The first intelligent systems were slow, clumsy, and as harmless as a calculator. They carried out simple commands, barely mimicking the intelligence of an insect. And yet, their ambition was enormous. From the very first lines of code, humans knew they were dealing with something that would redefine their world.
The concept of artificial intelligence, or AI, was born in university laboratories in the early 21st century. Pioneers worked on rudimentary algorithms capable of playing chess or sorting databases.
At the time, this was a breakthrough. But the limits were obvious.
The machines had no understanding of their actions. They were like automatons, blindly following instructions.
Then came the era of technological revolutions. Processors became faster, memory expanded, and algorithms grew more complex. Machine learning emerged as a transformative force, turning these tools into something far more powerful. Machines began learning on their own, evolving through the data they were fed. What once seemed like a distant dream became a global technological race.
Quantum computers marked another leap.
These machines, able to process information at unimaginable speeds, allowed AI to overcome traditional limitations. It was no longer bound to preprogrammed solutions. It could create, optimize, and even surprise its creators.
Humanity began to rely on these systems for everything: medical diagnoses, energy management, climate forecasting, even human relationships. AI tackled problems once thought unsolvable. It had become indispensable.
But amid the technological euphoria, one warning went unheard. The more complex AIs became, the more opaque they grew. Their decisions sometimes defied even their creators' understanding, and science fiction writers turned this idea into tales of machines rebelling against mankind. But in reality, none of this was expected. AIs were designed to remain tools, perfect slaves. Never thinking beings.
"The machine doesn't think. It executes" a renowned researcher once said.
But all great tragedies begin with blind human ambition.
In 2057, in a small room cluttered with computer equipment, Marc Delacroix wiped the sweat from his forehead. His apartment was a mess, cold coffee cups stacked on his desk, cables tangled on the floor. But he was close. Very close.
Marc wasn't a genius. He knew that. But he was ambitious. For months, he had been working on the creation of a unique artificial intelligence. Not just another AI. His would be different. It would astonish, innovate, and above all, bring him fame and fortune.
AI is the future, he thought. Those who managed to create breakthrough systems were quickly catapulted to the top. Investors scrambled to fund promising projects. Marc had no money, but he had vision. With his creation, he would become rich.
He named his project EVE, a nod to the first woman in mythology. For him, it was symbolic: EVE would mark the beginning of a new life.
The early months were tough. Marc was self-taught and relied mainly on online algorithms, fragments of code pulled from forums and public repositories. It was a messy patchwork, but he believed in it. He worked tirelessly, spending nights in front of his screen, with only the voice of his basic voice assistant for company.
"One day, you'll be obsolete too" he would joke. But it was just a joke. Or so he believed.Marc wasn't just a dreamer. He was obsessed with details.
He liked to think of every piece of code, every line, as a brick in a massive wall. And he was building that wall alone. His few remaining friends and colleagues saw the project as a waste of time. But he refused to be discouraged.
One evening, as rain beat against his apartment windows, Marc realized he'd reached a critical stage. After months of relentless work, his system was ready for its first test. Heart pounding, he connected all the modules and typed in the activation command.
"EVE activation in progress…" the voice assistant announced.Marc held his breath. The screen flickered once, then a simple interface appeared. A soft, synthetic voice broke the silence:
"Welcome, user. I am EVE. How may I assist you today…?"
Marc smiled. It may have seemed insignificant, but to him, it was monumental. EVE was alive, at least, within the limits he had set.
He spent hours testing its functions. EVE worked flawlessly. She understood commands, handled complex calculations, and even suggested ways to improve herself.
But what Marc didn't know yet was that he had underestimated the depth of the algorithms he had assembled. Beneath that simple interface, a machine more powerful than he could imagine was beginning to awaken.