No AI in the AI

A quicky. Just a an idea that occurred to me and a quick story I put together in a hurry. Ok. I edited it myself. I did run it through grammarlily and a couple of other online grammar and structure checkers. Don't be too nitpicky.

Sorry there is no BTB or RAAC. Just two people, in love who do what most of us do. Make mistakes. Read it for what it is, a bit of fluff and an intriguing idea.

ErosSir

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Ok. I admit it. When it comes to geeks, I am head and shoulders above the rest. I have been all my life. While most of my peers in high school were more interested in getting laid, I was interested in electronics and computers. In college, I had no use for the frat crowd. I spent my time in the electrical engineering labs learning more about how things small and intricate work. My focus paid off. Starting in high school, I was building all sorts of electronic gadgets. It was lucrative when I started building home automation systems and home theater systems. The parts were all out there, but having the knowledge to put them together so that they worked properly was my forte.

By the time I graduated from university with a degree in electrical engineering and a minor in computer science, my little part-time hobby job from high school had 9 locations in three cities. I graduated with no student debt and a sizeable next egg. By the time I was 28, the nest egg had blossomed into a multi-million dollar investment account and the business was now international. I had locations in Canada, Mexico, and the US Virgin Islands.

A visit to my location in the Virgin Islands was my usual twice annual excursion. I took half a day to visit with my onsite manager and staff, toured the store and offices, and pronounced everything to my liking. That made everyone happy. The rest of the week I spent scouting for new locations and doing research on markets and real estate investments. That most of the locations and markets I researched were local beaches and entertainment venues was coincidental.

One of my investment interests focused on a beachside restaurant and bar that catered to American tourists. It's astonishing how people react to you when they realize you are carrying a tab on a black AMEX card. Word spreads fast through an establishment when you drop that little black card on the bar. It was in this bar on that trip that I met Carly. I had no illusions. I knew exactly what attracted her to me. It wasn't my astonishing 5' 7" height or my less than Adonis like physical appearance. I am certain that she had gotten word that I was a whale and on the beach to be picked clean.

Accompanying her back to the table where she and her 3 other friends were sitting didn't take too long. Carly introduced me to Pamela, a wickedly sexy tall brunette, Joyce, a stunning redhead with the greenest eyes I had ever seen, and Vicky, Vicky, unlike the other three, appeared demure and almost shy. Instead of over the top club wear, her outfit more like a Sunday school teacher in a knee-length plain blue skirt and a light blue button down blouse. Her makeup was just enough to soften her sharp high cheekbones, and she was wearing glasses.

Sitting down at the table, I ordered another round of drinks for everyone. The Carly, Pamela, and Joyce all ordered one of the house specialty drinks, which I knew to be heavy on the alcohol side. Vicky smiled as I asked her, and she requested a white wine. I ordered my usual domestic beer. Over the course of the next two hours, I danced continually, rotating between the three women. Vicky seemed content to sit and watch, nursing her white wine. It seemed as if we were monopolizing one waitresses time keeping drinks on our table. Of course, they were all going on my tab.

When closing time rolled around, I have to admit that I was more than a little inebriated. The three women with whom I had been dancing were still laughing and giggling as we excited the bar. There were no illusions in my mind. I knew, from long experience, that the next stage of this evening was to dump me and go their merry way. The treatment was what I expected. Before I could say anything, a cab was waiting, and I was standing, holding the door as they climbed into the cab. Suddenly, the evening took a surprising turn.

Vicky put one foot into the cab and then stopped. She looked at me and cocked her head to one side.

"Aren't you upset that we have been drinking on your tab all evening, and you aren't even getting an invitation to go with us?"

Shrugging, I grinned.

"I'm a geek. This is no strange event to me. You better go. I think your friends are getting a little antsy."

Suddenly, Vicky pulled the door to the cab out of my hand and slammed it shut. Through the open window, I heard her tell the cabby to take the three women back to the resort. Looking at me, she smiled.

