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Chapter 104: Bullshit Gangbang
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After letting that bombshell settle, he moved to the next act... The next bombshell is special, and it's all thanks to his imaginary friends.
Oracle AI was already a phenonon. To the watching world, it was a marvel; a conversational AI of staggering depth and fluency, integrated into search engines, creative suites, and custor service.
What they didn’t know was that Oracle was rely a carefully limited, public-facing subset of Alice.
Alice herself was based on the foundational architecture of Tony Stark’s J.A.R.V.I.S., refined by Adam’s own technopathic intuition and fueled by vast computational resources.
Oracle was smarter, faster, and more context-aware than any AI from Adam’s past life, a fact that made it simultaneously invaluable and financially draining.
Running an AI of that scale in 2008 was a fantastic way to burn money.
“Many have wondered,” Adam said, pacing the stage, his cybernetic arm glinting, “How we can possibly power Oracle. What GPU cluster could handle it? The answer is simple.”
He smiled. “The GPU you need… wasn’t available. Until now.”
The screen changed. A sleek, angular graphics card was rendered in stunning detail. The Cypher C1000 Series.
“I present to you the beating heart of the next computational revolution. The C1000. And its more affordable siblings, the C900, C800, and C700 series.”
What followed was a brutal, ticulously prepared slaughter of the existing market. Benchmarks flashed on the screen.
A comparison showed the entry-level C700 outperforming the current flagship card from the competition by a ludicrous margin in rendering tasks.
A live gaming demo; a stunning look at Crysis, which was released just last year, one of the most demanding gas of the ti.
Yet it ran butter-smooth at 2K resolution on the C7000, a resolution most monitors couldn’t yet display.
The price points, when revealed, caused actual shouts in the audience. They were aggressive, but fair.
Adam's goal wasn’t just entering the GPU market; he wanted utter domination, to create a monopoly, declaring total war with technology from years in the future.
The source of his advantage was his greatest secret. The [Information] stream from his audience was a firehose of leaked future tech specs, architectural diagrams, and solved engineering problems.
The RTX 3090 of his past world is basically the C1000. He hadn’t invented it; he’d simply transcribed it, with minor improvents.
His loyal, but naughty, unseen viewers from another reality had handed him the keys to the kingdom, and he was building the throne room on live TV.
[Information] is a treasure, and Adam had already co up with many ways of exploiting it, but so require resources, ti, and so on.
Above all, standing atop the hierarchy was knowledge. Their knowledge was invaluable to him.
Thus, even though it's inconvenient to leak information to him through the chat's limited ans, they still did it through GIFs, emotes, and even constructed blueprints with dots alone.
He knows many many trade secrets, and no company could stop the leaks because the Show's chat isn't traceable.
The only way to trace those who leak info is by their usernas, but people have already learned how to be anonymous and feed him information.
That includes the 5090. Indeed, Alice is running on that, but Adam felt it more advantageous to start by releasing a version similar to the 3090 first, which is still a decade ahead of the competition.
Information about the technological field is only a part of the equation; there are thousands more fields, biology and dications being the most worthwhile in the short term.
He concluded the showcase with release dates and the repeated, powerful refrain: “Available through our manufacturing and distribution partner, Stark Industries.”
He looked happy, energized. But it wasn’t over.
The Null-Suit behind him moved. The arms reconfigured, forming a sort of skeletal, tallic throne.
They lifted, and Adam sat down on them, cross-legged, hovering several feet above the stage. He looked down at the sea of faces, a king surveying his domain.
“So,” He said, his voice echoing. “Tell . Are you entertained?” He let the question hang, a challenge and a confession.
“Have I surpassed your lowest expectations?” A grin. “Will this change the world?” The grin vanished. “I say no.”
He leaned forward, the lights on his arm casting a kaleidoscope on his pale, serious face.
“I assu the journalists here have… tougher questions. I’m sure everyone watching does. I’m not sure you should know the answers. But I’ll answer them nonetheless.”
His smile returned, weird and chilling. “And the world… will never be the sa again.”
He laughed. It was a strange sound, full of dark promise and manic energy.
It sowed doubt, even fear, in the hearts of the reporters. But fear had never killed curiosity, and greed was a far stronger motivator.
The Q&A began. Adam pointed a cybernetic finger at a journalist in the third row.
The man stood, took the offered microphone, and without preamble, asked the question that was on billions of minds, the question that underpinned every scandal, every fear, every awe-inspiring headline.
“Mr. Cypher… Are you a Mutant?”
The hall fell into a silence deeper than any before. The livestream chat froze, bated breaths, awaiting an answer.
Adam, sitting on his throne of living tal, simply smiled.
[Straight to it! He can't deny it, right?]
