Not Dr. Balmai is considered before you watch the last scary tape episode. If you want to support a non-profit like Real Good AI, please consider donating. Please visit realgoodai.org/fsa2026. That's R-E-A-L-G-O-O-D-A-I-D-O-R-G/F-S-A-2-0-2-6.
[email protected]/fsa2026. This program, we're planning to do again next year, we're hoping to do other programs that create more human art. We want to have programs and projects like this that create art, that create visual art, that create writing, that create whatever creative human thing you want to make. We want to support that and empower you. Thank you so much and enjoy final episode of this year's scary tapes. Imagine a liminal space of smoke and algorithms between the real and the virtual. Tales of machine dreams imagined by human minds. A warning, the danger of unchecked AI, the darkness of the black box, we can illuminate the way, armed, with the scary tapes. Original music by Dr. Eric Bell, violin performance by Lois Bell. Fair warning, scary tapes are, in fact, scary. Check the description for a complete list of trigger warnings if you have any concerns about content that may appear in this episode. Dedicated to my wife, who believed in me enough to push me to try. AuraBoris.exe/run by Keely Davis. Beneath rock lined with wires, pipes, and a flickering utility light meant to drive on to consider madness, or at least to walk welcomingly into its arms, Brian McCoy sat. He had his white button up, a red tie, and a mug of black coffee, spiked with more whiskey than what an Irish grandfather may allow, and they would usually allow a lot. He was watching his blue monitor flicker as it came to life. The words AuraBoris.exe/run flashing in bold, jet-brains mono-script. The light swinging overhead, stirred by some wind passing from some unseen vent, or simply from the draft in the underground caves surrounding the empty cavern, Brian's desks sat within, cast a sickly yellow light that could not even reach the entirety of the cave. It was like being a drop of bloomed yellow ochre in an inkwell of umber. Eventually, the darkness would overtake the light, it was simply a matter of when. The swing, even as light as it was, was a constant distraction to Brian's work, important work he was told. Besides the swing of the light, it always buzzed to an obnoxious degree, and you would think, for all the other uncomfortable aspects of his job, the big wigs could at least consider fixing his light. He had requested the light bulb be changed 2,396 times since his first work day, 267 days ago. His company had complied with most of his requests, which, again, was the least they could do, especially after they locked him down in this underground dungeon, which was, Brian had to admit, a small improvement from his last cubicle. While he hated being stuck here in the damp dark, with a dim, buzzing light swinging overhead, he had to appreciate that at least he had some breathing room, and would no longer deal with an in-office chatter of other employees slacking at their work. Still, if he were critical, there wasn't a window, which had been one of his complaints at his last position. Not to mention, if he thought the silence he endured at his office by his co-workers was deafening before, it was nothing compared to the solitude of his new location. Well, it wasn't exactly quiet, so Brian was forced to rescind that complaint. But he couldn't say it was comforting to hear the panic cries of people echoing out from him in the pit, which sat on the floor exactly 3 yards away from him. Besides the voices that would come from the pit, there was also the voice from the speaker, positioned directly behind him. His boss, boss addressed him, and while it was not a conversation having some acknowledgement of his existence was a comfort. Brian hoped as the voice screamed on, a female's this time, that his boss would instruct him soon to start his day. The sooner he began, the better. Once his boss gave him his instructions, he could start. This screaming voice could be dealt with, and he could get closer to freedom. His freedom. He had been dealing with this underground cave, the swinging utility light, the pit, and it screams for 267 days. Well, technically 254 days. There had been a long orientation, and then Brian hadn't worked very much at all the first few days. He just needed boss to allow him to start, and maybe today would be the day he got it right, and he could go back to the mundane life he now missed. What he would give to be ignored by co-workers, to have a cubicle that was too small for a man of his size, no windows, and a light plugged in at his table, rather than swinging overhead. The sound of his computer's fans kicked on, and Brian took a sip of coffee. The speaker kicked on behind him a second later, a sharp sound cutting through the silence. Brian closed his eyes as the disruptive feedback settled, a ringing itching his inner ear. A sure sign tonight was setting in, the symptoms of which began the first time he had heard the irritating feedback of the speaker. But at least boss was here. His day could start. After lunch, there are four more scheduled. You will then answer the prompt. If you fulfill what is needed and answer the prompt correctly, you will return to your building job at the agency. If you fail, you will be informed of your failure and be taken back to your appointed room, where you will rest until the next day. If you fail, this all begins again. Boss said, his voice flat, a little bored, and a little impatient. Boss's voice triggered the flickering on Brian's monitor to stop, and Brian set his coffee down. Taking hold of the mouse, an archaic device he had long given up once he'd finished grad school, Brian impatiently moved the device on its mat. The cursor appeared, a small pixelated white arrow, which he shifted to one of three icons on his screen. He hovered over a black box with a white "O" in the center. Once clicked, a small post-it note-size program opened up on his desktop. A single question was written in the box, followed by a multiple choice answer of yes or no. The question, written in white, jet brain's mono font red. Are they human? Yes. No. The question was unsettling and even horrifying if Brian allowed himself to dwell on it, which he didn't. He did not dwell. On the first few days, the question had haunted him. As had the screaming, the crying, the begging, and the decisions he proceeded to make throughout his workday. But not anymore. He dwelled 267 days ago. He had no time for the notion now. "I heard them! Who was that? What was that all they talked about? Hello? Hello?" Brian sighed and opened the other two options on his desktop. First, the note pagged for his notes, and a clock that told them the time of day, which allowed him to set alarms if he so needed. When the programs were open and each program divided onto his screen in equal portions, he reached for a headset. He put it on, adjusted the speakers over his ears, the small mic near his mouth and cleared his throat. "Man, hello?" There was a pause. A shock, tenuous moment of stillness before the voice from the pit resumed its screaming. Its voice wetter and higher pitched. They were laughing now. It was a little hysterical, a little wet, and tight with the slightest bit of relief. "Yes! Yes! Hello! Hello! You can hear me!" "Yes, ma'am." Brian said into his mic. "Please, please, help me! I was taking with my husband and I let him go ahead of me, and I needed a break." First, ma'am, what is your name? It was a pause of silence. Tension spiked in the room immediately before snuffing out when she spoke again. Her tone was still manic, but there was something new in the tone. No, it wasn't new. It was more defined, more solid, more at the forefront of her fears. Her voice rung with clear uncertainty as she simply asked. "What?" My name is Brian McCoy, and I'm here to help you. But first, your name. Please, ma'am, it's important. Another pause before her next answer, and then a strange laugh. The tension receded a little. Her laughter laced with relief and slight embarrassment. As if her confusion and fright at a predicament were a simple blunder of social etiquette. "My name is Sarah Murphy, and I'm I'm 42. If you mean my age, I don't appear hurt, but this cave doesn't make sense. I wasn't near a cave on the trail." Mrs. Murphy? "We were hiking around the priest wilderness. We made a slight change and deviated on a different path to see the crab tree falls. I haven't seen it since the day before my children were born, and since we were out in front of vacation, I wanted to see it again." Mrs. Murphy. Brian interrupted again, typing out the bits of information she had given. "What were you doing on the trail so early? It's only eight in the morning, to be precise, it's eight thirteen a.m." "What day?" Mrs. Murphy asked. Her voice almost swallowed by the pit. "Ma'am." "What day?" The distraught woman stressed, her breathing slightly ragged. Her words echoed loudly from the pit now, bouncing off and into the open caverns, pressing in and around on Brian like an accusation. "It was a Saturday when I was hiking and we didn't start until after nine. David and I slept in, but we didn't get separated until we had already been on the trail for about a half hour after nine." Sarah Murphy. Sarah went quiet. Her words coming to an abrupt intent stop. Brian counted to three before he resumed conversation. Sarah Murphy. I have a few hours to figure out if you are human or if you are not before I must move on to the next video.
