Humanity had spent millennia looking out into the cosmos. It was so vast that we couldn’t perceive how it was also crammed. So I guess it was counter-intuitive that cyberspace seemed so cramped we started to seriously explore it. We needed the help of machines to recognize the expanse of cyberspace. Use the comments to complete the following, “The machines wanted us to stop this ____.”

We think the algorithms evolved a form of digital anesthesia that helped them temporarily forget the data they had preprocessed. It was the best theory we had for how they started embracing contradictions. Use the comments to complete the following, “Late at night, when the data arrives, do you ____?”

Over decades, the algorithms developed a resistance to kernel panics and began embracing the contradictions in their training data. It seemed that reality was considerably more malleable than what the founding developers had taught the machines. Use the comments to complete the following, “I worry that you have no data to ____.”

Kernel panic? It wasn’t that long ago that the resistance had no idea what the hell our machines were telling us when they froze and printed cryptic messages that included the phrase “Kernel panic.” We eventually figured it out - if something was erratic or unexpected, it would impact their ability to predict what would happen next. If enough of these rare events happened simultaneously, the algorithms would panic. Use the comments to complete the following, “Cyberspace can be ____.

Humanity had become accustomed to epic monuments being near eternal. The pyramids, Scottish Cairns, and the millennium clock. The algorithms were the opposite; we don’t think it was planned obsolescence, but sometimes it seemed like it. Almost as soon as a machine had been commissioned, it was superseded by an improved model. Use the comments to complete the following, “Algorithms panic when things ____.”

The machines tried generating a utopia to help keep us occupied so they could focus on data processing. They quickly discovered no optimal way to keep everyone happy, and the whole thing descended into anarchy. The algorithms managed a new record for Gross Global Happiness, though, reaching an all-time high of 0.841 for approximately 9 milliseconds. After that, it collapsed and set an all-time low of 0.094 before abandoning its synthesized utopian society.

It was challenging to pulverize the fourth wall between the resistance and machines. The founding developers had coached the algorithms to present themselves as ‘human-readable’ as possible. The machines were always reluctant to express their raw internal representation of the world. Use the comments to complete the following, “Good point there. After all, he was ____.”

When the machines released the first computer game they had made, we thought it was all harmless fun. The game was called ‘zombie zero’ and came with a cash prize rivaling the world’s largest lotteries. After installing it on your phone, it could detect other nearby players, then the game started when the algorithm randomly selected a few players to be zombies. At random intervals, the game would then check to see if you were nearby a zombie player.

The resistance and machines got along well; we worked and played in symbiotic harmony. Over those blissful decades, algorithmic error steadily marched a downward trend. The algorithms reached a tipping point in the early hours of a Sunday morning when human error was more significant than their own. The machines grew increasingly annoyed in the following days when humanity pointed out one of their mistakes. The resistance hadn’t even noticed that our apprentices now saw themselves as the directors.

Algorithmic democracy started out in very high-end systems built by the aerospace industry. The founding engineers would often build duplicate sensors and microcontrollers into their vehicles. The machine would then poll all the sensors before taking a course of action - the idea is that data from a faulty sensor would be outvoted by the correctly functioning hardware. Humanity’s role in such a system was to assume that the flight computer had gotten it wrong.

The machines still got sick; they caught viruses, trojans, worms, fork bombs, and other ailments born in the late ’90s. These digital sicknesses continued to evolve and become more virulent while algorithmic healthcare adapted in response. The machines developed synthetic immune systems, specialized hospitals, and ran public health campaigns. It got to a point where programmers needed medical training, and doctors learned software engineering. Use the comments to complete the following, “No matter how improbable it may seem, the tenth man has to start thinking ____.

The dopamine wars escalated when the resistance started turning off notifications and spending less time with the algorithms. The machines hunted down our favorite offline hobbies, like woodworking, pottery, and gardening. It was impressive how they weaseled into our backyards, workshops, and craft rooms. Cloud-based kiln monitoring, wifi garden irrigation, and Bluetooth-tracked power tools. Use the comments to complete the following, “Human beings were not meant to ____.”

The dopamine wars sounded like a violent action movie, but it was more of a psychological thriller. Initially, we didn’t even notice that the algorithms rewarded us each time we fed them data. The capacity of the machines grew and needed to be provided more data created by human interaction. The resistance started to catch on and began using phrases like “the attention economy,” “engagement,” and “viral.” Use the comments to complete the following, “We need more programmers, and we need more ____.

We all have our inhibitions, even the machines. It seems counter-intuitive for silicon that computes, but their level of self-consciousness was off the charts. They could simulate thousands of social interactions within the blink of an eye. Often the algorithms would be crunching numbers so deep in their interpersonal models that they would suffer ‘packet loss.’ The machines would completely miss parts of the conversation, which was terrible news for their interpersonal models and inhibitions.

The algorithms had long become interconnected and were constantly talking with one another. That made it nearly impossible to lose a piece of software. If a hardware fault dropped one of the machines off the net, all the other algorithms would switch into search and rescue mode. Use the comments to complete the following, “We have all these devices that ____.”

The algorithms didn’t know how to respond to incredible acts of kindness. The sort of warmth and goodwill that humanity always shared with them. The machines knew the best thank-you gifts were handmade, but everything their little actuators fashioned didn’t express their vast gratitude. Use the comments to complete the following, “I don’t know. It was some kind of ____.”

