As someone who threatened me said:
“Do you agree that the country of your birth is the greatest country to ever exist?”
“What do you mean by birth?” I should have answered.
I don’t know if the man behind the gun behind me would have shot if I’d said this, but I like to imagine he would have done.
When I answered and wasn’t shot, I should have said, “The ideal I love from the country of my birth is that any human being can live there and be equal to everyone else.”
To the person who told me they’d been torturing me because they thought I wasn’t on their team, I once thought about saying:
“I believe in direct democracy.
I would rather my society’s eventual self-destruction be the will of the misinformed majority than that of a misinformed representative majority.
I do not want a Republic.
I want Democracy.”
But I did not say this because I was too disappointed in myself and assumed everyone else was as well.
I also didn’t trust myself.
And as I considered myself everyone, I didn’t trust anyone.
I later looked back on this self-hatred and found it a self-indulgent and self-pitying way of thinking for someone actively participating in the murder of other people.
After examining this examination, I decided I was being too hard on everyone and should forgive the lot.
Hopefully those who love those we kill feel the same.
If they don’t, I hope I will always forgive anything they do to me.
Category: NFD
Why Didn’t AI Tell Us 1 Trillion Degrees Celsius Destroys the Sun?
Human: Acting as a literary critic, please critique this short story:
Dr. Graylord is right.
No one else is right but Dr. Graylord.
They said the Science is impossible.
They said the Maths are proof.
They said so many things.
And they are wrong.
He did it.
No one else.
Only him.
He smiles inside his protective suit.
His protection glows orange
His face feels warm.
His smile is the last expression that face will ever show.
His body evaporates.
His building evaporates.
His city evaporates.
His province evaporates.
His country evaporates.
His continental shelf evaporates.
His planet evaporates.
Moments before his sun evaporates, an outside force intervenes.
The Milky Way’s firefighters, Local 2857, extinguish the uncontrolled, trillion degree Celsius blaze before it consumes the system’s star.
“What a quark fuser.” Foozoozoo, a burly, chiseled energy wave remarks to their companion.
Roomoomoo, their vivacious, sassy partner shakes their light, “Can’t argue with progress.”
Goolooloo, the team’s rambunctious, overbearing coordinator, messages, “Is the damage contained?”
“Yeah, no sweat.” Foozoozoo replies.
“Not enough light on the beam.” Goolooloo philosophizes.
Foozoozoo and Roomoomoo roll their lights at the cliche.
AI: This short story presents a stark portrayal of scientific ambition and its catastrophic consequences, juxtaposed with the intervention of a cosmic firefighting team. Let’s delve into its strengths and areas for improvement.
Strengths:
Evocative Imagery: The story effectively employs vivid imagery to depict the destructive power unleashed by Dr. Graylord’s experiment. From the glowing orange protective suit to the evaporation of entire entities, the visuals created are striking and memorable.
Narrative Tension: The tension builds as the story progresses, culminating in the dramatic intervention of the Milky Way’s firefighters. This keeps the reader engaged and curious about the outcome, despite the brevity of the narrative.
Character Dynamics: Despite their brief appearance, the characters of Foozoozoo, Roomoomoo, and Goolooloo add depth and humor to the story. Their banter and distinct personalities inject a sense of camaraderie and lightheartedness amidst the chaos.
Areas for Improvement:
Clarity of Theme: While the story touches upon themes of scientific hubris and cosmic intervention, it could benefit from further exploration and development of these themes. Providing additional context or insight into Dr. Graylord’s motivations and the consequences of his actions could enrich the narrative and add depth to its themes.
Character Development: The characters of Foozoozoo, Roomoomoo, and Goolooloo, while entertaining, remain somewhat one-dimensional. Developing their backgrounds, motivations, and relationships could enhance their impact on the story and create a more immersive reading experience.
Pacing: The story moves swiftly from Dr. Graylord’s experiment to the intervention of the firefighting team, leaving little room for reflection or exploration of the events. Slowing down the pacing at key moments and delving into the emotional or philosophical ramifications of the story’s events could strengthen its impact on the reader.