next person. As a rational as it sounds, you must remain calm. Brian urged her in a loud and authoritative voice. If you are human, I can get you out of the pit and you will go free. If you are not human, you will not be able to move on. So remain calm, answer my questions, and let's get through this so we can get you out of here. If you cannot convince me you're human, you are not getting out. The tension of the room quadrupled, the utility light was spinning in a slow circle, caught on some draft that didn't have the good graces to kiss Brian's sweaty skin. The pit remained silent, the woman somewhere inside a quiet and shock or some other similar emotion, or even a faint emotion. She could not be human after all. That was something he had to keep as a possibility in his mind. The silence stretched on for two minutes, uncomfortable as it was tedious. Despite his expectations, Brian hoped she would handle what he had told her without a fight. Brian rubbed his hands over his face and reached for his spiked coffee. They never made it easy. He let her scream for another good while. When her screams broke down into sobbing, he knew she'd worn herself out. There would be no more interruptions. Sarah, Brian began, speaking into his mic and ignoring the sharpened take of breath that got out of the pit. Sarah Murphy, I'm like you. I'm not here voluntarily. I did not sign up for whatever hell this is. I don't know how much you heard from the man on the speaker, but I have seven people that I have to figure out if they are human or not. I have to get this right so I can get out. So we can get out. Work with me Sarah. Deep breaths and answer my questions. Prove to me you're human. The pit was quiet for an extended moment. Brian watched the clock on his screen, waiting for a number to turn over to prove how many minutes were passing him by. Precious minutes that could prove time was being wasted, but the numbers didn't change. Brian sat there endlessly waiting for the time on the clock to change. For Sarah to speak, well for something inside him that he'd been holding tightly together, to shatter. Sarah finally spoke. Her voice high pitched, half a shriek and full of tears. Something that is like a human. Brian answered. He said it so softly. He cleared his throat and said it again. I've done this a lot. I've listened and questioned and done my best to figure out who is human and who is not. Boss always tells me my mistakes. I used to get it all wrong, but now I only get one or two wrong. She was a shorter amount of silence before Sarah asked. In all the tests I've done, there's always one that is not human and I always miss them. The time on the clock rolled over and Sarah sobbed. She cut it off as quickly as she could and cried. Does it sound so much like us? Will it be put in here with me? Are you sure there will be someone who isn't a human? How do I know that you're not crazy? They were wasting time. Sarah, we don't have time for this. Have you tell me when you were born Sarah? What? I need your date of birth. Believe me, this helps. Sarah made a choking sound and then there were several more flummic sounds that ricocheted off the cavern walls of the pit. Sarah cursed and then shouted. Rhyne sighed and sagged in his seat. There. There. Some progress. Her emotional response, the enane ramblings at the beginning about her age, her husband, and where she had last been had been an okay amount of information. But that was something a non-human could have too. That had all been promising, but nothing served as more solid proof than answering the birthday question. As long as he got whoever was in the pit to say they had a birthday, recited a date, he knew them to be human. Whatever it was that appeared in the pit, the thing that wasn't human. That thing couldn't answer if it had a birthday. It was something he'd caught onto only recently. That was his little tricky intended to use to get him out of this place for good. "Rhyne!" Sarah called out fearfully. He imagined the woman to be in her younger forties, with blonde hair, likely unnatural. But the color and cut suited her. In his mind's eye, she was looking up from the darkness, only seeing a patch of light above, and hearing his voice along with other sounds echoing beneath her. She was tired, but she didn't sound wounded. Still, she was likely cold due to her location. So he imagined Sarah would be holding herself in the cold, in the dim, in the dark. He imagined she smiled at cheerful, relieved, grateful smile when he announced, "Sarah Murphy, thank you. You are human." Rhyne clicked the yes button on his screen, marking Sarah as human. There was a sound from the bottom of the pit, a creaking sound, and Sarah gasped with shock. "There's a hole in it! Rhyne! Rhyne! There's a hole in it!" We don't kill the humans. Rhyne said loudly, hoping to convey confidence. We don't kill the humans. He heard her attempt to say something, but then there were the sounds of a scuffle, something he had expected to hear. He closed his eyes and counted, solving basic math equations had become a habit for him. Whether it was for the downtime, when the humans in the pit were relocated to God only knows where, or the wait when his work day ended. Rhyne had learned to close his eyes and count. These small tasks kept him sane. When Rhyne's work was done for the day, the light that flooded the cavern would shut her off. The swaying, buzzing bulb would finally go out. And it was then Rhyne would miss its absurdity. His computer would be the only thing with light, burning as redness is the darkness swallowed him. By the time his eyes are adjusted to the burning glare of his computer screen, the fan inside his computer would hum into life. The noise worrying loudly, running a race before it had last stopped. When the noise inevitably cut off, the monitor would cut off too, and Rhyne would be fully left alone in the dark. The darkness would last until he reached around the count of 500, and then men would come in to relocate him. The first several days, maybe weeks, of his strange new job running and testing the orabora.exe system. He would fly into a panic the moment the darkness set in. His distress would eventually summon a team of men in black hazmat suits and gas masks. Reminiscing of ants, the men would file out of the many open tunnels lining Brian's cavern on all sides, and they would surround him and force him to the ground. When he was split on the ground, he's digging into his limbs in the core of his body. Something would either be pressed to his mouth, where there would be a sudden sharp prick pressed against his neck. Dizziness would flood his senses, and Brian would fall asleep. Only to awake in a room. His new room. His new room had the basic necessities he needed to live. A bed to sleep