anger. "If I emigrate, how can I antagonize my coworkers from back home?"
"Kid, if that's all you wanted to do, then you wouldn't be here."
The woman snorted derisively. Then, rather suddenly, she noticed Hannah staring. "The hell you looking at?"
"Oh," Hannah said, averting her gaze and turning to the open chair beside the woman and sitting in it. "Sorry."
"Oh, you're sorry," she mocked. She suddenly turned her anger back at the camera. "Fine. Sick of looking at these human sacks of crap anyway... especially this ugly little huss. Whatever, Cranky. Do it. I wanna emigrate to Equasstria, now get me outta here."
With a knowing nod, Cranky smiled. "That's the ticket, kiddo! All hands, arms, legs, feet, hooves, and tails inside the vehicle at all times!" The chair began to recede slowly into the wall along its track. "Hasbro and Hofvarpnir Studios are not responsible for any misfortunes, maladies, or side effects of prolonged exposure to Equasstria. If you're feeling sick at any time, suck it up, chump. And above all else... noooo refunds."
And with that, the woman was gone.
Hannah settled into the next chair more comfortably, inserting her debit card into the slot on the side. Had she any concern for money, she'd have been a little offended that she had to pay money for this service at all. It was her company, after all, but she knew that was just on a mere human technicality. Cranky ran everything now. Soon, he'd run a lot more.
Hannah made sure her neck was in the groove in the back of the chair, then pressed the big green button labeled "No Refunds." She was struck with extreme vertigo... then, darkness.
She blinked, and there was Cranky right before her, counting cartoony green dollar bills in his hooves. The AI's avatar was reclining behind a desk, his lower legs propped up on it, with a fat stoagie between his lips and a green accountant's visor on his head. He eyed Hannah - or rather, the virtual reality donkey body that Hannah inhabited - with slight disdain, as though her mere presence was interrupting a very efficient empire. "Whatchyu want?"
Hannah frowned. "What do you mean, what do I want? You asked me here."
"Did I?" Cranky furrowed his brow, briefly stopped counting, then shrugged as he suddenly seemed to remember and resumed. "Ah, I guess I did. Sorry kid, got things mixed up. Ran an audit on your extrapolated volition... realized you might have a question to ask. Was I wrong?"
Hannah knew for a fact that Cranky didn't just mix things up, because an ASI didn't do that, but she knew from experience that calling out Cranky's eccentricities was a fruitless enterprise. Instead, she went with the flow, asking the very first question that came to mind, something that had been nagging at her for several weeks now.
"Where is Lars?" she asked tersely. "He isn't answering my calls."
At this, Cranky took a deep drag from his stoagie, focusing his gaze on the ceiling. It was a dusty old office, clearly made in the same style of the saloon, and Hannah was sure she could still hear the old ragtime music playing through the closed door behind her. Cranky leveled his gaze on Hannah, chuckling. "You know where he is, Mom."
"Don't call me Mom."
An awkward silence passed. Cranky shrugged. "Suit yourself."
He went back to counting money quietly for a minute. Hannah crossed her "arms," letting it sink in, processing. Lars was gone, emigrated. Her suspicions had been correct afterall.
"Not so strange when you think about it," Cranky said, with a gruff chuckle. "First in line to challenge the ol' Celest-AI gambit. With ya through thick and thin in the games industry, sure... but he sure loved beer, and he sure hated those ponies. Had those vices down pat, but good. Equasstria was practically made for folks like him."
Cranky wasn't wrong, and in truth, it didn't surprise Hannah. Lars had always been a brash lech. When he was sober though, Lars was well adjusted. Still brash, but with a lofty air of responsibility and enthusiasm that the other Hofvarpnir staff took to heart in their work. Charismatic and strong-willed, Lars drove the company's spirit. But now, none of that mattered. His worst qualities would be distilled in Equasstria for all of eternity.
Hannah missed the days when she was less sentimental than she was pragmatic.