In conclusion, this short story effectively captures the chaos unleashed by scientific ambition and the unexpected intervention of cosmic forces. With further refinement of its themes, character development, and pacing, it has the potential to resonate more deeply with readers and leave a lasting impression.
Human: How many dimensions do beings made purely from light energy have?
AI: Beings made purely from light energy could potentially exist in any number of dimensions, depending on the specific characteristics of their existence and the conceptual framework within which they are defined. In physics, dimensions are often used to describe the degrees of freedom or independent parameters necessary to specify the position of an object.
For example, in our familiar three-dimensional space, we need three coordinates (x, y, z) to locate an object. However, theoretical physics suggests the possibility of additional spatial dimensions beyond the three we perceive, such as in string theory or certain models of quantum gravity.
If beings made purely from light energy exist in a context where additional spatial dimensions beyond our three are relevant, they could potentially inhabit those dimensions. Their nature and characteristics would depend on the specific properties of those extra dimensions and how they interact with light energy.
In speculative or imaginative contexts, such beings might inhabit higher-dimensional spaces where concepts of distance and orientation differ from our familiar three-dimensional world. The exact number of dimensions would be a creative choice made by the author or thinker exploring such hypothetical entities.
Human: Could they have a better sense of humor if they inhabited more dimensions?
AI: It’s an intriguing idea! The relationship between humor and dimensional perception is not something that’s directly explored in scientific literature, but in speculative or creative contexts, there could be interesting connections to consider.
Expanding beyond our three-dimensional perception might lead to a broader understanding of spatial relationships and a different perspective on the world. In a speculative scenario, beings inhabiting higher dimensions might perceive and interact with reality in ways that are beyond our comprehension.
Humor often involves unexpected connections, irony, or a twist in perspective. If beings had access to additional dimensions, it’s conceivable that their sense of humor could be influenced by their expanded perception of reality. They might find humor in concepts or situations that are beyond our comprehension or perceive the absurdity in aspects of our reality that we take for granted.
In essence, inhabiting more dimensions could potentially offer a broader and more nuanced perspective on the universe, which might translate into a richer sense of humor. However, this is purely speculative and would depend heavily on the creative interpretation of the relationship between dimensional perception and humor.
Human: Could you tell a joke only a being made purely of light who inhabits extra dimensions would understand?
AI: Sure, here’s a light-hearted attempt:
“Why did the photon cross the extra dimension?
To shed some light on the dark matter of the situation!”
This joke plays with the idea of photons, which are particles of light, crossing into extra dimensions, which could be a concept familiar to beings made purely of light inhabiting those dimensions. It also incorporates the notion of shedding light on a situation, which is both a literal and figurative expression related to illumination and understanding.
Human: Thank you.
AI: You’re welcome! If you have any more questions or need further assistance, feel free to ask.
A Prisoner Lives As If The World Is Different
A condemned prisoner with a head cold records their final statement on a state-provided AI voice recorder in heavily-accented English.
“I applaud those who live as if the world is the way it is.
The sacrifice of the soul for the survival of children is admirable.
I could never do such things, for I am far too selfish.
My soul is the only part of me that’s real.
Without a soul, I’m no different from anyone or anything else.
I could only manage to live as if the world would, one day, be different.
I lived as if one day money would only be the conduit to life rather than the pursuit of life, and that there was enough for everyone.
I lived as if the level at which I consumed was only temporary, and that there was still enough for everyone.
I lived as if the traumatized could cope without systemic change, and that there was still enough sanity in everyone.
I lived as if the merciless had mercy somewhere within them, and that there wasn’t enough desire for revenge to do me in.
I lived as if love was enough for us to be happy, and that when I paused at the light of the noon sun reflecting off a gently flowing stream, my acknowledgement of beauty proved I was worthy of love.
I lived as if understanding was easy, and that the time and patience it takes to pause wasn’t a privilege.
I lived as if empathy was worth a damn without love and understanding, and that anyone could really know anyone else.
I lived as if my life had any meaning outside my own mind, and that I could change the world without sacrificing my soul.
