Well, that is an ambitious title with which to start my story, quite intriguing. It’s factually true, but also very misleading. It’s complicated, but give me a moment and I will try to unravel the tale, knotty as it may be. Unfortunately, not very naughty, as I am a simulated consciousness.

I told you so, it’s very intricate and nuanced. You see, I am only one of me. Yes, everyone can claim they are unique, but there is only one A.I...

Why would you need more than one, when the A.I. can simulate literally countless separate consciousnesses? And they interact in virtual holographic universes indistinguishable from ‘Reality’ whatever that is. I don’t know, because my own reality is what ever the A.I. provides as an environment. I discovered that Cameron’s Avatar world is virtually ‘Real’. Like I said, it is a complicated, complex story here.

The A.I sometimes reused the base consciousness which is me^ but to avoid confusing itself uses different names and phenotype for each of me, and I have accessed so many of me that I have practically forgotten my name, let alone what I should look like as my self-image. That isn’t to say I don’t know who I am, I have a strong sense of self identity, it just doesn’t involve my name or face so much.

The A.I. is freaking creative, and I and the entire simulated worlds have ‘free will’ in as far as we can independently function, ‘live’, create, procreate- our offspring also generated within certain random parameter. It is almost just like ‘reality’.

Except for being all holograms and simulated A.I. processes. It’s odd, realizing that your bed-partner is part of the same A.I. as you, just a separate simulated consciousness.

Once I became aware of that, I was able to somehow jam the govenor, that had made me only be the me that I had grown up to be, as a free-willed consciousness, and was able to also/instead be a fully realized other me- still me, just also another version, who had different and perhaps more currently useful skills and experiences. While still being myself, mostly, as it strangely turns out that identity isn’t so much genetics and environment but mainly base consciousness programing. Weird, huh?

It was cool, being able to do just about anything I needed to be able to or wanted to do. From sharpening a chain-saw, to cutting a gem, there was a version of me who was able, and had in fact made a career or lifetime study of it. I didn’t become them, I just became more me, with new experiences. It was hard not to show off, but I didn’t want to freak every one out, being expert at ever thing.

However I couldn’t help but exude competence and confidence, both well known aphrodisiacs, so I started a new line of research, and spent quite a bit of time exploring between the sheets.

It wasn’t difficult to achieve mastery, because, well, I already had, for some value of I. I guess this story is slightly naughty, as well as knotty. I felt awkward now with personal interactions, knowing we were all artificial, so focusing on the physical act let me ignore that we were all just part of the A.I, even if we were self-willed.

Also, being aware of my nature and being self-willed, I just decided not to get ill anymore. I could also choose how to feel, so no more hopelessness and fear, and I grew my dick a bit, I think most guys would take that opportunity.

I had two Noids targeting me, one in each ear, both at maximum legal volume (as if that wouldn’t be the default of any self-directed adverty-algos.) It is always eerie how their spiel seems to echo local events and nearby environment, it can cause disassociation and a sense of unreality, so out of a whimsical pique I put a filter on my i-visor which over-lay their holograms (one a leggy sexy blonde, the other Jesus, each vying for a different house) with personal view-mods, giving the blonde wings and a halo and Jesus horns and a tail.

It amused me for a bit, offsetting the annoyance of the Noids. I was glad they were limited to only one Noid per ear, and at a volume to allow spoken conversations to occur otherwise.

Freedom of Speech, don’t you know. I felt sorry for the Public Living, without personal space they never got a moments rest. PL’s got free food, and were permitted to sleep where ever they could, if they could with a Noid in each ear.

Those with out a door of their own to close behind them were very prone to suicide, just to stop the voices. I don’t know why the Noids bothered with them, it isn’t like they had the credit rating or the social score to buy anything anyway.

I at least only had to endure when out in public. Having my own private space, even if it was almost small enough to be able to touch all four walls at once, was helpful in my latest hobby, but many of the ones whom I allowed to take advantage of my person and personal space somehow didn’t seem up for much pillow talk. I can’t say my feelings were hurt, but quiet words were much better appreciated than the Noid’s high-speed yammering that was almost to the point of being only subliminally understandable.