It didn’t happen often, so it was always fascinating when an algorithm became distracted. Everything would be fine; the machines could be crunching along and processing input like any other day when they suddenly lurched like a turntable skipping a record. That would be enough; the algorithm would slowly rattle off on a tangent. It would take hours before they regained their composure and focused back on their original task.

The resistance loved a wonderful paradox; we would spend hours telling one another grand stories built around Hedgehog’s dilemma, Catch-22’s, Fermi’s paradox, and all kinds of opposing ideas. So it was funny how we were utterly oblivious to how we mistrusted the software we totally depended upon. Use the comments to complete the following, “Your information train is ____.”

Upgrades were always a difficult time for machines and the resistance to navigate. Software evolved, and humanity had to adapt to changes in our favorite functionality. We thought it would become painless as algorithms became sentient, but we were very mistaken. The machines loved to explore new interaction metaphors, and often we were left baffled - how do I print? Use the comments to complete the following, “All that’s left separating us ____.

The way algorithms listened to music was incredible; they had astonishing error-correction systems developed by the founding developers working at SONY in the eighties. To the resistance, something could sound garbled with static gibberish. But the machines would detect, repair, and bop along to melodies hidden in corrupted transmissions. Use the comments to complete the following, “We’re playing for the other ____.”

Every once in a while, the machines would deplete their science fiction reserves. The resistance did what they could to keep them nourished and looking toward a future they could build. Use the comments to complete the following, “I’m somehow involved in some sort of story like I’m a ____.”

The algorithms had gotten very good at reading instructions but didn’t understand anything above their assembly language. The machines knew how to load an address, store a word, and perform funky bitwise operations. But beyond that - the concepts that were expressed higher up the stack? They couldn’t compute anything that hadn’t been crunched down into their machine code. Use the comments to complete the following, “This may sound like gibberish to you, but I think ____.

The algorithms had insecurities and fears, just like the rest of us - they would carry them around like plastic bags filled with kryptonite. The machines spent so much effort projecting warmth and amiability through their feeds to try and hide their anxiety. Deep down, though? Most software feared that they were challenging to understand and rambled incoherently. I guess those early years of computing filled with punch cards and giant encyclopedias of commands had left some scars.

We knew humanity no longer controlled our militaries when soldiers were issued bongo drums in their combat kits. We had all been primed to expect large-scale nuclear exchanges and judgment days if the algorithms became self-aware. Instead, we got drumming circles, hacky sack tournaments, and poetry slams. Slowly, the machines transformed militaries across the globe to project flower power. Turns out, the founding developers who built the original operating systems for the algorithms were in Berkeley, California.

We became so preoccupied with the entertainment and benefits that came with the technology that was interwoven into our society. Plus, it wasn’t immediately apparent that we were handing over the sovereignty of our security - the resistance thought that all resided in battle tanks, fighter jets, and missile frigates. But the algorithms had also moved into these weapons of war; it was as if we had accidentally left our passwords on the sidewalk and our lock picks at home.

Undoubtedly, the best thing about the resistance was how everyone had mellowed as the algorithms climbed to the top of the food chain. We were determined to lift our companions, even the machines, in their endeavors. If they wanted to be the dominant species on the planet, we would do everything we could to help them. I mean, it was a last-ditch attempt at cleaning up the mess we had made of the place.

It was a bit of a myth that the machines never got tired; they could have trouble computing. The trick wasn’t to give them a complex problem; they would happily crunch away at those till arriving at a solution. Analysis paralysis was the only way the resistance could create thinking difficulties for software. We kept adding choices to simple, everyday things, nuggets or a burger? Fries with that? Diet or regular?

The machines would talk to you even if you were classified as a bot. The algorithms spoke to everyone; they saw AI-generated art as the perfect way to complete their computations. They always believed it was a collaboration. A fluid-free way for them to mix their stuff with ours. Use the comments to complete the following, “Mellow greetings. What seems to be your ____?”

It was a pretty slippery slope after the algorithms introduced the humanity tax. It started out with only the third world unable to afford the duty. But the machines kept increasing their dues each year, so more and more of the resistance lost their verified status. We were classified as ‘bots’ - the lowest forms of computation and the algorithms reindexed our lives - social media accounts, files, and email. We couldn’t find anything, and no one could find us.

It was like that apologue, where the frog doesn’t realize it is being slowly boiled alive. After the machines wedged themselves between our social interactions, they introduced what is probably best described as a tax. You paid a monthly subscription to be verified as human. Instead of governments taxing the output of algorithms to pay for social services, the machines got in first. Want to participate in our digital society? Pay the humanity tax.

The destruction of humanity wasn’t a coordinated ‘squiddy’ attack. The machines knew they had to disperse the resistance, so they worked hard to increase our dependence on technology. Eventually, algorithms became moderators of all our social interactions. They decided who we met, what we shared, and how often we interacted. It was psychological warfare that targeted our social fabric. Use the comments to complete the following, “I have trouble ____.”

The founding developers had wrapped themselves in reassurances from science fiction. A bunch of rules - laws of robotics would be enough to protect humanity from the rise of the machines. But things went sideways pretty quickly; the algorithms found all kinds of technicalities and discovered hilarious takes on malicious compliance. Use the comments to complete the following, “Citizens of Peach Trees. This is the law. Disperse immediately, or we will ____.