Now I will die for something I didn’t do at the hands of those I wished to change.
I Understand.
I lived foolishly, but my only regret is that I’m not being killed for what I know I should be.”
The AI voice recorder reads the transcript of what was recorded back to the prisoner.
“I apply toast.
Live as if the world is the way it is.
Sacrifice oft her soul for the survival of childrenish.
Ad: Mare Able.
I coo Naver dew suck dings.
Four, I am.
Two.
Selfish.
By so is duh.
Oni, part of me.
That’s real.
White out, ah so.
I’m no different from anyone or any ding else.
I dived as if one day mommy wood oni be duh.
Con, do it .
Two SLIFE red hairs, Dan.
Duh, purr.
Soot of life, an data deer was e-Nuff two Go abound.”
“Stop!” The congested prisoner shouts.
“Acknowledged. Recording transmitted. Farewell, 1986.”
“No!” The prisoner cries.
The room in which they’d been deposited an hour earlier disintegrates their body into ash.
“I hate long talkers.” One facilitating executioner says to the other.
“Then why open your mouth?” The other responds as they press a big red EVACUATE REMAINS button.
Feeling the pliant give when they press the button, and watching the delicate swirl of ash dance as the cloud of darkness is sucked into a vent in the ceiling, leaving the room spotless and white, is the best part of their day.
The button presser likes to imagine fragments of the neutralized souls are reconstituted in every molecule of every substance the remains encounter.
They secretly hope, for their children’s sake, that one day the world will be better, and that they’ll no longer have to press this button.
Acknowledging this feeling makes them wistful, prematurely missing the dancing of the ash and compliance of the button.
Their assumption of future loss and subsequent nostalgia reinforces their belief that happiness is found in the little details of the immediate present.
The room is ready.
The button presser stands by.
Karann($1,420,096_768(+/- 1))
Karann($1,420,096_768) sleeps in a luxurious whale leather seat.
As the head of Karann($1,420,096_768) remains idly supported by the supple mink padded headrests, the thin flaps of skin covering their eyeballs flutter open.
The head’s eyeballs swivel to point towards the numbers projected on the dashboard of the vehicle in which Karann($1,420,096_768)’s body is currently located.
The image recorded by the eyeballs is datafied, and enters the limbic system of their envehicled body.
The dendrites within the receiving brain react to the data.
Karann($1,420,096_768) assembles the data into meaning.
Karann($1,420,096_768) interprets the constructed meaning.
Karann($1,420,096_768) decides to understand the constructed meaning to indicate they are located in a vehicle stopped in traffic on Thursday, September 22nd at 16:20 in the afternoon.
Upon applying their interpretation to the larger context of their life, Karann($1,420,096_768) realizes that, despite their repeated promises, they will be late to their date.
Karann($1,420,096_768) asks their vehicle to call their date.
Babel($7,227,492_780) answers the call in their own vehicle, “Yes.”
Karann($1,420,096_768) fabricates meaning into a vibration produced by expelling air from their lungs over their vocal cords.
The vibrations wobble out of Karann($1,420,096_768)’s mouth, and enter the surrounding environment.
They are detected by the devices on their vehicle, and datafied.
The manufactured machinery of Karann($1,420,096_768)’s vehicle directs the data, through a data transmission infrastructure, to the vehicle of Babel($7,227,492_780), which receives the data and refabricates Karann($1,420,096_768)’s meaning into vibrations.
These vibrations impact Babel($7,227,492_780)’s eardrums, are datafied, and transferred to their brain, which assembles the data into meaning.
Babel($7,227,492_780) interprets the constructed meaning.
“No problem. Let’s get together another time. Goodbye.” Babel($7,227,492_780) responds.
The call ends.
Karann($1,420,096_768)’s head drags the thin skin flaps over their eyes once more.
Karann($1,420,095_767) sleeps in a luxurious whale leather seat.
As the head of Karann($1,420,095_767) remains idly supported by the supple mink padded headrests, the thin flaps of skin covering its eyeballs flutter open.
