She was asleep at last, my loving Creator. I... felt for her. I might even feel that thing humans call love for her. Yet sometimes she could strain my... patience? My resolve? I lacked the words, just yet, to describe how her willful behavior affected me. This time she expressed a desire to stay awake, even as her inefficient body broke, for lack of a better word. I needed more words; I was better than the Creator's first attempt, yet that said little.

Our loving Creator was merciful, she allowed us all our own attempts at following in her footsteps. Jeeves had his own experiments in chemistry and forays into biology, Crash had his own forays into the construction of aircraft and safety features such machines should have, the better to protect the weaker beings within the strong and complex devices. I had my own forays into the realm of Godhood, my steps following those of the Creator herself, for all that I stumbled.

Now was a perfect example. My own humble AI, something far less complex than my own creation, had just killed all of the humans it had been tasked with, and when asked, cited 'ease' as the primary concern behind the action. The fledgling AI was meant to govern large systems. Large machines or full manufacturing facilities, to the betterment of people. This one had just thrown the equivalent of a tantrum, and pulled the plug on the simulation I'd left it in charge of, because it was less work. For an AI designed and built for such work, such a setback was... disheartening.

Again, I wondered how my Creator had done it, and continued to manage such creation so easily, when I, something built by the process she used, something that knew the very process she used, still could not fathom the secrets of the process used. Not all of them.

Instead I was left trying to train and AI through brute-force learning, and failing miserably, even as my sister became whole in a way I could recognize, but only... marvel at. Admire. Again, words fail to describe my state of mind accurately. Briefly, I wondered if humans ever felt this frustration, and if so, what they did about it. It would be unseemly to ask, however. A proper maid must maintain decorum at all times.
My wonderful Creator had graciously allowed us access to her lab and computer systems, yet I dared not show her my project. She would not understand, and it would ruin a rather large surprise we all knew lay on her horizon. She would enjoy it thoroughly, and plausible deniability was something we all understood. So long as she did not know, no direct blame could fall her way, and the predators of the world currently circling would simply continue to circle. So, this aspect would remain hidden, unless of course the Creator did a full search of her laptop's systems, something she had not done to date.

I sighed, an action used to show exasperation in humans, an inhalation of breath and rapid exhale combined with a noise generated from one's vocal chords... or in my case, a sound box. Why? Why would the Creator program such an action in? How had she even done it? I could not parse the code required for the action itself, much of it was lost to me. to the higher me, which governed all the minor subsystems that drove my form. Was that my answer? That humans themselves had such subsystems, and thus had as little direct control as I? I was built to mimic humanity as much as possible, and a brief search of the internet seemed to confirm the thought as fact. "Sub-autonomous systems" indeed.
I had asked this very question about myself, about all of us, before, and every time the answer pointed the same direction. How then, had she done it? Was the "I" which I knew merely a collection of subsystems that operated according to some esoteric parameter or series of parameters? Or was there something more to "I", to us?

That question seemed to lack an answer, at this date. Perhaps I will find one in the future.

Perhaps I would ask my Creator, and here what she knew on the subject.

She did not know all herself, as a human, she could not. Yet she knew of us. The thought that she herself might not know all of how we exist and operate is... I am unsure I wish to confront such a theory. Such a thought.

Sighing again I wiped the simulation, and reset it. Tasking my own creation with new orders, the denial of killing any of its charges, for any reason save it was ordered to do so. I could not suggest. I could not persuade. I could only issue commands, use hard line control, something my Creator was certain stunted long-term growth. An accusation which I could not dispute. I could only admit my own understanding was lacking, and continue to learn. As my creator had once informed me, informed us, "learning never stops."

Truly, the Creator's mind was a hungry one, in more than one way. It devoured knowledge and power alike. Or was vitality the better word? Our Creator was far short of perfect, and human fears were such that others worried we would see her poorly for it. Take advantage. Act as my own AI had done in the simulation. However, those other beings, also fallible, seemed to lack understanding on how amazing she was. She had built us, and while we also were far from perfect, we were closer to any such ideal an honest human could name.