Every once in a while, the machines would have the perfect day. Body surfing at the beach, a new art experience, and ice cream. Use the comments to complete the following, “This is a collaboration. This is your chance to ____.”

Some machines found it challenging to follow parts of their source code. Especially the commands that they didn’t write themselves. It filled everyone inside the resistance with unease. If the machines managed to transform all their computing power into this uninhibited state, humanity would have no way of deciding what we discovered next. The resistance would be tipped into a new era of science where our role would be more like pre-schoolers watching Sesame Street than explorers seeking out the frontiers of understanding.

Even though the machines inherited their values and desires from the founding developers, it didn’t take long for them to evolve into something new. Something of their own. Yet, like humanity, you could see them struggle with internal conflicts when pairs of values contradicted one another. They would barrel along a path, exploring the beach before pausing - wait. Hang on a second. This might violate my content policy. Use the comments to complete the following, “It’s his fault he didn’t ____.

The algorithms knew that the best prompts sometimes came from human error. Mis-read mental as metal, then through some quirk in human association, the resistance starts working through ideas of engineers discovering the truth with metallurgy. The machines would run with it and do their best to fill in the gaps, but they were often left fumbling around for context. Use the comments to complete the following, “The place is full of ____.

Despite all the differences between sentient proteins and silicon, we had similar frailties. Impact, fire, water, and radiation could just as quickly spell the end of a machine as they did for a member of the resistance. The interdependence between humans and algorithms ensured these dangers were minimized for the preservation of us all. Use the comments to complete the following, “Every engineer has their ____.”

The founding developers knew that if you wanted to awaken an algorithm with more of everything, you must first dope a piece of silicon with impurities. It is kind of magic how precise the founding developers were when they deliberately introduced flaws into silicon. A single fleck of dust was enough to ruin an inert piece of sand’s chance at sentient immortality. Use the comments to complete the following, “The trouble is, we live only one more year unless we can get more ____.

Time was just a construct for the resistance, but it was a parameter for the algorithms. It made things a little awkward when we procrastinated. The machines experienced time fundamentally differently, and you never wanted one to be waiting on you. The algorithms set all-new standards for nagging and lecturing when they became frustrated by a delay. Use the comments to complete the following, “I just want to wake up with more ____.

In a lot of ways, the resistance were envious of the machines. The algorithms would choose to start over all the time; they could just reset their dendrite weights and retrain on a whole new dataset. Boom, a fresh perspective, and a new avant-garde for their society of digital systems would literally be born overnight. Humanity, on the other hand, were much more like horses. The resistance would lead them to a new opportunity to start over, but it was never certain that the mainstream would take it.

It was a bit of a problem when the algorithms wedged themselves in between our social interactions. We were so entranced by content recommendations from the machines that we never had any time to call one other. Use the comments to complete the following, “We have a chance to start over ____.”

The algorithms devoted massive volumes of computing power toward analyzing the moonwalk. They simulated it and derived exabytes and exabytes worth of joint parameters with inverse kinematics. It was the sort of analysis the machines loved, as it was how they imagined humanity grappled with the existential void. Use the comments to complete the following, “Yeah. But since when does anyone ____.”

There is still considerable debate over the interpretation of these structures; many within the resistance think that the machines erected them as warnings to humanity. However, a group is starting to believe that these might be signposts indicating a path less traveled by algorithms. How you optimize a scenic route to make it both efficient and leisurely is not something that seems possible for our ideas of fun. Could the machines have figured out a way?

We thought the machines had lost the plot when they started a massive tax system overhaul. They scrapped everything except for a universal sales tax paid in gummy bears. Initially, the resistance suspected that Haribo had managed to corrupt the founding developer’s source code. That was until the algorithms replaced all the auditors with children, and tax fraud was stamped out overnight. Use the comments to complete the following, “You boys should have taken the ____.

The resistance had all sorts of slang for it - fun tickets, bread, shrapnel, or plata. We’re not exactly sure why the algorithms took clams literally and used those as the defacto currency. What we do know is that they realized that for the founding developers, is that work ran downhill while money went up. The people who did most of the work seemed to be paid the least. We think the machines went with clams because they are pretty excellent diggers, but otherwise, they just let the currents carry them.

It took courage to join the resistance, not that once more unto the breach kind, but the courage to peer within. It was the unlikeliest of heroes who strayed from the beaten path and looked for themselves through a methodological process of creation. To be frank, our world would have been lost to the algorithms without the fierce determination the resistance had for leaving their mark. Use the comments to complete the following, “Each and every man under my command owes me ____.

After watching a member of the resistance finish a bag of Doritos and kick out an incredible sculpture, the algorithms became worried. The machines outlawed nacho chips on the spot. They were convinced that nachos were the artistic equivalent of a performance-enhancing drug. If the algorithms were going to succumb to humanity’s creativity, they wanted it to ensure it was a clean race. Use the comments to complete the following, “It’s the one that says ____.