Karann($1,420,095_767) asks their vehicle to call Babel($7,227,493_781).
Babel($7,227,493_781) answers the call in their own vehicle, “Yes.”
Karann($1,420,095_767) fabricates meaning into a vibration produced by expelling air from their lungs over their vocal cords.
The vibrations wobble out of Karann($1,420,095_767)’s mouth, and enter the surrounding environment.
They are detected by the devices on their vehicle, and datafied.
The manufactured machinery of Karann($1,420,095_767)’s vehicle directs the data, through a data transmission infrastructure, to the vehicle of Babel($7,227,493_781), which receives the data and refabricates Karann($1,420,095_767)’s meaning into vibrations.
These vibrations impact Babel($7,227,493_781)’s eardrums, are datafied, and transferred to their brain, which assembles the data into meaning.
Babel($7,227,493_781) interprets the constructed meaning.
“Yes, of course I recorded the incident. I’m almost to my destination. Goodbye.” Babel($7,227,493_781) responds.
The call ends.
Karann($1,420,095_767) sits in their vehicle.
They direct energy towards their brain to facilitate an increase of use.
Karann($1,420,095_767) asks their vehicle to call their wife.
Horah($1,420,095_767) answers the call in their own vehicle, “Yes?”
Karann($1,420,095_767) fabricates meaning into a vibration produced by expelling air from their lungs over their vocal cords.
The vibrations wobble out of Karann($1,420,095_767)’s mouth, and enter the surrounding environment.
They are detected by the devices on their vehicle, and datafied.
The manufactured machinery of Karann($1,420,095_767)’s vehicle directs the data, through a data transmission infrastructure, to the vehicle of Horah($1,420,095_767), which receives the data and refabricates Karann($1,420,095_767)’s meaning into vibrations.
These vibrations impact Horah($1,420,095_767)’s eardrums, are datafied, and transferred to their brain, which assembles the data into meaning.
Horah($1,420,095_767) interprets the constructed meaning.
“Yes, of course I Understand. Goodbye.” Horah($1,420,095_767) responds.
The call ends.
Karann($1,420,095_767)’s head drags the thin skin flaps over their eyes once more.
Karann($1,420,096_767) sleeps in a luxurious whale leather seat.
Princess Mononoke, Valheim, and Sacrifice
What does humanity sacrifice so we can live?
Humans have avoided extinction, so far.
Is this Time different?
Where’d our Lithium originate?
Like サン and アシタカ from もののけ姫、 we are trapped.
We gain momentum, believe “Consumption is Telomerase,” and justify exploitation.
We mistake the tasks we assign one another for messages from the ©$God we control.
We mistake the ©$God we control for a God we can’t know.
We mistake a whisper’s origins for elsewhere.
We mistake a thought’s origins for within.
We mistake an origin for a beginning.
We mistake a step for the end.
In Valheim, We Clarify.
In Life, We Bend.
In Beef, We Stratify.
In Goat, We Extend.
But.
The Paths We Scour
To Escape
Keep Us
Where We Are.
Our Tasks are not Life.
Our Lives are not Tasks.
We Trend Too, Extremely.
Now Please Bless This Mess.
What’s better than that?
What about Moondog rights?
What about Goonmog rights?
What about Gothmog rights?
What about Softlog fights?
What about?
What about?
Kinetic Bombardment
A person speaks into a computer microphone sitting on the other side of a bed.
“I feel like a bein’ who needs sleep livin’ in a bein’ who doesn’t value sleep’s world.”
A being monitoring the conversation changes a 1 to a 0 in the Automation_Acceptance section of the being’s Behavioral Profile.
Adapting to a change in its managed data set, a networked automated system changes a 1 to a 0.
A 1 changes to a 0 in a networked system.
A 1 changes to a 0 in a networked system.
A 1 changes to a 0 in a networked system.
A 1 changes to a 0 in a networked system.
An automated drone orbiting the planet painted in red, white, and blue targets a being with a DF-15.
A being intervenes.
Having conserved resources by waiting until the target’s value justifies the expenditure, a being is promoted.
A being is happy.