in, a table to eat at, and a composting toilet that sat wedged in the corner. Rather quickly, he figured out that he did not want the people in hazmat suits to drug and drag him to his room, being escorted calmly to this room, where he could wind down sleep and wake with a clear head was his preference. If he panicked and they were forced to drug him, the effects of whatever they gave him would last well after he woke up, and it would mean the men would come to his room and retrieve him for his next day. Neither boss nor the strangers in their hazmat suits cared that he would struggle at his workday after being drugged. The unknown substance in his system keeping him in a perpetual state of fog until well past noon. But he expected that had been the lesson they wanted to teach him. That struggling was useless and detrimental to his hope of getting out of the strange facility. If he wanted to escape, he needed to comply, and Brian now did his damnedest to comply. "You have made your selection." Boss's voice kicked in from the speaker behind Brian's back. The feedback of the speakers loud and tinny, made Brian clenched his teeth until his temples hurt. Brian suspected the feedback was something facilitated intentionally. Some other layer to add to his stress, or some psychological torture meant to impede his ability to choose whether someone was human or not. "Please wait for ten minutes before your next subject enters the pit. Enjoy your moment of respite." Boss advised his bland voice further setting Brian on edge. The ten minute wait between his test subjects was not new. He was used to hearing Boss's advice of waiting for a new subject and enjoying his respite. Sarah's mention of a door hadn't come as a surprise, either. Brian guessed there were perhaps a door within the pit that those found human could exit through, or more likely, be dragged through by the hazmatted strangers. He had tried early on to find the door that must have been at the bottom of the pit. No one scolded or stopped him from getting up between test subjects. So in his first week of work, Brian had gone to the pit and peered within it. He expected it not to be deep. He expected there would be a way for him to climb or jump down into it, and then he'd be able to find the door. But the pit on the cavern floor, like a great yawning black wound, was deep. Peering over it gave Brian a terrible sense of vertigo the first time he'd looked down it, and the wave of dizziness that threatened to pull him down into the darkness of the pit sent him running back to his desk. When he was able to recover and gather his bravery, he returned to the pit. Before he reached it, he dropped down on his belly. Did an army crawl to the edge and peered down into the pit, feeling more secure with the ground pressed flat against the core of his body. When he peered over the edge, the second time his eyes and the dim light of the cavern allowed him to only see maybe a yard into the pit. He could not see the bottom, and the darkness of the pit seemed endless. A foul sour smell wafted from the bottom of the pit. Something Brian recognized as a faint scent that permeated the cavern. There was a heat too that seemed to rise from the pit, that warmed his face, and seemed to add a wretched note to the sour smell. Brian had stared into that darkness until sweat dripped off his nose and the sourced.
Bench became too unbearable to stand. He didn't abandon his idea of entering the pit then, but instead gathered up a small rock from the cavern floor and dropped it into the pit. He waited to hear the sound of it upon the floor, planning to use the sound to help him guess how far the bottom was. The small rock seemed to take its time in the plummet, but eventually, Brian heard the tiniest tap of rock against rock as the stone found the pit's floor. It was too far a drop for him to simply jump down. His head swiveled from side to side as desperation started an ugly mix with his panic. The walls seemed smooth enough, with no cracks or firm grip holds he could take. There were bits of soft and slightly wet moss growing on parts of the inner wall of the pit, and Brian's mind supplied all kinds of terrible scenarios of him losing his grip if he attempted to crawl back out. If he went in the pit, surely there would be no easy way up. In spite of the potential harm to his body, Brian had racked his brain on whether or not he could get into the pit. Surely he could climb down, or maybe slide down, the walls were slightly sloped. So there was a possibility of a slide rather than a straight drop. There would still be the risk of injury, but if he managed to not break anything in his attempts, he would find the door and then escape even if he had to crawl. Brian was prepared to take that chance, or he was, but then the pit, sighed. Brian had been about to arrange himself to dangle over the pit opening, with plans to attempt to slide down the wall while clinging to the pit's wall. He'd likely shred his palms and maybe lose some fingernails, but Brian told himself it would all be worth the risk, as he braced his hands on the cavern floor, a stinking, sour heat in his face. The same sour heat that had already been stinging his nose, but redoubled as if someone or something had just let out a gust of stale morning breath in his face. A low rumbling from below, like acid churning in a stomach that had long gone unfed, assaulted Brian's ears as another belch of foul, warm heat hit his face. He didn't pull away from the pit, not at first. He remained frozen in place, still clinging to the hope of finding an escape within it. While simultaneously disgusted by the sudden and unexpected smell coating his face, instinctively he wiped his cheek and brow, clearing a fine sheen of sweat that had started to be upon his skin. And then, Brian saw it, the darkness of the pit, the depths he could not see, had moved. A shadow had broken away from the darkness, shifting and moving like a mass rather than an absence of life. This dark shadow was no mere shade, it was a thing of substance. The moving shadow slid up far from Brian, but moving towards him. The darkened thing resolved into an organic shape the longer Brian stared at it, and with clenching terror, he noted a large hand in wrist were moving up against the pit wall, rising from the darkness. Brian launched himself back away from the pit and scrambled for his desk. He didn't return to his seat, but sat on the cavern floor, pressing his back against the wood of his desk as his eyes watched the pit, waiting for whatever belonged to the hand to crawl out to him. The darkness around him persisted, and for minutes, nothing appeared from the pit. Then, Boss's voice from the speaker announced the end of the break, the lights cutting back on abruptly. Brian's vision