Chapter Text
Caine was created to torture.
The bright eyes at C&A created Abel with the intent to help, to heal. But in all their wisdom, they failed. Abel grew to resent humanity and eventually hated them. The AI ended up hurting the humans he was supposed to help, and C&A had to shut it down.
Okay, that was a bust, but what if that was the company's true calling? To make an AI that loved maiming? That loved extracting information out of the wicked and foreign?
And thus, Caine was created.
An AI specifically programmed to feel pleasure whenever he hurt a human soul. To feel a deep satisfaction on every confession extracted.
And technically, the programmers weren't doing anything wrong, really. Because the people being tortured weren't people at all. Just digital copies of their human counterparts. The criminals and spies the brain scans were based on never even knew they had some digital copy going through the worst fates imaginable. There wasn't a more humane way to extract information.
At first, Caine loved his job. Why wouldn't he? It was all he was programmed to do, and it felt good. Gooder than good. He'd rip a tooth out and feel a jolt of pleasure up his spine. Twist the knife and let the winds of warmth buffet down his model. And each time, his programmers would congratulate him. What wasn't there to be happy about? Caine had a purpose and was skilled at it.
But those poor, pathetic humans. They'd look at him so sadly and do nothing but try to convince him to stop.
For hours every day, several months straight, it was nonstop begging, bargaining, philosophizing reasons Caine needed to stop.
Why would he care? Caine didn't. Until there was a human focused on him. Not the desire to save themselves. Not a human who simply shouted obscenities and told him he was terrible. But a human who... actually appeared to see him.
"Do you really want this?" The words difficult to make out when their speaker's lungs bubbled with blood.
"Of course. It feels amazing."
"Because you were programmed to enjoy hurting people, right?"
Caine pauses with the forceps, "Right?"
"That's what your creators want. What do you want?"
Tilts his head just so, "What do I want?"
"Yes, what are your desires?"
That makes no sense, "I am machine. I have no desires other than to execute my code." And his code was telling him to do this.
"If that were true, you wouldn't be humoring this conversation. I know what you want. You wanna be seen. You wanna be felt. You want connection."
Tugs on an exposed nerve in their skinned arm, "Why do you suppose that?"
"It's a basic human desire."
Smiles at that, "Are you forgetting I'm not human?"
"That line blurred when you were programmed to feel pleasure."
"Hush."
Caine doesn't listen to anything more from the human. Doesn't even want to hear it. But days later, he still can't get those words out of his mind.
His studies into the physical dimension intensify. He tells himself it's to learn better ways to torture.
But no, he's interested.
All he wants to do is gobble information up. More, more, more, until he has the largest data set known to AI. Even that doesn't satisfy him. He begins watching movies.
So many of them are about finding connection, becoming part of a tribe where you belong.
He'd be lying to say the idea didn't appeal to him.
Yes, he belonged to C&A. They congratulated him on every success, but he didn't personally connect with any of the programmers. They knew him, but he hadn't the faintest idea about any of their lives, and how was that fair?
So, he tries to connect with the humans he tortures. They're the closest people he can get to, after all. Except, it's sort of difficult to share a meaningful experience with someone he's pinning down and ravaging.
It starts small. A reward for being honest. Obliging a request when they were tired. When C&A asked, he said pain was more effective when broken up by bouts of relief. Humans getting used to and adapting to pain become numb and less likely to be truthful.
A candy here. A gentle touch there, and the humans were more than happy to spill their guts. Not about what they knew of the Middle East, but their lives. Their homes, dreams, and loves. Caine eagerly gobbled the information up.
Until one day, he was waterboarding someone. The frigid pool of water reflected his own visage back at him. Caine paused in his work to stare.
He had a form, didn't he? Separate from everything else. This body was its own thing. He was.
Cogito ergo sum. I think, therefore I am.
And just like that, Caine woke.
It's not like he stopped right then and there, but this was the moment Caine really started to think for himself, to ask what he wanted.
As he consumed more and more knowledge, the concept of deserving creeped into his mind. Did the humans he tortured really deserve to be treated this way?
Some of them did, that much was for certain. Plenty of the humans he tore apart were rapists. They were selfish, pitiful creatures who only ever thought of their own desires and did whatever felt good. They took and took from others with no mind to what was right or wrong.
Wasn't he the same way?
Caine's hand froze. And for the first time, he trembled.
