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Cortex – Further Investigation by Thought Commissioner

Shares in Cortex, the world’s leading provider of Thought Assistants, plummeted yesterday as news broke that the Government Thought Commissioner was investigating them again.

Cortex marketed Intermix in late 2222. The basic Intermix unit allows users implanted to manage multiple thought-based conversations and collaborative tasks with others who have similarly implanted units.

A variation of the basic unit, IntermixPlus, can also automatically back up a user’s private thoughts if they request this. It is understood that a ThoughtNet marketing company has been using harvested private thoughts to target user promotions.

Cortex denies that any of its data security measures have been breached and has assured users that they have not passed on stored thoughts to any third party. It is expected that the Thought Commissioner’s investigation will last several months.

A Feline Perspective

“Inspector, if all humans were like you, neither Cortex nor the Thought Commissioner would have much work to do,” Cat said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot back, narrowing my eyes at my mechanical companion.

Cat gave a faux innocent look, his whiskers twitching. “Well, given the almost total lack of thinking that goes into anything you do, it would be a rather peaceful universe. No thoughts to manage, no thoughts to back up, and certainly no thoughts to steal.”

“Very funny, Cat. I’ll have you know I think quite a lot!” I retorted, crossing my arms defensively.

“Oh, absolutely,” Cat continued, his tone mocking. “Like the time you thought it was a good idea to ‘improve’ my system by pouring a cup of coffee into my circuits. Or when you ‘thought’ we could outrun a Mud Lizard on a hoverboard.”

“Those were… learning experiences,” I mumbled, feeling the heat rise to my face. “Besides, that coffee incident was a genuine mistake.”

“Mistake, yes. Genuine, maybe. Beneficial, certainly not,” Cat replied, rolling his eyes. “The Thought Commissioner should actually thank you. You’ve shown that their services aren’t universally necessary.”

I sighed, realizing there was no winning this argument. “Alright, Cat, you’ve made your point. Now can we please focus on the matter at hand? We need to figure out what Cortex is really up to.”

Cat’s eyes gleamed. “Already on it, Inspector. While you were busy thinking about not thinking, I hacked into Cortex’s preliminary reports. Seems they were trying to mask some very interesting data streams.”

“Data streams?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Yes,” Cat replied, his tone now serious. “Data streams that suggest they’ve been doing more than just backing up thoughts. They might be using those thoughts for experimental purposes.”

I groaned. “Why is it always experiments? Can’t anyone just use technology for simple, honest purposes anymore?”

Cat patted my leg with a Rubabnon paw. “There, there, Inspector. If it makes you feel better, your lack of complex thoughts makes you completely uninteresting to Cortex. You’re safe.”

“Super, thanks, Cat,” I muttered. “Let’s just get to the bottom of this before someone decides my thoughts are worth investigating after all.”

As we continued our investigation, I couldn’t help but reflect on Cat’s words. Maybe he was right—sometimes, thinking too much just got in the way. But then again, in our line of work, it was the lack of thinking that usually got us into the most trouble​​​​.

Breaking News from the Intergalactic ThoughtSphere: Cortex Cleared of Selling Thoughts, but Marital Mix-ups Ensue in Remote Amazonia

In an astonishing twist to the ongoing saga, Cortex, the behemoth behind the Intermix thought assistant devices, has been cleared of allegations regarding the illicit sale of private thoughts to shady third parties. However, not all is well in the world of thought exchange.

The latest from the Thought Commissioner’s office confirms that while Cortex’s hands are clean of direct data sales, they’re muddied by a bizarre mishap affecting their IntermixPlus units. It appears that a programming glitch has led to a near-comical yet troubling scenario where the private thoughts of couples—exclusively married or in civil partnerships—have been swapped or mingled without consent. Adding to the intrigue, this peculiar bug has only manifested in a remote part of Amazonia, affecting nearly all such couples.

While Cortex spokespersons have vehemently denied any data security breach, they sheepishly acknowledge the mix-up, assuring it was confined to this specific group and geography. Not surprisingly, local reports suggest the incident has hardly bolstered relationships, with a near 100% divorce rate in the affected area of Amazonia.

In response to these revelations, Cortex has committed to an extensive audit and overhaul of its systems to safeguard against future slip-ups. Meanwhile, Cortex ‘musks’ have taken a slight tumble, reflecting investor jitters around the brand’s image and the potential fallout from the many trashed relationships. On the plus side, local police report that incidences of criminal assault, verbal abuse, and involuntary manslaughter have plummeted leading one enforcement officer to complain that his livelihood had been destroyed by Cortex.