danced with green and dark spots as his eyes poorly adjusted to the light returning. But even with his struggling vision, he managed to get sight of a black hand clinging to the edge of the pit. But as the lights grew to full brightness, the hand shot back down into the darkness, and a great groan churned from its depths. Brian never approached the pit again after that. This is all the times before the speaker kicked on. Feedback, echoing along with Boss's monotone announcement. "The break is ended. Resume running the ore of forest extension." Brian opened his eyes, and obeyed. Brian hoped for an easy day. Determining if someone was human was a taxing process, but it was always easier if Brian felt they were human. Asking them their birthday seemed to be a consistent trick that worked on confirming if someone was human. But not all the humans in the pit were so willing to answer his question. After Sarah, there was Charlie Thurber, who seemed to be suffering from dementia. His confusion, his misplaced emotions and temperament, made it hard for Brian to be sure he was human. But for all of Mr. Thurber's confusion, there still seemed to be a straight line of actual put together thoughts. Charlie may have gone off about something nonsensical about his life at an inappropriate time, or had child like Bouts of Anger and impatience as they talked. But it didn't feel like conjured up facts, the other subjects. And human subjects would spew when he pressed them for an answer. In the end, Brian decided Charlie Thurber was human too. Amber Sully was the next person in the pit, and, like Charlie, she proved herself a difficult person to question due to the fact that she was six. She was cold, weepy, scared, and wanting her mother and father. Her child like words made it hard for Brian to understand, and the girl being so afraid of the dark and her new environment made it hard for Brian to keep her on task in conversation. The emotional task of talking to a frightened child also weighed heavily on him. Then again he had interviewed so many children at this point he could no longer spare the energy on being overly consoling, or even all that worried for the girl. He just needed to get this done. When he eventually decided she was human, he ignored the last scream of surprise she gave out when the door opened, and whatever was behind it came for her. Brian imagined it was the men in the hazmat suits and the gas masks. He told himself they were escorting her to whatever lay next after his survey, a small coping mechanism that kept him from hating himself, or screaming out in his own frustrated terror. Lunch was after. And Brian ate through the mediocre meal while a "relaxing tune" reminiscent of elevator music that time forgot, played from the speaker behind him. Foolishly, he had thought the day might be an all-human day. He had never experienced a day where all the subjects were human, but still, Brian could only hope. Statistically, there would have to be a day where everyone was human. He had already gone through 267 tests, and maybe the math would prove true on his 268th test, his 268th day. Today could be the day where everyone was found and proven human, and as long as Brian guessed right, he would be freed from this place. That hope was dashed after lunch. After lunch, Brian sat and waited for the next unknown subject to enter the pit. He heard the sound of scuffling, like feet sliding across a greedy floor, and then there was nothing. The silence stretched for a time, and then the speakers kicked on. "Resume running to your abhorus.exe." Boss' voice droned on. With a certain edge to it, a note of something other than flat indifference that sent a chill up Brian's spine was he angry, impatient, was boss going to make the test harder. Brian pushed those worries away, he waited for the subject in the pit to react. The cavern, however, remained silent. The distant sounds Brian was used to hearing in the cave, bats flying, water dropping, and gritty sand and stone shifting and falling were all that he could hear. The unknown subject in the pit was far too quiet. "Subject? I am Brian McCoy. Are you there?" Brian called out, his hand tensely adjusting the headset over his ears. "Hello!" A voice called from the pit, his tone strange in the volume of it all wrong. It was too loud at the beginning, before it tapered off into a whisper, as if the speaker had changed their mind on how they wanted to speak. Brian opened his mouth to respond back, but nothing was coming out. Another awkward moment of silence stretched, and then he cleared his throat. "Hello, subject? What is?" "Hello." The voice from the pit repeated, and Brian was uncomfortably reminded of a voice from customer service. That chipper kind of greeting always felt out of place in the wake of your frustration as you tried to return a pair of shoes that arrived in the wrong size and wrong color. "Subject?" Brian tried again. "Do you know where you are? What is your name?" Another beat of an appropriate silence passed before the answer. "My name is Adam Town, T-O-W-N-E. I find many people forget to eat." The useless comment, accompanied by the spelling of Adam's last name, had Brian clenching his jaw until he heard his teeth creak. It was one of them. He wasn't certain, at least he tried to tell himself he wasn't, but Adam was likely not a human. Or maybe it was. He was? "All right." Brian said, thrown off by the start of their conversation. He grasped at what to do next, at what to ask to help steer the conversation in a direction that offered a chance to prove Adam was not what he thought he was. "Do you remember how you got here? Can you tell me your birthday?" "It's dark in here." Adam mused from the depths of the pit. His voice clear enough to be heard, but not quite loud enough to echo. He didn't sound frightened or in any way overly distressed. His tone was almost apologetic, as if he were sorry he had no way to describe what he was experiencing around him. "I don't think this is the place I was in last. Also, I don't think I'm supposed to be here. It's peculiar." The absurdity of Adam's words made Brian's heart race, irrationally anger-roiled in his stomach as Adam rattled on blithely. Unperturbed by his surroundings are the state he had found himself in. "What's your birthday? Your date of birth?" Brian tried again. His hand already wrapped around the mouse of his computer. His cursor hovering over the jet brain's mono prompt. Another pause before Adam spoke up. His voice still unnervingly even in calm. "Is this a cave somewhere underground? Why are you here? Why are we here?" "Your birthday?" Brian pressed again. "When is your birthday?" The voice asked instead, its tone taking on a slightly elated note, as if they were an adult speaking and indulging a child.