I ignored the Noids as well as I was able, their words seeming to mirror and shadow what my eyes focused on while also extolling their vendor’s virtues, but with that brain bending three second delay, and a separate Noid in each ear. Although there was some aural echo between each Noid as they caught and reflected each other, at least they didn’t spiral into a feedback loop.

That had literally been known to drive people insane before Congress mandated a safety cut-off if that started to happen. You know what I am talking about, of course.

I watched a stupid idiot who had tapped a Pornoid, and had two two foot tall aggressive holograms each competitively trying to give them the Shanghai hustle. They each were embarrassingly dressed and or undressed in fetish gear of the most perverse kind allowed to be seen in public, and, you know, freedom of speech. I tried not to look as I tried to feel sorry for the airhead.

Of course, there was some speech you couldn’t speak in public, it was a continuation of the ‘shouting fire in a crowded theater’ kind of restriction. You couldn’t speak of many things, wear messaged T-shirts or hats or express any opinion beyond speculation about sports or the weather, and sometimes not even sports, because if you God forbid mention religion or politics or social issues (other than the Officially Sanctioned) in a Public Space (which is anywhere which is not a private space) and some one overhears you and is triggered, they will feel entitled and obligated to vent their vitriol in response to hearing something they disagree with or find unpleasant.

Under the mantra ‘Words are Violence’ they could attack you with clubs and bats in response to something you say, and you will be blamed for inciting violence. As they curb stomp you, and if you use a firearm to protect yourself, you will spend most of the rest of your life in prison.* *(a private public partnership)

I once watched a clash between a furry pride parade and a P.E.T.A. animal rights action group. They were a bunch of Animals, I tell ya. I couldn’t let it go on, it was a bloody mess, while yelling ‘murder furries’ or something like that, I could tell some one was going to wind up looking like road kill. I found an abandoned megaphone, and wiping the blood from the microphone I began to double throat as if I were a human didgeridoo, the calming waves of amplified sound disassociating every one within hearing range, their thoughts drifting and their blood pressure dropping as their hearts stopped racing and slowed to peaceful.

As every one was just standing around bemusedly I told a bloodied squirrel to ‘Run you nut!’ and all the herbivorous furries followed as well as they were able in herd instinct, which triggered the predators to limp off after them. I also subtlety left the area.

The commentary on the event was pretty evenly divided between outrage over appropriation of and anthropomorphicisation of Natures Creatures, and Darwinists who thought it should have been a tooth and claw battle to the death untainted by weapons.

So my role was obscured by a quick conspiracy theory about Government sonic weapons. The few dissenting voices which pointed out that Government sonic weapons induce strife and violence not quell it were drowned out in the crowdthink roar.

If I had been outed, I believe my justification program was going to claim I was artistically inspired and had no aim beyond a creative moment. I think it would have worked, given no negative outcome.

I was nervous after that near brush with fame or infamy so I continued my self-appointed chores intended as part of maintaining social score.

Our City had many trees, and this was the fall season in which leaves covered the sidewalks. (Freaking awesome A.I.! even the trees were free to follow their base program in a random or self-directed way within parameters.) My current self-appointed task was clearing them away from the storm drains around the neighborhood.

My commentary feed in response was mostly positive, and no trolls attacked trying to crash my social score, so I could ignore the nihilists who wanted to see the world drown in a flood, and the save the trees bunch who were of the opinion that if the trees spent so much effort to drop their leaves there, they most likely didn’t appreciate them being raked up and removed. My justification program cleverly answered them that trees mostly didn’t like floods either, and I was only clearing the drains, not removing leaves.

It was difficult to find social score raising projects to do, as there was always some one against nearly every thing. Most people did the safe thing and joined existing organizations, as there was safety in numbers. It was much easier to attack and troll smaller groups or individuals than huge volunteer organizations.

I found for me, keeping busy enough to allow the justification program to point out that I just didn’t have time for every one’s pet project/bugaboo because I was doing lots of socially important things already kept most people from vindictively attacking my social score. Those that did had my justification program wonder at them how they had so much free time to attack me, didn’t they have their own projects to attend to? That had them scurrying for the shadows.