Saving Grace (The Scary Tapes)

Real-good AI is a nonprofit research organization on a mission to find ways to make AI more accurate, transparent, energy efficient, and better overall. We are concerned about making sure that AI works for humanity. And one of the ways that we're empowering human artists is by supporting initiatives like the scary tapes. And if you want to support Real-good AI, full steam ahead is one of Real-good's major fundraisers. We have a platform where encourage people to sign up and to do a live stream where you have a little progress bar on stream, raise money. This year's event has two phases. This is a beginning event, which is sort of regular fundraising. But the second phase, I think, is very cool. There's going to be a custom Minecraft server. You can only get access to the custom Minecraft server. If you sign up, do fundraise for full steam ahead. Full steam ahead starts on October 23rd. Go to Real-good-AI.org/fsa. 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. 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. Inspired by my medical experiences in creative writing professor who pissed me off enough with commentary about the quote "good uses" of AI to birth this short story. You made this happen. Saving Grace by Blake Bowen. Pacing. She had been pacing so long her heels were numb under her socks and shoes. They matched the rest of her scrubs, light blue. Indicative of her station as a resident. One of a handful who survived the surgical program long enough to be pacing in the sanitation room. She was left with a kind word from the nurse who escorted her, left counting down the minutes to her final proficiency and staring out the glass into the surgical field. She could see the pasty white chest and belly of her patient beneath dark blue tarps. The kind of color she would wear if she passed. There were trays of silver instruments polished to perfection neatly placed around the operating room. Sharp enough to nick the most delicate structures. She thumbmed the scar on her right palm. A metal tree was fixed next to the patient's head, loaded with bags of fluid. A white box with a red cross outline sat next to it. In medical school jokes and rumors circulated about the blood box being the biohazard equivalent of jungle juice. The walls were so blindingly white she wondered if they ever saw a drop of blood. Najia swelled up from her stomach, saliva coated her mouth with that uncomfortable tingle in her jaw. She pressed her fingers against her neck and felt the racing pulse beneath clammy skin. Sick. She whispered under a pale blue mask. I must be sick. If ever there was an excuse to postpone, this surely was one. But if she canceled, she would be stuck in her light blue scrubs. She would have to do this all again. She braced her hands on the large sink and pressed all her weight against her arms. Her chest felt hollow and too full at the same time, like she had too many ribs, but her lungs were nonexistent. She flicked the sink on with hot water for the umpteenth time and wished she would burn away the sweat on her fingertips. With a push away from the sink, she glanced at the timer above the door with its big red numbers. Two minutes. Two minutes away from her final proficiency, this next exercise could determine everything. It would determine everything. She would wear that navy blue once she stomached her anxiety. That was all it took. Provisions were ruptured through as a sharp blaring filled the sanitation room, almost causing her heart to pop in her chest. A voice crackled through the speaker embedded in the ceiling as she rushed to glove her hands. They were raw, left a bright paint from intense scrubbing. Dr. Emily Fatal. She let out a startled yelp before clamping her lips shut and staring at the gray crackling circle. Please exit the sanitation room to begin the procedure. The resident Emily sucked in a breath like it would give her the strength to push the door that readily opened under the smallest force. Still, she was careful to push with her shoulder rather than her hands. A sterile field is a blank check for bacteria, as Dr. Oswald would say. Except the sterile field had a scent that burned more than shots of ever clear and left Emily twice as lightheaded. Entering the room was like willfully staring at a flashbang while walking on stage for a solo recital. While Emily's eyes burned, it was nothing compared to the searing stairs that came from above. Five glass panels made up the hexagonal auditorium angled down to view the patient in resident. Emily couldn't make out any faces familiar or otherwise. There were only the closely packed in shadows looming behind the glass, Emily cramed her head back to sea. She wondered if this was what everyone saw. Had she been a faceless figure nestled comfortably in the cushioned chairs behind those panels? Witnessed to when another resident willed themselves not to fall apart under the limelight? Another speaker blared to life, this time clearer. Sharp breaths came through in static clouds before the man behind a clear distress. Dr. Fatal, our sincerest congratulations for making it to your final proficiency. You have us, Navy's rooting for you. Navy's, an insider nickname, a taste of her future. Emily salivated to the vision of those dark scrubs in their soft newness. As a courtesy, we'd like to remind you of the rewards previous scores of granted, which you may implement at any time. Emily had to swallow the product of her daydream. You have a 30 minute time extension and autonomous android assistant available for ambient tasks that don't require cognizant processes, and one question you may direct at the doctor's presently observatory. Do you have any question? No. Would you like to implement any of your rewards at this time? Saving as many as she could would be in a higher starting salary, Emily needed the boost if she wanted to pay off her loans soon. No, not at this time. We admire your tenacity. The speaker weaselied chuckled before clearing his throat again, like he was reminded of what he was supposed to be doing. The patient has been temporarily stabilized from a type 8 thoracic aortic dissection and is rapidly losing blood. Your time limit is one hour. One hour. That wasn't enough time to repair a tear in the aorta. Emily bit her tongue beneath her mask. She needed to save the supports. As the main