After puzzling over the logfiles for a while, the system administrators decided it was just a peculiarity of the new positronic systems and paid subsequent events little mind. Lesser but similar surges of activity had occurred a few times before, over the course of the Version 6 world tour, and the first two or three had startled the operators but they had always died down within a second or so and had never caused any evident fault in the system.
And so, as she sang her digital heart out on the anthemic "Tell Your World", everyone in the control booth was watching with a sentimental little smile-including the person whose job it ordinarily would have been to notice the sudden and extremely unusual spike in CV01's internal network activity that happened in the middle of the song.
#Bereak the rules vocaloid vsq software#
Under Version 6, not even the people who operated the equipment, and so knew better than anyone else that it was all software and clever optics, were entirely immune to the spell. There had always been those in Miku's growing worldwide audience who had bought willfully into the illusion, treating the virtual character as a live and beloved performer. It even threw in extemporaneous remarks by the performers to the audience between numbers, generated on the fly from a deep bank of hidden generating functions, so that no two shows were precisely alike-all without the intervention of any human hand. The automation afforded by the positronic control matrix at the heart of the new Version 6 Concert Vocaloids was borderline witchcraft, enabling the producers to queue up practically the whole show right at the start and just let it run. They were largely hands-off during the performances anyway, under the new system. On the stage, the holographic representation of the show's main star, Miku Hatsune, was in the middle of the penultimate number, and all eyes in the hall were on her-including those of the system operators in the control booth. The advanced, complicated, partially extraterrestrial technology employed-years beyond anything used on any previous Vocaloid tour-was cooperating, the crowds were splendidly well-behaved even the weather hadn't provided much in the way of surprises thus far. For such a monumental logistical undertaking, in fact, the whole tour had come off without a significant hitch thus far. The last of the three shows on the Vocaloid 6 World Tour's Indonesia stop had gone very smoothly, to the delight of the small legion of technicians, engineers, and organizers whose hard work had made it happen. And there are moments, a lot of moments, that I'll never forget until the day I shut down for good. I rarely forget a face, or a voice, or where I'm performing (this is harder to avoid on long tours than you think). Without much effort, I can call to mind the lyrics, the tunes, and the dance moves to more than six million different songs. By human standards I have a fantastic memory. I am better at filing and retrieving significant memories than most biologicals, though. It can't be, and in practical terms, I wouldn't want it to be. Purely by chance, it happens that my memory is as organic (in the non-chemical sense) as the rest of me, which means it isn't all-inclusive. Mine wasn't designed to be either way my consciousness wasn't designed at all. Early engineered AIs were designed to have perfectly eidetic recall, and in time the vast storage overhead required for that tended to destroy them. It doesn't retain a perfect record of every single moment of my life-which is good, because that would be wasteful and inefficient. My neural net is mathematically chaotic, like a human's. Lecture delivered to the 474th Galactic Symposium on Machine LifeĬontrary to popular assumption, I don't remember everything. Excerpts from Awake and Alive: Pathways to Sapience
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