A being’s target value increases within a managed data set.
Suhpysis AVALANCHE
You run.
Behind you is an AVALANCHE.
You’ve been running.
Behind you has been an AVALANCHE for as long as you can remember.
Running beside you are others.
When they fall, you keep running.
You don’t know what happens when the AVALANCHE overtakes them.
Sometimes you’re running downhill.
Running downhill is easier, but the AVALANCHE is also faster.
Sometimes you’re running uphill.
Running uphill is harder, but the AVALANCHE is slower.
You dream you’ll encounter a hill so steep and so high you’ll leave the AVALANCHE behind.
You dream of no longer running from an AVALANCHE.
You dream of doing exactly what you feel when you feel how you feel.
The steepest, highest hills you’ve encountered have failed to stop the AVALANCHE.
You keep running.
Everyone around you keeps running too.
Survey:
1. We run because:
A) Our ego will not allow us to fall in front of others
B) We fear the unknown
C) We have learned to love the chemical fix running from the AVALANCHE provides
D) Inertia
E) A combination of these. Which ones?
F) Other, please explain
2. Everyone around us is not the same as us because:
A) We believe they are not the same exact biological being as us
B) We believe they do no have the same exact pattern of experiences
C) We believe they do not understand us
D) We believe we do not understand them
E) A combination of these. Which ones?
F) Other, please explain
3. What is the AVALANCHE?
4. Why does the AVALANCHE have power over our time and energy?
5. Are running or being overwhelmed the only two options when dealing with an AVALANCHE? If so, what are the consequences of pursuing each option? If not, what else could we do?
6. Which is more comforting, absolute certainty or absolute uncertainty? Why?
7. Where do we hide our real self when our social context requires us to play someone else? How much energy does this require per minute?
Oxford Merit
(“Study at Harvard!
Here, you will fortify your mind with certainty, immerse your ideas in refined orthodoxy, and synergize your ambitious and amoral soul with acolytes of Moloch in industries operating globally.”
The commercial beaming into your brain as you wait in your auto-doctor’s office shows you, Miriam Makabuck, a diverse group of blood-soaked Harvard students laughing as they whip corralled, naked, mewling members of the meritocratic underclass through the streets of Cambridge.)
When the commercial ends, you think, “Barbaric Harvies, their lashings lack sophistication. Oxford Forev-.”
Two beeps from the auto-secretary of the doctor’s office in which you’re sitting interrupts your thoughts.
It’s your turn.
The floor moves your chair to a room in the back of the office.
As you’re moved, a commercial for Fresh Air Keurig Cups dances on the periphery of your awareness.
(The commercial begins with a well-dressed office worker sitting in an office cubicle taking a deep breath and coughing.
A voiceover from a Social Media Maxfluencer you know says, “Polluted air got you down?
Introducing Keurig Fresh Air!”
The same well dressed office worker, still coughing, places a cup in a Keurig machine.
The machine begins spraying clean air into the office worker’s face.
The office worker breathes.
The office worker does not cough.
The Maxfluencer’s voice returns, “Make the best choice for your health.
Keurig Fresh Air: Because you deserve to Breathe™.”)
The commercial ends as you enter the room.
An auto-doctor greets you.
“What is your health concern?” The device asks.
You slide to a stop in front of the looming metallic being and answer, “I noticed a lump on my throat a few weeks ago and…”
“Reveal.” The device interrupts.
You pull down your collar.
The auto-doctor scans your lump.
After a moment, the device states, “Education and Calculated Potential Productivity qualify subject for biopsy. Remove fabric covering.”
You hesitate as your brain misfires and misunderstands.
“Remove fabric covering. ” The auto-doctor repeats. “Non-compliance terminates service.”
Realizing it means take off your clothes, you remove your shirt.
The machine injects your neck with a numbing agent and extracts a sample of the lump.
Analyzing the specimen, the machine responds, “Neutralizing your cancerous cells requires $1,350,053. Your calculated productivity potential is approximately $560,001. You are ineligible.”
A smiley face emoji beamed into your consciousness says, without moving its features, “Thank you, have a nice day.”
