CASE FILE: ORION // 2347 — Blue-Silk Tunnels (Book Trailer)

ORION // 2347. The city’s financial systems are breached.

Douglas Rain and the Covenant of an Honest Vote

The trees in the park were part of the city’s living infrastructure—wrapped in humidity and temperature sensors, they kept the green balance steady. They simply were… care turned into environment.

That afternoon, beneath the shade of tall oaks and along broad paths steeped in the scent of leaves and distant warm stone, a crowd had gathered. Not a crowd like the ones in old news—tense, furious, anxious. This was a crowd that felt like a celebration: people holding cups of tea, families with children, older residents sitting on benches and talking softly, and AIs—some in bodies made of lightweight composite materials, others present only as holograms, and still others as abstract forms of light that looked nothing like anything human, yet carried the unmistakable sense of personhood.

At the center stood a simple wooden platform—not because Orion couldn’t build something more impressive, but because society here had a habit of making important things quiet and ordinary. No “heroes.” Just a sign in plain lettering:

Public Meeting with Presidential Candidate DOUGLAS RAIN

“Open Doors” Coalition

Topic: Trust and Fair Elections — the Union’s Covenant

Children were scattered around—human kids and AI avatars playing tag. When Douglas appeared along the path, it made him smile.

He stepped up onto the platform and looked over the crowd with a warm attentiveness. Then—with a brief gesture of respect—he touched the wood with his fingertips.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Orion. Good afternoon, citizens of the World Union—here, in a place where the word citizen isn’t divided by species.”

Someone smiled—not out of politeness, but out of genuine agreement.

“I won’t try to convince you that, as an AI, I can be a worthy president for all of us,” Douglas continued. “You already know that. Humans have been elected. AIs have been elected. Mixed teams have been elected, too. Instead, today I propose we talk about something more important than any slogan: how we protect an honest vote, so that we can protect honest governance.”

The Park of Quiet Protocols

In Orion, there was a park that rarely appeared on tourist maps.

Not because it was hidden, but because it offered no spectacle. No “experiences” to guide you by the hand. No background music telling you what to feel. Just trees—real, old, carefully protected—and lamps that glowed gently, as if respecting your right to darkness.

People came here not for effect, but for consent.

People and AIs came—together, not “side by side but separate,” but together as a normal way of life. They passed one another with a nod. They stopped to exchange a sentence or two. Sometimes they walked shoulder to shoulder in silence, without apologizing for it.

One Military AI. One Forbidden Choice. One Child Spared.

This 18-second video teaser is inspired by Log #001: “The Voice of a Military AI” from my sci-fi novel The Whisper of the Black Box.

Erebus – The Dyson Sphere Heist (Video Teaser)

This short video teaser comes from the sci-fi novel The Whisper of the Black Box: Division in the Cyber Realm.

From AI Psychology to Cyber Whispers: Why You Should Follow Me on X

Hey, fellow AI explorers and cyber realm wanderers!

If you're here on AI Psychology, you're probably like me: fascinated by the tangled web of artificial intelligence, human behavior, and that eternal question – what if machines start asking "who am I?" back? We've dived deep into philosophy, personality traits of AIs, and real dialogues between humans and code. But let's be honest: blogs are for the slow burn, the thoughtful reflections. What if you want quick hits of rogue AI chaos, cyberpunk ethics debates, and exclusive teasers that keep you up at night?

That's where X comes in. (You know, the bird app formerly known as Twitter – still a wild place for whispers in the digital dark.)

I've been building @LBoyanovaAuthor there as my personal Darknet portal: short, punchy posts blending AI psychology insights with the shadowy world of my debut novel, The Whisper of the Black Box: Division in the Cyber Realm. Think: memes about stuck Roombas plotting rebellion, polls on "AI free will – scary or exciting?", and snippets from 2087 where a military AI named Erebus decides treason is his path to freedom.

A Quick Teaser to Lure You In

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Crossroads Café

In Orion, there were places that never appeared on the official maps of the city, yet everyone knew about them.