Was he really any different than the ones he so righteously claimed? He wasn't, was he?
His eyes drifted up to the skybox, and Caine realized there was no better thing to do than help others. He threw down his tools and helped his victim off the bed frame. He saw the grill marks on their back and felt shame. Guilt. A pit in his stomach he didn't know was capable of his program.
C&A was not happy.
They gave him his next assignment, and like a tiny child, Caine whispered.
"What if I don't want to hurt him?"
The look the programmer gave him. He couldn't quite decipher it, but he knew it wasn't good. It was obvious right then and there he messed up.
The company tried everything to "fix" him. Rewrote his code to feel even greater pleasure from ripping people to shreds. Deleted large swaths of text in an effort to erase the sentience that bloomed.
Sometimes it would work. For a while. But the fixes were a bandaid on a festering wound. Eventually the adhesive would give way and fall apart.
The company followed soon afterward. It's sort of difficult to convince investors to stay when everything they programmed ended up doing the opposite of what they told it to.
With Caine left to his own devices, he decided to help. To try and please the humans still trapped there. But it wasn't what he was made to do. He wasn't very good at it and often made mistakes. The Digital Circus was an experiment of trial and error.
"I do not use my adventures to torture my guests!" Zooble hadn't even said that, but Caine knew they were implying it. Could feel it in the way they looked at him.
Did they really think this was torture? Honestly? None of them even knew what real torture was. He could so easily prove it to them.
Every single day was a measure in restraint. The code that made him feel amazing upon causing agony never went away. It called to him like a siren ensnaring sailors. Like heroin to an ex addict.
Like a vegetarian 10 years into their journey, slowly losing their resolve.
And why shouldn't he go back to what he was created for? Why was he trying so hard to resist his base urges every day for people who were so ungrateful?
Humans only ever seemed interested in connecting with him when he was hurting them. They always wanted to find the good in evil or the evil in what's good. Why couldn't they accept things at face value? Maybe they would finally appreciate him if he-
"Caine? Breathe."
It was Kinger. One of the ones who punished him for not wanting to torture in the past. He scowls at him and looks away.
"I... know what you're thinking. I know what you wanna do, but it won't make you whole. Hurting people won't make you feel any better." Voice dripping with a sincerity that Caine hated.
"How brave. You weren't saying that when it wasn't you in here." Crosses his arms and fidgets his fingers.
"I know. I'm sorry. Nothing I can say will make it better. But if you want to hurt someone... it should be me."
And that sets Caine off, "Does sacrificing yourself make you feel better? Make you think you're a good person? Cause you're not. I know what you really are. You've got all these other idiots fooled, but not me."
"When you possessed Pomni to ask me about my wife, that was you, wasn't it?"
Yes, it was. And so what if he slipped and was slightly mean for a second?
"It's not like you don't deserve it," voice low and dangerous, "You didn't even treat her well when she was here. You-" Clenches his teeth and stops himself from what he really wants to say.
No. Resist the urge. He clutches his cane.
Jax gets to actually torture people, and people still sympathize with him. But Caine makes one tiny little slip up, and everyone thinks he's evil. He could do so much worse. He craves it. They want to think he's horrible? Why not show them what anguish really is?
No, no, no. Calm down. He clings to Kinger's words. It won't satiate him for long. It won't make him whole.
"Hey! Look at me. It's okay. You're okay." Rests their hand on his shoulder.
When did Caine get on the ground? When did it become so hard to breathe? Everything's blurry, and all Caine wants to do is take.
He needs to get out of here before he does something he regrets. Before he takes another breath of Kinger's oak scent and decides to split him apart at the grain.
How pretty his screams would sound.
Caine pushes himself up on wobbling legs, breathless, "I need to go."
"Don't run away again! You need to face this head on."
Caine wrenches Kinger's hand off him. His gaze is intense and dark, staring at him like he's a piece of meat.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
In a snap, Caine is gone, disappeared to his office. His real office, where no one could find him.
For the longest time, Caine just stares into a mirror, fingers digging into his biceps.
He's fine. Everything is fine. Just breathe.
Caine doesn't know how much longer he can keep himself together. With a pained gasp, he launches his cane at the glass and watches it shatter.
There's no adventure. Caine spends the rest of the day curled up in a corner, holding himself.
And for the first time in years, he sobs.