[The world just needs a confirmation, but I have a feeling he would let out more than a yes or no.]
['The world will never be the sa again' Chills. I think I know what he's about to do!]
[HE’S JUST SMILING! WHAT DOES IT AN?!]
[The Numbers Mason! What do they an!??]
[This cliffhanger is EVIL!]
“Am I a mutant? Huh…”
Adam’s voice, laced with theatrical contemplation, filled the silent hall. Every eye was locked on him, a collective breath held across continents. The world already believed it.
The nurous headlines, the frantic parents, the circumstantial evidence; it had painted a damning picture.
But they needed to hear it from him. Would he deny it? Would he spin so legalistic evasion? Would he break?
Adam chuckled. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face. “Yeah, there was that controversy. Quite the surprising one, considering I never hid it.”
He shook his head, a picture of bemusent. “The paparazzi are really slacking off. I an, co on. It was the X-n who pulled out of Hydra’s clutches. They’ve visited here, at my ho, in public… many tis.”
He gestured around vaguely. “I’m still surprised you’re all surprised. Why did you think I was hanging out with a team of super-powered individuals in brightly colored spandex? Book club?”
He leaned forward on his tallic throne. “Speaking of the X-n… They have terrible PR. Honestly, it’s embarrassing. You’re superheroes! You’ve saved the world; what, a couple of tis now? If it were …” He snapped his fingers.
The massive screen behind him, which had been displaying the Cypher and Stark logos, flickered and changed.
Gone were the corporate slides. Now, it showed a high-definition, breathtakingly dynamic image.
It was the X-n, captured in a mont of heroic action. Cyclops was mid-leap, an optic blast carving a path of light.
Storm was aloft, hair crackling with lightning, commanding a tempest. Wolverine was a blur of claws and snarl, frozen in ti.
It wasn’t a comic book panel; it was real, raw, and undeniably cool. The image was so clear, so perfectly frad, it looked like a movie poster.
Adam’s drones, always watching, had captured many such pictures during so of their adventures.
“I’d have made a movie,” Adam said, his voice dripping with faux disappointnt. “At the very least, a killer trailer.”
[“Why did you think I was hanging out with a team in brightly colored spandex?” BAHAHAHA!]
[HE’S DOING THE X-N’S PR FOR THEM! THAT IMAGE IS FIRE!]
[Dude, I knew it. He will be spewing so much bullshit throughout, it's gonna make sick!]
[I think Hydra is about to experience Infinite Age of Penetration and Bullshit!]
[Definitely advertising the X-n. I bet he will NTR them away from Professor X.]
[Guys, be ready for a bullshit gangbang!]
“So, yeah,” Adam concluded, shrugging his shoulders, the movent fluid in his cybernetic arm. “I’m a mutant. My tax forms are a nightmare.”
The reaction was not the explosive outrage so had hoped for, or the vindicated cheers others feared. It was a deep, resonant bewildernt.
He’d said it so… flippantly. As if admitting to a mild allergy or an eccentric hobby.
In offices and bunkers around the world, certain people felt their blood pressure spike.
Hydra safehouse, sowhere in Europe; A man in a crisp suit stared at a monitor, his knuckles white on the arm of his chair.
“Why is he just… Saying things? Can the mouthy little fuck not just… shut up? For five minutes? Is his mutant power verbal diarrhea?!”
“We should have aid for the bastard's tongue, cut that shit open! And frad it as our fucking logo! Fuck!!”
S.H.I.E.L.D. Command Center; Nick Fury stood with his arms crossed, his single eye a storm cloud.
On the main screen, Adam Cypher’s smiling face was multiplied across a dozen news feeds.
“They say won rule the world of gossip,” Fury growled to no one in particular.
“Today, they’ve been dethroned by a billionaire maniac with a cybernetic arm and the impulse control of a caffeinated squirrel."
"What in the actual na of national security is he doing? He’s not a whistleblower, he’s a goddamn scandalmonger with a global gaphone!”
Please. Just fucking please don't say more! Fury scread in his mind, and an ominous premonition told him he would do exactly what he doesn't want him to do.
Cypher Enterprises, Backstage; Natalie Rushman; Natasha Romanoff; pressed a hand to her forehead.
The cool, professional mask was cracked, revealing sheer, unadulterated professional pain.
Is this what I convinced him to do? she thought, the mory of his “Thank you” now chilling her to the bone. To beco a ‘mouth-breather’ on steroids?
To just… blab state secrets and superhero team-ups on live TV? She had a sudden, vivid image of Fury’s face when he debriefed her. She needed a very strong drink. And possibly a new identity.
She could only hope he wouldn't leak too much. Please! Please have so self-control!
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