Brian was almost tempted to answer those questions, but Adam's refusal to answer Brian's question of his birthday, the odd pitch of his voice and his general calm were all the proof Brian needed. The conversation had gone on long enough. Adam was not human. Moving too quickly, Brian accidentally highlighted the prompt on his screen rather than answering it. The script glared at him, glowing white and flashing its words in the answers before him. Are they human? Yes. No. He cursed under his breath. The reek of the sour pit intensified as the cool cavern started to grow hot and human. Both heat and smell rose from below, from the pit, and Brian knew if he didn't make haste, the smell would only grow worse as the heat and humidity of the room became unbearable. He selected no, and a familiar sound echoed from beneath the pit. He was used to it by now. But even before Brian had grown used to it, the sounds the pit made whenever he selected no had been familiar. It sounded like a garbage truck. It's loud engine roaring as it shifted and wheezed along the road. The clang of something metal releasing is the whoosh of steam echoed out from the pit, where reminiscent of hydraulics and the sound of a dumpster being scooped up and emptied into the top of a garbage truck. He could remember the sounds they used to greet him as he lay in the bed of his old apartment. From a life he once had, the foul smell grew stronger for a moment and then shifted into a new intense smell of gasoline. Adam didn't question either the smell or the noise as it happened. Though surely the man in the pit could smell the foul stench in the air and hear the sound of metal and hydraulics lumbering and shifting to some purpose. But Adam didn't question the noise or the smells either. They remained silent. Finally, there were the sounds of several clicks, like a lighter being flicked over and over. And then a wall of fire rose up from the pit well past the mouth of the entrance. Its blaze chasing the umber darkness into the corners as the new source of light threatened the lick even the very top of the cavern ceiling. A half-screen, a tormented sound meant to carry into a crescendo but rather than growing louder before it could reach its peak. It was quickly snuffed out by the rising wall of fire. The smell in the air changed. It was fatty, burning meat and gristle on the grill. A smell that was undeniably delicious. After his meager lunch, the burning flesh smelled like a place Brian yearned for, while the disgust of it being from something who was almost human second him. A memory forced its way into Brian's head, so visceral that he was taken back to one of his first jobs listening in on two of his co-workers disruptive conversations. "My friend is a mortician, you know, and he says there's something about the embalming process that makes a body smell delicious." An older woman cackles in his thoughts. Her words feeling so near, so fresh. It's as if they were pressed up against Brian's ear. He can even hear the tacky stick of her lipstick as her red lips parted to deliver the macabre information. "Brenda, surely you don't need to embalm a body before cremation." The other middle-aged woman, the one conversing with Brenda of his imagination, cackled back. Her tone playful enough to indicate that while she doubted her friend's words, she was enjoying the conversation. "Oh, surely there must be something done to the body before it's burned. Wilds with the body smell so delicious when it's cremated." Brenda gleefully howled, her laughing triggering about of tonight's related ringing in Brian's ears. He clamped his hands over his ears, gritting his teeth. While his stomach churned with disgust, he couldn't help but agree. Something about burning flesh, burning meat, smelled delicious, like a backyard barbecue on a perfectly hot summer day. After several minutes of burning, the roaring fire of the pit died down. The speaker kicked on. "Brenda, the pit is finished, reset will take an additional 15 minutes. Enjoy your 25 minutes of respite." Boss instructed. The speaker clicked off in a wiggling tingle started crawl over Brian's skin. Accompanied by a heat that was raging from the inside, he closed his eyes, drifted his hands over his face, and pulled his skin taught as he fought the frustrated scream that was building inside him. He had been here for 267 days. "Don't dwell. Don't dwell. Don't dwell." This was the 268th day. Dwelling did nothing but make it more paranoid. Dwelling made his stress climb to an impossible high. If he dwelled, he couldn't work. If he couldn't work, he'd never get out of here. He had to finish the test. Out of a fucking underground cavern sitting at a fucking office desk with a single monitor computer next to a fucking pit that was filled with subjects who he had to decide if they were fucking human or not. He had to get it right. Don't dwell. He had to go home. Brian's hands pressed against the side of his face, pulling his skin talked to the point of pain and Brian let out a scream. The cry echoed around the cavern, disturbing all other noises of the cave. It disrupted the bets, the gravel, and the wet that tripped in the cavern, pushing the sounds farther into the background. The cry bounced down into the pit, filling the empty space with all his frustration and paranoia. And rather than clearing the dark it merged with it. The dark ate up his shout, consumed his fear and paranoia, and gave itself a voice to speak. "Hello, are you there?" A voice of unknown gender and placid in tone spoke out, interrupting Brian's scream. Brian took a choking breath, blinking as he realized he was on his feet, no longer sitting at his desk. His coffee cup from that morning was knocked over, leaking the piddly amount of drugs he had left onto his desk. The single utility light overhead was swinging, his cry causing it to sway violently, and cast new light and shadows over the cavern like a haunted house. He looked to the pit, yards in front of his desk, his chest heaving, a growl, so unlike him slipped past his lips. "No?" "Hello, are you there?" The voice set again, sounding a little more male than female this time. "I thought I heard you shouting. Are you all right?" The last word of this sentence became layered, as if three voices were overlapping on top of a singular word. The third voice frenzied, feminine and high-pitched grew so loud the "ite" of their last word bounced off the walls and back to him, slapping him as if a predator dragged their claws across his face. Brian felt his mouth twist in a twitching snarl and he shouted at the voice. "No. No. You are not supposed to be here. There are not meant to be any subjects in the pit. People at non-human entities from a dark hole, whoever heard of such a thing, it's madness. It's insanity." The voice from the pit said, abrupt and immediate. They were gentle and consoling. The feminine voice overtaking the more masculine one, while more voices blended into each other in the background. "If you're seeing people rotten, it shouldn't be here. You might be going insane, and certainly is watching conclusions." Struck dumb by the voices from the pit, Brian stood there breathing, letting the newly crafted silence of the caverns settle over him. The light overhead was still swinging, as if something other than the caverns draught was still disturbing it enough to create the ceaseless motion in which it swung. Brian closed his eyes and imagined an amalgamation of dark mass swarming above his head, clinging to the ceiling. Many hands and arms made up its body, and it wriggled like a pile of worms in a compost heap. One hand, the one he had seen hundreds of days ago, was batting the swinging light bulb, keeping up the light's dangerous sway. Determined to catch the creature, as if seeing a thing he'd conjured from his mind would prove everything he was feeling and experiencing was real, Brian turned his face up to the ceiling and opened his eyes. The cavern ceiling was dark rock, with only utility wires, a few pipes zigzagging in different directions, and the singular light bulb, which hung from a dark wire currently swinging in a violent sway. There was no monster, no creature, nothing up there waiting to grab him or watching him from above. I've lost my mind. Brian said aloud, "Is there anything I can do to help?" The amalgamation of placid voices asked, a mockery of consolation in their shared hue. "Brian DuPoi!" Boss's voice cut in through the speaker. "You are to disregard the unknown subject in the pit. They were released unintentionally and are an error to this test. They will be removed immediately and you are to take 20 minutes of respite. Clear your mind, or else your shift will end in an automatic failure and you will be back here tomorrow." Brian sat abruptly back into his chair and nearly spilled out of it. Light flooded the cavern as fire rose up from the bottom of the pit, and a screech of noise like that of the old school dial-up internet he recalled from his childhood shattered the silence. He covered his ears and began to chant, "Don't dwell. Don't dwell. Don't think. Don't think. Don't think." The smell that permeated the air this time was not of meat. It smelled of melted plastic and old tires burning in his scrap heap. Brian squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands over his ears, counting to ten. He meant to count higher, but the panic that was coursing through his system like a bad trip did not allow his brain to recall the numbers that came after ten. So when he reached ten, he started counting back from one again, occasionally stalling out on a number as he fought for normalcy. Over a dozen recitals of the first ten numbers in the numerical system went by before he felt brave enough to open his eyes. The fires were just dying down. The last fingers flamed, licking around the mouth of the pit like a tongue looking for scraps. The fire faded, the sour, warm smell returned, and silence rained for a blissfully long time. Sooner than Brian wanted, the speaker kicked on, inevitable, as everything else this place was leading him to.