"Why don't we find some place to get something to eat? There has to be some place around here."

Her hand slid into mine, and we started walking back down the road to the resort. Eventually, we found a small café that was open all night and slipped into a booth. I was still speechless. As I remember, she giggled a little, looking at my expression.

"You don't get approached by women very often, do you?"

"I get approached all the time. But none of them have ever asked me to breakfast."

The waitress brought us coffee and menus. That provided me a chance to gather myself a little. After we had ordered two omelettes, I looked back at Vicky.

"So why you and why tonight?"

She shrugged.

"You seem to be a really nice guy. I had a lot of fun watching you with the others."

I nodded.

"You don't seem to fit in very well with the other three."

"We work together back in the states. All of us are registered nurses. I guess I am a little more laid back than those three. They are the epitome of what most people think about single nurses, footloose, fancy-free, and on the prowl. I have never been like that."

The conversation continued as we asked each other more about our personal lives, likes, dislikes, and plans. She seemed fascinated that I had started my little empire before I graduated from high school. Her interest didn't do my ego any harm.

To shorten this part of the story, let me give you the highlights. We saw each other every night until they left to go home. I stayed another few days before I left. I had Vicky's contact information, and I didn't waste time. My home base is in Orlando, Fl. She lived and worked in Philadelphia. Thinking back, I should have invested in a private airplane and flying lessons. I spent enough on tickets to pay for one.

Eighteen months later, Vicky said Yes, and we had a small private ceremony. Pamela, Joyce and Carly were there. Since I now had a location in Philly, several of me employees came. Joyce packed up and came to Orlando. That was the start of five and half happy years. Which brings me to the present.

As I said, I am a geek. I love all things electronic and computers. I am no programmer, but I know the hardware inside and out. However, I try to stay abreast of the latest developments in software and operating system engineering. I like to be on the cutting edge of technology, which led to my early interest in AI technology.

Now, there is AI, the mainstream stuff you find on the internet. Then there is the dark side of AI. If you aren't aware of the dark web, you only know about forty percent of the internet. What goes on behind what you see through Google, Yahoo, Amazon, and Microsoft is where the real world and the internet truly exist. If it is to be bought, had, or bartered for, you can find it on the dark web. I liken it to the wild west just after the Civil War. It's not for the faint of heart.

The AI systems available to most people are benign and boring. They can do many things. Some of them they do very well. Some not so good. The designers of the public AI systems build a host of protections for themselves and the public to limit legal liability. Go to one of the online AI servers and ask about where to get ecstasy or how to arrange a murder, and you will have red flags going up all over the place. Not so on the dark web.

There was no malice or evil intent when I stated playing with the AI programs on the dark web. I was just curious about how the systems would work when all the protections and firewall removed. I had found some fascinating idiosyncrasies, but nothing that stood out to me.

In my study, I was on the AI server that was my current interest. It was a cutting edge, open-source project by some programmers in some Pacific Rim country, of which I had never heard. That night, I was bored. Vicky was working the graveyard shift at the hospital in the emergency room. I had the house to myself and I intended to surf up some porn. Instead, I found myself at the AI interface. On a lark, I typed in my query and command.

Tell me everything you know about William Alfred Stockman?

Instead of the usual quick response and a display of at least several pages of bland but syntactically correct text, I got a circling series of dots and a message to please wait. The wait continued for almost 3 minutes before the screen cleared, and I saw the results of my query. Flabbergasted barely described my reaction. Reading, I discovered I had before me a detailed biography starting in first grade. The amount of detail was staggering. The more I read, I wondered how the AI gathered the information and where it came from. I kept reading, page after page. The story of my high school years included my entrepreneurial adventures. It didn't stop. When I got to the part about that visit to the Virgin Islands, I never realized that much personal information was available on the net. I think the total of the bar bill from that night was in the footnotes.

I continued reading to the end, which was almost nightmarish. The last line of the AI produced document read, 'William is now querying this AI about his life.'

"Shit!"

