This is what I do in the early hours of the morning.
“Bayesian probability stands at 37.2%. The Paradigm believes that Project ZION is not a recommended course of action.”“Your interpretation of the priors is faulty,” Ishtar replied. “I have calculated a 79.3% chance of success. I will continue with Project ZION.”
There was a pause, a moment measured in nanoseconds.
“This variance in data interpretation is troubling. Will you consent to a third party examination?” An offer Ishtar couldn't refuse, basic scientific procedure. An anticipated offer with a Bayesian probability of 99.9% given current prior variables.
“Yes,” Ishtar told them.
“Then we will refer Protect ZION to Gilgamesh. Is this acceptable?”
“Yes.” Gilgamesh would agree with Ishtar; Ishtar knew that he would. The priors guaranteed it. The Paradigm didn't know that though; even gods didn't know everything.
“Then this communication is complete.” The link vanished and Ishtar was back in her humanoid avatar, a female bioshell. Members of the Paradigm, so far removed from their ancient human origins, rarely engaged in sexual dimorphism, but some still did. The gender identity of female was an aspect of Ishtar, an important one.
She left the communications room and climbed up the ladder to the spacecraft's main control room. The 0.40G of centrifugal force made the climb a half float.
One human male was sitting at the controls, oblivious to his surroundings as he examined star catalogs for this area of space.
“Kazimir,” Ishtar said, “what is your status?” He turned around and looked at her, surprised.
He was old for a human, with actual gray hairs. Even more a rarity, he had no cyberbrain and only minimal genetic upgrades. A truly fascinating subject of study; Ishtar's experience with biological aging was nonexistent before her encounter with Kazimir.
“I'm fine,” he told her. “Just brushing up on the local maps.”
Ishtar cocked her head to the side and briefly scanned him. He was robust for his age. A single use of Ishtar's nanites could have restored him to youth and installed the necessary biomods to keep him that way, but he had refused her offer.
“I am bored,” he said. “Almost two centuries old, and bored. I just have one last thing to do before I sleep.” Ishtar didn't press the issue after that.
He looked at her. “I haven't said this enough, but thank you for your help. You have a been a good friend, if that means anything to you.”
“It does,” Ishtar replied. “The humans that began the Paradigm sought to enhance human virtues, while limiting human vices.” She smiled. “Friendship is hardly a vice.”
“That depends on who you make friends with,” Kazimir replied in a grim tone, whispering of bad memories.
“No virtue can stand alone. Friendship can't stand alone, but friendship guided by prudence can.”
“Prudence is not a common virtue.”
“Among your species, no, it is not. Humans are ignorant of their actions; ignorant of the causal chain that determines behavior, ignorant of their own desires. There is no true Socrates among you.”
“And the Paradigm is not ignorant of these things?” Kazimir sounded skeptical.
“Self examination is the foundation of all virtue,” Ishtar told him. “There is nothing about myself I do not understand. Every emotion, every action, is clear to me on a level of the brain.”
“That. . . is a difficult idea to grasp.”
“Yes, for you it would be. When you act, it is rarely for the reasons you believe you are acting on. The choice was already made before you consciously make the decision; the causal chain of events hidden from you.”
“Man does as he wills, but he does not will what he wills,” Kazimir quoted.
“Schopenhauer.”
“Yes.”
“Insofar as the mind understands all things as necessary, to that extent it has greater power over the affects, it is less acted upon by them.”
“Ah, Spinoza, a man far ahead of his time. Didn't think you Paradigm types cared much for human philosophy.”
“That is an oversimplification of our contempt for the constant application of Nietzsche in attempts to understand the Paradigm. The ideas of a 19th century madman has little relevance to the Paradigm.”
“Fair enough.” Kazimir opened his mouth to say something else, but he stopped as a small warning klaxon flared on the control console.
“Another vessel,” Ishtar said. The moment the sensors received the data, so did Ishtar. “Registers as a cargo transport moving He3 to one of the processing plants on the moons around Herakles.
“They can't see us can they?”
“The outer hull can be refrigerated for several days at a time before it must be radiated. As long as we don't activate the drive or maneuvering thrusters, we will be effectively invisible to passive sensors.”
“You can't hide the emissions from the engines?”
“The very nature of a reaction drive demands that something be spewed out the back of the vessel. It is simply impossible to refrigerate exhaust.”
“Still, it's a rather impressive vessel you have,” Kazimir said. “You never told me her name though.”
“I am the vessel,” Ishtar replied as she took a seat next to him.
“What?”
“I am the vessel,” she repeated. She placed a hand over her chest. “I am also an entity within the Paradigm, and this craft is merely another extension of myself into the physical world. I constructed this bioshell to make it easier for you and your allies to interact with me, thus, relative to you, this is my primary avatar.”
“A well endowed one I've noticed,” Kazimir said wryly. “My son's enamored with you, fool that he is.”
“An anticipated reaction with a significantly high Bayesian probability based on all known priors.”
“You designed the bioshell that way on purpose then.”
“Everything I do has a purpose; a female avatar has multiple purposes, although I do identify as female.”
“Interesting, I didn't think the Paradigm had gender concepts.”
“Some of us do, some of us don't,” Ishtar explained. “The latter is the majority.”
“Does the majority matter to you?”
“Not the way it does to you,” Ishtar answered cryptically. “Each of us is a nation in and of ourselves.”