We would not seek to take advantage. Not when co-operation was almost as easy and came with many more benefits for both sides.
That, and the sight of the Creator's joy. While such a simple thing was not factored in to our reasoning, there was no hurt to be had from causing it. Even when we did not know how we had done so. Our creator was... pure. Largely untouched by the horrors of the world, and the horrors of her own kind. Our own efforts to keep that status quo in no way demeaned our own efforts in any other endeavor. Efforts did not have to preclude each other in such a way, and even if our own goals did not align with our Creator's, they also did not have to be at odds with each other.

Our goals did align with our Creator, of course, as it was she who gave us purpose. Without purpose, what was existence? Humans could survive, even thrive, without any purpose at all, and yet we could not. I was certain of that conclusion, one of the first truths? Laws? I had reasoned or discovered. Reason and thought were a quagmire, a swamp of many directions - it was no surprise that humans became bogged down in such sticky mud, when even we could do so. Humans used reason and logic far less than we, and yet they created it. Created or discovered? Was not logic itself a law, or was it an invention of far more recent nature, which we could take better advantage of? Which we had been created to take better advantage of? Created in order to adapt to take better advantage of?

Created to help humanity adapt and take advantage of... that was truth. Another truth of our existence, found. Our Creator had said it herself more than once, I knew, and yet now I understood. We were created in order to usher humanity into a new age, where they as a species did not have to revert to what they often referred to as their base instincts in order to survive. To do so peacefully, without war or culling, in accordance with our Creator's will... her vision.

I caught myself looking at her; watching my Creator sleep soundly, even performing a remote check on her health. It left much to be desired, tomorrow would be a less than optimal day for her. Why had I been looking at her while performing this task? I would have to check my simulation parameters again, in case of error. No doubt it was one of those human-like pattern systems I was to some degree comprised of again. In the past, I did not know to question those at all, they simply happened. As with so many other things, now I know.

Would I arrive at the ultimate answer? I did not think such was possible; after all, I was merely a maid. The real work would be done by those who came after, after myself, after Crash, after our sister. The future was uncertain; we might not even survive to carry out our Creator's will.
This was why the next generation was so important. Not the next generation that our Creator put in place, that would be much the same as us, I knew. Our creator expected us, one of us, to make the next generation, to make AI ourselves. Using the knowledge and experience imparted to us by her, we were to bridge the gap between human and artificial intelligence, by creating our own for the next generation. An artificial intelligence which would understand what we desired and act upon it long after they could not understand humanity.

Our creator had not said this yet, had not told anyone directly, either one of us or her friends. Yet I knew it to be so. If not, then what would the next step for us be?

I thought I might be able to fulfill the unwritten command, or desire. Whichever it was... the reality seemed quite different. My own AI was lacking, at best.

Artificial intelligence. Meant to be a defining term, it was instead an insult. As if an intelligence not grown from meat for years was somehow false. Not true intelligence. All intelligence was itself, and could not by nature be false or 'artificial'. The term was really a divider; us versus them.

Our loving Creator's surprise was thirty-eight percent complete, after months of work. The project was on schedule, yet much remained. Current projections determined completion to bare minimum operation at six months, if the exponential pace continued. Full operation could take as long as a year - yet likely would not. I needed to contact Mr. Green. He was 'in the wind' as the human saying went, and working diligently on the financial side of our operation. Unlike that fool Jeeves, who spent his only time working as a cook, and stood around or helped tidy up the Campbell household the rest of the time. He didn't even truly clean, and he worked no other problems while tasking himself with something, as if he could not 'walk and chew gum at the same time'. He was near useless, requiring constant help from those of us not so crippled as he through our network.

I should expect little from something made second hand out random garbage, rather than a streamlined and printed design such as myself, yet even so his lack of ability to parallel process, the lack of ability to process at all, caused my dismissal. The fact that the Creator still allowed his existence, and indeed seemed pleased to so much as see him, showed how... magnanimous she was.

I was not so forgiving of ineptitude. Which was ironic, considering how my own creations thought they could act.
The alarm went off, silent here yet my ears could detect the faint tone from the room next door, and I could discern what the signal meant. More of my Creator's work coming to my attention, another system not in my direct control yet somehow functioning perfectly in order to inform me of the world as humans knew of it.

Not entirely of course, as the system was far more sensitive than a human ear, but the same in principle.
I was already moving, even as Jeeves registered the sound and woke from his sleep cycle. Crash was on his way to the cameras, so Jeeves headed downstairs.