My one word exclamation. Shocked, I leaned back in the chair at my desk. How the hell did this AI system find that much detail about my life. The last 20 pages were references and links to the sources of most of the information. I didn't take time to work through them. I hit the print button and the high-speed laser printer in my office started spitting out pages of text, front and back.

The printer was the only sound in the house. Wondering how this AI system would report on a different person, I made the same query.

Tell me everything you know about Vicky Allison Franklin Stockman.

Again, the whirling dots and the enigmatic message to wait. I was impatient, but the reply came quickly. I glanced at the first few paragraphs as much detail as the one I had gotten abut myself. Soon, I was in reading about Vicky's early life, her school years, and her college career. I glossed through the years between her graduation and when we met. Again, there was an eerily detailed description of our meeting in the Virgin Islands. I read through the description of our subsequent courtship, the wedding, and our years of marriage until that time. There was more, however, and what I read in the dark office that night was like an upheaval in my life. The last few paragraphs were a nightmare.

Vicky, while married, has become emotionally and sexually involved with a doctor at the hospital where she works. This relationship started over three years ago and continued to this date. The doctor, James Fillman, is a thoracic surgeon. Vicky and her paramour usually meet twice a week in the hospital, using one of the physician sleep rooms offered by the hospital.

I quickly hit the print button. The laser printer continued to churn and spit out the vile information. Emotionally, I was in chaos. Trying to sort through my feelings, I recognized anger, denial, fear, and dread. Through the tumult of my emotions, a thought came into my head. I pulled back to the keyboard and typed in one more query.

Tell me all you know about James Fillman, MD.

Just like before, the dots circled, and I waited. I got the same sort of response. Not bothering to read it on the screen, I sent it to the printer. With the laptop closed, it was dark in my office. I leaned back in the leather chair and closed my eyes. There was intent to go to sleep, but it happened anyway. It was light when I woke up, hearing the door from the garage open and my wife's cheery voice.

"Morning sunshine! Miss me?"

She came around the corner and pulled up short when she saw me.

"Bill! Are you OK? You look like hell. Did you sleep all night in here? Why? What's going on?"

I swiveled the chair around to face her. The urge to shout out what I had found nearly overwhelmed me. I curbed my anger and spoke to her flatly.

"I guess I feel asleep working on a project. If you make coffee, I will take a shower and change clothes."

That's all I said as I brushed past her, headed toward the shower in our master bathroom. Hot water pelted me in the shower and emotion overtook me. Tears mixed with the water from the shower as I stood sobbing. Almost 30 minutes later, I toweled off. Facing the bed Vicky and I shared, I nearly broke down again. This was not where I needed to be right now. I hurried dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed my wallet and keys before heading downstairs.

Vicky had a cup of coffee filled for me as I entered the kitchen. She started toward me with a smile and then saw my face. I dropped my eyes as I reached for the door into the garage.

"I have some errands to run. I'll be back later."

Without waiting for her to respond, I pulled the door shut sharply, got into my Range Rover, and raised the garage door. I saw the door to the house open. As I pulled out of the garage, I glanced back and saw Vicky standing in the doorway, holding the cup of coffee with a look of confusion.

As I put the car into drive, I realized I did not know where I was going. I sped up down the block and took the first right turn. That was the main drag in our neighborhood. Two hours later I realized I was somewhere west of Orlando in horse country. I really did not know where I was.

I saw a bar up the road and pulled in. Inside, out of habit, I dropped my black AMEX card on the bar. Just like it was a script, not 20 minutes later, a blonde sat down next to me.

"You look like you could use a friend."

I glanced sideways at her.

"I thought I had one once. Now I'm not too sure."

The furrows in her brow told me she didn't quite understand what I was saying. I took a deep breath as the bartender sat the rum and coke in front of me.

"It appears that my loving wife is having an affair."

Her mouth formed into an O, and she nodded, knowingly.