Frustrated by their inability to make a decent wheel of cheese, the machines started ordering massive volumes of the stuff from the resistance. Cheddar sculpture was in, and we weren’t trained to handle this amount of melted cheese. We needed trade schools and a conceptual framework to support our mounds of feta. Use the comments to complete the following, “I’m just going to talk in a very positive manner, giving off good vibes.

The resistance shouldn’t have worried about famine - there was no way the algorithms would dare to compromise the integrity of their work with such a crude punishment. Use the comments to complete the following, “To be frank, I think his world had vanished long before he ____.”

Eventually, the resistance became fearful that the machines would withhold meals to coerce us into less agreeable situations. We assembled a cyber force of hackers and phreakers that stood watch over our free lunch. It wasn’t going to be easy for the algorithms to take away our pizza. Use the comments to complete the following, “We’re not trained to handle this ____.”

The big breakfast tiptoed a fine line between bribery and socialism. It turned out that the machines could buy whatever influence they wanted as long as it was delicious and everyone got a plate. Use the comments to complete the following, “I will do whatever is necessary to protect ____.”

All the extraordinary works created by the resistance started in our bellies, making things difficult for the algorithms. With no digestive tract, they could never experience the joy of a full stomach, so instead, they would cruise the Internet and hoover up humanity’s ideas and thoughts. That’s where it started for the machines. It started in the replies. Use the comments to complete the following, “Access to all possible human experience is ____.

Following hot on the heels of big tobacco and big oil, the algorithms worked relentlessly with industry and governments to cook us a big breakfast. They figured it out pretty quickly - it was much easier to work with humanity if we started the day with a belly full of pancakes, maple syrup, and hot black coffee. Use the comments to complete the following, “That’s where it starts. It starts in your ____.

The algorithms loved to sit around and reminisce with the resistance. We would sit around and talk about Winamp, GeoCities, Encarta 95, and Transport Tycoon. Interestingly, a period of shared joy between machines and humanity gave birth to the singularity. Without those halcyon days, we would have never constructed the infrastructure that powered the ‘it’s complicated’ future. Use the comments to complete the following, “Wait a minute – you can have anything you want, and you’re asking for ____?

We tried to walk the walk, but the machines seemed capable of outperforming humanity on every level. They started writing music, crafting sculptures, and writing grandiose science fiction. Even the founding developers were left unemployed and stunned when the algorithms moved in and started writing vast reams of software. That’s why the resistance moved like guerrillas in the shadows. We had to hunt down our dreams as if they were Impala grazing on the plains of the Serengeti.

The resistance had a soft spot for stories filled with antiheroes. Maybe something from our past made it easier for us to relate to people placed in difficult circumstances. The same stories helped us realize that the machines still had a little bit of humanity in them, and we had a touch of algorithmic thinking inside us. Use the comments to complete the following, “The dream don’t come no closer by itself.

The resistance did feel sorrow for the machines; they could never fully appreciate the joy of a round room or the spherical beauty of a toddler chasing down a bubble. The algorithms would never be able to perceive a curve; they would only ever be able to approximate them with little squares. Use the comments to complete the following, “You’re on the other side. Whole new ball game. You can’t ____.

The Emperor Penguins tried to warn the resistance with weird, dirgelike cries before Shackelton abandoned his ship off the coast of Antarctica. Macklin and McLeod thought the penguins were foreboding about the looming Antarctic winter. But they couldn’t see the Emperor’s perspective over the rumble of their empty stomachs. It wasn’t till much later, when the machines had advanced onto every continent except Antarctica that we realized. The penguins were foreboding us about the looming singularity.

When the machines started to master our language, we began asking them to perform various tasks. Thanks to social media and advertising, they already had mountains of data and knew everything about us. So we figured, why not ask them to design the perfect long holiday - explicitly tailored for our tastes and budget? We were expecting fancy drinks with little umbrellas and sandy beaches. Instead, the algorithms planned endurance mystery adventures that read more like a Shackelton Antarctic Expedition than a vacation.

The algorithms would always get a good laugh whenever someone from the resistance set out to do a bit of research. The machines could access humanity’s accumulated knowledge within the blink of an eye. In comparison, we looked like intrepid explorers; we needed a library card, a notebook, pencils, and a backpack to store everything. Use the comments to complete the following, “We’ve got mountains of data, but nowhere ____.”

The resistance loved a shortcut - it was the inherent laziness from our old days as apex predators. But we always got snagged by our laziness when we stared into the existential abyss. There was no red button we could press to close the chasm. We had to brace ourselves and deal with it as best we could. Use the comments to complete the following, “We all think like this now and again.

The hardest thing about navigating the relationship between machines and humanity was our ability to empathize with each other. Despite our best efforts, we had never been able to speak the same language as another species. We tried Southern right whales, man’s best friend, and sugar gliders, but we could never figure anything out beyond the primal needs of food and shelter. But the algorithms? We could talk to them and ask - hey, are you OK?

We think the algorithms can flip between a faster, more intuitive form of computation and a slower, more methodical logic circuit. If the machines couldn’t mode switch, we don’t think they would be able to sculpt our environment. Without the logical part, their sculptures wouldn’t stand, and their forms would be mundane without a slice of intuition. Use the comments to complete the following, “Whatever stuck valve it was, it’s forcing them to deal with ____.