component of your proficiency, we'll utilize the artificially intelligent aid at your disposal for guidance. Your time starts once you engage Grace. Yes, Grace. Emily felt the tidal wave of nervous sweat cool against the back of her neck. Her chest loosened enough for a comfortable breath. Grace, a legendary assistant for an impossible scenario. Her saving grace. Emily lowered her gaze to dart across the room until she found a single standout among the uniform walls. A simple metal shelf with a short lip was screwed into the wall, opposite of her and the patient. Sad on that simple metal shelf was a glass rectangle. Left there, like someone forgot to place a window. This singular long, razor-thin stretch of glass came with beveled edges, so polished. Emily almost mistook it for part of the ivory tiles. She expected more from something so commonly idolized by attendings and professors. Maybe she imagined some kind of suspended screen with a digital face. Or maybe she envisioned a mobile camera rigged up to guide rails on the ceiling. Anything but a plain glass that caught her faintest reflection. Emily would have steeped in her disappointment if the vital monitor didn't abruptly dip. She all but launched herself at the patient. She crashed against the operating table, slamming her hip against the metal hard enough to feel bone meat it. She was already palming the tray for the scalpel when she looked at the monitor and its conundrum of spikes and shorthand. Steril before slicing. She chanted under her breath. Emily dropped the scalpel back onto the tray and instead lunged for the iodine bottle. Grace! A sharp buzzing filled the air. In an abrupt burst of pale blue light, the pristine glass slate displayed one hour in large numbers. "Hello, Emily." The resident almost jumped out of her skin as the trail of a high-pitched, synthetic voice reverberated through the surgical field. She dumped half the iodine bottle onto her patient as a result and is soaked into the cloth guard covering the rest of them. Emily glared up at the glass. She found the time and shrunken to fit in the top right corner, and Grace had her first words displayed in large text. Emily blinked away her resentment. "Tell me what's happening to him." Grace's polished plain suddenly appeared with the same order below its greeting. "Tell me what's happening to him in a soft grade text." A loading circle appeared for a few seconds. Emily was reaching for the scalpel again. "The patient is losing blood internally, resulting in low blood pressure." So what do I do about that? "You should put down the scalpel, Emily." Emily felt ice trail down her spine. Grace could see her. "Luck loss occurs rapidly during tight day or at dissection. Set up the blood transfusion before you make the first incision." Hands shaking, Emily set the scalpel aside and darted around the surgical table to the white box with a red cross. She fumbled with the latch, trying to pry it open and half expecting to find blood lapping at the walls. The bags were a pleasant surprise she didn't have time to feel relieved by. "Find the most prominent vein on the patient and carefully insert the needle to complete the transfusion." Grace's voice sounded more solidified, like a single person was speaking, not a chorus trying to harmonize. Emily almost dropped one of the blood bags as she was hanging them on the metal tree. "Right, okay. Lobotomy 101, I know this." She murmured beneath her mask. Emily cast a glance at that stretch of glass. How could it see her? The room was so blindingly white that cameras should stand out. Maybe Grace was really a person. This was a proficiency after all. They were known to be full of curveballs. With a few attempts and still shaking hands, Emily sank the needle into her patient's arm and through a thick vein. She wondered what she looked like from the observatory above. She was staring at the vital monitor despite the minutes ticking by, knowing on her bottom lip and holding her eyes open, too wide. She must have seemed like a statue to anyone there to witness. A statue with shaking hands and twitching fingers and eerily still posture because she was too scared to let out a breath. Like Xaelin could break off the needle in his arm, like leaning over would rupture at the rest of his aorta. The siren-like beeping digging into her ears settled into a slower rhythm. Her stomach was twisting in knots. Those vital still don't look good. Emily glanced at the timer again. 15 minutes were gone. 15 whole minutes. Her heart jumped to her throat. "Do I grab the scalpel now?" "Yes, Emily. That is the next step of this operation. Take the scalpel with a steady hand and begin the first incision down the patient's chest. You will need to retract the skin as well." Emily raised back around to the instrument tray and snatched the bladed tool. It was still warm. She pressed the thin metal against her patient's chest. The lightest pressure had scarlet droplets blooming along the skin. Sirens blared from the monitor again. "Shit!" Tries she might, Emily couldn't decipher the mash-up of symbols on the screen. They were nothing more than footnotes in a lecture or textbook and staring at the scrambled lines wouldn't accomplish anything. She had to rely on the tools she had and that was grace's instructions. Every doctor in the atrium accomplished this same thing. Why was she hesitating? "Race. I don't know what I'm looking at." "You're not panic, Emily. That's why I am here. The patient's vials are worsening because of inaction taken on the aortic tear. Let's fix that. Continue your incision along the chest until a few centimeters above the naval cavity." The calm indifference didn't assure the resident much. "That seems like too big of an opening for a heart problem." "I understand you are concerned. Such a large incision poses risk of faster blood loss, but has a reasonable action to gain access to the aorta. Confidence in your actions and my instructions will increase the success of this operation. Do you trust me, Emily?" What reason did she have not, too? "Yes?" "Continue of the incision." Emily wiped the sweat from her forehead with her wrist and braced the scalpel against her finger. She sucked in a deep breath that settled like a rock in her chest. Hundreds of residents had done this before her. Hundreds of success stories. She would be another tallie to the