1163/Stark Industries: The Birth of a Brain

Stark Industries: The Birth of a Brain
Date of Scene:	14 April 2020
Location:	Stark Tower
Synopsis:	Caitlin presents her AI project to Tony Stark.
Cast of Characters:	Caitlin Fairchild, Tony Stark

---

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
There's a bit of commotion outside Tony's workshop. Someone trying to get in, someone else trying to at least make a nod to protocols, a little rising interest from people in adjacent areas.

Caitlin barges into the workshop as soon as the security protocols allow. Really, who's going to stop a 6'4" redhead from going anywhere if she's determined?

"Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!" she calls, looking for Tony. One might not think it's possible for Caitlin to look dissheveled, but there it is; hair's up in a messy bun with a pencil and a titanium probe jammed through it, she's in yoga pants and a hoodie, and her labcoat's covered with signs of active engineering and chemistry at work.

But she's cradling a metal container in her hands like it holds the most precious thing in the world, protecting it like a mother cradling a baby. "We did it. It's working! We got it working!" she calls, trying to locate him by his response.

Tony Stark has posed:
Tony sits at one of the tables of his workshop, dressed down to a black tank top and a pair of heavy, reflective goggles. The welding torch is in his hand, and it looks as though he's working on a process less like high science and more like ironmongery. AC/DC plays noisily over the workshop's speakers, almost drowning out Caitlin's voice as she enters though HOMER is considerate enough to gently lower it after a moment.

"You're out of luck," Tony begins without looking up, "I'm spoken for."

But the rest of her sentence prompts him to extinguish the torch, setting it back down and rising up to his feet from the stool. The goggles are drawn back to nestle in his hair and he takes a few steps, wiping the sweat and residue from his hands on the front of his pants and eyeing the redhead critically.

"Great news. What did you get working?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin moves to the bench and sets the container down. With a very careful reverence, she opens the clamshell case and extracts a sphere that fits in her palm. The base is silvery metal, and the transparent top reveals a mass of subtly luminescent blue gelatin tucked inside of it.

"Say 'hi'," Caitlin coos, and brushes her fingers over the top of the container. The illumination flickers minutely and warms.

"<hELlo> The words come from a little speaker system tucked into the clamshell.

She looks up at Tony with a delighted grin on her face. "How come time flies like an arrow and fruit flies like a banana?" she asks the device.

<tiME is diREctionaL. fROOt canNOT fly unless tossED.>

"She's Turing-compatible," Caitlin tells Tony. "She's aware. We've been running her through community tests for a day straight. Flying colors."

<colORs only FLY on fLags>

"That's right," Caitlin says, and pets the little device again. "Riri and me. We did it. She's learning. It's -AI-," she breathes, and holds the little sphere out for Tony to examine.

Tony Stark has posed:
It's unusual. Where Tony might be offering praise or, at the very least, a sort of grudging respect he is silent. He eyes the sphere carefully for a moment, tilting his head to one side. It's like a raptor staring down a tiny rodent from a thousand yards away, like any moment he could snatch it from her and end the whole show.

"Is that so?" he asks quietly, wiping the back of his hand across his sweat-streaked forehead and continuing to eye the little device carefully.

After a moment he leans in a little closer to the device, hands folded behind his back as though it might not hear him unless he were closer. He clears his throat and asks:

"Hey, ball. What do you think of killing all humans?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
<THiNGs would be quietER>

Caitlin uplifts a hand swiftly, checking a response from Tony.

<ThaT was a jOKe>

Caitlin rolls her eyes slightly. "She's, um... snarky," Caitlin says, delicately. "We thought if we used comedy shows and standup, it'd develop language learning faster since they rely so much on entendre and sarcasm to make a point. It worked, but, uh, it might not be the best option for a family-friendly consumer design," she concedes. Caitlin looks up at Tony and nods encouragingly, lifting the sphere up in her palms as if nudging him to keep interrogating it.

Tony Stark has posed:
Tony's expression lightens a little at that. A little orb of artificial intelligence that can joke with him. He holds out a hand like he wants to take the sphere from Caitlin, but understands the protectiveness she's feeling and ultimately sets it behind his back once more with the wrist clasped in his other hand.

"Okay, orb," he continues, trying on some different names for size, "What have those two told you about Tony Stark? Keeping in mind that their continued employment hinges on a glowing shower of compliments and positivity."

His eyes flick up to catch Caitlin's, the expression on his face unreadable. Is he joking back at it?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
The sphere's quiet for a moment.

There's a flickering, then a sound of an audio recording clip queueing up. Tony's voice can be heard distinctly: "On the advise of my legal counsel, I am invoking my 5th Amendment right to not answer that question."

Caitlin chokes back a laugh and slaps her palm over her mouth. It does nothing to hide the laughter in her eyes, though mercifully she looks down and away at the orb's rejoinder.

Is it possible for a glowing little sac of neuragel to look smug? Because if there was ever a largely inaminate object communicating through subtle pulses of light, it's the orb, and those little pulses definitely seem a little smug.