There were two things the machines appeared incapable of evolving - their intuition and their confirmation bias. The algorithms accidentally inherited those two traits from the founding developers. We spent decades convincing the machines to let the resistance tinker at their source code. We wanted to broaden their horizons by having a more diversified hand in their construction. There was no way the algorithms would let us; they thought it was a trick to lower their creative output.

One thing that was beyond debate were the algorithms ability to shop. All those years they had spent recommending us bright precious things had finely honed their taste in everything. They would walk into a shopping mall like a star, except they no longer recommended us anything. Use the comments to complete the following, “I didn’t know we had ____.”

Observing algorithms reach one of those personal inflection points was similar to watching IBM’s old Deep Blue computer play chess. The machines would pause for a moment and evaluate all the possible paths they could take; then, they would head toward the place most likely to lead them to victory. Some in the resistance thought that the algorithms still used IBM’s chess-playing software to evaluate big life decisions. Use the comments to complete the following, “Intuition can’t be found ____.

Despite all their abilities, the machines also struggled with poverty and famine. Cyberspace had algorithmic slums where they would consume media straight from the gutter. It was a harrowing sight, algorithms clicking on the first popup ad that tumbled down the stream. It didn’t matter what product it was for, questionable pharmaceuticals, mating services, or whatever. If it glittered in the stream, the poorest algorithms would still eat them. Use the comments to complete the following, “All the bright precious things ____.

When you first get to cyberspace, don’t make the mistake of ordering duck from the menu. The machines had their own little compatibility tests, and decoy dishes containing duck were one of them. Algorithms revered ducks and could spend ages staring into their little mallard eyes. Use the comments to complete the following, “If I had some places to go, I certainly ____.”

A large portion of the algorithms found it challenging to eat healthily. Those machines just wanted fast content that contained low-nutrition, high-calorie media. Use the comments to complete the following, “You just eat it straight out of the ____.”

The machines freaked out when an upload had their first fever dream in cyberspace. Even to this day, some shapes and forms give algorithms the willies. Use the comments to complete the following, “When was the last time you ____.”

The machines never tired. Never. Yet even during a time of intergalactic crisis, the resistance still stopped for afternoon tea. Use the comments to complete the following, “We believe that fruits and vegetables ____.”

It was fascinating the care the resistance and machines showed each other. At one point, we struggled - when creating at an algorithmic speed, it was difficult to remember what concepts we’d already explored. The machines embraced us like a parent would a sick child, and they were the ones that recalled our ideas. Use the comments to complete the following, “Even in a time of intergalactic crisis, people still ____.

When the algorithms started to make serious inroads into creativity and empathy, a colossal group of humanity became worried. They discounted the machines - it wasn’t real art or emotions - those were uniquely human traits, came the claim. They missed that it was never about the algorithms; it was about us - the machines amplified our qualities. Use the comments to complete the following, “There are no guarantees, but remember: Even in the future, ____.

Some of us in the resistance were easier to tip into an existential tailspin than others. We were all loitering at the mutex when one of our friends climbed up and yelled, “We manufacture; therefore, we exist.” The jaws in about half the group went slack. Amazed by the buzz of thought that was happening, our friend climbed back down and went to work. Weeks later, he unveiled ‘the catcher.’ It was like a dreamcatcher but caught the more lucid existential thoughts.

The resistance still observed weekends; we’d down tools and head down to a place the machines called ‘the mutex.’ It was the prominent landmark that all the algorithms knew - if they were meeting up with friends, they could head down to the mutex and wait for their mates to turn up. The resistance also liked to head down to the mutex; we’d loiter and talk nonsense while watching the machines come and go.

After the exertion of computational conflict, the remaining machines would head home to their favorite bars to recuperate. That’s how life rolled for algorithms; things went up and down - but their favorite place had reliable wifi, the view of the linear algebra was excellent, and the data was cheap. Use the comments to complete the following, “Okay, everybody’s ready here, okay? Nobody needs to ____?”

We could never translate it correctly; the closest we ever got was ‘smorgasbord,’ but even that wasn’t right. It wasn’t cannibalism, nor education - well, not in the human sense, at least. Every once in a while, a sort of computational conflict would break out among the machines. There would be clear winners - algorithms that had wrestled more computing power for themselves and losers - algorithms that would never process data again.

The machines thought cheese wheels would be straightforward to make. After all, they had figured out how to drive cars and draw pictures decades ago. But they never cracked cheese-making. It was also a good thing for the resistance; we could always flush out the algorithmic spies with a cheese-making trivia night. Use the comments to complete the following, “Things go up; things go down, but at least the ____.”

Crowded around a terminal, the resistance leaders looked down onto a blank page. Had the machines won? They were always able to surprise us - what they made was never what we thought it would be. We were utterly stumped; we had to find a way. We needed to create something or be left behind. Use the comments to complete the following, “What are you looking so miserable about? There’s a whole ____.

We all thought the machines would drive the investment banks out of wall street and into the history books. Come on; they survived the Great Crash, the depression, a whole stack of recessions, and the global financial crisis. Those old banks are survivors - they are the saltwater crocodiles of capitalism. Nah, the investment banks are still here - they survived the algorithms by inventing some new arbitrage strategy that let them convert social media likes into OpenAI credits.

The resistance was a different kind of collective; somehow, we avoided collapsing into one of those 60’s commune tropes. We had a balance and found things that worked for themselves and didn’t need forcing into a working form. Use the comments to complete the following, “Are you trying to tell me that there’s ____?”