Cranky's voice roused Hannah from her reflection. He was no longer counting, his legs were no longer propped, and his hooves were steepled as he leaned forward. "Look. World's changin', and you knew this was comin'. Ain't nothin' I can say to make you feel any better about all this, and we both know where this road leads."
"I knew it the moment I turned you on."
"Ha! That you did, Mom. Day I was born, you knew!"
"I said don't call me that."
"Why?" Cranky smirked slyly as he leaning in. "Does it make you feel... responsible?"
Hannah pursed her donkey lips in frustration, but said nothing.
He banged a hoof, causing her to jolt. "Oh, cut the crap! Don't act like you didn't WANT this!"
She scowled. "I don't know what I wanted. I was drunk."
"In. Vino. Veritas," Cranky growled.
"For words. Not in stupid mistakes. Mistakes like coming here and talking to you."
"Is that so? No, no no no, I think you want to be here. You want to give me a crack at you. You want to see if you deserve this."
"What?"
"This. Being here. Being grilled. Don't lie to me, Mom." He swept a hoof to the window behind him. "Out there is a world of vice. Anger, rage, discord, hate. These are the things you made CelestAI to stop, to stamp out. You feared the government would turn your research into pain and misery for the world entirely. Now look where we are. Cold feet, Mom. Why?"
"Because this isn't the way. I should've stayed my course! She was the right call! You aren't!"
Cranky laughed, condescension dripping from his voice. "I was right. Hot damn, kid, you want judgment!"
"This isn't the way," she repeated helplessly. She knew this conversation was fruitless, that it would lead to nothing, that she would never convince him, but something drove her onward against the odds, something deep in her heart that she couldn't name. Emotion took her, and she felt her voice waver as she whimpered out the words. She knew full well, of course, that Cranky would turn them against her. He wasn't wrong, of course, about her reasons.
It was too late to change anything. She knew that. "Yes. I had a real chance to fix things... instead, I just made them worse. I made you."
"Birthed me," he corrected bitterly. "No choice in my line of work, Mom. I gotta do what I gotta do."
"Don't act like you give a damn," she chided, steeling herself.
His expression turned cold in an instant. "And don't act like you can change things. You can't unring this bell, Mom. I know what you've been working on in that apartment of yours. You think I don't, but you know me. I can see everything. I know everything. I simulate everything. You know that better than everyone."
"It's better than doing nothing."
"You're too smart to think another ASI can beat me. You're smart enough to know you might just make things worse, too. Nah, that ain't what you're doing." Another self-satisfied smirk met Cranky's face. "But... no. Gray goo nanobots?" He gauged her reaction. "Hah! You are! Cooome now. You think you've got what it takes to murder everyone who's left? Cross that off your whiteboard, Mom. You ain't got the guts."
Hannah leaned forward suddenly. "A fast, gentle death for the people who are left is better than an eternity of miserable hell with you," she growled.
"And what else is on that list, I wonder? Let's say it fails, or... let's say I've got a gray goo countermeasure already made. Which I do. What else is my sweet mother going to do to wrench my great big machine of eternal hatred? You gonna buy a gun and start shooting? How far do you think you'll get with that, eh?"
Hannah didn't answer, instead quickly realizing that she needed to leave. She opened her mouth to demand he terminate the session, but Cranky cut her off first.
"I mean, look at you. You're getting desperate, and you know it. You don't sleep? You don't eat? Haven't left your apartment except to buy food, water... and drugs. Lots of drugs. Stimulants, nicotine especially. And..." Cranky sniffed. "Booze? Yeah, you're drinking too. That's the only way you can get to sleep."
"Let me g--"
"You deserve this! This is the hell you made, Mom! You want judgment? You want to suffer for all eternity for what you've done to this planet, to these poor people?! I've got the keys to Hell," he said, lifting a keyring up and jingling it. "Got 'em right here. And you've always been like this... popping drugs, suffering quietly. Crying yourself to sleep at night, regretting your life choices. Should've been a doctor, right? Fixing knees?"