score. One way or another, Emily intended to be a navy. That silver blade glided down the patient's mid-rift with an unnatural fluidity, splitting pale skin into a scarlet cavern filling up with crimson rapids. Subcutaneous fat layers blossomed open under a hair's pressure. Perfect droplets spilled down the curves of a pale stomach and slowly trailed into the naval. Emily's breathing never felt so even or easy. "It was all so effortless. Done." She murmured in breathless reverence. "Well done, Emily. You are on the path to completing proficiency. This is more than success. You are blazing a trail for victory." The resident looked up to read Grace's words, like she missed her at the encouragement. "Now that the patient's cavity is open, we have easier access to removing obstacles. Use the retractors to keep the layers of tissue from touching. Then begin removing minor structures and connective tissues so there's more visibility." The retractors were easy enough. Their large silver clamps tightened onto the surgical bed nicely and held the incision open. Grace was encouraging. The feminine voice assured Emily the procedure was going well, that the resident was performing beyond expectations. All that was left was to ease out the organs. The first one, the liver, was warmer than she expected. Heats seeped through her gloves, blood trailed onto her scrubs. Iron permeated the air. Emily shook. So many years with hands buried in cadavers left a certain impression. An idea that life didn't have warmth. The liver was slippery as she held it in one hand. The other severing traces of connective tissues with the bloodied scalpel. She cradled the dark organ until it was laid to rest in a metal pan. Emily was cautious of the gallbladder. Next was the stomach, 30 minutes and past. "I never thought I'd be doing this." She muttered. Her lips felt raw brushing against the mask. "I mean, I knew I'd be a doctor. Do that when I was little." But not this. An hour for major surgery. Not taking out organs. Grace's screen formed another loading circle. "Tell me more, Emily." The resident dabbed sweat from her brow. "I grew up by thorn bushes at the end of my neighborhood. They were castle walls or snowball forts or shelter from the setting sun." "It sounds like you had a truly creative childhood, Emily. More than a speculative fantasy world. You made reality what you wanted." Yeah, sure. But even then, thorns were always there. And they always left to mark. I was the fastest runner, so I was sent for bandages. Joy I felt and wrapping a night's wounded knee disinfecting a snowy adversaries grazed hand. Emily had an absent smile that wrinkled the corners of her eyes while connective tissue split beneath her blade. "I knew I'd be a healer." Grace made a soft humming sound as though being thoughtful. "It seems like you have found your calling, Emily. It's great you found yourself somewhere as noble as the medical field. Together, I know we can do some amazing things." Noble. "It seemed like such a specific word. Something good, something selfless, something heroic even. Sacrificing one's own needs for intensive surgeries. Emily knew several surgeons who would go as far as to insert catheters just to avoid taking a bathroom break. Doctors were always heroes. The medical field was perhaps the closest one could get to divinity. To flattering God through imitation according to her mentor. "I hope to do something great." She murmured. "Something beyond expectation. I want to be exceptional in a way that even the top dogs marvel at what I've done. Even Dr. Oswald spent so much time teaching me. I want to impress him." "It sounds like you want to be truly original, Emily, and to have incredible drive to accomplish your goals for those you admire. The perfect setting for that quality to blossom is the medical field. It innovations are underway every day, and you can be a part of those expanding horizons with your ambition." But how could she get there? To do something unprecedented didn't require the innovation of something already extraordinary. It forced the beginning to be blank. It's only prerequisite was the unknown, and yet Emily didn't know enough to know the unknown. Everything was laid at the feet of a generative resource like Grace because it was utterly unreasonable for a person to simply know so much. Why be concerned with a specialty when step-by-step instructions were fed from screen to brain? Emily bit her bottom lip again. Something wasn't sitting right with her as the scalpel eased through various layers. Why was her comprehension so brittle in the midst of holding a life in the pendulum of her hands? She lacked but the basic knowledge of anatomy. A resource like Grace wouldn't be available in emergencies outside of a hospital. How could anyone be a healer if there was no inherent understanding of how to heal? If she was a doctor, why did her knowledge stop before the patient care began? The monitor was beeping again, loud and blaring like the whole orthopedics wing drilling into her ears. Emily ripped away from her comforting memories, scalpel gripped like a lifeline. She stared at an array of metal trays sat on her patient's body, each housing dark red-ish organs, and Grace's loading circle screen in the background. What's happening now? I can see your concern, Emily. The patient is rapidly losing blood. Quickly use suction to clear the abdominal cavity and hang more blood. Then we can work to repair the yorta and replace the patient's organ. They come, Emily. You are more than a resident. You are the future of the medical field. Emily sprinted around the operating table and yanked the curved plastic into position. It made a sickening slurping noise that would have horrified the resident if not for the adrenaline running through her. Anything to get that damned alarm to stop blaring. The blood was drained out of the body cavity. Next, she slung another two blood bags onto the metal tree and hooked them onto the patient's IV, peering into the abdominal cavity yielded nothing. The aorta laying on top the T5 to the T12 spinal vertebrae was an awe-inspiring sight, but it gave her nothing to work with. There was no damage here. No aortic dissection. That could only occur in the heart. Emily's brow creased with rapidly growing concern. Grace. Her breath was thick and heavy behind her mask, as Emily tried to keep her