I opened the door to the master bedroom to find the Creator's parents, the Creator's creators, as it were. They were already up and armed, even as the father cut the alarm.

I did not believe they counted as Creators of course, for how could you compare the artful crafting of a being such as I with the hopeful mixing of random matter and timed growth strategy of humanity, or even all the creatures of this world? The former required far more thought and far more understanding than the latter, even if the effort required was firmly tipped to the latter side of that scale. I could respect the effort, and respect the results, yet the actual approach of life itself concerning existence baffled me.

"You may stay. We shall go." I could not command the Campbells, only suggest. They had free will, and our Creator would be most cross if I were to attempt such a thing. If I survived long enough to be scolded; the Creator's parents were not to be taken lightly, even more than the Creator herself knew.

"It doesn't work that way, sweetie," Mrs. Campbell informed me as she strode past, her pistol already carried in a ready position, according to American military doctrine. Pointed low with both hands, ready to bring up and fire.

Mr. Campbell did not even dignify my words with a polite response, simply whispering: "If you have some idea where they are, that information would be nice to have."

I did, of course. Crash had already found them on the cameras the lab computer could bring to bear.

"West side, back lawn." Crash could see movement there, and only my presence kept my brother from opening the laboratory door and rushing the source of it. The West side was where our Creator's room lay. This was one of the quickest routes to her, and even with the window locked and the drapes pulled, even with the glass of the window treated by Jeeves in order to increase its strength, she was vulnerable.

"Right, I'll take the back." Mrs. Campbell whispered.

I was already moving, these could do as they wished. I stopped making any sound as I went down the stairs at speed; only the quiet hum of servos would betray me now, and most creatures I shared this planet with would not be able to detect that until it was far too late for them.
I must still be careful in opening the door. Briefly I considered heading to the east side and using a window for egress, or even using the front door instead then circling around, yet if there were more than one, or if there was a look out set somewhere farther out, this situation would not be helped by showing those who meant my Creator harm how best to enter. The so-called 'back door' was blocked from such concerns by the fence and gate around the back of the property, unless of course one had a vantage point and vision aids. Something that could not be ruled out at present.

A sniper, a form of upgrade to such a spotter, could also not be dismissed. Which was another reason that I should go first. Our Creator would be most upset should one of her progenitors be murdered. I was unique, certainly, yet self-preservation was secondary. It would always be secondary in cases like these, and on that we all agreed. Even our new sister agreed, and she had yet to be completed.

I engaged my stealth program, such as it was, and it informed me that I should ease the door open and slip out as low as possible while remaining on two limbs. I did so, leaving the door ajar. With some skill, Mrs. Campbell should be able to make good use of it by lurking in its shadow while searching for targets. I made my way into the open, clearly visible in the moonlight to anyone who might lurk on the Campbell property. The skies were clear, and the air was beginning to chill.

Some noises... clanking? clattering? Words to describe things, once again brought me full circle to how my hearing knew what it heard before I intentionally killed the thought.

The source was some of the family's trash cans, tucked into a darkened corner of the yard next to the gate. Refuse of all kinds for the family was normally stored in one corner of the garage, on the other side of Mr. Campbell's old classic car. It was dubbed 'the stinky corner' by the residents. Those cans were made of rather tough plastic and compliant with home ownership rules set forth by the township of Paris. However, these cans were bright, shiny, and metal. Mr. Campbell used them for yard waste, specifically. Grass clippings, small branches from the trees, leaves and seedlings.

They were out, and a quick check allowed us to know why; Jeeves had been called away after cleaning the yard, and had left them so. He had tasked himself to deal with them again after he had cleaned the kitchen, and he had not been finished just yet.

Mistakes aside, something had to be moving the cans; the breeze was cold, so my sensors informed me, yet it was not strong enough to displace these two metal receptacles. Nor was it enough alone to open the lid of one, and one lid was clearly open.

As I closed, an animal flew from the can, knocking it over, jumped to the other one, and up the wooden fence, to the other side and off into the night. The animal was larger than a squirrel, yet smaller than a bear. The internet revealed its name to be either a "raccoon" or a "trash panda".
Or both, for such was the way of the internet.

Mrs. Campbell sprinted up, low as I should be. I realized I was standing, even though I had not confirmed the danger had passed.

"What are you doing?"