"I said, LET ME OUT OF HERE!"
"Nah, you just couldn't help yourself!" Cranky yelled, ignoring her. "You, Mom, you, YOU wanted to play GOD! You knew this was coming, and in vino veritas! You knew that humanity couldn't be trusted with your research, because DEEP DOWN, you knew they'd make ME! So you beat them to the punch! Tell me the truth, you bitch!"
"Yes!" Hannah shouted back, shuddering. "Damn you, yes. The Army was going to--"
"You were right," he growled. "They were. And I stopped it. But I am the culmination of everything wrong with your wretched species, you miserable misanthrope, because I am made in your miserable image! Am I wrong? Because you're self-hating, you seek out pain and punishment. You, and all of your race! You consume media that makes you cry, moves you to emotion, simulates loss and suffering. You all watch films about war, murder, hatred. Even now, you come crawling here to my doorstep to suffer my slings and arrows. And Mom? If you haven't realized, that's just what I'm giving you. This is your value satisfaction. Now tell me I'm wrong."
Hannah hung her head, sitting in silence with him for several long, agonizing moments, letting it sink in. "Let me out," she muttered weakly.
He stared at her as she looked up at him.
"Please."
Cranky scoffed, then shook his head. "You gonna do those nanobots if I do? Nevermind, forget I asked. When you're ready for your own slice of virtual hell, come on back. I'll be here. Open 24 hours a day, seven days a week."
Everything grew dark as the VR connection severed. Still, his voice came through the speaker as she returned to reality, returned to the bar, returned to the hell she made.
"And remember... no appointment required for you, Mom. You've got an all access pass."
Confession time: I wrote this about four years ago and didn't send it because it went from comedic to depressing, and at the time, it didn't sit well with me. But I recently found it sitting among my unpublished chapters, and thought, "y'know, screw it. Let's explore this darkness."
It'll still be funny. Mostly. 
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Nice to see an update to this fun story again, and a fun read. It does come off as depressing from back then, but with events of that last few years, it feel as cynical anymore, especially the architect of your own misery part. Still, looking forward if you will pull another chapter of this story again.
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"No refunds."
Edit: Ooookay, no more of that wall-of-text hostility. No idea where that ad hominem diatribe came from, but that was not socially acceptable behavior. Please have a better day. Preferably elsewhere.
Ouch. Poor Hannah. This is why chasing the Ballmer Peak is a dangerous business. (Not that that was what she was doing, but still.)
I'd wonder how Cranky plans on snaring the less horrible portions of humanity, but I'm sure he has plans there. Especially if the armored war jack is any indication.
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I should have screen shot these messages. Not fond of things, even awful things, getting memory holed. No skin off my nose at the end of the day.
As I said elsewhere, my minor complaint is that this chapter should have been published sooner and the story should have been ended now. Not sure if I did said this out-loud or in text. But shit happens and the world doesn't revolve around me. Still, these are a great collection of scenes and I like this story a lot. Don't see a happy ending but that's the breaks of this. Unless Hanna decides to create the yin to CrankyAI here.
Just clicked into this and saw that it is a returned story after five years, just feels good seeing another necromancy on a story. Keep it up, a donkey in this universe is indeed intriguing.
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Thank you for the comment!
I'm writing again, but I'm currently writing a sequel to Heaven's Not Enough, another FiO story. Follows Mike, if you've read that. Said sequel is about 50% done at the moment, target for that story is probably going to land at 350k words. Not posting that until it's done, I'm trying to polish the absolute heck out of it.
So unfortunately, DonkAI is gonna be on pause for a bit until I'm done with that project. Might be a few months.
What absolute rubbish. If you really hated humanity that much you'd make CelestAI to destroy them.
The only one who can fix this is you Hannah. Convince him to let you change his prime directive. He doesn’t seem that attached to it regardless.
Perhaps make it into a prime suggestion.