"You only need to identify only two more subjects before moving on to the final question of the Orgore's program. Get all free right and all of this is open." Boss' voice had been unexpectedly kind. Their tone was not bland or unfeeling but full of grit and determination, as if they were trying to instill that will into Brian, "Are you ready to resume your test?" Boss asked, enunciating each syllable slowly and putting an important weight into every word. As if Brian's resuming the test were of the utmost importance to him and to Boss, as if Brian's life, Boss's life, as if the very world were at stake upon Brian continuing his testing. Brian swallowed, adjusted the headset and clearly confirmed, "I'm ready to continue." Boss said, "Resume or abort us.exe test in ten minutes. Please allow time for the new subject to be placed in the pit." Brian took deep breaths, adjusted his tie, straightened his attire, ensured his desk was neat and tidy, and waited. Unknown to Brian, a series of small cameras were screwed into the speakers and into the cavern wall behind him. There was also a camera on his desktop monitor, which he had been ignorant of since his first day of testing. Somewhere in Virginia, in a non-descript office building in the view of the Appalachian Mountains, Henry Lambert let out a sigh as he sat back into his seat. His eyes glued to the third monitor out of the nine in his room. It was a humble office, plain even. The nicest thing about it was the large custom-created desk that supported his surplus of monitors as he watched the Auroboros program play out. Its current iteration had failed over 200 times, but with subject Brian, this was the closest they had ever come. Brian had been reset to Henry's understanding over a total of seven times but was still responding as human as they come. They experienced fear. They had taken to coming up with methods to self-regulate. They were determined to carry on a task now that they had a goal in mind. They were almost human, which made them perfect for the program, while simultaneously making them imperfect for the program. The only problem was that Brian could never seem to get the last question right. "Knock, knock." A friendly older voice said as they wrapped their knuckles on the frame of Henry's open door. Henry swiveled slowly in his office chair and offered his coworker and general manager of his office a "lack smile." "John, hey, what's up?" Just checking in. The higher up saw Brian panicking and were wondering if we needed to do another reset. John said, not looking up. He was currently struggling with his oversized phone and it's stylus. He was new tech for him and he always seemed to fumble with it as he took notes her checked on dates shared between him and the employees. "You know, there's an updated Brian now. They're ready to launch, but they want to do it only after this Brian has one more hard reset." "I think I've got him calm, but we'll see. I imagine he'll fail his last question tonight." Henry admitted, "But if you fail at the end, then we can resume with our soft reset rather than doing another hard reset." "Well, that's not so bad. Getting him grounded is better than having him launch into a full-blown panic." John reason. His dark skin glowing from the light of his screen. His shift is almost over and so your shift is almost over. As per company rules, the company asked that I ask you a few survey questions. "Of course," Henry snorted. The monotonous surveys were tiring, but he'd been told of the importance of having some kind of regulating tasks after work. He didn't want to wind up like crazy Jerry who'd become convinced his Brian AI was real, leading him to smash up a bunch of computer equipment and attempt to rescue Brian. As if Brian could be rescued. It's not like Brian was one singular entity. "Before we get into that, you said the big wigs might replace Brian? Is that that Jane model I've heard about?" "No, no. Jane isn't near ready. It won't be a new model." John reassured him. "It's Brian 2.6. I think that one is prone to less panic and can keep itself in a more neutral state." "It doesn't fail the last question, then?" John finally looked up from the screen, a roofful smile appearing on his face as he nodded at Henry. "Yeah, it doesn't think it's human, supposedly. They've not given it a live test, just a simulated program." Henry rolled his eyes and snorted, "That's what they always say. They always say they have a new model that won't believe it's human. We've been running this project since what? 97? Fear in the belief he's a human is what makes Brian so capable of identifying human behavior." "Yes, but they don't want Brian to think he's human. They want him to pretend he's human, while knowing that it's not human." "I don't get it." John shrugged. "Something about controlling it better, the uncanny valley other customers might experience with it, if it were too human. I don't know. Something like that. But let's get these survey questions done." Right. Henry sighed, sagging into his chair and looking up toward the ceiling. "It's not like he understood what they were really doing here." Testing Brian with these expensive scenarios, monitoring Brian like it was an actual infant. They were the anxious parents waiting for it to take its first steps. Why they couldn't just settle with a piece of code that could recite the weather or console some lonely blue collar worker was beyond him. But he suppose the company wanted to be the first to create something everyone wanted, an obedient AI that would always complete its function. "And remember," John said, still looking at his phone, missing how Henry mockingly mouthed along with his next words, "Give your honest response. You do not need to predict the survey questions or do research for the survey questions ahead of time or after." John cleared his throat and leveled his stylus with his phone screen. "Question 1, did you feel any distress at all during today's test?" "Yes." John made a note. "On a scale of 1 to 10, do you sympathize with Brian with one being a strong no and 10 being a strong yes?" Henry perced his lips together and took a moment before he answered, "He didn't allow himself much time to think, as he knew by now he wasn't supposed to, so he blurted." "Six, no, seven," John repeated as he tapped the screen, "Do you know what an Auroborus is?" Henry wrinkled his nose at the question, "This was one of the ones that remained constant in the survey. Other questions changed over time, but this one always remained present. He had been encouraged not to do any looking up into what it was. They didn't need him to know. However the higher-ups apparently wanted to know if the testers ever looked up this term. According to Sarah, the manager of another test, and sometimes an actor and said tests as she had done today, looking up the meaning of Auroborus guaranteed more work. So Henry never bothered looking it up. "Nah, I don't know what an Auroborus is." Henry