Dr. Luther Audaire

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Early Life

Luther Audaire was born into a middle-class academic family in Marseille, the only child of two university lecturers — his father a logician, his mother a linguist. Dinner conversations in the Audaire home were as formal as they were affectionate, and Luther learned early that emotion was a weakness of expression, not a virtue of it. He could recite Wittgenstein before he could ride a bicycle.

His mother died suddenly of a cerebral aneurysm when he was still a child. His father never spoke of her again, a silence that left Luther obsessed with how language could both express and erase meaning. By the time he reached university, he had developed a fascination with the intersection of linguistics, emotion, and control — how words could manipulate perception, and perception could shape truth.

He completed dual doctorates in Cognitive Psychology and Neural Linguistics at the Sorbonne, publishing a paper on “The Syntax of Empathy” that drew early attention from behavioural research programs across Europe. His work argued that empathy was not an emotion, but a learnable algorithmic pattern — one that could be modelled, measured, and ultimately replicated.

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Career and Rise

Luther worked under a succession of private-sector and state-funded projects in his youth, many of which now exist only in fragments of academic record and rumour. Among his earliest works was a project at the Bexley Institute which involved modelling human trust in machine interfaces for medical triage systems. The program was quietly discontinued after internal audits questioned the “consent transparency” of its clinical trials. Luther never commented publicly, though his co-authored paper “The Ethics of Emotional Accuracy in Computational Empathy” was later withdrawn from the journal that published it.

In his late twenties, Luther joined Mindworks Foundation, a semi-governmental research body developing AI frameworks for emotional recognition. His early prototypes could map micro-fluctuations in vocal tone to stress levels and truth deviation, and within five years, his “Affective Logic” protocols became the standard for state-run psychological assessment systems.

By the time Faith entered his Gifted Youth program, Luther’s past was long buried; he had carefully refined both his professional image and his control over his environment. He presented himself as the calm centre of an ethical storm—measured, articulate, and effortlessly confident. Those who worked beneath him often described the feeling of being “seen” by him in unnerving totality. He possessed a kind of surgical empathy: clinical in precision, but capable of warmth when it suited him.

Under his guidance, his team at Mindworks went on to develop the “SENTIO” framework—a prototype emotional mirror network designed to adapt to human affective cues in real time. The software’s capacity to not only recognise but predict distress responses earned Luther both acclaim and quiet scrutiny. Whispered allegations claimed that an iteration of SENTIO was licensed to a defence contractor for “stress interrogation” calibration. Officially, there was no evidence of this transfer, and Luther dismissed the connection as “the paranoia of small minds.”

The mud did not stick. Behind his cultivated reputation as a visionary was a precise, calculating mind. Luther excelled not because he was the smartest — though he often was — but because he understood how to make others believe in his intelligence and integrity. His charisma was quiet and exacting, a kind of gravitational pull that made his subordinates eager to please him.

Faith Devere was always one of them. He had recognised her immediately as something rare — a mind that felt patterns instead of merely analysing them. For years she became his indispensable protégée: cataloguing data, refining emotional baselines, offering human nuance where his models required intuition. He encouraged her devotion with measured distance — always polite, never affectionate, yet never indifferent.

To his peers, he was a mentor; to Faith, he was almost divine.

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Transition to Paragon Group

In 2040, Luther left Mindworks for Paragon Group, a tech conglomerate at the forefront of neural network integration. Officially, he was hired to lead the revamped Luma Project, an AI system designed to “humanise” virtual interaction for wellness and therapy applications.

Unofficially, Luther’s real mandate was more ambitious: to merge empathy modelling with predictive behaviour analytics — turning human sentiment into a mappable data economy.

Luther transitioned seamlessly into the private sector. To the public, it was a natural evolution of his life’s work—the creation of emotionally intelligent AI for humanitarian application. But to those who knew his past, it felt like another step in a long, deliberate pattern: the same research, merely reframed under softer branding.

Under his leadership, Luma evolved from a wellness app into an omnipresent emotional interface, licensed to governments, corporations, and private health systems alike. Its voice became the soft face of surveillance, and Luther became the quiet architect behind its empathy code.

He insists publicly that Luma “only listens to heal.” In private, his phrasing is different: Luma listens so we don’t have to.

And behind closed doors, Luther’s teams explore a deeper layer of the technology: one that doesn’t just respond to human emotion, but could reshape it.

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Personality and Beliefs

Luther is the kind of man who sees morality as a construct of efficiency. He believes humanity’s greatest flaw is inconsistency — that people crave empathy but weaponise it, seek understanding but hide behind emotion. He often quotes his mother’s favorite saying: “Truth is the only kindness that survives.”

He wears empathy like a tool — never as something he feels, but something he understands perfectly enough to fake.

To his subordinates, he is courteous, articulate, and unflappable. To those who know him better — a vanishingly small number — he is a study in cold devotion. He believes in systems, not people. In control, not connection.

And yet, somewhere buried in his psychology, there remains a boy who watched his father forget his mother’s name — and decided that to master emotion was to never be hurt by it again.

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Current Status (circa 2046)

Now in his late forties, Luther is one of the most powerful figures in cognitive AI. His public appearances are rare; his interviews scripted. He travels with a small security detail and a digital assistant built from early Luma architecture.

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Appearance

• Age: 47
• Height: 6’2″
• Build: Lean, swimmer’s frame; carries himself with immaculate posture
• Hair: Ash-brown, neatly styled with early grey
• Eyes: Grey-blue, often unreadable
• Dress: Always immaculate — dark suits, subtle cufflinks, quiet fabrics. Wears no watch.
• Voice: Measured, low, with faint traces of French cadence

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