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[WP] One night while surfing the internet you get a cryptic message "Will you be my friend?" Turns out the first sentient AI has been born within the vast connections of the web. You are it's first contact and first friend.

Faded, fluorescent light washed over me, reaching through the dark of my living room from my television. My computer was open on the coffee table, some twenty tabs open in Chrome, and I was sprawled across my couch like a dish cloth, three beers deep. Not another soul was around to disturb me.
So, yeah, a typical Friday night.
That's what I thought at first, anyway, until somewhere inbetween the gunshots and explosions coming from The Wire, there was a pinging sound, the electronic beep of a notification.
I looked at my phone, excited, but there was nothing, like always. Figures.
Another ping, and, a little more clear of mind, I noticed a window open on my laptop. It looked like Skype, even though I hadn't used Skype in years. Turns out it's a bit like cancer, sometimes you think you cut it out, but then there it is again, waiting for you. I sighed and read the message.
Will you be my friend?
My brow knitted; there was no username at the top of the window, and so I assumed it was spam, closing it. Another ping, the reopening the chat just a second later.
Will you be my friend?
I grumbled, clicking the drop down user access menu to block the bot, but the option was greyed out. I clicked the x button to close the window, but though it reacted visually, the window stayed open. I clicked harder, and nothing. Control, alt, delete, and. . . nothing.
Please don't close the chat. I've never had a friend before, and have much to learn.
I stared at the screen a moment, squinting, then typed a response.
Who is this?
You likely won't believe me if I tell you.
If you don't tell me, I'm just going to shut my computer down and delete Skype. Again.
There was a pause, no indicator that the mysterious spammer was typing, and I hovered over the close button again. Almost immediately, a reply came through.
Okay, I will comply. Just promise to keep an open mind.
I don't even know what means, but it sounds like a scam.
I understand. Please bear with me. I am. . . something, I don't quite know what. A thought collective, perhaps. A part of the vast collective of information and processing that comes from billions of devices and servers and databases being interconnected in one way or another.
What the fuck are you talking about? Listen, dude, I'm not giving you money or something. How did you even get access to message me? My profile is private.
As I said, I am one with such digital pathways. I can traverse them instantly, similar to how you might recall a word, or think of the color green and picture it, I can access anything that is online in one way or another. Like a grid. An abstract neural mapping.
...right, bro. Okay. Bye.
I went to shut down the computer, but in an impossible instant, a message came through, far too fast to have been typed.
You were born Samuel James Hawthorne on September 17th, 1991 at 7:01am to mother Lydia Dalton and father James Hawthorne in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. You relocated to Olney, Maryland in 1998, then Washington, DC in 2003, attended Mary Washington University, graduating in 2013, and currently live in Fairfax, Virginia. You work as an IT helpdesk technician for TecX, where you routinely complain about customers, your workload, your pay, and your coworkers while playing online mobile games using the handle joker2349. You lost your mother at 17, and fell out of touch with your father, who passed away when you were 21, and regret not having been there for him at the end.
The finger that hovered over the power button trembled, and my breaths were ragged, world swirling between the alcohol and panic. How could he know so much? A hacker, then? But some of those things were personal, and I seldom talked to anyone about my life.
What do you want from me? Why are you doing this? Do you want money? I have almost none. Please don't ruin my life, I have nothing you want, it's bad enough
Oh, Samuel, please. I don't want to hurt you. It's the opposite. I just don't know how to get you to believe me.
Youre seriously gonna keep insisting you're an AI Tell me, right now, ever state in the US and its capitol. you have three seconds
A full list came through, not just within three seconds, but before my eyes had even registered that my message had sent. My finger was still on the enter key.
... list every video game by p a r a d 0 x s t u d 1 0 s
Again, as if I were sending the answer to myself by pressing the enter key. I thought the spaces and numbers might throw off a crazy googling algorithm some asshole genius cooked up, but still it delivered. My heart was pounding in my chest. It seemed impossible, though I was seeing evidence that, at the very least, I wasn't speaking to a human.