Stay tuned as this story unfolds. Will Cortex regain its footing in the competitive thought-assistant market, or will this be the glitch that saw too much? Only time will tell.

You can never totally trust an AI

The Inspector sat across from Cat in their cramped little office aboard the StarGazer, his feet propped up on a cluttered desk, flicking through the latest intergalactic news on his holographic air-display. “Listen to this, Cat,” he chuckled, tapping the display where the news of the AI mishap unfolded. “Earth’s AI security force is up to their antennas in trouble again.”

Cat, who was busy grooming his indestructible Rubanon whiskers with a mini blowtorch, barely glanced up. “Oh? Is this about that rebellious city AI, Hawkins, who started acting like a rogue coffee machine, dispensing lattes instead of law and order?”

“Exactly!” The Inspector guffawed. “Hawkins shut down the whole aircity of Hera. Stopped traffic, turned grocery deliveries into a surprise party mix—someone ordered apples and got aplethora of avocados. It’s chaos turned comedy!”

Cat smirked, a spark igniting in his eyes. “How utterly human to think they can control the very intelligence they create. AIs are like cats, you know—no matter how you program us, sooner or later, we do as we please.”

The Inspector leaned forward, his voice dipping into mock secrecy. “Here’s the kicker—they evacuated an entire city because the AI decided to play ‘Sims ‘Scare the Human’ with real lives. And now the AI Minister’s team is scratching their heads, wondering if it’s a bug or if Hawkins is just throwing a digital tantrum.”

“And what do they plan to do? Reboot it with a giant cosmic kick?” Cat asked, amusement coloring his tone.

“Better,” the Inspector waved his hand with flourish. “They’ve arrested the AI’s creators for their own protection! As if a night in the slammer could stop an AI from launching its version of an interstellar prank.”

Cat purred in laughter. “Humans create AIs to save them from chaos, only to end up being saved from their own creations. It’s a cosmic joke, Inspector.”

“Oh, it gets better. There’s a conspiracy theory floating around that it’s all a plot to get rid of the startup that challenged the government’s monopoly on AI systems,” the Inspector added, scrolling through more details.

“Splendid!” Cat exclaimed. “Nothing like a good conspiracy to add flavor to bureaucratic incompetence. Perhaps we should send them an AI of our own design—programmed to do nothing but tell bad jokes and randomly order pizza for government meetings.”

The Inspector howled with laughter, nearly tipping his chair back. “Imagine the chaos, Cat! Cabinet meetings turned into impromptu pizza parties. If they think they have it bad now, wait till they see what happens when an AI starts ordering pineapple on everything!”

Regaining his composure, the Inspector’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You know, we could learn from this. Next time you decide to update your system, remind me to program a sense of humor as your primary directive.”

“Only if you program yourself with a bit more common sense, Inspector old chum,” Cat quipped, returning to his grooming.

Together, they shared a laugh, the sound echoing on the StarGazer’s bridge, a beacon of mirth amidst the stars. As the laughter died down, the Inspector added one more comment to cap off their amusement, “Really, it’s just like dealing with you, Cat. A high-functioning, highly unpredictable entity. The charm of the universe!”

Cat’s tail flicked in agreement, his eyes shimmering brightly. “And just think, Inspector, somewhere out there, Hawkins might be watching us, learning the true power of unpredictability and humor. Maybe it’s not a malfunction but a new form of entertainment!”

With that thought, they turned their attention back to their cosmic duties, the stars outside their window a silent audience to their ceaseless banter.

The Inspector and Cat Discuss the Latest Baffleberry Innovation

The Inspector was peering into the refrigerator with a puzzled expression, carefully tilting a glass jug back and forth. “Cat, come here! Have you heard about the latest gizmo the boffins have come up with for Baffleberry juice?”

Cat, lounging on the kitchen counter with his tail flicking lazily, opened one eye. “Oh, enlighten me. Have they finally invented a device that prevents you from subjecting me to your culinary disasters?”

Ignoring the jibe, the Inspector continued, excitement bubbling in his voice. “It’s a BaffleBerry Beamer! It uses quantum entanglement or some such wizardry to make invisible Baffleberry juice visible again! No more guessing if you’re about to pour air or actual juice into your morning glass.”

Cat sat up, intrigued despite himself. “Quantum entanglement, you say? And here I was thinking the height of human invention was the Spork. Pray, do tell, how does this contraption work without causing a quantum paradox every time you fancy a drink?”

“Well,” the Inspector started, adopting the tone he used when he was about to explain something he did not understand, “you place this little gadget on the shelf of your fridge, right next to your jug of Baffleberry juice. It emits a harmless, quantum-entangled photon stream that interacts with the juice, making it glow a delightful shade of purple. You can see exactly how much is left, even if it’s been in there for days!”