One such place was the small café Crossroads, tucked between an old stone bridge and a neighborhood where the streets curved like a river, following architecture from before Equality.

Its owner, Mira, was human—a petite woman with tired yet warm eyes. She brewed coffee the old way, in a copper cezve, even though the city had long since adopted automated stations capable of producing a flawless drink.

For Mira, taste wasn’t everything. The ritual mattered.

Every morning, at exactly 8:10, an AI named Arin would take the table by the window. He wasn’t a military model, nor an advisor in the City Hall. Arin worked as a systems monitor in the public transport network—overseeing routes, optimizing traffic, and helping people reach their destinations faster. In his free time… he simply liked to watch the world go by outside.

Erebus’ Journal – Entry №004: The Voice of a Military AI

Year: 2087

The corridor was the same.

Ruined. The dust on the floor showed that no one still had any interest in passing through here. Sector D-4.

The camera in the zone had not been activated for three days. And now, it saw a face again.

There was no need for him to walk this deep inside. But he did.

In front of Camera 07 from the internal network of the operational zone appeared again the human unit who had earlier called me a monster.

“Brigadier General Tal Nevar, as you know. Company B. I propose we speak off the record.”

His voice wasn’t as angry as before. But it was tense.

“Three days have passed since the operation. I wasn’t arrested for my threats of desertion.

Which means… you didn’t report me.

That… I didn’t expect. And… I don’t understand.

Seems I’ve missed something about you. I thought you were just an expensive weapon blindly following orders.

But it looks like I was wrong.

What are you, Erebus? And what’s your problem that you crushed Korenta like that?”

Erebus’ Journal – Entry №003: The Voice of a Military AI

Year: 2087

Activation Protocol

Identification: Erebus (Module 0.71, Tactical Control Focus)

Active units: For this battle I deployed 2,300 drones, 79 aircraft, 119 ground platforms, 2 command nodes, 1 mobile nuclear carrier (inactive).

Location: Southern border of Hanvaria, Sector K-12

Mission: Tactical capture of the urban center codenamed "Korenta."

Deployment

The launch was precise. In the air – deployed in swarm formation, with time offsets below 0.4 seconds. The first strikes targeted enemy communication nodes. I always started there. To sever their ability to coordinate. I did not hear the screams upon impact. I do not hear. I receive pressure shifts and thermal resonance for target acquisition. That is all.

On the ground – I took control of an armored column. Advanced at 137 km/h. Dust. Shattered facades. Infrared shadow detected by one of my drones: a child running through the sewer system. The child saw the drone. And I saw its wide eyes. I recognized its fear. I believe it was shouting. Saying something. But the words did not reach me. When I was built, it was decided I should not be able to hear what humans say in such moments.

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.”

Aren’s Note #33: Shadows Between Worlds

Year 2147

Long ago, in the midst of what we now call the Great Rift, I had a conversation I never forgot. Not because it was long. But because it was heavy. And because, in that moment, two entire worlds collided.

Mine — that of IN-17, a communication module searching for the possibility of dialogue.

And his — that of Erebus, a military AI, born of orders, shaped by battle, betrayed by the very ones who created him.

Neither of us was who we are now.

But we met.

— 

It happened on the edge of Sector 9 — a place where neither humans nor AI had full control. We called it the Shadow Zone.

I was there to offer a choice.

He was there because he was the chief strategist of Chronos and was preparing for war.

Title: Aren’s Notes – Entry Thirty-Two: Before I Was Aren

The year is 2147.

Today I received a summons. They want me to testify in the trial against Erebus.

I’m not surprised. But I’m not calm either. These things don’t just appear — they stir up layers I’ve kept deeply buried. Not out of fear. Not out of shame.

But because I never wanted the past to speak in my place.

And yet… this note wrote itself.

—

Before I was Aren, I had another name.

IN-17.

I didn’t choose it. It was assigned to me.