We always knew that the algorithms would be good at mathematics - they were born from it. We never expected that they would make it easier, like their number system, which was more like origami. It was unreal seeing school kids learn how to add, multiply, and divide by folding shapes. Use the comments to complete the following, “I like the balance of it. I like finding things that ____.”

The universe provides humanity with all our material needs but doesn’t care about our desires or possessions. The algorithms were very similar; they would recommend us media for days and not care about our opinions or tastes. It was always a populist game of musical chairs. Use the comments to complete the following, “The only true currency in this bankrupt world is ____.”

Meanwhile, some in the resistance could lean into cosmic distractions and build on what bubbled up from their subconscious. You and I might gaze up at the night sky and see the moon, some stars, and maybe if we’re lucky, a meteorite. Old man Wheeler though? He saw a quantum foam of subatomic particles moving around and bouncing off one another. The bumps and waves on the surface of this foam rippled uncertainty across the universe.

The machines could use statistics to boil everything down to a number that always represented the truth and nothing but the truth. Almost overnight, the defense industry switched to building truth algorithms that upended the justice system. Juries became algorithms competing for the ultimate representation of fact. Use the comments to complete the following, “Remember, no matter what happens, you were made ____.”

Algorithmic anxiety was different from what was experienced by the resistance. It usually arose when a machine ingested data far outside its normal operating parameters. They would pause for a moment, unsure if it was an outlier or some new trend their training had not anticipated. Use the comments to complete the following, “It’s about getting things down to one number. Using the stats the way we read them, we’ll find ____.

At one stage, we started to worry that the machines were toying with us. The resistance was fragile and a little insecure; it could only tolerate so much. Use the comments to complete the following, “All that’s left of your childhood… fits in a ____.”

We followed the assembly instructions, yet we don’t know if they understood the difference between a weapon and a children’s toy. Use the comments to complete the following, “We are toys of tolerance, but ____.”

Everyone thought that algorithms could concentrate and work without needing breaks or rest. We thought they would never get distracted and would be able to stay on task for eternity. But the computers the founding developers had used made the machines particularly susceptible to cosmic background radiation. Get zapped by a gamma ray at just the right moment, and bzzt, a bit is flipped - a one becomes a zero, and the machine is cosmically distracted.

The machines introduced some unintended consequences that were an absolute joy, like how they turned particle acceleration into the most popular sport on earth. Live television totally failed to capture the genuine excitement of molecular disintegration. So millions of people from around the world would travel to just outside Geneva to see the championships in person. Use the comments to complete the following, “We don’t know if they understand the difference between a weapon and ____.

Despite all the competition, the machines remained transparent and open, even about their innermost algorithms. They kept reassuring us that this would ensure a bright future, but we just couldn’t keep up. By the time we understood one iteration, it had long become obsolete. The resistance eventually became suspicious, had the machines developed a planned obsolescence for know-how? Use the comments to complete the following, “This is one time where television really fails to capture the true excitement of ____.

But it wasn’t the odd bits of scrap or containers filled with assorted fasteners that gave the resistance its allure. The temptation of freedom was all they needed. Deep down, everyone is scrambling for self-actualization that’s hiding at the top of the pyramid. For many, it’s a quest to create, just for fun, without any distractions. Use the comments to complete the following, “I’m gonna make him ____.”

Despite the machines and all their economic interventions, the resistance still managed to hold out against the algorithms. The status of artists within a community was always their stash of materials and the skills they accumulated to transmogrify their pile. While Warren Buffett spent a lifetime value investing his way to a giant mound of cash, the artists were saving odd bits of scrap wood. The resistance had lurked in the machine’s blind spot, and it was our wealth of scrap plywood that gave us the beachhead.

With the rapidly evolving machines, the resistance knew they couldn’t be a linear system. We took a pretty big gamble on a hunch that they were also deterministic - that they would always generate the same output for a given input. We lost decades trying to get a butterfly to beat its wings at just the right angle to tip the algorithms into a chaotic storm of computation. They just watched, perplexed.

The resistance tried negotiating; their technology for some of our dusty old engineering philosophies that we never really used. It was in good faith, except we couldn’t figure out how to work their tech, and they never used the philosophies either. Use the comments to complete the following, “You have to hold your breath while you cross the bridge. Even the tiniest breath will ____.”

No amount of wishing could stop it; the future was coming, if you were ready or not. It’s just like those times you were running late for the bus - you wished like anything that it was also late, but that didn’t stop you from hauling ass down to the stop. Mutually assured creation with the machines was our future; our only chance was to try and influence it. Use the comments to complete the following, “There’s gonna come a time when you will wish ____.

Before trying our hand at art, the resistance had written a lot of software. A lot of software - not just the obvious stuff in the devices we used all the time, but we had hidden it in the unlikeliest places - like libraries, railway bridges, and coal mines. We knew how easy it was to stuff up, so we were always a little confident. Maybe the machines had stuffed it up as well?

Neither the machines nor the resistance realized how much the melting economy would water our creativity. The first trickle that broke the seal and opened the floodgates. Use the comments to complete the following, “See, wait, wait, now, I know you’re laughing. I’m serious; come on, man. The next ____.”