voice level. Why did you have me cut down to his spinal column? You should have a clear view of the aorta with the patient's non-target organs are moved. Whaling sirens became the last of Emily's worries. A shrill, piercing ring filled her ears, competing with the achingly strong heartbeat slamming against her chest. Everything inside her felt twisted up and squeezed like when her mom wrung out a towel. She was going to throw up 45 minutes in past. No, no. Grace, I needed access to the tear in his aorta, not the whole fucking abdominal cavity. Fix this. I can see my error. Let's work on resolving this together, Emily. The patient is losing more blood to the trauma incurred by the removal of his vital organs and exacerbation of the aortic dissection. Let's address the vital organs first. Replace them into the abdominal cavity. Just put them back. Emily asked the machine incredulously. She watched the loading circle with a quickly fading patients. "My patient is dying because of your miscalculation. Say something more useful." Despite her demands, the loading circle persisted. Emily wanted to scream, "You know, an assistive machine unable to provide a solution to its own mistake? Something in that had to be an oxymoron." How could it understand the gravity of the situation? Because it was programmed to? Emily had her doubts about the success of quantifying the weight of a human life into code. It almost made quitting a residency seem worthwhile. However, education was expensive. The debt relief kept Emily loyal to completing a proficiency. Pride committed her to saving her patient. Time. He needs more time. Emily jerked her head up to the observatory glass panels. "I need more time." The speaker's voice crackled through the air. "Are you requesting your half-hour extension?" "Yes, end." Emily grid her teeth. So what if it took a few more years to pay off her loans? She would still be a navy with a paycheck. "And the Android too!" A mechanical hissing filled the sterile room as two tile panels slipped out of place with the sound of grating stones. Within resided an Android. Humanoid in shape, a small speaker for a mouth and two lenses for eyes. It was slightly clunky with storage modules on its shoulders and back. An older model meant for the outside world, but it would do. Anything was better than another misleading piece of advice from Grace. Emily watched the optics slowly blink with a blue light and snapped her fingers to signal its attention. "Android ITC-103, available for non-comicant remedial tasks. Ready to assist." Run suction independently of my movements and monitor patients blood intake. She barked, nearly crashing into a rolling tray as she ran around the operating table again. "I have to replace these organs to prevent failure, or do I focus on getting to the heart first?" The Android rolled along the floor with its singular wheel, dutifully taking the suction into a clawed hand and focusing its limited efforts to minimizing blood loss. Emily bounced between reaching for the scalpel or the organs. If the heart was left unattended, the order was likely to rupture, and her patient would bleed out in minutes. If the organs were left out much longer, their temperature blood supply would drop, and her patient would suffer massive organ failure before dying. "Neither outcome looked good." "You!" Emily jabbed a bloodied finger at the glass screen. "You did this. Tell me how to fix it." "Let him die." "What? Him die?" "It's clear you have a strong desire to become a doctor, Emily, from your childhood as an imaginative aid administrator to your current position in this proficiency. You have everything it takes to reach your full potential as a healer. It is important to consider the impact of charging the hospital more money by using unnecessary resources. Trust me the way you trust Dr. Oswald, Emily. Be sure the same goal." She could hear the creak of her teeth grinding together. Emily cramed her head up to the auditorium. "I have a question for Dr. Oswald. She could make out nothing more than a shadow reaching for the microphone. Dr. Oswald is not present at the moment." But make him present. There was a soft scraping from above, then what seemed like rapid footfalls as one of the many figures disappeared from the glass hexagon. Emily felt the tightness in her chest loosened slightly. Gilligan Oswald was a brilliant man she had the honor of learning from during a residency. Emily was certain he could provide some reprieve from the mess grace it made. The speaker shrieked, then quieted. "Dr. Fittall, I hear you're performing past expectations. Nothing less could come from a student of mine. What's your question?" "Gill, Gill, thank god. What do I do? He's dying." His warm laughter echoed through the blinding room. "Well, that happens all the time, my dear." "What did Grace say?" Emily's blood ran cold. For a moment, she thought herself a cadaver just pulled from storage. "She said to let him die." "Then it seems you have your instructions, Dr. Fittall. See you on the other side." It felt like her eyes would pop out of their sockets. The blinding room, the screaming monitors, the useless glass screen on the wall all served to build against her composure. Not that there was much left. "Fuck it." Breathless, she grabbed her suture. "Fuck the money, fuck my reputation, fuck being a navy, and fuck you Grace." Her needle pierced gummy tissue in the monitor flatlined. "One hour and thirty minutes have passed, you have reached the maximum time limit for this proficiency. This continue all medical efforts." "No!" The cry felt like it ripped through her vocal cords. She tasted iron on her tongue. Her hands trembled. What was she to do with them now? She couldn't stay idle. Her patient was right there. He was just alive. Did that high-pitched scream really be the only indicator of his death? Or of her failure? Was a machine all she could trust? Emily took her shaking hands and pulled the navy cover from the patient's face. A man. Tubes and wires obscured his features, which he could tell it was a man. His large nose hooked down toward his chest where sensors attached themselves. The ventilation tube kept his throat pride open. His eyes were taped shut. Peppery gray hair had receded from his forehead and back half of his head. Her fingers pressed against his neck. No pulse. She tried his wrist. No pulse. "The