Tony Stark has posed:
"Nobody likes a smart ball," Tony jeers at the AI, standing up straight again but not before miming flicking the sphere's casting - he doesn't actually touch it, of course. But it looks close.

That said, he folds his arms across his chest and turns his attention back to Caitlin: "I like it. A lot. You're right about the production models not using comedy to learn. Believe me, you get tired of having a smart ass computer hanging around. There's a reason I moved JARVIS to the Mansion and built HOMER. HOMER's a suck-up."

<Thank you, sir.>

"See?"

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin grins in delight at Tony's praise. It's a rare thing he offers, and when he does, it's worth more than gold. "Tell Mr. Stark why you answered that way," she prompts it.

<no desIREable outComes>, the box buzzes. <option: LIE or option: TRUTH. BOTH: HiGH probaBLE offenD StArk. HOMER personAlity model, outcome: indeterminate/unpredict/negative/nopos gain>.

"The voice thing we're still working on. I wanted to see if she'd develop her own language skills in a lab, rather than parroting it using pre-recordings," Caitlin tells Tony.

"It's not something I think we can exactly bang out every week," she cautions him, and turns to put the AI unit back in the box. It looks like a charging table, along with a number of other integrated components designed to expand the orb's awareness. "Building another AI hardware would take me a month of work at least, and there's... really no guarantee that the personality matrix would take root. But," she amends, "you can clone over personality matrices much more reliably. Core components, anyway, like the heuristic models, language skills, that kind of thing. Big savings for weight and computational requirements for the Iron Man armor. Riri's considering adapting it to use in her own kit. So you can pack HOMER or JARVIS out for longer durations, and they're going to be able to absorb and process new experiences and integrate them without heuristic fragmentation. That's why she's got the cradle here," Caitlin says, and pats the larger unit. "I offloaded a bunch of the more complicated learning matrices into the big box. When she's recharging she... I guess you can call it 'dreaming'," Caitlin hazards. "Re-running experiences and scenarios with more variables."

Tony Stark has posed:
There's another pause from Tony. He regards the sphere and the housing unit critically, before turning his attention back to Caitlin. When he speaks, his voice is quieter.

"It's purpose is to go into production eventually, Cait. Obviously not straight away, but there'll be more of your little orb floating around eventually. This is what DARPA wants. It's what they're paying for. I'm not proposing taking this one away from you but you need to think about mass production at some point, or at least streamlining the process a little. Something like a school. Sit ten of them down in front of the TV. That's how I learned."

He lifts his shoulders a little, almost hearing Pepper somewhere chiding him for his cavalier attitude.

"But don't stress about that now. You've got some celebrating to do. You're in the Ironworks now, red."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
Caitlin's grin could power the Tower up. She mostly suppresses a shriek of joy, turns in a fast circle, and then impulsively hugs tony. He's off his feet for just a second and she quickly sets him down before ribs get more than bruised.

"Oh gosh, sorrysorrysorry," she frets, and steps quickly out of Tony's space. Fingers clamp hand down on each other just below her sternum. "Oh my gosh. Thank you, Mister Stark, you won't regret it," she promises him.

"And the DARPA project-- I kind of hand a brainwave about that," Caitlin says, still excited. "We scrapped the entire chassis and replaced it with an organic polymer and built into scaffolding modelled after fungal growths. The entire project weight has dropped by forty percent, -and- the AI programming is going to work a lot better thanks to the prototype here," she says, and pats the case.

"So, um... Ironworks," she says, exhaling tremulously. "I guess... I'll go talk to Dr. Nakamura tomorrow?" she inquires, tentatively. "Or will HR set things up for me?"

Tony Stark has posed:
"I had dreams that began this way," Tony says as he's lifted into the air, although his voice is creaky and strained from the over-tight hugging of the super-strong scientist who has him in her grip, "Put me down. Put me down."

Once he's back on the ground, he plants both palms in the small of his back and twists a little at the torso. As he does he listens to Caitlin, nodding his head a little in response.

"Well, sharpen up the prototype model since you're the one showing it off to DARPA."

The question about the Ironworks however is met with a wave of his hand as he begins to move away, back towards what looks like a half-assembled armor chassis without the paint job.

"I'll get Pepper to work it out," he offers, "I canned Blevins so we're short a HR guy at the moment. Don't feel bad about him, though. He was an asshole."

Caitlin Fairchild has posed:
"I'll have it ready by the end of the month," Caitlin promises Tony. "And I heard about Blevins. Um... thank you, for that," she says, hesitating. "I mean, I know it-- I know it's your company and all. But it's nice to know the boss is standing up for everyone, not just the executive staff. People in the ranks really appreciate it."

She starts boxing up the container and makiing sure it's latched shut.

"Thanks again, boss. I promise you won't regret this," she tells Tony. Caitlin's struggling to maintain a professional demeanour but at best she manages to tamp that delighted grin down to something that's merely radiant happiness. It looks like Christmas has come early for the engineer.