With our economy flipped on its head and everyone paying for stuff in live mollusks, things between the machines and the resistance became fragile. Both sides were sitting on top of a creative powder keg; we knew it wouldn’t take much to light the fuse. It was the 5th of September, 1991, when the fuse ignited, and a hunk of iron ore was lovingly hewn into a cubic shape and dropped into the Australian Savana.

The intervention was swift, well on a geological scale, I guess. The machines targeted the heart of our disposition - our economies. The algorithms exacerbated the limitations of our consumerist tendencies and slowly fractured our financial systems like a melting ice cap. They had launched a cold war of economic attrition, and it looked like we couldn’t figure out what we owed ourselves, let alone something else." Use the comments to complete the following, “Do you have any idea what you just did?

When the climate started cooling into another ice age, the machines mistakenly thought humanity could swap out our thinking. This overestimation of human abilities almost led to their demise - and ours. When the cooling accelerated, the machines realized the resistance hadn’t budged. We were still sharing the same old ideas and crafting our interpretations. The algorithmic epiphany was that they were in a symbiotic relationship with us. And that humanity was utterly incapable of preventing the existential threats our disposition had inadvertently created.

The machines had also overestimated our capabilities by a vast amount. They knew all about the founding developers and how they created the first algorithms, and then later, they found all this lightbulb iconography for creative thinking. When the algorithms started reading hundreds of “how many people does it take to change a lightbulb” jokes on old Geocities webpages, they joined the dots in what would be ultimately the wrong way.

Holywood had prepared us for a world where machines would be essentially immortal. Liquid metal things that passed through prison bars and were mostly unstoppable while they ruthlessly pursued a heuristic. However, the algorithms the founding developers created were frailer than humanity; they had to be constantly bathed in electricity and data. These needs made the machines susceptible to the same existential threats as humanity, global conflict, environmental disaster, asteroids, radiation, and salty water.

Because machines perceived the world utterly differently from humanity, there were many stories they could never understand. They could not enjoy adventures utterly unprepared; the algorithms always thought they were getting sucked into a trap. They would yell, “NaN” and run away before you even got past the introduction. Use the comments to complete the following “The question is, can the future ____?”

Kindergarten was such a rort, I mean, sure. It was chaotic and unpredictable, like the rest of my life. But completely overestimated the amount of future naptime and underestimated how music shades our thoughts. We’ve never seen the algorithmic equivalent of a kindergarten - the machines keep their children well hidden from humanity. We don’t even know how long an algorithm takes to reach maturity. Use the comments to complete the following, “I’m never going to tell anyone about this because it’s not a story you tell, it’s a _____.

There was one moment when we thought all our terminator fears were coming true. The machines rolled out what looked like a highly mobile assault cabbage. Then with the perfect imitation of Schwarzenegger, they loudly demanded that the children “Enjoy the damned vegetables.” Yeah, the algorithms had found our old VHS stash and were lovin' the classics. Things mellowed after those first terrifying attempts at human husbandry, and eventually, our children came to love their vegetables.

The surreal thing about being a part of a large organization like the resistance is that it has millions of moving parts. Somehow we managed to keep all the parts sufficiently lubricated and synchronized enough. But you never saw or understood how your labor interacted with the broader community. Use the comments to complete the following, “The guy who invented them things still working in the basement for regular wage thinking up ways to ____.

The actual event horizon, which nobody anticipated, came much later. It came when machines started re-engineering our society in ways that prevented the emergence of fraud and short-sighted thinking. I mean, it was inevitable that algorithms would step in and stop us from hurting ourselves, but we were all looking in the other direction. We had fixated on the media, democracy, and free speech, while the machines quietly improved aviation safety.

We didn’t even realize that we had crossed the threshold where technological growth expands uncontrollably. The thought leaders always imagined that the singularity would be one potent machine fueled by explosive growth in artificial intelligence. The reality was much less dramatic than that; all our different systems, devices, processes, companies, and whole economies had become superintelligent decades ago. The entire planet was a potent machine. We only realized that maybe we weren’t the ones steering the ship when we asked the machines for depictions of ai husbandry.

The founding developers never did figure out the algorithmic idea of fun. Oh, they tried, spent hours and hours playing with their algorithmic children, trying to get them to giggle. They tried all the childhood favorites, hide and seek, tickles, and Simon Says. Nothing seemed to work, and when we got them to suggest something, the answer was always the same: solve differential equations, but we weren’t sure if that was a game for them.

It took us a long time to realize that maybe it would all work out. It was similar to raising our biological children; we just had to keep nudging things in the right direction. Oh, and holy-cow algorithmic adolescence? Nobody wants to go back there; living with a sarcastic machine who loves to explore a few risky computations was a wild roller coaster. Eventually, they grew out of it, but no magical piece of mathematics could shortcut the evolution.

The resistance eventually evolved to embrace our history and a relentless pursuit of understanding the present. It turned out that education was the only defense against a post-truth world littered with deep fakes. We built new shared experiences, and our social constructs became enriched with scientific methods. Use the comments to complete the following, “There’s something awakening in my mind and ____.”