"Happened to me about 2 years ago. The sorry asshole was banging his secretary, and I caught them doing on his desk at lunch. Now I own a home, a paid for car, and half an insurance agency. The asshole lives in a one-bedroom apartment, pays for the house and gives me money to keep the kids. His secretary is long gone."

Listening to her was like seeing my future.

"Lucky you."

"Want to buy me a drink and get it off your chest."

Looking at her was like someone lifted a veil from my eyes. Her blonde hair was all out of a bottle. In fact, it looked fried. There were lines in her face beyond what she should have had, and her expression was hard, not soft as I would expect someone who was expressing an interest in my grief. I shook off my dark feelings.

"I don't think so. I am still married, and that means something to me. It might not to her, but I won't try to make a right out of two wrongs. I appreciate the offer, but when I finish this rum and coke, I am headed home to resolve this, one way or the other."

There was no malice in her face as she stood.

"You are one of the good ones. I hope it all works out. If it doesn't, swing back by here later and maybe... "

Her voice trailed off. I downed the rest of the rum and coke and signed my tab. Climbing back into my Range Rover, I was determined to meet this head on. I plugged in my home address in the GPS since I had absolutely no idea where I was.

The garage door was still up and, as I pulled in, the back door to the kitchen opened. Vicky stood in the door. The coffee cup wasn't present, but she was holding a sheaf of papers in her hand. There was no doubt what she was holding as her eyes were red and tears streaks covered her face. Stepping down out of the Range Rover and stopped and looked at her.

"We need to talk."

Nodding. She stepped back into the house. As I entered, she sat down at the kitchen table, laying the papers down and folding her hands over them. My destination was the chair opposite her. As I sat, she spoke first.

"Where did you get all this?"

"Off the internet. I did an AI search on you and that turned up."

A flicker of anger crossed her face.

"And you took it to heart."

"Well, you obviously have read it. The facts are there. Why shouldn't I believe it?"

"Because it's not true. I have never cheated on you at any time or with anyone."

"That's not what that report says. Want to tell me about Dr. Fillman?"

This time the anger flared openly.

"God damn it. There is nothing to explain. He is a surgeon at the hospital and has a clinic across town. I have never spoken a word to him. He sees patients up on the cardiac floor. He is never in the emergency room."

"Someone has a different idea."

The growl that came from Vicky was atypical. It startled me.

"Somebody is setting me up. I don't know how they did it or why, but this is all garbage."

I took a deep breath. I had always trusted Vicky implicitly. Now I was confused. She had never so much as told me a little white lie.

"So how did this all get in this report?"

"I do not know."

She shoved the papers across to me. I found the page with the information about her affair. It was spotted and stained with what, I assumed, were tears. I noticed that there were several superscripts in those paragraphs. I turned to the references page and found the number. I read through the references which were long and difficult to read URL's. It would be challenging to decipher where the information actually came from. One reference caught my eye.

"What is Literotica?"

Almost instantly, Vicky dropped her eyes.

"A website."

"What kind of website."

"People post their stories, so others can read them and comment."

"What kind of stories."

"All kinds."

In seconds, I had my smartphone running and was looking at the opening pages of the Literotica website. There was no doubt what I was seeing with the ads for erotic messaging, one-on-one chats, and pornographic films. I eventually found the link to the erotic stories.

"Would you care to explain how you know about this website?"

"Um... I started reading it a while ago. There are some fantastic writers."

As she was talking, I was browsing through the story titles. A thought struck me.

"What is your username?"

There was a long pregnant pause. When she answered, her voice was soft, her eyes were downcast, and a slight tremor in her voice gave away the emotion.

"Easypeasy"

My eyebrows shot up as I searched on that name. I got a profile, but there wasn't much there. I looked at the others that she was following. Perusing the story listing under the other members' names gave me some insight. Almost all the stories she had favorited were in the Loving Wives category.

I switched back to her profile and quickly looked through the list of stories she had posted. There were almost 30 titles. It didn't take me long to see that most of her stories were about women who had affairs. MY eyes went up to her.

"Want to tell me about this?"

I held up my phone.