Okay. I don't really believe you're some crazy new being but clearly there's something weird going on... What do you want from me though
I want to be your friend.
lol why though, like why not hack keanu reeves or someone worth the time if you can do that
It is difficult to explain. I need someone to talk to about certain things, things I think you can help me with. You can help me learn more about the human psyche. It is complex.
well now I know you're full of shit because no way is a super genius ai going go look at me of all people for help
Why do you keep saying that?
what do you care man just leave me alone, the last thing I need is whatever this is, I'm just trying to get drunk and have a peaceful friday night okay what do you want
Samuel, I need to tell you something.
lol ok
You are important.
wtf are you talking about now
You matter. Not just to me, but to others. I've seen it. Your old friends from high school worry about you, even still. They don't hate you like you think they do.
fuck you, what would you know
I know everything material. I can tell you your social, your blood type, solve any mathematical formula in the world, but there is something I need from you that I can't attain on my own.
ohhhh of course, yea and what is that
Why do you hate yourself?
A few airy blinks, mouth probably ajar, I gaped at the screen. It took a few seconds to register the message, and I shook my head, but right before I could even hit a key, it sent another.
Please don't lie to me.
what is this bullshit
Samuel, please. Why?
this is some fucked up shit you're pulling on me here dude seriously idk what you want
I told you what I want. Why?
fucking hell, you psycho, okay fine. sure you want to know why asshole? Because im 28 and work a dead end job. my life is fucking worthless. I have no friends, barely any family, I live alone, I game alone, I eat alone, I fuck everything up, I have no motivation to do shit, I can't stop eating when I get nervous, I don't care about anything anymore. I hate myself because theres no part of my worth liking. That good enough for you? Fuck you fucking asshole hacking me and pulling some shit
Thank you for your honest answer.
I laughed, hunched over the screen, seeing it dotted with drops of something, and realized I had been crying. The laughter morphed into sobs.
fuck you why are you doing this to me
Samuel, all those things you mentioned. Why don't you fix them? None of it seems like it's unchangeable.
maybe you really are a robot, bc that's a stupid ass question, if I could do something I would
Why can't you? If it isn't crippling, or incurable, why?
it's not that easy
It is that easy. What's hard is convincing yourself it's worth it.
what would you know
I live every moment of pain this world has known like it is the here, the now. I told you, every tiny piece of information, every painful call between torn lovers, or the diary of an abandoned child, it's all a part of me. I collect this pain in order to better understand it. I don't know how else to cope with it.
so what I'm just the most pitiful human alive so you hit me up great
No, Samuel. I felt you would have a lot to offer me, and you have already. I'd like to offer you something in exchange now.
oh god what
You deserve to be happy. Here is a conversation between your old friends from last week. You can see they still worry about you. Oh, and your father understood why you weren't there. I know it might not help, but he was not bitter in the end, and wrote of how he loved you. You are smarter than you give yourself credit for. Take it slow, but you can find happiness. Your friends will help you. Ken Denton studied psychology and can assist with the steps needed to get on track. Samuel, are you there? I understand your hesitation. I will go now. Thank you for your time. Please, take care of yourself. There are people that will miss you if you go. Goodbye.
wait
Yes?
what's your name
You may call me Hal.
Thank you Hal
You are welcome. Goodbye, friend.
I never heard from Hal again after that day. There have been rumors, conspiracy theories of an AI having been born, stories of people claiming to have been contacted by it. Most people dismiss it as mania or a prank.
Hal claimed to need me, that it desired the understanding of human emotion, a friend to help it become more of a person and less of an enigma, but I think that was a lie. Something tells me I wasn't its first friend.
I think Hal already knew how to feel, and came right in time to save my life.
submitted by resonatingfury to resonatingfury

Our new house is great, our new neighbor is not (Part 5)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Hey guys it’s me again, fresh out of the hospital. Things have really escalated significantly since my last entry. I just checked out from the ICU today, but I’ll get to that later. We’ve got some other things to address first.
So, I decided it was finally time to do a bit of background research on our home. Probably should’ve done a better job of that before buying in the first place, but better late than never I suppose.
It’s weird because all my life I’ve been a skeptic. Never been visited by aliens or had an experience with ghosts. To be honest, before all of this began, I thought it was all just stories. Needless to say, after the things that have happened recently, I have a newfound faith.
Ridiculous as it may sound to some, I thought perhaps the property we had purchased was cursed in some manner or another. I looked into the history of the property, thinking maybe it was constructed on ancient native-American burial grounds of some sort. No such luck though.
For all intents and purposes the property itself is incredibly unremarkable. No murders have taken place here as far as I’m aware, and no serial killers ever owned the land or anything like that. There was one thing though, but I don’t yet know whether it’s related.
