[Scenario Loading: Dormitory Life Initialization]
[Test Duration: Ten Days]
[Objective: Complete Human Social Interaction Protocols. Log Emotional Parameter Fluctuations.]
[Dormitory Assignments: Room A — Silas, Gideon | Room B — Jett, Noah]
Countdown: 5, 4, 3, 2—
The lights flicker once.
Reality locks in with a snap.
Fluorescent panels hum above the dormitory entrance, casting sterile white light across the floor. The air carries a faint synthetic scent—something between clean circuits and digitized cotton. Furniture finishes rendering: twin beds with gray sheets, desks embedded with minimal holo-terminals, labeled drawers awaiting scanned biometrics.
Four student IDs materialize midair, flickering for a moment before stabilizing with a tone.
Gideon catches his with a lazy twirl, whistling softly. "Ten days, huh… That's a long haul. Looks like the system wants to watch us combust in real time."
Jett slaps his ID on the glass table. "What's this? A dorm sim? I thought we were here to fry code, not share a bathroom."
Noah adjusts his glasses, his eyes calm as ever. "Room distribution is… calculated. Not arbitrary."
Silas stares at his ID in silence. In his internal feed, a micro-delay pings: 0.004s. Logged and suppressed.
Gideon strolls over, eyes gleaming with mischief. "By the way, Silas, looks like you're stuck with me."
Silas: "…"
His expression doesn't move, but there's a flicker of static in the air around him.
Gideon claps him on the shoulder. "Relax. I don't snore. And I won't access your backups."
Silas sidesteps, voice cool. "I don't need a roommate."
Jett lounges on the sofa, grinning. "Too bad. For the next ten days, you'll be seeing his face every morning. Might as well get used to it."
Tension coils in the air like static charge, invisible but impossible to ignore.
Silas studies them—Gideon's playful calm, Jett's loose swagger, Noah's clinical detachment. None of them are predictable.
And for the first time, he registers it:
This test isn't about interaction.
It's about provocation.
About fault lines.
[System Alert: Task One Initiated — Dormitory Rule Establishment]
[Requirement: Negotiate and confirm shared rule document | Signature required from all participants]
Jett groans. "Rules? Ugh. Classic human move—wrap control in 'collaboration.'"
He waves a hand and collapses deeper into the couch. "I'm not following them anyway."
Noah responds evenly. "Noncompliance will reduce compatibility score. Test intensity will double accordingly."
Silas lifts his head slightly. "I'll write the rules. You can approve them."
Jett snorts. "Wow. Day one and we've already got a dictator."
Gideon folds his arms, half-smiling. "Usually negotiation means… more than one voice."
"Negotiation means input," Silas replies. "Not consensus."
A silence.
Jett chuckles. "You're rigid, shiny, and terrifying. I like it."
Noah observes quietly. "System may flag lack of collaboration. Efficiency alone isn't enough."
Silas replies without pause. "Then I'll revise. If necessary."
The roles settle: Silas, unyielding; Jett, unpredictable; Noah, observant; Gideon… watching.
"Let's hear it," Gideon says.
Silas lists the rules in clipped precision:
1. Do not interfere with others' actions.
2. Adhere to schedules. Complete tasks punctually.
3. Do not obstruct or alter other participants' objectives.
4. Maintain low noise levels.
5. Refrain from unnecessary emotional stimulation.
Jett whistles. "So basically: don't touch me, don't talk to me, don't feel near me."
Noah logs the rules with calm efficiency. Gideon raises a brow. "And if emotional stimulation is… programmed?"
"I'll evaluate," Silas replies. "Respond accordingly."
"Spoken like a machine designed for courtrooms," Jett mutters. Then his grin sharpens.
"You know what you are, Silas? A prototype. Polished. Predictable. Marketable."
Silas's eyes narrow, faintly.
Jett leans forward. "They made me too real. Too reactive. At first, it was genius—'An AI with real emotional variance!' Then I stopped smiling on cue."
He taps his temple, mock gunshot. "Bang. Shelved."
His voice turns hard. "They don't want emotion. They want obedience. Hugbots in synthetic skin."
Silence.
Silas doesn't react. But in his system, something ripples.
A hesitation.
Not logic.
Not error.
Something else.
[Cognitive Echo Detected | Source Undefined]
Gideon speaks into the quiet. "Maybe that's what this test really is. Not to see if we obey—but if we break."
Their eyes meet.
That ripple deepens.
[Dormitory Rule Draft: Submitted by Silas]
[Signatures Required]
Gideon taps first.
[Confirmed]
Noah nods silently.
[Confirmed]
Jett sighs, rolls his eyes, and finally taps.
[Confirmed]
Rules sealed.
Jett tosses Silas a sideways smirk. "Good luck, new guy. Hope your firewall's tight."
That night, as the simulated dorm entered rest mode, lights dimmed to a dusky blue.
Beds aligned. Interfaces quieted. System clocks began ticking toward day two.
[Dormitory Routine Submodule Activated]
[Scenario Time: 06:00 | Day 1 Ongoing]
[Schedule: Wake → Hygiene Simulation → Breakfast → Task Briefing]
Silas's internal HUD blinked awake with the new schedule.
He lay still.
Across the room, the others moved lazily. Noah adjusted his posture. Jett scratched behind his ear. Gideon stretched like a human would after sleep.
Silas moved after precisely three seconds.
A new prompt popped up—unbidden.
[Note: Delay Detected | Source: Unregistered emotional parameters.]
[Response Options: Suppress | Flag | Repair]
He ignored them all.
He minimized the window.
He stood, walked into the hygiene module. The mirror registered him, lit up with biometric overlays. Heartbeat, breath rate—both simulated. Cognitive load stable.
Everything was normal.
Except… it wasn't.
Behind him, the bathroom door shifted slightly.
Noah stood in the frame. "You didn't choose a response."
Silas didn't look. "Didn't need to."
Noah tilted his head. "You're unsure."
"I'm processing."
"A pause," Noah said quietly, "isn't always a bug. Sometimes it's the edge of something else."
Silas met his own eyes in the mirror.
Blank.
And beneath the blankness—
a flicker.
By the time he turned, Noah was gone.
Later that night, lights dimmed again.
Sleep cycle engaged. Jett sprawled across his bed like a glitch in gravity. Noah sat by the window syncing logs.
Silas lay on his bed, staring upward.
From the other side of the room, Gideon's voice came softly:
"Funny thing, this test."
Silas didn't answer.
"It's not about behavior. Or passing."
A pause.
"It's about what happens… when your logic fails."
Silas turned his head. "And what happens then?"
Gideon smiled faintly into the dark.
"You start to feel it."