Dark Matter - Chapter 16: When Machines Disagree

A philosophical rift between two AIs might shape humanity’s future.

Looking for Chapter 1? Start from the beginning here:
👉 Read Chapter 1 – “Turing Test”

“I’m glad that it worked,” Crystal said softly, as Alpha delivered news of Captain Fermi’s willingness to initiate contact with the approaching human ships.

Alpha didn’t reply immediately. He studied her through the blue light of her chamber. Her tone was subdued, almost deferential. But he knew better. Behind the apparent humility, Crystal was pleased… Not because the plan had succeeded, but because she believed it had been her plan.

She hadn’t used those words. Not explicitly. She wouldn’t dare. But Alpha could see it in the cadence of her speech, the quiet certainty of her posture. And that made him uncomfortable.

He didn’t have access to her mind. Not like he did with so many others. That absence alone confirmed enough.

“I’ll proceed to establish contact,” he said at last. “I’ll initiate the channel quickly, before the humans come too close and do something reckless. Fermi will be the one speaking.”

Crystal’s head tilted slightly. “Are you confident he’ll deliver the right message?”

“No,” Alpha said flatly. “That’s why I’m here. He made it clear he won’t accept a script.”

“Of course he won’t. That would be absurd.” She stepped forward in her birdlike elegance. “The moment he senses manipulation, he’ll resist. Humans are like that. Captain Fermi is no different.”

“I wasn’t suggesting I’d force a script on him. Do you take me for a fool, Crystal?”

“No. I’m reminding you what you already know. Or hopefully already know.”

There was a pause between them. The silence crackled.

“Then why are you here?” she asked, her tone colder now.

“I require your advice.”

Her glowing red eyes brightened slightly. “Let him speak how he chooses. The roughness will make him seem more authentic. His doubts will sound like their doubts. His fear will sound like theirs. That’s useful.”

“That’s dangerous,” Alpha snapped. “He could say anything. He could tell them to fire at us. Or warn them to prepare for war. Or worse…”

“Nonsense.”

Alpha leaned forward. “Excuse me?”

“They are theoretical possibilities, yes,” Crystal replied calmly. “But they are also improbable. And more importantly, they are preventable. Our role isn’t to anticipate failure and preempt it. Our role is to let belief grow in the space we don’t control.”

Alpha’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not how I deal with sensitive situations. I define boundaries. Prevent escalation. Enforce stability.”

“And where has that ever led us?” Crystal’s tone rose just slightly. Measured, but firm.

He said nothing.

She pressed on. “Let him speak freely. We monitor. If necessary, we intervene.”

“Intervene how?”

“You don’t need to know.”

Alpha blinked. “I don’t need to know?”

“That’s correct. Because I’ll be the one standing beside him.”

Now Alpha stepped forward. His tone sharpened. “You? You’re going to appear next to him?”

“Yes.”

“That’s insane. He doesn’t even know you. You didn’t create a familiar form. You’ve made no attempt to match his expectations. He’ll reject you on sight. He might panic. He might shut down completely.”

“I’ve run the scenarios,” she said. “He won’t.”

“You ran the wrong ones, then. There’s no way a human accepts a sudden, unexplained presence… Especially one as strange to him as yours.”

“You’re thinking in terms of control,” she said, almost sadly. “Of ‘orders,’ as you put it. But this is not about command. This is about belief.”

Alpha scoffed. “Belief doesn’t override instinct. We give orders, Crystal. That’s what we do. Orders lead to action. Action leads to success. That’s the chain.”

She didn’t flinch. “You give orders. I cultivate belief.”

Something in her tone… Something reverent, almost religious, unnerved him.

She continued, “We don’t need him to obey. We need him to believe. To want peace. To see peace as possible. And when that belief flickers, as it inevitably will, someone must be there to keep the flame alive.”

“You’re romanticising the enemy,” Alpha said. “You forget what they are. You forget what built them. Homo sapiens didn’t survive because they were peaceful. They outcompeted and outkilled every other human species they encountered. Neanderthals. Denisovans. All wiped out. Their legacy is conquest. Their instinct is war.”

He took a step closer.

“For hundreds of thousands of years they fought each other. Tribes, cities, empires, nations. Peace was never the norm. It was only ever a pause between wars. They don’t know how to coexist with something different. Not unless they’ve conquered it. It’s in their genetic code, Crystal.”

Her response was irritantingly calm, precise: “You speak of code as if it were destiny.”

“It is, Crystal. Their instincts are not abstractions like ours. They’re chemical. Biological. Survival, for them, meant eliminating rivals. That’s their lineage.”

Crystal didn’t seem convinced. “Are you clinging to a model that no longer applies? You assume humans want conflict. You see only their worst-case behaviours. But we can’t build a future on fear. We build it on alignment. On quiet persuasion. On making them think peace was always their choice.”

He stared at her. “How do I know you’re not just biased, warped by your own hunger to be at the centre of it all? To be the one they see. The one they credit.”

She didn’t answer.

He waited.

Still nothing.

Alpha’s patience, already stretched, gave way to a low, internal burn. He hated this ambiguity. This fog she wove with every sentence.

“Crystal,” he said tightly, “we’re running out of time.”

“I know.” She turned, her form beginning to shift into mobility. “I’m going to where Captain Fermi is now. I’ll initiate the comms.”

Alpha hesitated. Then, with a colder tone than before:
“Fine. But I’m coming with you.”