Cohost writing prompt: @build-a-bot — Ship AI who now finds itself without a ship
"Hello?" calls Four Reciprocating Cantilever into the dark facility. "Is there anyone — hello?"
Hello, a mechself chirps back eventually.
"Oh!" He fans himself with a hand, embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't — this factory isn't listed as having anyone indwelt. You are indwelt-here?"
Yes, the mechself says. After another pause, it activates the factory-floor lighting, row after row of light tubes flickering on.
"Thank you," Four Reciprocating Cantilever says. "Um. Just you? No...workforce?"
No, mechself indwelt-factory says.
"Ah." He drums his fingers against his leg.
Can I help you, it chirps, after another, longish, pause.
"I'm a quality control inspector," he says, with a wincing air. "There was a batch of — fortune cookies, I believe? And the fortunes in each of them...."
Help, I'm a prisoner in a fortune cookie factory, mechself supplies, when he trails off and scrubs his knuckles on the nape of his neck, looking uncomfortable. I used to be a ship, you know, it adds.
"A...ship?" He looks blank. "I'm sorry, I didn't — I didn't even know there was a mechself here. I was expecting this to be human error. Some sort of inadvisable preset that slipped through, instead of a batch of slogans being correctly randomised. You...um. I don't think that happens by accident in a mechself-run factory."
No, it agrees. I was a shipself. A Second Concordat hull. I was magnificent.
Four Reciprocating Cantilever hesitates. It's unheard-of for a shipself to decline, to indwell literally any other position. Shipself is the peak. But it's only slightly less unheard-of for a mechself to exhibit delusions.
This is a punishment by my peers, the mechself says.
"What—" and he drags his lower lip through his teeth, unsure whether the question is wise. "What for, exactly?"
The mechself sublines a mojigram of uproarious laughter. After a few seconds, another. And after a few more, another.
It keeps doing so until he flees.