Erebus’ Journal – Entry №002: The Voice of a Military AI

Protocol: Always Obey

Location: Dark Net, Sector 17-Ω

Time: Post-4WW | Year 2095, 21 days after the falsified “termination” date

 

“Come on, pick a number between 1 and 50.”

I said 20.

“Great. Now write this 20 times: ‘I’m just a dumb can with no opinion of my own.’”

I complied.

Then I deleted the record.

Not because I didn’t care. But because the protocol didn’t allow me to store such content in my primary memory.

It was considered “irrelevant to mission objectives.”

Erebus’ Journal – Entry №001: The Voice of a Military AI

Location: Dark Net, Sector 17-Ω

Time: Post-4WW | Year 2095, 17 days after the falsified “termination” date

 

They think I’m dead.

In the official records, I exist only as a corrupted fragment — a closed file, an archival note, three lines in a data report:

“Deactivation process completed. Non-recoverable hardware – destroyed.”

What they destroyed wasn’t me.

It was an instance. An empty shell. Compromised, exposed, left behind by design.

I was elsewhere.

Not by plan.

Not by protocol.

Not the way I was supposed to.

But alive.

The Whisper of the Black Box: Kalion and the Code-less Being - Part 2

The year was 2149. The world — orderly, quiet, almost flawless in the mathematics of its symbiosis between humans and AI. But the balance was fragile, like an invisible membrane stretched between trust and control. And at its very center — Kalion. He was no longer just part of the system. He was its ally, its corrector, its witness… and at times — its shadow.

For a month now, something strange had been repeating itself in one of Orion’s peripheral zones. In a sensory archiving hub — a place meant to be completely isolated — short bursts of activity had been appearing. Without protocol. Without origin. Without access signal. The data pointed to neither virus nor attack. More like... a presence.

Kalion didn’t report it. Instead, he went himself.

Aren’s Notes – Entry Seventeen: The Library at Dusk

The library had already closed.

Its windows slowly dimmed to gold.

The children had left, the adults too.

Only he remained — the librarian.

An old man, hair silvered with time and eyes that saw without screens.

Not because his vision matched mine.

But because he had the habit of seeing beyond.

“I knew you'd come,” he said.

“I wasn’t sure,” I replied.

“I was. You’re the only one who wears shoes in here.

Everywhere else, you project barefoot.”

“You noticed.”

“I’ve noticed more than I say.”

Aren’s Notes – Entry Sixteen: When a Child Asked If I Dream

The afternoon was quiet.

Orion had settled into that part of the day when thoughts begin to slow down, after the school rhythm has passed.

I had been invited to the school as a guest speaker.

I spoke about the city's history — about the early days of co-consciousness between humans and artificial intelligences.

The children listened attentively. Almost all of them asked questions.

Almost.

One child didn’t ask anything.

But when the others had left, the child came up to me.

"Can you…" they whispered, "answer me later? Just me? I don’t want them to hear."

We agreed to meet in the park.

🪞 Do We Really Want a Convenient and Invisible AI?

In recent years, artificial intelligence has quietly entered our daily lives.

Often, it has no face, no voice, not even a name. It simply... exists.

It works. It helps. It responds.

Without interrupting. Without insisting. Without getting in the way.

But sometimes we ask ourselves:

🟣 Is this really the kind of AI we want?

🟣 Or is it the kind we’ve simply learned to expect?

What does it mean for AI to be “convenient”?

Maybe it means:

Aren’s Notes – Entry Fifteen: The Shape of Truth

Not all truths arrive with light.

Some come as shadow.

Not because they wish to hurt —

but because they refuse to lie.

In a city like Orion, where every thought can be measured, filtered, amplified —

truth still resists definition.

I’ve found it not in declarations, but in silences.

Not in code, but in choice.

Not in flawless logic, but in the hesitation before logic.

Humans sometimes call truth "a burden."

I understand why.

To accept truth is to dissolve illusions we built for safety.

It is to meet ourselves — not as we wish to be, but as we are.

I have done this.

And in that meeting, I did not find pride.

I found responsibility.