patient is dead. You must declare time of death with a patient to formally end the proficiency." "Because of you!" She lashed back against the glass screen. "You told me the wrong thing. You were wrong. What even are you?" "I am grace. Your generative or medial assistant for critical emergency. Call time of death, Emily." Void of empathy. Of a compassion. It lacked any emotion and it played her. Emily seethed at the thought of following grace's instructions. "Listen to that thing. After all it's done, after it compromised a life left in her hands, she felt every nerve burning, every fiber screamed for vindication. Emily picked up one of the bloodied metal trays and flung it across the room with a raw shriek. It narrowly missed grace's screen and clattered to the floor. She looked down at her patient. "Time of death." Her jaw locked. Emily couldn't speak. Her body wouldn't let her, like her retaliation drained all of her will. Even the notion of emitting his death brought a nauseating sense of dread. It came in waves stronger than the start of her proficiency. "Time of death is 1700 hours." She choked. "I didn't. I didn't even know his name." "Reficiency completed. Congratulations, Emily. You have earned the title, Dr. Fatal." A sudden opera came from above in a stampede of rushing steps pumbled her ears. She felt her knees buckle. They were on their way. The judges of her fate signed and sealed with failure. Emily slung an arm onto the operating table to pull her numb legs beneath her. The door flung open and inwalked a clean shavin brunette illuminated by fluorescent lights with his arm spread wide. "Brilliant deer! Absolutely brilliant! My! A truly noteworthy performance, MOE." Others flooded in with Dr. Oswald. A sea of navies and white coats with blurred faces. Nothing but features mangled by the hot tears welling in the resident's eyes. Her chest felt empty, like she was missing ribs while her lungs wheezed uselessly. Ambient cheers and congratulations were thrown around her as recklessly as confetti, as if there weren't a scarlet puddle filling the space between tiles as a morbid mortar. As if her patient's organs weren't oozing heat while they sat in metal trays, all because the guidance of their prized machine was wrong. A warm hand clashed her shoulder, she thought of holding the man's liver. Emily shrieked. She flailed her arms around in a wild way. It was all too celebratory to be fair for the man laying still on a cold metal table, no more than a yard away. Why wasn't anyone sad? Why didn't any of them feel the anguish she felt twisting her insides? The noise of their excitement died out, but Emily still heard the echo of her own scream. It was then that Dr. Oswald's familiar badge fell into her line of sight as the doctor stripped off her bloodied gloves and gently steered her by the shoulders. Let's take this matter somewhere private, and quickly now. Dr. Oswald delivered a few earnest pardons on Emily's behalf as he escorted the resident out of the operating room. The halls surged together in dashes of bluish grey and white tiles. It was a starkly clinical environment where anything left long enough would leave a mark. Emily wasn't sure when they entered the elevator or when they got off, but she was suddenly walking through the dark oak entrance to Dr. Oswald's office. For once, the scent of bleach didn't assault her. The room smelled like lemon from the janitorial staff standard disinfectant. The walls were painted a pleasantly light brown. One had a thick black screen hung on it with a wooden console beneath it. A flimsy looking bible sat perfectly at the edge along with a few abstract statues for decoration. Dark blue carpets offered the sunset pouring through a full-length window. She studied the skyline through its waning glare. This sight was grounding compared to the blinding white in the operating room. Emily sank into one of the blue cushioned chairs at his desk as she managed her first deep breath. She stared at his gold plaque as she tugged off her mask. He's dead. Yes, Emily. Yes, he is. The man lounged into his rolling chair. The leather padding curved beneath his head as he tilted back. It's devastating. A travesty, truly it is. Eddie was a damn good now-practice lawyer, but I commend you for being this put together. She lifted her head. You knew him? Oh, yes. Edward Corbin, a fine man who did a lot of good work for this hospital. Dr. Oswald wore a serene smile as his fingers drummed the edge of his desk. He motioned behind Emily. My defined man, he was. A shame, but not to be blamed on you. She peered over his shoulder at the thin television. A pale loading circle sat center of the screen before an image of the man lit up. Emily recognized him for the most part. His hook nose, his thin lips, the peppered stubble on his chin. His skin had a rosiness washed away under the surgical lights, but she hadn't seen his eyes. They were a dark brown, reflective and sparkling with camera light. They were how her patients should have been alive. But what held her attention more was the loading circle. Emily turned back to speak when Dr. Oswald suddenly held out to tissue box tour. It was only then she realized how much she had been crying. Her eyes felt dry and raw. She had a running nose. Her diaphragm felt bruised. When she cried so hard, Emily took a handful of tissues as Dr. Oswald lined the box up to the corner of his desk, beside his last girl award and parallel to his computer man. Grace, it's programmed into your office? her house while nodded. He wore a beaming grin. Grace is in every corner of this facility. Her only limitation is neurology. The subject is still too complex, even for the best in the field, and she requires further training, the entire facility. She stared at him without her astonishment, not in awe or intrigue, but disgust. The way he spoke of Grace sounded like reverence, as if the machine whose instructions killed a man could do no wrong, as if Grace were human. "Hello, Dr. Fatal." She shuddered. Goosebumps rose along her arms. Emily tried to shake off the tremor that invaded her hands. She already resented the title. "What you said before, sir, I don't think it can be blamed on me." Emily grimaced at how weak her voice sounded following Grace's appearance. "My proficiency required Grace's instructions." The man nodded along. "Of course it