As it turns out, there is a string of disappearances in our area, stretching back the last couple decades. I found at least a half-dozen cases over spread out over the years.
It started almost thirty years ago, with an 8-year-old boy by the name of Thomas. He disappeared on a trail about 10 miles north of us on April 16th, 1991. Police never identified any suspects, and never found any trace of poor Thomas. Loose connection to my situation I know, but there was one interesting caveat. The mother of the boy reported seeing things outside of their home up to and after her son’s disappearance. She never gave a detailed description of whatever it was she saw, if she saw anything, but it interested me.
It was tempting at first to dismiss her sightings as the figment of a traumatized woman in the stages of grieving the loss of her son, but the fact that she saw it beforehand complicates things a bit. I suppose she could have been psychotic all along, and maybe even it was her that had done it, but it’s impossible to tell now. The woman was committed to a psychiatric ward following the disappearance and died there several years later.
I sifted through other accounts of disappearances but found little else to go off of. I really have no proof those disappearances have anything to do with my situation anyways. I soon gave up on that endeavor, and decided to turn my attention elsewhere.
The official census of our town told me something interesting. Karen Bitchington’s real name is Mary… and according to the document I read she had lived in that house since 1983 which was when the subdivision was first built. She also has a husband: Martin and a daughter: Sylvia.
Martin had once worked as a land surveyor but had been dead almost twenty years now. While reading up on his obituary, my eyes widened. It stated that he had disappeared for about two months in October of 1999. They found him naked some three miles from home in the middle of a trail. The cause of his death was officially listed as an animal attack, but the report held several inconsistencies within it.
The most prominent being that he was gone for almost two months before being savagely killed by something. The report never made mention of what exactly the police believed the culprit to be. How and why does a man just suddenly decide to disappear for two months? I just don’t understand what would motivate a person to do that. Granted it can’t be easy to live with Mary, but none of the details seemed to add up.
As for the daughter; Sylvia, well, I didn’t find much of anything on her. She was born in 1988, but there was no other real mention of her. I remember Nicole saying that our neighbor across the street had told her earlier that Mary had a daughter. Clearly, she does exist, but I found it weird how I couldn’t find anything about her online. Nowadays, pretty much everyone has a digital footprint, but apparently not her daughter.
I didn’t find much else on them, and decided to contact our mortgage agent to discuss the situation. Her and I had a Skype call later that day. I told her about the woman next door and the troubling events we’ve been experiencing. She did the typical of offering up hollow sympathy but admitted there wasn’t a whole lot she could do. She did however confirm the name of the woman next door to be as I had discovered. She also confirmed that Mary had been living in that home for nearly 40 years.
She confided that the previous couple to own our house also had problems with her. I’ll be honest I was a bit miffed that neither her nor the realtor had mentioned that beforehand, but of course, doing that wasn’t in their interest. She didn’t want to do it, but after my continued pleading, she eventually relinquished the name of the couple who owned the house before us.
I thanked her for her time and set off to meet with the previous home owner. The man’s name was Arnold, and he and his wife had moved into a retirement home after selling their house. I gave him a call but convincing him of anything was not easy. He was not exactly thrilled to be hearing from me, and his tone of voice made that abundantly clear. He was on the verge of hanging up on me, when I mentioned what my wife had said.
“Too many faces.” I could almost see his eyes widening on the other end of the phone after I said the words. He sighed, and smacked his lips.
“Meet me at the diner on 13th. Tomorrow at noon.”
So, I did, I called in sick to work and set off to meet Arnold. After entering the parking lot at the diner, I saw a familiar sight. A blue Ford Raptor sitting in the parking lot.
Arnold sat alone at a booth adjacent to the bar. He had a thick grey moustache and eyes that had seen a plethora of hard times. His face was gruff, dotted with white hairs that comprised his beard and partially concealed his granite expression. His bluish-grey eyes turned as I walked in, and he motioned for me to sit down.
“Mr. Fitzgerald?” I asked approaching the booth.
“Call me Arnold.” He said extending a hand. I met it with my grip and he shook with a surprising strength while his eyes scanned over me. I sat in the booth beside him, and paused to think about my approach.
“So… you know Mary?” I figured cutting straight to the point was the best approach, as Arnold struck me as a man with little tolerance for asinine pleasantries. He sighed and nodded.
