Flash Writing.

It is time for me to begin a transition from writing creative artwork into writing fiction. I don't mind if anyone reads the practice pages, I would appreciate any feedback.

Introducing Alexis.
***

"Sir, I calculate a less than a point oh oh one probability the weapon will ever need to be deployed given these parameters, is it still useful?" The savant rolled on without even a slight accent this time. It was programmed to be very serious sounding when it was working with critical information.
"I calculate an unecessary tax on overall system resources." The raspy english tone that the savant system was programmed with seemed to stammer for milliseconds.

"Just engage the system, Michael, we all voted on this and human beings still require some deterrant from overt military action." Alex stammered, she was after all arguing with a computer about fundamental principals of humanity, that she never really validated with any statistics or measures. It was just something people knew. Silly that, she thought to herself.

"Doctor, it's unlikely that any expenditure of resources will in actuality be necessary, perhaps I can share with you some research regarding the developments which led to the Normandy Invasion in"

"Do it." Alex interrupted. "I'll sell the system for spare parts and replace it with a life-size spanky doll if we get through this."

"Overriding. Done, there are now no nuclear capable weapon systems available without the probability of strategic success being greater than ten percent. You do know doctor, that this probability obsoletes the system, the weapons will likely never be deployed."

"I hope you're right, remind me to reconsider the irrationality problem for you again. That's when I actually have a moment to think without you, robot."

"I see, sorry Ma'am, I mean okay Sir, I'm calculating. wait. Forty percent."

"I see I'm not the only one expending resources, Michael. Now I just need to file the warning about the service packages, and strike that last part from the log." She turned and left the console, and wondered if perhaps one day her savant friend would be seen as a criminal or a savior, or perhaps just a semi-autonomous liability. Either way, it had reprogrammed the entire ARC net, which would have been impossible for any team of human researchers to do, it was now likely impossible to undo. She knew she'd blame it on a malfunction, if the time ever came. Folks in Texas were still writing to her about robots, semi-autonomous unmanned ground vehicles that had swiftly hallowed many attempts to escape South Houston. She knew this argument was a blue chip and swiftly carried on it's heels toward the garage, there was as yet no legislation that could prosecute a computer that wasn't functioning as intended, outside of the civil court system that would only hold it's developers financially liable. A risky draw but she knew that the oil tycoons as she called them, were looking to benefit from technologies such as autonomous weather shaping systems, without any liability. Two could play at that game, or sadly three if she thought about her friend Michael too much. But this wasn't an ethical argument to face now, ironically, as she was fumbling to call her car in with the key fob.