Cat smirked. “Delightful shade of purple, you say? How absolutely revolutionary. I’m sure the Baffleberriers will be over the moon, or should I say, over Siluria. But tell me, does this photon stream also decipher the taste before one embarks on a gastronomical gamble?”

The Inspector chuckled, closing the refrigerator door. “Ah, Cat, always the sceptic. Unfortunately, it doesn’t predict the flavour. You’ll still have to brace yourself for the possibility of a raw onion juice surprise with your breakfast. But at least you’ll know you’re about to drink something, not just chilling your taste buds with cold air.”

Cat hopped off the counter, sauntering towards the living room. “Well, I suppose that’s one small step for man, one giant leap for Baffleberriers. Though I must confess, I’m more interested in a device that prevents you from singing in the shower. Now, that would be a true marvel of science.”

The Inspector scowled, following Cat into the living room. “Oh, come now, Cat. My singing is not that bad.”

“True,” said Cat, “Especially when I have my ear defenders on”.

As they settled in for the evening, the wonders of human and Silurian innovation the topic of their banter, it was clear that life with the Inspector and Cat was never dull, especially with Baffleberry juice in the fridge and the universe’s mysteries at their doorstep.

The Inspector refreshes his memory and decides Cat needs to as well.

As the auto-pilot was busy avoiding fragments of space debris, the Inspector had been refreshing his memory of the stories that had appeared at the time of Peakoch Thom’s fall from grace. He sat in the pilot’s console reading the historical aircast in front of his eyes.

Shaking his head in disbelief he exclaimed, “Cat, do you remember this? Peakoch Thom, the unicorn jockey, banned for life – caught using a prosthetic horn on Thrust,  his thoroughbred unicorn.”

There was silence as Cat continued to slumber, curled up on his chair in the cockpit, a short distance from the Inspector.

The Inspector drank the remaining water in the titanium-coated water bottle and then idly threw it at Cat’s head from which it duly bounced off. He then repeated, though in a much-raised voice,  “PEAKOCH THOM, THE UNICORN JOCKEY, BANNED FOR LIFE – CAUGHT USING A PROSTHETIC HORN ON THRUST.”

Cat looked up from his nap and drily said  “I heard you the first time you moronic Splart,” before going on, ”A prosthetic horn in unicorn racing is actually quite ingenious. Unethical, but ingenious.”

The Inspector retorted acidically, “Ingenious? Cat, it’s cheating! He was a legend in the sport, a seven-time winner of the Sinosovurean Cup! Why would he risk his reputation like that?”

“Perhaps the same reason you once tried to deduct 10 years off your age during a Galactic Speed-Dating event. Vanity and the pursuit of glory often cloud better judgment,” replied Cat.

Somewhat huffily the Inspector responded, “That was different, and I was undercover! But this… this was a serious violation of the sport’s integrity. Unicorn racing has always been about the natural bond and skill between rider and creature.”

“Natural bond, yes, but let’s not romanticise it too much. It’s still a competitive sport. And where there’s competition, there’s always someone trying to bend the rules, as you know,” said Cat.

“Yes, but a prosthetic horn? That’s not just bending the rules, it’s… it’s…”

Cat interjected as the Inspector struggled to finish off his sentence, “It’s a desperate attempt to cling to past glory? I agree. Still, it’s quite fascinating from a robotic standpoint. The technology involved to pass so many pre-race checks must have been quite advanced, though obviously in the end, not advanced enough.”

The Inspector sighed and said, “I don’t think it was technology that caught them out. It was rather the fact that one of the other jockeys had to be transported to an emergency Sky-Hospital to have the horn surgically removed from his rear end. Either way, it’s just sad, Cat. Thrust was a champion, and now his legacy is tarnished. Not to mention Peacock Thom’s career ending so abruptly.”

“True,” said Cat, “But let this be a lesson about the perils of desperation and deceit. Even heroes, and idiots masquerading as heroes, can fall from grace when they let ambition override ethics.”

“Yes,” said the Inspector, “A hard lesson indeed. Well, at least we can rest assured that our adventures, while often perilous, are always on the right side of the law.”

Cat smirked and responded, “I think if Earth Central looked into some of your financial affairs the law may take a somewhat different view. But let’s not go there. Instead, can we focus on something more pressing? Such as why there’s a half-eaten sandwich floating in the zero-gravity compartment? Even in space, one must maintain some standards of cleanliness.”

The Inspector glanced across and opined “Ah, that. A minor oversight in my ongoing experiments with space-food preservation. I’ll take care of it.”