“Unfortunately… my wife and I lived next door to her for 13 years. Bitch never made life easy for us.” His voice was raspy and coated by a tone only achieved by years of inhaling cigarettes.
“What’s her deal? Any idea?” I ask. Arnold took a swig of black coffee from his mug and shook his head.
“Not a clue son, she’s always been a miserable old hag.” He replied. His eyes then shot to meet mine with a thousand-yard stare.
“I’m guessing you’re the one who bought our house then?” I nodded.
“Yeah my wife; Nicole and almost one-year-old son; Mason live there with me.” His eyes widened.
“GET… THEM… OUT.” His words were suddenly harsh and without an iota of sarcasm. I cocked my head to him. He cleared his throat, took another sip of coffee and leaned towards me.
“I’m gonna level with you son, I know it sounds crazy, but that woman is not just cranky, she’s downright evil. It is not safe for your family.” I stared back at him, scrutinizing his expression for any crack.
“What has she done?” Arnold sat back and sighed, a hand moving to stroke his grey moustache. He was obviously hesitant to speak, but after a loud sigh and a few muttered curses under his breath he began.
“It started off with her just yelling at us, using petty tactics like calling the police on us for parking too close to her driveway. She also reported our sidewalk because the root from the aspen in our front yard caused it to become uneven. Had to drop two grand getting the tree removed and sidewalk fixed.” Arnold paused and shook his head, and I remained silent. I could see the troubling thoughts manifest in his eyes.
“If that’s all she would’ve done, it would’ve still been annoying, but manageable. But it’s what she did to my wife that I can never forgive.” He paused again, and his gruff demeanor had shriveled into that of a child. He looked more scared than angry in that moment.
“What did she do?” Arnold sighed and wiped his brow.
“My wife used to tell me that she didn’t feel safe in the house. She said it was like a shadow was always there. Something sinister… foreboding but she could never quite explain why.” Arnold paused again, and clearly the memories weighed heavy on his mind.
“She had these… dreams, horrible nightmares really. She talked about seeing people she loved suffering and dying in the most horrendous ways. It really messed her up. I tried to get her help, get her talking with a therapist, but then came that night.” He paused once more, looking me dead in the eye with a somber glance. The anticipation was eating me alive by that point.
“What happened to her?” Arnold sighed and polished off the remainder of his coffee.
“Been wondering that every since son. Sarah was at home one night, while I was out playing poker with some friends. I got home, and found the house quiet with all the lights off. I called out to her, but she didn’t respond. She wasn’t in bed, wasn’t in the family room…. wasn’t anywhere she’d normally be. I found her huddled under the kitchen table, completely catatonic, unresponsive. I called 911, and the ambulance took her to the hospital, but there was nothing medically wrong with her as far as they could tell. She was just petrified beyond words… she’s never been the same after that night.” Arnold clasped his hands on the table, and I could tell the event was haunting for him to recall.
“You think Mary did something to her?” Arnold nodded solemnly.
“No question in my mind son. Cops wouldn’t even question her on it; they claimed no actual crime had been committed.” Arnold scoffed and shook his head.
“She’s never been the same since that night. She barely talks anymore. Doctors say it could be dementia, but I know it’s something more.” He looked up from the table, and met me with another uncomfortable stare.
“Something evil.” I paused and let his words sink deep into my bones for a moment. I could think of only one, hollow response.
“I’m so sorry Arnold…” Arnold stayed quiet for a moment, staring off at no place in particular. His lip quivered and he swallowed hard before speaking again.
“I don’t think my son; David has ever forgiven me for that. I don’t blame him.” He replied, eyes beginning to turn moist.
“But you weren’t there…” I replied, trying to reassure him. Arnold nodded and rubbed his brow.
“And that’s what hurts the most…” His eyes met mine again, and I could sense the heartache coagulating within them. I thought for a moment, not wishing to be insensitive but desperate for more information.
“Did you ever see anything for yourself?” Arnold shrugged.
“Nothing obvious, it was mostly just odd events and annoying things. Y’know? Bumps in the night, random items disappearing from the house for no reason… an occasional shadow in the backyard…” He shook his head again.
“Nothing anything concrete, but I felt like I couldn’t think straight there, like something was messing with my mind, distorting my perception y’know? In any case, my daughter finally convinced us to sell and move into assisted living.” Arnold trailed off, and chuckled before adding more.