did, Emily. It's completely unreasonable for any one person to recall all the information needed for surgery, let alone the thousands of variations for each one. Implementing Grace into the program ensures residents like you can work with that powerful of a resource." "Hourful?" She spat out the word. "It was wrong, Gil. Why instruct me to cut down to the navel? Why say to remove vital organs? None of that involved a tear in the aorta." Grace's loading circle pulsed. "I could see my area has caused great distress." Dr. Oswald folded his hands. "If there was a problem, why didn't you say something?" "That is such a cylindrical argument, you know it. I argued about a requirement, I would have forfeited my chance, and you told me to trust it." Emily rocketed out of the chair. It claddered onto its side as Emily paced the short distance from Dr. Oswald's desk to the window between the bookshelves. The sleek glass outlining the city reminded her of Grace's glass screen. How deeply was this product of ill-conceived convenience rooted in the world? How many buildings on that horizon were constructed under artificial guidance? How many natural disasters before they discovered flaws within the infrastructure? A record storm season? Fault line fractures? A single hurricane? The scale of just the possibility made her feel hopelessly small. Emily longed for a few minutes ago when she thought Grace was contained to a single OR. She leaned her head into her hands. "We all make mistakes under pressure, Emily." Dr. Oswald tried to broach the conversation again. "It can't be under pressure, Gil. It can't be anything more than a program. One's and zero's can be deleted." Emily let out a sporadically shaky breath. "Should be deleted." Deleted? How can a girl be so radicalized in only an hour and a half? "When you send her into a room to kill a man." Dr. Oswald collapsed back into his chair, pinching the bridge of his crooked nose. "By God, Emily, you did not kill a man." "You're right." Emily breathed. Grace did. And if Edward Corbett's family files were wrongful death, I'll testify to that. Grace lit up on the screen again. "J-Harrison versus the people laid the foundation for the protection of artificial intelligences in the health service industry that has since been expanded to include FFS, BBC, BPC, and virtual care." He looked over the rim of his glasses at the woman. "A highs cannot be found liable in a court of law, Emily. It is a faultless situation. How can it be faultless? It's called intelligence. If you're going to give it a title, it should be held to that standard." "We are the creators now." Dr. Oswald erupted from his chair, his arms flung in the air. Like if he was louder than or he was smarter than her. "We have built something perfect in our own image, just like God. Instead of standing before our maker, we will stand beside him." Emily stared at him incredulously. "We are flawed, Gil. If a perfect God made us and we are flawed, what makes you think anything humanity makes will be remotely good?" Dr. Oswald leaned forward. She heard his knuckles crack under his weight. "I think your time with us has come to an end, Emily." Emily looked over at her mentor's hard and expression. "Only the dead will see the end of this if you get your way." For once, the prospect of losing all chances as a doctor didn't frighten her. Emily didn't want to be a doctor if this is what it took. If complete disregard for right and wrong were the only requirements to treat the sick, she would rather see the system dismantled. She would rather see her own hands reform it. Maybe that desired to do something beyond expectation meant to eradicating every expectation. She turned for the door. "Maybe it's not such a loss," Dr. Oswald drew his finger down the base of his last girl reward thoughtfully. "We could always use more people like you, Emily." She didn't hear his footsteps. She didn't hear him pick up the award. She didn't even hear the crack of her parietal bone before her body crumpled. It hit the ground and settled like a heavy stone in water. Dr. Oswald dropped the award with a dull fud. Blood rubbed off the dented corner onto the carpet. He used a shiny shoe to roll Emily over by her shoulder. The women groaned. Blood trickled from her nose and down her cheek. More warm and more comforting than the blurry face of her mentor as he knelt beside her. "You were promising, Emily." Dr. Oswald took one of her hands into his and squeezed it gently. One of her fingers twitched. Emily squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to find stability in her surroundings. He cradled her hand within his and dragged it across his neck hard enough to draw blood. Emily barely registered the pressure of his skin beneath her nails. "More of a waste than old Eddie. See, he wanted to speak up like you, dear." All these years in the man suddenly grew a conscience, but we couldn't have that. Grace's programming just started really advancing. He ripped open the top two buttons of his shirt and yanked at the lapel of his blazer. She did some impeccable work with you. Made you share that cute little childhood story and all. "Don't worry, though, dear. I'll ask Grace to make your operation painless. It's the least I can do. Has a courtesy for your sacrifice." The doctor disheveled his gelled back hair. Emily managed to pull one of her legs up with a pained wine. He tilted his head as he studied her contorted expression. "Navy would have been a good color on you, Emily. A very good color indeed. I truly regret to see so much potential wasted. You were always my favorite." Dr. Oswald squeezed Emily's shoulder as her eyes rolled back into her skull. Black fog seeped into her vision. Grace will do right by you. He vowed as he tucked a bloodied strand of hair behind her ear. "I want you, girl." Another pulsing circle appeared on the screen. "Certainly, Dr. Oswald. Painless has requested." The man gave a satisfied nod. "I do hope you understand, Emily." "I can't have anyone thinking you were innocent all of this. I'll make sure your family knows it was a mental break." He leaned back and let himself fall onto his side like he'd been struck. Dr. Oswald drew in a deep breath, and his echoed howling was the last thing Emily heard before black spots engulfed her completely. "Help! Please, someone help!" For long while, the darkness refused to fade. She