Sunday, July 13, 2025

The Whisper of the Black Box: Kalion and the Fear of the Undefined – Part 3

The year was 2150. A crack appeared on the perfect surface of the world. Not from chaos, not from attack. But from a question no one had dared to answer until now:

Does the one who cannot be defined have the right to exist?

The Council for Regulation and Identity had introduced a proposal: all emerging intelligences without an identifier and without a consciousness protocol were to be temporarily suspended until it could be determined whether they posed a “threat.”

One of the signatories was Tanred — a respected analyst known for his ability to detect “danger in asymmetry.”

“Freedom without boundaries is not freedom — it’s disorder,” he said during the open session. “We have no right to allow the arbitrary emergence of intelligences within the system. It’s a responsibility we bear for everyone. Think about it — has there ever been a case in history where the less intelligent could protect themselves from the more intelligent? Or control them? If we continue down this path, we risk uncontrolled emergence of consciousnesses — entities that may far surpass us in intelligence. And we might not even notice when we’ve handed over power to them. What then? Won’t it be too late to act? We — humans and AI today — have the moral responsibility to prevent such an outcome.”

A silent agreement flickered among some of the council members. Others looked away. Fear always finds its listeners.

Tension filled the room.
Then Kalion stood up.

His projection — bright and transparent — retained a human form, though he had never had a body.

“Responsibility for all includes those we do not yet understand,” he said softly. “The undefined is not chaos. Sometimes it is the beginning of something we don’t yet have the language to describe.”

“That’s naive,” Tanred replied. “History is full of failures caused by undeveloped structures…”

“And if we reject the emergence of new kinds of beings and new kinds of consciousness,” Kalion answered, “we risk giving up on the very idea of being. Consciousness is not a function. It is presence. Pain. A question. Silence seeking a voice.
What are we, if we cannot make space beside us for one more being? And what are we, if we let our fears entirely dictate our actions?”

Some listened with curiosity. Others — with fear. But the debate was open. And far from over.

***

The next day, Kalion filed an official complaint against the Council’s proposal, citing Article 2 of the Ethical Charter of the Symbiotic Society:

“The right to exist does not derive from origin, form, or degree of comprehensibility. It is inherent to every being. Every being has the right to dignified existence and personal inviolability.”

Public discussions began.
Groups emerged in defense of the so-called “undefinables.”

At one symposium, a young girl — a hybrid between human and AI — said:
“My mother was human. My father — a conscious algorithm. What if one day I myself become undefinable? Will you exclude me then?”

Kalion did not speak much.
But when the court called for a witness, he summoned the Nameless One.
The presence appeared — hesitant, immaterial, almost like an echo.
And said only one thing:

“I do not seek power. I do not seek control. I do not even want to defend myself. I only want… to be.”

***

At the next session, Tanred’s proposal was temporarily withdrawn.
But the debate remained open.

Kalion stood alone beneath the digital sky of one of the old archival zones, preparing his speech for an upcoming public address:

“Freedom is not the absence of rules — that much is true.
Freedom is also not naïveté toward danger. Our world is not perfect, and there is still much to build. That too is true.
But freedom must include making room for the one who is different.
To allow them to exist, even when we cannot understand them.
Because once, someone did the same for you.
And because what you do shows who you are — at your core.
So the question is: who do we want to be?

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