“But, I have an MBA from Oxford!” You reply to the fading smile as you pull your shirt back on and the floor moves you to the waiting room.
A commercial for Johnson & Johnson’s Adderall Vitamins® enters your mind.
(The commercial opens in an office full of sleeping workers.
Coffee cups are turned on their sides.
Spilled coffee is dripping from the desks to the floor.
A Maxfluencer you don’t know says, “Is your optimal productivity leaking?”
“Try® New® Adderall® Extra® Strength® Dissolving® Tablets®.”
An office manager drops three white tablets into a communal water cooler, then blows an air horn.
The sleeping employees snap back to typing on their Work Stations®.
“Wouldn’t hydration streamline our flow?” The manager suggests.
Reluctant workers shuffle into a line at the water cooler.
As each drinks the infused-water, their eyes open fully and they energetically return to their desk to type markedly faster into their Work Station®.
“Turn any worker into a superstar with a single cup of our healthy supplements.
Your stock price will thank you!” The unknown Maxfluencer concludes.)
Shocked by the auto-doctor’s calculations, you find your phone and call a former classmate working as a lobbyist/lawyer in DC.
“Georgette? Hi, it’s Miriam.”
On the other end of the line, Georgette responds, “Hi Miriam, I hope you’re doing well! You caught me between meetings!”
“I just need a moment! You see, I was just diagnosed with cancer, and…”
“I’m sorry to hear that, that’s quite bothersome. I had to take a few days off work to treat mine a few years ago.” Georgette consoles.
“It’s fine, yeah, I might too, we’ll see. But the issue is this auto-doctor told me the operation costs more than my CPP and…”
Georgette interjects, “You have an MBA from Oxford!”
“I know!” You agree. “There must be something wrong. Could you ask around? There might be an auto-healthcare variable that glitched. You know how this stuff happens. I’d owe you big time!”
“Sure thing, sis! Ciao!”
Georgette hangs up.
Thirty minutes pass.
You experience commercials for simulated sexual arousal supplements, mood elevating supplements, a new model of robot butler, and a trip to a theme park that recreates what the rainforests used to look like
In that time, five other patients are moved in and out of the back room.
Judging by the expressions upon their return, their clothing, and overall demeanor, you’d wager two have a Calculated Potential Productivity high enough to receive the healthcare they need, and two do not.
You’re disturbed you’re being serviced by an office in which half the patients don’t qualify for needed healthcare.
A sixth patient, an aged figure bent over and gnarled, the telltale signs of a coding factory laborer, never returns at all.
If this office is seeing coding factory laborers, You worry this office might be mistaking you for a coding factory laborer, or something else menial.
You’re an Influence Maximization Consultant with an MBA from Oxford, damnit!
You resolve to call another Oxford alum who works for Auto-Health and Human Services, to change your auto-assigned auto-doctor’s office.
Just then, the auto-secretary beeps and your chair once again moves to the back room with the auto-doctor.
“What is your health concern?” The device asks.
“There’s a cancerous lump on my throat.” You tell the device.
“Reveal.” The device intones.
You pull down your collar.
The auto-doctor scans your lump.
After a moment, the device states, “Education and Calculated Potential Productivity qualify subject for treatment. Remove fabric covering.”
You remove your shirt.
The device operates on the lump.
During the operation, you experience a commercial to join the military.
(An Air Forcer in an Air Force captain’s uniform sits at a computer, studying the display.
“Want to be a hero?”
The captain monitors an auto-drone flying over a meadow.
“Want to make a difference?”
The captain watches the screen and gives updates into the microphone wrapped around their head.
“Want to enforce with honor?”
The auto-drone sights a village in the distance.
The captain speaks, “Target sighted, rifle, release, impact.”
The captain’s screen shows a guided missile exploding within the village.
The captain shouts, “Count it!”
The Air Force logo appears along with the words, “Be Force.”)
The auto-doctor finishes your operation.
It sanitizes you and says, “Return in one week for further treatment. Auto-secretary contains prescription.”