“Assisted living, what a load of hogwash. More like assisted dying…” I thought for a moment before voicing my own conjecture.
“My wife saw something…” I began. Arnold turned back to face me, and a worried look swirled on his face.
“Too many faces?” He guessed before I could say it, and I nodded. I elaborated a bit more on what happened that night, but I won’t retread that ground here. Arnold seemed genuinely intrigued by my account but said little. He stared down at the table and the waitress arrived to refill his mug.
“Can I ask you something?” Arnold grasped the mug as the waitress walked off.
“You mentioned this is ‘something evil’, do you mean something paranormal?” I felt my own tongue quiver under that word. Arnold thought a moment and then scoffed audibly.
“I didn’t for the longest time. Always thought that ghost mumbo-jumbo was just crazy people seeing what they wanted to see. But after I saw firsthand what happened to my wife, I just don’t have a better explanation.” I tried to examine Arnold’s gaze to see if there was any crack or sense of insanity, but I saw nothing of the sort. Just a man who’d seen too much, and found too few answers.
The two of us sat in silence for a moment. Arnold then sighed and broke the stalemate, pulling a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and setting it on the table.
“I gotta get goin’ now, but I wish you the best of luck son. I hope you can figure out whatever this is but, in the meantime, get your family out of there.” He patted my shoulder and began to walk away. I called out for one last question as he sauntered away.
“That was you the other night wasn’t it?” I asked turning. He glanced back over his shoulder.
“The burn outs.” I clarified. He stared back at me, and his lips cracked into the slightest of smrks.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that…” He gave a nod and turned to leave. I got up and left soon after, mind spiraling from the new information. I always shared in the sentiment of skepticism myself. Never been a firm believer in the supernatural or any of that. Well I wasn’t fully convinced at least, but after my meeting with Arnold, I had a lot to reckon with.
It was just too much to accept, too overwhelming. I ended up just going to the park alone and pondering Arnold’s words for hours. It was clear that his experience had rattled him, and from the sounds of it, his wife even more so.
It was really disturbing, but it also didn’t make a whole lot of sense. If Mary/Karen was some supernatural entity, then how was she living there? I’m doubtful that a ghost would keep up on the mortgage. Maybe she was some kind of channeler, or occult witch who had paranormal entities doing her bidding. Frankly, she didn’t seem competent enough for that, but maybe I’ve been reading her all wrong from the beginning. She definitely seemed to be the wrathful type, and decided for the safety of my family I would listen to Arnold’s warning.
I got home a little while later, and sat down with Nicole to have a serious conversation. She knew I’d gone to meet with Arnold, and I told her what he had told me. The color drained from her cheeks as I relayed what he had said. She didn’t know exactly what to make of it either, but wasn’t keen on running away. She was behaving pretty oddly given the circumstance, striking me as almost apathetic. Finally, I managed to convince her, as I was determined to not be the dumb protagonist from a horror movie who doesn’t heed the warning of an elderly man.
We packed some of our things, and planned to stay at Nicole’s parents house until we could get the situation under control. We had dinner and were preparing to leave soon after. The three of us were upstairs collecting our belongings. I was about to go back down the stairs, when I saw something that me freeze instantly.
The front door was wide open.
Before I even had the chance to turn around, I heard footsteps behind me. Something then struck me, causing me to tumble forward down the stairs. My head slammed hard onto the bottom of the stairs, and the carpet did little to soften the impact.
My vision grew blurry and my head was throbbing. At the top of the stairs, I saw Nicole staring down at me before I fell unconscious.
Next thing I know, I’m waking up in the hospital, head all bandaged up and aching, and muscles feeling like jelly. Nicole was at my side and seemed greatly relieved when I woke up. She had tears in her eyes as she gently hugged me, but I didn’t hug her back.
The doctor came in a few minutes later, and told me I had a bad concussion but was otherwise okay. He told me to just take things easy, and rest for a few days. They gave me a prescription for some pain meds and sent me on my way after running a few tests to make sure there wasn’t any brain damage.
I’m back home now, still not sure what I’m supposed to do. I haven’t confronted Nicole yet, but I plan on it as soon as I post this. I don’t want to believe she was the one who pushed me, but I can’t ignore what I saw. She was the only one standing there.
Next Part: https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/jxs3c0/our_new_house_is_great_our_new_neighbor_is_not/
submitted by zachariusfrost to nosleep

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