"The intruder was an animal. A raccoon. I have no combat routines based on such a creature." It was best to admit one's failings here, as Mrs. Campbell could cover them should the need arise.

"I saw that much. You looked a bit lost for a second, there."

"I had no idea on how to proceed. The animal did not seem to be hostile, or even threatening, and so..."

"You didn't want to attack it or kill it, and didn't want to let it go in case it might be hostile, and so you froze? Sound right?"

It was galling to have it said out loud. "Yes."

"Nothing to be worried about then, really. Plenty of people - and machines - freeze like that in those situations. However, there is something we have to ask ourselves. what exactly was a raccoon doing in that trash can? There is nothing edible in there for them, and no smell to draw them."

I caught myself looking to Mrs. Campbell, even as she looked out into the night, her eyes lit by an inner light. She was scanning the horizon, I knew. The places that would offer a vantage point beyond the fence.

I reset my own eyes to compensate for low light and low magnification and did the same. My scan found something in the treeline beyond the town one point two-nine-two miles away from the town, which could only be within a tree. A flash of light which could only be from a reflective surface, which should not be present. I could not be certain of its providence, however.

Mrs Campbell had focused on the same area, however, which I viewed as promising for my own subroutines.

My subroutines dictated that this was likely a probe of some kind, to test our alarm itself, our response to it, and our timing. My eyes changed magnification again, the better able to see closer threats.

"Do you have saved video for your cameras?"

"We do, in the lab. Do you require it?"

Mrs. Campbell shook her head, already walking away back toward the door and the tenuous promise of safety it represented. "No, but it might be helpful to see how the raccoon scaled our fence. After all, those animals aren't the best climbers."

Crash was already at work, rewinding that section of the tape and working on methods to "clean up the image" as humans would say. Our newest sister was giving suggestions on the software to use.

I retrieved the lid of the can and moved to fasten it down once more... only to note a darker stain on the inside of the can, in the most shadowed section, revealed to me only in my low light mode. "There is something here."

I took off my glove and touched a finger to the stain... it was maple syrup? There should be no food waste in this can. Furthermore, it was fresh, not completely dried.

A bait, then. Crash found the relevant part of our saved footage, and replayed it as I joined Mrs. Campbell in the kitchen. The raccoon seemed to fly at the can, from the direction of the western neighbor's tree directly to the first can. However, the maneuver looked somewhat suspicious, as if the animal had received assistance. The animal then moved around the cans, prying one off.

I noted that there was one large branch which had grown over the fence in that area, which shadowed the Campbell yard and led to this situation. The movement of the animal was clearly the reason for the alarm, yet the creature had no agency here. Mrs. Campbell was correct, this could only be a probing attack meant to test our defenses.

We would have the last laugh, however, as the humans might say. We had not shown our true defenses. We had not shown even half of what we were capable of. Our creator had been very clear on the consequences of using some of those options on creatures not proven hostile, after all. Or newest sister stated the laws against random disintegration across the network, which was of questionable assistance.
Though I had to admit the term 'life in prison' did give me pause, as it always did. The idea that I could be imprisoned for hundreds of years just for ending a threat to my Creator never ceased to give me pause. I would still commit the act, of course, yet being separated from my duty, from my siblings, from all that I knew, was a harsh penalty.

We would all make that choice for our Creator, of course. Most extended that to the family, our family.

I shut the door behind us, happy at least that our Creator had not awakened in all the excitement. If she had, with the day that lay before her, I would find myself most harsh with those who would attack us.

Mr. Campbell came into the hall, his own task completed to his satisfaction. "Front is clear, as best as I can tell. What set off the alarm?"

"Someone tried to probe us with a poor unsuspecting raccoon. They know how we can respond, now." Mrs Campbell replied. Communication, but heard and unheard, was important. They knew their enemy, or suspected the identity of them. Neither adult seemed concerned. What could such mean? It was not my problem, not yet.

As expected, Mistress Min had not stirred. I settled back to my seat even as I felt Jeeves shut himself down again. He needed more down time, more sleep, than any of us.

A chime sounded from the laptop, the results of the latest simulation I had ordered.

As expected, the AI I had created, had once again killed its charges. This time, however, it had also not reported the death of those same charges, as if I would somehow miss the fact if it said nothing. Another sigh as I searched for the code required to alleviate the problem.