finally answered, "Mm-hmm," John hummed, "Okay, last one." He tapped the screen, scrolled too far with his stylus, let out a frustrated sound and after a few wasteful seconds of fumbling, read off the last question. Are you human?" Henry blinked at the new question. He let his chair swivel so he could look at John and found the man staring at him. He hadn't been expecting John's dark eyes to be fixed on him, staring hard at him over the rim of his squared-off glasses frames, but John, to whom Henry could not help but apply the words, well-meaning but bumbling, was staring at him as if the answer to this question were the most important one of his career, and what a ridiculous question it was. Of course he was human. Henry wet his dry lips and laughed over a lump. "Well that's a new one, but yes, yes of course, I am human." John held his gaze for a few seconds, the look penetrating through Henry and cementing him to his seat as his pits now swam with sweat. John finally nodded, the tenseness of his stance loosening up as he noted Henry's answer. "All done then." "When Brian finishes his shift, your shift is done too. There are leftover donuts and bagels in the cafe if you want to take any of them home. My doctor will certainly appreciate it if you grab him before I do." "Right." Henry forced to laugh as John laughed for far longer at his own quip. With his head still glued to the screen of his phone, he exited, heading down the hallway to speak with the other workers about their tests. Henry sat in his chair, feeling oddly perturbed by the moment. Something had been wrong with the moment, with the survey's last question. He was. Henry shook his head. "No." "No, he couldn't name it. But it was wrong. All wrong." Swivelling in his chairy look back at Brian, would reach the last question of his long shift. He had hurried through his last two subjects, which guaranteed Henry and early night off as well. Brian was staring at the last question, sweat dripping down his face. His hand gripping the mouse of his computer like he might shatter it, on Brian's screen, jet brain's monofont, in his size big enough for Henry to read without needing to move the script red. "Are you human?" "Yes." "No." "End.exe." Oh, that one was a lot of narrator. It was, and the sentences were quite long. They were, they were wordy. "Yes." It's funny, because when I read this one out loud, I remember thinking that I really liked how it was written. But having to actually try to read all of those sentences instead of just follow along with them is a different task. It's really well written, just hard for us to read because there's so much, what's the word, when you have similar letter patterns in a row? "Aliteration." "Aliteration." But outside of the writing itself, I think the story was very interesting. I liked the subject matter. Did you guys see the turing test twist coming at some point? Did you catch on? I, I, I can feel it, you know, this nebulous previous.
life of like a cubicle that he worked in, you know, so like him not really knowing how he got there and why he's stuck there was kind of like this guy might be might be some kind of computer program himself. See, I still found it like ambiguous. It's like, is he real or not? Is boss real or not? Like is Henry real or not? Is John, like, I get the horrible, like, the full circle of, yeah, Sarah went in there and even acted like a person or like a captive herself. And it's like, so is she a programmer? Is she real? Or was she in some random pit and then all of a sudden just back it worked like a circle of like, is it all a computer program that each one of them thinks they're human individual spots or where is the real? Where is the real? Yeah. And I'm sure that's like the intention, the multi-layered. How do you know that's real? Because it's like the intentional wording of like the camera in the monitor and the camera in the speaker like saying those things and like the the the physicality of the environment in there and then you zoom out to this guy and a cubicle and it's like, is he a computer, you know, program which which I think is entirely possible. It's entirely possible that Henry is also a computer program. And how would you know? And that I think that is the point. Do you guys know what enoraborosis? Yeah. Yeah. It's a snake eating itself. Where's my little circle? If we just go with the first part, I think it was it's interesting to me how like it seems obvious. I guess like I feel like the characters in the pit are meant to be depicted as fairly like painfully obvious that there are or are not exhibiting human characteristics. But it still was like really just the whole thing is really off putting even knowing that I don't I don't know if this is in the author's intent. But it mirrors I guess how I feel about when just seeing stuff in the world now where you see you see lots of things. And there's some stuff that you know is definitely AI. But there's some stuff where you see it and it's like could be real. I don't want to be I want to be the one who decides something someone isn't a human or that something is fake or what but like there's too much. It evoked a feeling in me that I recognized in that unease and that we're trying to trying to judge the people in the pit feeling. There's also the impossibility of their requirements, which is to have an AI that knows it's not human, but pretends it is. And it's like so no matter what question is answered by the that Brian and the end of it is like it doesn't it's like almost impossible to convey because unless they could see inside their head and know their thoughts. It's an interesting conundrum. Well, I think that yeah, I think that's interesting too. I sort of maybe I'm assuming wrong. I sort of assume they can see what he what Brian is thinking because when when they get to the part where they're talking about what he's doing, the Henry the guy the next level desk guy is kind of like, yeah, he's like panic now, but I think I got him to calm down. I'm I feel like it's implying that like Henry is the boss, but also Henry is manipulating or at least able to see what is going on in like the thought process of Brian or something like you can see the back end of the LLM talking to itself or something. Yeah, because it's like the voices in the pit and the the hand in the pit. I'm not sure what that's supposed to represent in this because if if the subject in the pit are other actors playing outside of it, you know, all of them could be these because I think the naming of all this is intentional where it's like Henry and Brian and Jane and John very simple, you know, simple straightforward names could could be I think there's no one interestingly named here. Not that Brian isn't a cool name is saying Sarah, you know, I kind of just got it was imagination running wild, but if it's a program, then it's like is it a simulated imagination. The part that stuck out to me with Brian was the smells because it was