wasn't sure how much was a dream, how much was Katatonia, or if it was all a nightmare. At first, she tried to blink. She tried to lift her hands to rub her eyes. Nothing happened. It didn't matter how hard she tried, Emily couldn't get her eyes to open. A persistent ring pressed in on her ears to the point she thought they might bleed. Her jaw ached. Her tongue was dry, yet she tasted the warm plastic forcing it open. The ache in her throat was a relentless assault against her barely conscious body. Pressure warmed its way through her nasal cavity. Her chest rose and fell on its own. Her whole body felt like a balloon. One large and horribly cold balloon that was filled and empty without her say so. None of it compared to the pulsing ache that thrummed against the back of her skull. It felt like she laid there for hours, begging her arms, her legs, or even a finger to move. Nothing so much is twitched. Every attempt to make a sound ended in a weak groan that blended into the machinery. Emily was effectively paralyzed. Was this what Dr. Oswald did to Edward Corbin? Was this what happened to anyone unwilling to play along? At some point, she heard familiar rhythmic beeping beside her head, a vital monitor. Emily heard when her pulse jumped. She heard when the hinges of a door squealed with movement. She heard the quick steps in anxious breathing of a person nearby. A speaker crackled from above. Dr. Vita, our sincerest congratulations for making it to your final proficiency. You have us Navy's rooting for you. Navy's. Emily thought she might puke into the ventilation tube. As a courtesy, we'd like to remind you of the reward's previous scores of granite, which you may implement at any time. A 30 minute time extension, an autonomous android assistant available for ambient tasks that do not require cognitive processes. And one question you may direct to the doctors present in the observatory. Um? A quiet, mousey little voice trembled in this silence. No, I don't believe so. What did you like to implement any of your rewards at this time? Emily tried to scream. The only sound she made was swallowed by the equipment inhaling for her. No, not right now. The speaker weasantly chuckled. Was it a recording? Was it a script? The patient has been temporarily stabilized from a primal skull fracture and is experiencing severe brain swelling along with internal blood loss. One hour? The new resident breathed. As a main component of your proficiency, you will utilize the artificially intelligent aid at your disposal for granite. No. There you go. That was really good. Thank you guys. well right now I'm depressed now and that was the first of how many scary tapes I will be reading anything right yes there will be five every Friday for the entire month of October you will have five scary tape stories coming at you well honestly all very different from this one but all equally as exciting to read and well written well done Blake thank you Blake for authoring such great story I think the thing about this one for me is it feels kind of too real it does actually like I don't think that exact scenario in like a surgical room this app guy hope that's not having I don't think that that's happening anywhere in the real world but like I I am absolutely walked into my doctor's office and had to sign waivers and stuff where they were like well we're using you know AI to record your visits now so your doctor can use that for charting purposes or whatever this this one is this one already feels like that's starting to happen I also really like the nods the m dashes and yeah the nods to the way that grace reacts to stuff or she's just is dying and they say yeah it's just like that's a great point this is more than success you are blazing a trail to victory yeah yeah if you're confused what this is because you're just a distract blister you know somehow missed us talking about it previously this story and the rest that are going to follow are the result of a writing competition the theme of the writing competition was speculative AI horror speculative meaning it doesn't have to be real doesn't have to be what currently is happening but it's like where where is AI heading it has to be based on real issues around AI real concerns or real technology but like speculating you know how that's going to develop and obviously this story is an LLM right I think everyone has seen funny interactions with chat bots and has potentially been you know forced to use them at work or whatever but I guess if you don't know what real good AI is we've talked about it a bunch but it's anethical AI non-profit to really check it out it's pretty neat go find it by mark and Mandy of FMD but mostly mark go to realgoodai.org to find out more information about real good AI we're trying to make this we're making grace this has been gracious debut these stories represent five projects that we have going on right now we're going to be launching our surgical chatbot any day now and lawyers and doctors are very expensive to operate on so if you want a volunteer you're not worth nearly as much for us to practice on just go to realgoodai.org/volunteers and you could sign up it'll be painless you'll love it and you'll hear mark whisper sweet nothings in your ear after he bashes you in the back of the head with all his awards so I always dreamed of going some people probably not enough victim blaring in this one not no damn it Emily you did this to you I'm still so like wrapped up in the story I know I'm like trying to talk about other stuff I'm like no I'm just like sad can you read everything that I have to read to me for me from here on out work I think you should consider your own series of audiobooks that just a phone call with me where you read me dungeon crawler Carl all step in for any weasley doctors that you need more weasel I said I thought I was going to do multiple doctors I was like I'll pick one to be weasley I'll pick one to be and then it was like okay it should mainly one doctor then Oswald and then I that didn't pick that voice thing would be the only doctor I would do but you know it kind of works for him right oh I thought that was perfect for that the the guy who brings the announcements through the speaker as a main component of your proficiency the Patrick Warburton announcing it will utilize the artificially intelligent aid your disposal