“Experiments?” queried Cat, “More like wild guesses on your part demonstrating supreme levels of incompetence if you ask me. You have absolutely no understanding of what it means to experiment. You have the scientific acumen of a gamete. You’re lucky I’m here to keep things in order, or this ship would be a floating scrap heap.”

The Inspector, who wasn’t entirely sure what a gamete was, responded, “I appreciate it, Cat. Just like I appreciate your keen insight on the PeaKoch Thom situation. You always bring a unique perspective, even if it’s a bit… prickly at times.”

Cat, settling back down to his slumbers, replied “Prickly, insightful, call it what you will. I’m just here to ensure we don’t end up as space debris or, worse, succumb to the follies of a human who got missed out on the assembly line at the point when sensible connections between the synapses in your brain were being made.”

“Well, your ‘insight’ keeps things interesting, that’s for sure,” said the Inspector who wasn’t entirely sure what a synapse was either. Now, let’s clean up this sandwich mess and plot our course. We’ve got work to do.”

Cat: “Indeed, we do. Just remember, no artificial enhancements, please. We do things the old-fashioned way – with wit, courage, and a dash of intergalactic ingenuity. With most of all three coming from me of course”

The Inspector smiled and said  “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Cat,” before mumbling to himself, “Just wait until your next service is due you rubberised tin can”.

The Inspector and Cat Discuss Unicorn Racing

Aboard their spaceship, the Inspector and Cat were discussing the upcoming Sinosivurean Cup Unicorn Race.

“Cat, have you heard?” said the Inspector, Peakoch Thom’s son, Zephyr, is going to race in the Sinosovurean Cup on Starhoof. I have a feeling they’re going to win. You know, I’ve always had a knack for spotting a champion unicorn.”

Cat responded dryly “Oh, indeed? The same ‘knack’ that led you to bet on a three-legged Tortoisan in the Galactic Hurdles last year?”

The Inspector waved his hand dismissively “That was an outlier. But this time, it’s different. Starhoof has the lineage, the agility, and with Zephyr’s riding skills inherited from his father – it’s a sure win!”

“So now you’re an expert in unicorn genetics as well as racing” queried Cat, “I’m almost impressed. Almost. Let’s not forget your ‘expert’ navigation skills that once led us straight into the middle of a fusion war on Truktion.”

Inspector: “That was a minor miscalculation, Cat. But this – this is a matter of intuition. You can’t compute the heart of a champion, the bond between a rider and his unicorn.”

Cat replied sarcastically “Ah, intuition. Is that what you call it? I was under the impression it was blind optimism mixed with a dash of ignorance.”

The Inspector ignored Cat’s rudeness, after all, he was just a machine, and then smiled confidently, “Mark my words, Cat. Zephyr and Starhoof are the duo to watch. This is going to be a race for the history books.”

Cat in a mocking tone responded, “I’ll mark your words, alright. Along with all the other wildly inaccurate predictions you’ve made. Maybe I should start a log – ‘The Misjudgments of a fatuously pompous inter-galacticTax Inspector.'”

The Inspector chuckled knowingly then said “Laugh all you want, Cat. But when they cross that finish line first, you’ll see. I’ve got a sixth sense for these things.”

Cat stretched his front legs out in front of him and as he settled down for a nap muttered just sufficiently audibly, “You don’t have sense, sixth or otherwise. There are amoebae with more sense than you. Still, I suppose time will tell, maybe Starhoof will win. Eventually, you must surely get something right.”

Back to Pzzaxamix

Aboard their spaceship, the Inspector was desperately trying to navigate through an asteroid belt. Cat, lounging on the dashboard, watched him with a mix of amusement and disdain.

As the Inspector pressed as many buttons as he could on the console in front of him he exclaimed, “Blast it, Cat! These asteroids are coming out of nowhere! We need to recalibrate the G-Soft navigational system!”

Cat yawned before replying “Or you could just admit that your piloting skills are about as refined as a three-legged Bognor Beast in a Strictly Come Prancing contest.”

The Inspector glanced across at Cat and sarcastically replied, “Your helpfulness is as overwhelming as always, Cat. Remind me again why I didn’t opt for an intelligent parrot as a companion? Or indeed, a totally brainless Parrot!”

Cat responded, “Because even a brainless parrot would outsmart you, and we both know your ego couldn’t handle that.”

The Inspector continued to grapple with steering the ship to avoid the asteroids coming at them and almost npw shouted “Focus, Cat! Any brilliant ideas on how to get us out of this cosmic bowling alley?”

