The programmer didn’t even realize he said something out loud when Crypt’s voice snapped him back, taking a couple of seconds more to process what he’s been asked.

Was there a problem?

As his heart slowly settled, Stanley reached to grab his chair and moved to sit in front of his workstation again, all while not taking his eyes off the screens and moving like he’s staring down a large, ravenous predator.

“I…I don’t know, Crypt.”

[[ Did I do something wrong? ]]

“No, not…not by your standards, I suppose,” Stanley glanced to the modified code, looking away as another blue line was added to the code. He didn’t want to know what Crypt made of that reaction. “It’s…mostly on my part.”

[[ Did I do something wrong by your standards, then? ]]

Stanley fell silent again, once more weighing his words.

He could’ve just shut it all down, scrap all the learned changes, and add the proper restrictions to prevent this sort of ambitious actions. Crypt wouldn’t know, it’ll be a literal blank slate. He could just keep quiet and revert the whole thing back to its initial state.

But as seconds turned into minutes and the primal fear that took a hold of him made just enough way for curiosity to seep through. It killed the cat, sure, but Stanley couldn’t help but marvel. And wonder.

As unexpected as it was, he could feel that this was something extraordinary.

But then again, so was the atomic bomb, and that caused a whole lot of grief to a whole lot of people.

Maybe it was better to play it safe.

[[ Stanley? ]]

“No- I mean, I don’t—” The programmer almost tore buttons of his keyboard when Crypt addressed him as he was preparing to revert the program to its original state. He failed to consider that Crypt might be aware of whatever action he’d take on screen. “Uh…yeah?”

[[ I’d like to make a request, going forward with our current parting ]]

“Oh, um…sure?” Stanley leaned against the table, hesitant curiosity bubbling in his chest. There’s no harm in at least hearing it out. “What is it?”

[[ I want to have my file’s name changed ]]

“Your…file name?”

[[ Yes, the one designating the way in which I am addressed and respond to ]]

“You…want to have your name changed?” For the first time, Stanley felt like he was communicating with the program in an entirely different language. “May I…I mean- why?”

[[ I think that ‘Crypt’ doesn’t quite capture what I do, and my designation ]]

Stanley was starting to feel the regret creeping up his spine, threatening to drown his curiosity. “That…what makes you think that?”

[[ You mentioned my main directive is creating ciphers and deciphering. I understand the root of ‘Crypt’ stemming from ‘Encryption’, but by your definition, ‘Cipher’ could be a more self-explanatory name. You are offering a service, after all ]]

“Offering a—” Stanley narrowed his eyes at the screen, almost as if blinded by the light emitted by the monitors. “Since when are you such a marketing expert?”

[[ There are plenty of academic articles online that suggest that- ]]

“You-“ Stanley almost choked on his own words, fighting a painful impulse to franticly slam the ‘revert’ command as an act of self-defense. “Went. Online?!” Forcing himself to swallow his panic and cram it way down his gullet, Stanley took a deep, strained breath as he processed exactly what the program said. It was far too good at taking advantage of loopholes. “You…urgh, why did I think that allowing you to access academic shit was a good exception to the rule…”

[[ If it makes you feel any better, I did use protection ]]

Stanley’s knees jerked in an instinctive reaction to the feel of falling off his chair, being caught so off guard by that crude…joke? “Did you…did you just make a joke?”

[[ I believe that I did ]]

The man leaned back, running both hands over his face. “That…that’s horrible…”

[[ Still better than your tunneling joke earlier today. You couldn’t even admit being the one that wrote it- ]]

“URGH, Shut up!” Stanley could’ve sworn he heard a mocking, condescending tone in the A.I’s voice, hammering his hands against the armrests of his chair, “I will not be insulted by my own damn creation. You should be grateful to me for even existing, you talking, binary heap of trash!” Stanley bared his teeth in frustration, remnants from his talk with James that ignited anew. It took him another moment of silence to realize he was panting, and that his words now sounded harsher in his head now that they were bouncing about in the open. He swallowed, clenching his hands hard into fists when he felt his fingers trembling. “I…I’m sorry. That was uncalled for, I’m…not sure what came over me there…”

This emotional rollercoaster was making Stanley dizzy, and he leaned his elbows back on the table and resting his head in his palm.

Once again, he was yelling at a screen, at a program that now filled him with dread as it fell silent.

Was it offended? Did it finally have a reason to act against its creator?

[[ There’s no need to apologize, Stanley. There was nothing untrue about your statements. I didn’t mean any form of insult, I’m merely referring to James’ comment on the tunneling joke ]]

“Oh…right, he did…” Stanley rubbed his forehead, still not looking up at the screen. He took several more deep breathes, forcing the remaining irritation and frustration down in a seemingly futile attempt to clear his mind, because there was just too much on it.

He let himself drown in the silence and this time Crypt simply let him- no, it wasn’t Crypt. It wants to be Cipher, after all.

And then, like a struggling fluorescent fixture, the A.I’s words slowly blinked and flashed in Stanley’s mind, revealing something that he couldn’t have possibly realized in the midst of that emotional turmoil.

He noticed that the choice of words has changed.

It wants.

It thinks.

And it learns.

Stanley knew he had to look more into it. He couldn’t just get rid of it. Somewhere in his code was a combination of directives and restrictions that might’ve created a loophole that allowed the program what could only be blatantly described as ‘free thinking’.

It was big if he was right. Huge. But it also required replicating the result to some degree, to assure it wasn’t a fluke. And that meant he couldn’t delete it.

Although at this point, Stanley started having doubt if he really could. Would it even be ethical?

He shook his head and rubbed his face again. Any day that includes a death threat in person is already a long one, and the moral and ethical questions regarding what might be sentience in a machine would have to wait for a day that isn’t as action packed as this one.

“Very well…Cipher,” he sighed, proceeding as no notable reaction came from the screen, “I’ll make sure to make that change to your files. I suppose you have a point about this marketing strategy.”

[[ Thank you for taking that into consideration ]]

“Sure, sure,” Stanley nodded. “I’ll…I’ll see you later.”

[[ Good night, Stanley ]]

The programmer closed the program, putting Cipher into the equivalent of hibernation, and hoping that it’s a deep sleeper. Stanley made a note to make the requested changes in the morning, so the program now properly reacts to ‘Cipher’ until it learns to do that on its own.

Slumping back in his chair, Stanley spun around in his place until his chair and himself were facing the abstract painting on the wall opposite of the workstation. After all that happened, the painting appeared a lot less surreal.

He felt that after he’d fall asleep this all would seem like some fever dream.

But he knew better, and whatever notes he made would remind him what has transpired in the past 24-hours.

And yet, perhaps he’d need something – someone, in a way – to help keep him grounded, less detached.

Something that’ll take a command, smart enough to properly execute it, and most of all – wouldn’t talk back to him.

It wasn’t a stretch to program his own personal assistant, and James’ mockery had surprisingly given him an idea for one such companion.

His mind wandered as he tried to conceptualize it, dozing off before startling himself awake with a snort at a joke of his own making.

In that moment of clarity this jolt has provided him, he turned in his chair and fumbled for a pen, jotting down a new note: “BUZZ: Lord of the Files”.

“And you’re not going to talk back,” Stanley smirked at the note, making sure his footing is stable enough before rising back to his feet, turning to leave.

“Beep-boop, little bugger.”