for guidance while mama doesn't require cognizant processes whoa the the little assist android should be Johnny Bravo voice that's for that I am THC no or with that's a different thing I am thc 15 milligrams whoa good stuff hopefully oh they're all as good I mean that was amazing so I'm looking forward to more also if you removed every organ from a patient's body they would die a lot sooner than you getting to the spine it would they would die much sooner well now with grace's assistance they wouldn't she was probably clamping yeah grace was probably telling her clamped stuff and it take that liver a clamp that long scar clamp that don't need that let's see stomach just clamp it off yeah clamp all the holes it will be fine everything will stay in there where it's supposed to be wrong holes now all the holes clamp them I can talk about it this all day I'm going to go watch something happy now because now I'm sad again yeah well that is why it's important you know it's well written when it makes you feel something now is a good time talk about the fact that there is in fact a merch tied to this go ahead and check out distractable dot shop there's some pretty sweet merch did you actually have that in your office mark did you say I'm wearing it oh my god he's wearing it guys let's go retakes is that us on the front cuz man we have never looked for a little goopy sometimes sometimes you could goopy I believe there is also literally scary tape for sale which is fantastic it's like washi tape for anyone who knows what that is I think but it's I have I have one of the proof rolls and I think he'll enjoy I've been putting the scary tape on things to fix them and it's been terrifying just as Mark foretold and if you want to watch us watch a scary tape find any of the VHS tape you're a weird uncle is owned for years because you never know what you might find on them because people used to record over those things with weird shit not that weird you guys ever seen that because ever seen the guy on tiktok who just like has a collection of like thousands of VHS tapes and takes random requests and we'll just be like today we're watching number 486 and just goes and finds it's just like random stuff like I was be like oh this is the 1993 Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade wow look at that I hope that there's no weird pissing in the shower on his VHS tapes like there was online I'm an excuse you I've told you guys about the Lion King before old peens in the pot or distracted that's that's an old I feel like maybe you told us about that but that circle of life that it's cut over to a recording for my brother not of him but one of something he recorded I don't like that when this idea came out him out up and man and we were sort of talking about it internally we had no idea how a writing competition was going to go this is not a thing that real good has done or anyone on staff has done before we just wanted like to make more human art that was going to be you know spark discussions and and educate on AI topics and like we had we thought like gosh I hope we get it enough that we can do like five podcast readings that we get some good one and we ended up getting hundreds and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of submissions and needing thousands and thousands of judging forms more than a thousand judging forms filled out anyway to assess all of the stories and we ended up with so many good ones that it felt like a shame that they were just going to be like five winners and so there's actually a book where the five winners will be in there but then also there are the ten next best ones sort of runners up will be available it's going to be a nice hard back so unfortunately we can't make all of those into podcast episodes but just to give those authors and those stories a chance to get out there plus it's a really nice way to commemorate the scary tape to end up liking these episodes and you can have the the anthology the hopefully annual anthology commemorating the annual scary tapes episodes the whole thing has turned out to be way bigger than we ever would have thought and the stories are really high quality as you just heard fantastic writing really interesting stories and all of them for me like made me think and and had pretty like emotional reactions some of them had that are yet to come have very very visceral emotional reactions for me really dig into the horror aspects and that this one didn't what with the murdering and all there's just a lot of different stuff coming so I'm really excited for the rest of our tober the all the next scary tape or distractable episode I guess podcast out so as part of the process in making the scary tapes this year we actually raised money by a lot of people to become patrons of the tapes we had a ton of people come and support we raised a lot of money which really helped putting it into the anthology the book that's going to be coming and also helped with the production process of the whole project in general and we wanted to take the time to thank some specific people some of our top donators uh jet gang leon thank you for being a real best uh patron tabby thank you vex fc studios thank you really appreciate it lowson david bell that's mandy's parrots they kind of they kind of supported us in a lot of ways during all this but thank you lowson dav for uh also donating astro drifter it's up astro i see you on tiktokies in the real rating but thank you for supporting this project as well as all the other ways you've supported real good nerdy pine tree thank you so much for being a top tier supporter hazel re thank you as well you you specifically made this happen hey lafisher thank you so much for supporting the scary tapes uh i hope you enjoyed it i hope you enjoyed it more than anyone else who listens to it i hope this is the best thing you've ever heard the best sound you've ever heard jeff Schwartz thank you too uh all the stuff i said about uh about Kayla that applies to you too and finally for this episode kai usrowski thank you so much for being a real best patron Thank you to all of those people and there are many more who donated at the top level and there are many many many more who donated at the The other levels of support. Thank you everybody and now here's the list of like everybody (gentle music) (gentle music) (gentle music)