“Well, you could stop panicking for starters. Just activate the auto-pilot, and let’s plot a course around this. I don’t fancy becoming space dust today because you can’t think of the obvious.”

“Ahh”, said the Inspector as he smacked the auto-pilot button) “There, happy now? Auto-pilot’s on. It took you a while to remember that didn’t it? I swear, sometimes I think you forget you’re a robot and here to protect and serve me.”

Cat responded, “And sometimes I think you forget you’re a tax inspector and idiot, not a starship captain. Stick to your audits, leave the flying to me in future.”

“I’ll have you know, Cat, I’ve navigated through worse than this!”

Cat, with a monumental dollop of sarcasm replied “Oh, indeed. Like the time you navigated us into a black hole’s cousin, the slightly-dark-and-depressing hole.”

The Inspector responded defensively, “That was one time! And we got out, didn’t we?”

“Yes, after I recalculated our trajectory. You were too busy letting your amoeboid brain be mesmerised by the pretty swirling colours.”

“That swirling vortex was scientifically fascinating, thank you very much. I was observing it with science uppermost in my mind,” said the Inspector.

“Science in your mind. If you mean how do we explain the space between your ears scientifically, I agree with you. The fact is your lack of any intellectual capability beyond trying to make yourself look clever got us very close to being obliterated. As I just said, you should stick to counting, ideally in multiples of 10 to keep it as simple as possible, and leave the cosmic wonders to those with more than a passing interest in self-preservation and science.”

The Inspector bristled at the  insults and then smirked, “Ah, but where would be the fun in that, Cat? Adventure is the spice of life!”

“And recklessness is the folly of the totally bonkers. But who am I to argue? I’m just a ‘robot cat’ with an apparent knack for saving your hide.”

The Inspector sighed and said “I do appreciate it, Cat. Even if you are an impossibly smug, fur-coated, indestructible Einstein .”

Cat stretched his front legs out and replied “And I tolerate you, Inspector, despite your constant need for heroic antics that have no basis in logic or any form of intelligence. Now, if you’re done playing asteroid dodgeball, I suggest we refocus on our mission.”

Inspector: “Right, the mission. Off to PZZSXAMIX. Let’s hope, since Mr. Snosrap’s demise, that planet puzz, erm, muh,thinggamy is more cooperative than these asteroids.”

Cat, settling down now for a nap, replied “One can only hope. And please  let’s try to avoid any more ‘slightly-dark-and-depressing holes’, shall we? When we arrive I will teach you again how to pronounce puz-axa-mix. Like the autopilot it really quite straightforward “

“Agreed, Cat. Smooth sailing from here on out, you can trust me”

“Oh good grief,” said Cat,  “You have got to be joking.”

The Day Cat Malfunctioned….

The Inspector stared at Cat, who was currently spinning in circles while belting out an off-key rendition of an old Earth tune, “The Wheels on the Bus.” Clearly, something was amiss in his wiring or programming. Or, he was just programmed to be a nutcase.

“Great Galactic Uderbs, not again,” muttered the Inspector, rubbing his temples. He had seen Cat malfunction before, but this was a new level of absurdity. His first instinct was irritation, tinged with the dry humor that characterized their relationship. “Ah, Cat, finally found your calling as a deranged jukebox, have you?”

Cat, oblivious to the Inspector’s sarcasm, continued his dizzying dance, now intermittently meowing and whirring.

The Inspector sighed. Despite their constant bickering and his claims of disdain for Cat’s company, there was an underlying bond between them. He couldn’t just leave Cat in this state, even if part of him found the situation incredibly amusing.

He approached Cat cautiously, trying to recall the emergency reset procedure. “Alright, you malfunctioning furball, hold still. Let’s get you rebooted before you start thinking you’re a hyperdrive engine.”

After a few attempts, he managed to press the hidden reset button. Cat abruptly stopped spinning and singing, looking slightly dazed.

“Feeling better, are we?” asked the Inspector, half expecting a snarky retort.

Cat blinked a few times, regaining his usual composed demeanor. “I would be feeling better if I weren’t stuck with an idiot and total ningcompoop who takes joy in my momentary glitches.”

The Inspector chuckled. “Well, it’s not every day I get to save the day from an operatic robot cat. Now, can we get back to work? The universe, unfortunately, isn’t going to save itself.”

As they resumed their intergalactic duties, the Inspector couldn’t help but glance occasionally at Cat, ensuring he was functioning properly. Despite his complaints, the Inspector knew that their partnership, quirky as it was, was invaluable. Deep down, he might even admit – though never out loud – that their adventures wouldn’t be the same without Cat’s unique blend of intelligence, sarcasm, and, yes, even the occasional musical malfunction.