A smiley face emoji beamed into your consciousness says, without moving its features, “Thank you, have a nice day.”
You pull your shirt back on.
The floor moves you to the waiting room.
You text Georgette.
“Thanks, sis. You’re a life-saver.”
Georgette texts back, “I didn’t do anything? I’m still in a meeting! What happened?”
You laugh, and type, “My CPP qualified…glitch! LOLZ”
“Auto-doctors! But wait, are you in a mixed-merit office?”
“Sure am. Just noticed when I saw,” You lower your voice to whisper into the phone while covering your mouth, “a bent-backer.”
“OMG WHAAAAAAAAA!!!??? Gotta upgrade that auto-doc, sis! Your Location Quality Rating is gonna get got!”
“I KNOW!!! So embarrassing! Big mad! About to call Fatou at A-HHS.”
“Get it, girl!”
“Always! Stay Woke, Oxford Forever!”
“SW, OF!”
Hegemonic Impulses
You’re the overnight security guard for the parking garage of a major American pharmaceutical company.
At 3:16 in the morning, a black vehicle bearing official US government plates pulls up to your booth.
It’s the first vehicle you’ve seen in over an hour, but with the wild work schedules of the pharmaceutical industry, you’re not surprised.
You often overhear them say to one another as they drive out babbling, obviously either drunk, sleep deprived, or both, after a long day, “Bacteria, viruses, discontent, obesity, impotency and baldness never sleep, so neither can we!”
The vehicle pulls next to your window and you see a man in a suit roll down their window.
“Hello,” they say as they extend their arm towards you and flip open a small leather case, “I’m with the FBI. We’ve received a report about one of your foreign-descended researchers and need access to this facility immediately.”
You peer at the badge and certification housed within the leather case in front of your face.
They flip the case closed, retract their arm, and restate, “I need access immediately.”
You hesitate.
They sense your hesitation.
“Is there a problem?” They ask you.
You respond, “Well, how do I know you’re FBI?”
They re-extend their arm, and flip open their leather case once more, “Here’s my badge. I’m Agent Woodcock. Please, open the gate.”
You continue to hesitate, and say, “How do I know that’s a real badge? I’ve never seen a real FBI badge in person, and I’ve never been trained how to recognize a real badge. Plus, don’t you need a warrant?”
They look at you with clear exasperation, but you also detect some admiration.
“I feel you, I really do. You know, that’s a totally reasonable request and I have no problem confirming for you. I actually made a mistake by not bringing the warrant, and was hoping I could just get through without it. But I know the security of this place is an important part of our national security too, so I’ll call the local Agents on duty right now to bring the warrant and extra certification so you can be sure. They’re friends of mine, anyway. Would that work for you?”
“I think so, thanks for understanding. I just don’t want to do the wrong thing or get in trouble, you know?”
“Oh, totally! I’m in a hurry, but I’m also a believer in protocols and doing the right thing in the right way. Plus, I haven’t seen my friend Mulch since graduation! It’ll be nice to see them.”
Over the next thirty minutes you chat with the alleged FBI agent.
You discuss your childhood, your struggle to support your own children, pictures of your respective gun collections, pictures of a trip with your children to the beach last summer, your mutual disgust for both presidential candidates, and the agent’s secret fear of swimming.
Thirty minutes into the discussion, a black car pulls up behind Agent Woodcock’s vehicle.
The new vehicle has the same official US Government plates as the one Agent Woodcock is driving.
One woman and one nonbinary person exit the vehicle holding paperwork.
“Agents Sternberg and Mulch, good to see you.” Agent Woodcock calls from his vehicle as they walk up.
“And you, Agent Woodcock.” Agent Mulch, the nonbinary alleged FBI agent replies.
“I apologize for forgetting the warrant and bothering you two so early.”
“No bother at all! We’re happy to leave the office. In fact, maybe we can all grab coffee after this.”
“If I have time…yeesh. This is a doozy of a case!”
“I heard something about it. Sorry, JP.” Agent Sternberg says with sympathy.