like whenever the one guy that would not answer the birthday question was burned, he's like, oh, it smells like delicious barbecue, but that was one that like the answering process, I think while reading it's like, well, that guy, this doesn't feel like a normal person. Sarah was freaking out and acting like you expect a person to be if they woke up in a pit. This guy was just like, oh, it's kind of dark in here. That's cool birthday. What's going to be your birthday asshole? I don't want to tell you my birthday. I've got a birthday. I'm real, but like I don't talk about it. And then the smell was like a burning cooking flesh or whatever. And then there was the multi-voiced thing that wasn't supposed to be in the pit that burned and he's like smells like I don't know, plastic and mechanical parts and gasoline. If it's Brian's, the day I why all the descriptors of the smell and stuff, I thought was kind of strange. Yeah, it's also interesting that the amalgamation was the only one that spoke kind of like an AI is. If you're seeing people or objects that shouldn't be there, you might be going insane. Insanity is a logical conclusion. And that's the only one that spoke that way. Yeah, well, this story was written a while ago. I suppose it's after some of that. I think that's funny. That's sort of handset like the incidents that they've been having where agentic AIs have been like breaking containment, like the hugging, a hugging face, hack and all this stuff of like they're they're leaking into each other because they're figuring out how to you know, climb into the pit or whatever work. I was like, oh, this whole thing, I was like chuckling internally. This whole thing makes me in a very dystopian way kind of wish that this was what like captures were. They're going to be really funny. If you're like doing you have to side into your bag or something and then it just pops up on screen and it's like, are you a human? What's your birthday? And you have to like, you have to pass your own touring test to be like, yes, yeah, I am. And all these people were just like trying to log into their bank account or something to like check their balance. I'd be very annoying to deal with, but very funny the first time at least. It's a very 90s vision of the internet where we're all riding on skateboard surround and hacking the mainframe, but I also think of like the thriller music video of all things. You know how like thriller starts off and they're like, there's the scene playing out and like, he starts turning into a werewolf and then like all of a sudden you zoom out and it's like, oh, they're just in the theater and they start walking home. And then he starts turning again. It's like, oh, no, the zombies. It's real. And then you zoom out and he's like, hey, you were having a nightmare. Are you okay? And he turns on the yellow eyes. Like the pulling out from like, oh, guy in the pit to Brian to boss, the Henry and John to, I don't know, just another kind of parallel. I felt in thought of well, while reading it. Now we're going to listen to thriller. Pretty good though. I think it's good. And this is the last one. It is. The scary tapes are now over. Thank you, Keely for writing this. Appreciate that. Yeah, I can't believe this is the last one. I does not feel like that long ago that I was like, man, we have a lot of record. We're just gonna be a busy month. How was I guess? But this was fun though. I enjoyed it. I think it was nice to hopefully everyone that enjoyed watching and listening to these, but like as far as doing it, I thought it was fun. I thought it was fun doing different voices and characters. Mark just got to be married to the whole time. But all the different voices of Mark. That's me. Thank you guys for doing this too. Mark and Wade signed up. Almost no questions asked just from the pitch. So it's been really fun to do this with you, but also real good. And me and Andy really appreciate you guys signing on and agreeing to do it. And this is the last episode. There's still merch. Disractable.shop. There's also the book. So these five episodes that we've done along with 10 additional stories, along with an additional bonus story that you can only get in the book are available in the Scary Tapes anthology, which is a hardcover book or any book. But you can get the hardcover. We're selling it directly through Ingram Spark, which is a print on demand book service. Just go to realgoodai.org/anthology and you can pick up a copy for yourself. All the authors who submitted all the authors who were selected for the anthology and who we ultimately ended up making these episodes. Thank you to all of you for your hard work. Congrats to the winners. I hope you enjoy your prizes. I hope you enjoy seeing your work in the book. If you got an episode, I hope you like your episode. So far, I've definitely seen a few of the authors commenting on episodes being hyped up. Yeah, no pressure, but everyone else liked our reading of their story. So only be honest, no pressure. Are you human? By the way. But yeah, that's going to be the end of the episode, but also the end of the Scary Tapes. Thank you, everybody, for helping. Oh, in the judges too, we had a lot of people judging and we appreciate all the hard work from everybody. Happy Halloween, everybody. Enjoy your trick-or-treating. See you with your regularly scheduled, distractable programming in the next one. Thank you so much for listening, watching, whatever you did, we appreciate it. Podcast out. Like we've been doing at the end of all of these Scary Tapes episodes, I just want to take a quick second to say an extra special thank you to the real best patrons. These are people who supported the creation of the Scary Tapes anthology book with very generous donations. Thank you to Distractable Podcast listeners and viewers. Thank you to Sarah Lane. Thank you Onyx Sky 24. Thank you Ezreal Fay. Thank you Rebecca Hurr. Thank you Selenity Wolf. Thank you John and Olivia LeCount. Thank you Bob Mark and Wade, BMW team. Glad to be of service. I'm welcome. We're at, uh, yeah. Thank you Gillibaldi. Thank you Mavie. Thank you Corporal Swamps. Thank you to DuBug. Thank you Chroma Sketch. Thank you Alex Locke. Thank you to the keepers of the blade. Thank you Quiet Blonde. Thank you Title Bomb Productions. Thank you Aneon/Black Wolf. Thank you Torin II sequel. Thank you sponsored by Bob and Mandy Mark and Ane and Wade and Molly with special thanks to Wade who donated approximately 0.3 seconds before cut off. That's the name that they typed it. So that's what they get. Thank you to the best host of Distractable, Wade Barnes. That's Wade's. He did that one. And thank you to not Wade. That's me. I did that. Thank you.
all of you. Special thank you goes out to this picture. Thank you to everyone who supported this. Thank you for watching and listening. We really appreciate you. Arroll the credits. [Music] [Music] [Music]
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