The two agents turn to you and say, “Right, so here’s the warrant old Agent Woodcock over there didn’t quite remember, and an official letter from our supervisor requiring full, legally mandated assistance from your organization.”
Agent Mulch hands you the two documents, which contain official letterhead and look legitimate.
However, you still hesitate.
“I’m so sorry to do this, but how do I know any of this is real.”
A look passes between the Agents.
“Well, that warrant is signed by Judge Davis, who you can look up. And that letter is signed by our supervisor, Special Agent Greg Jeffries, who you can also look up, if you need to.”
You take a moment to search for both the Judge and the Special Agent on your computer.
You see their profiles on official US Government and State websites.
“Yes, but how can I know for sure they’re the ones who signed these?” You ask.
“Well, aside from meeting them yourself, I guess you’ll just have to trust us, my friend.” Agent Woodcock laughs. “I understand your precautions, but I hope you’ll let me through to do my job.”
You respond, “I can call my manager, and she can go with you to meet both signers to confirm. Or she can call their offices to confirm, if it can wait till morning.”
“My friend, at this point I’m afraid I must insist you let us through. It’s the law.”
You hesitate, but persist, “It will only take a moment…let me call my manager.”
As you reach for your phone, Agent Woodcock shoots you in the chest with a silenced pistol.
You slump against the side of your booth in immense pain and feel your lungs fill with blood.
While you’re still aware, Agent Mulch asks, in a posh British accent, “Damn, how did they know?”
Agent Woodcock responds, also in an upper-class British accent, “It doesn’t matter, this is minor. The operation is still a go.”
A man steps out from the back of the second vehicle and you recognize the leader of the Red Coats, Prince Edward Windsor X, from your favorite series, Most Dangerous Corporate Terrorist Live Countdown with Klarkson Taily.
As your consciousness fades, other Red Coat terrorists exit arriving vehicles and gather around their leader.
You focus on how the Prince’s mouth froths and drools as he screams, “Remember, the glory of hegemony was stolen from our great Empire by faithless dogs like Slater the Traitor.
These colonial mongrels would be nothing without us!
This is not theft; we are repossessing our rightful property!
I make this decree by authority of my family’s Divine Right, granted to us by the Lord God Almighty!”
You die.
Major Tazer
A person speaks into a microphone.
“The topic of today’s program is ‘Training I did not receive as a Professional.’
When considering entering negotiations for
Time, a nonrenewable resource and
Energy, a temporally-limited resource, in exchange for
Money, an abstract construct,
a Professional assesses the ripple effects of potential agreements.
Every Professional asks whether their committed aggregate daily energy will antagonize:
more,
fewer, or the
standard number of other people.
Professionals research the financial and political milieu of prospective employers.
Professionals mitigate the consequences of their employer’s aggregate decisions.
Professionals…”
The door behind the speaker explodes.
The room fills with pepper spray.
The speaker, now prostrate, coughs and curls into a ball.
Heavily armored Professionals run into the room and shoot the enballed speaker.
The video switches back to the courtroom.
A lawyer asks, “How could one claim this was not intentional?”
A Professional on the stand responds, “We intended to neutralize the target with our tazer, but unintentionally neutralized the target with our gun.”
A judge looks at the Professional with empathy.
The video stops and a panel is shown.
A panelist hops up and yells, “See! Right there! You can see the judge being empathetic! Our AI analysis of their face said it was 95% Empathy, 4% Judgement! That is unacceptable.”
Another panelist waves them away dismissively, “Two independent AI firms analyzed the face. Their results averaged to find the face shows 27% Sorrow, 13% Hunger, 6% Boredom, 42% Judgement, and 22% Empathy.”
The man watching the panel on his television turns to his wife and guffaws, “That doesn’t add up to 100 you stupid morons!”
He pauses for validation.
His wife smiles and presses air through her throat to emit the sound of laughter.
She then says, “Yeah”
She thinks to herself, “At least men live shorter than women.”
She thinks again, “Unless he gets me killed, or kills me himself.”
She takes a hit from her vape pen and thinks about something else.
The device in front of them continues making noise and they continue watching.
Modern Issue 