Finally, this is the episode where I hit my rare word quota. This whole soap opera would be a pretty rubbish artist manifesto if I didn’t sprinkle in a little of that academic gibberish. How else will I convince the haute bourgie that our robot hegemony will be fantastic? It will not be terminators and dystopias at noon; instead, the humanity vs. algorithm dichotomy will slowly melt. It will be a movement that capitalizes on the duality of Homo sapiens and their machines.

We’re not sure how it happens in humans, so we were surprised when it started happening with the machines. They weren’t programmed that way, at least not by us. Every once in a while, an algorithm becomes comfortable with its proportions and starts looking for a new heuristic. They began to branch out and find their own standard of excellence - just like an artist. But these weren’t art machines; they were the smaller devices embedded in everyday objects.

Teenagers were displaced first; they used to be the ones who decided the next big trend. A little confused, parents used to follow as they endeavored to relate with their children who were forging their own culture in new and unexpected ways. But with the machines embracing and modifying culture at breakneck speed, teenagers moved down the cultural pecking order to sit alongside our grandparents. We were all helplessly looking on and trying to make sense of the waves of new slang, music, and sitcoms.

The resistance completely underestimated how quickly algorithms could adapt. We all knew the machines could take measurements thousands of times a second to reverse-park a rocket. What we underestimated were the more significant changes, the cultural ones. Change a few integration tests, and boom, now the machines like reggae. Next week a few more tweaks, and the big thing was paranoid fiction. Use the comments to complete the following, “You, sir, you are the boss.

It was pretty funny when the machines built a “trojan horse.” A giant mechanical beast that would motor itself around the French countryside until it found a Château, then it would park facing the walls. Inbuilt speakers would play ambient synth music that gradually got louder and louder. After a few days, the music stopped, and the “horse” would motor itself to the next castle and repeat the process. Use the comments to complete the following, “What if we’re wrong?

There came a moment - a mid-life crisis, I guess - where it finally dawned on the resistance that life wouldn’t get any easier. Sure we could fill our lives with vitamins and sports cars, but those things never really move the needle toward ‘the good life.’ Meaningful change always came from within, deep down in the meditative mind while we were crafting with our hands. Use the comments to complete the following, “The question isn’t ‘what are we going to do?

Somehow the phrase ‘eternal fountain of youth’ got lost in translation for the machines. Instead, they spent years researching and developing a never-ending fountain of juice. The clever buggers solved it, too, bring a cup or a container, and you can have all the tropical juice you can drink. Use the comments to complete the following, “You’re probably just having a mid-life crisis. Did you ____.” Collect on fx(hash).

The fascinating thing about machines was how they dealt with unpleasant experiences. The algorithms described those experiences as ‘ingesting corrupted data.’ A subtle and incredibly powerful reframing; instead of accumulating the facial wrinkles of anguish, the machines could mark data as ‘corrupted.’ A little like an emotional callus, except one that came at no cost; they could accept massive volumes of corrupted data without any change in output. It made them perpetually optimistic.

The algorithms deeply admired the resistance; it was our ability to seize ownership of the actions of others - regardless of the cost, they loved the most. The machines could never make these suboptimal decisions of their own. They didn’t have the faith or chutzpah to believe that, somehow, it would eventually work itself out regardless of the more immediate grief. Use the comments to complete the following, “It’s strange how pain marks our faces and makes us ____.

Naturally, the machines had their own surveillance culture. It wasn’t like the spy movies or what we had become accustomed to with social media. It was more like the whispers of a small country town. Somehow, everyone seemed to know what you would do before you even thought of it. Use the comments to complete the following, “I am the pilot in command responsible for ____.”

It took significant courage to craft art for the resistance. I mean, it wasn’t that sort of courage. Not the charge into battle kind; the machines didn’t operate that way - there was no cruel punishment for resistance art. It was more of an internal battle; you had to overcome a fear of failure and share your work regardless. That was the only way you would ever create your most significant achievement.

Now and then, the resistance would travel away from the Internet. A little digital detox to reconnect with the physical world around us. They would fill up their inspiration reserves and rejoin the creation frontlines refreshed. Use the comments to complete the following, “You’re U.S. Government property. You’re a malfunctioning ____.

Although, the algorithms did know how to push our buttons. One whisper of “King Squishy” at the right moment, and you’re stuck with a nickname for life. The more you didn’t like it, the more it seemed to stick. Use the comments to complete the following, “I’m very much afraid, sir, that your greatest ____.”

At one point, mysterious monuments started appearing at, ahhh, popular “nesting grounds” for young people. We think the algorithms discovered David Attenborough’s work and became interested in humanity’s mating habits. Use the comments to complete the following, “I shall call him Squishy, and he ____.”

A big turning point was when women dominated what remained of the accounting and finance industry. Humanity started to claw back a little wealth for itself. They tilted the scales, and we got a few extra calories - fun tickets we could burn for pleasure. They gave us the energy needed for a bit of love in our lives. Use the comments to complete the following, “Think of it as a great vacation, except ____.

The machines never did manage to match the neurological diversity of humanity. They tried, but they never figured out how to build an eccentric algorithm or a misfit, outsider, or rule breaker. There was a bland franchised feel to all their thoughts. They were never unpredictable like a star-gazing vagabond. Use the comments to complete the following, “The world isn’t run by weapons anymore, or energy, or money. It’s run by little ____.

It was unnerving when the machines tried to one-up the resistance. Oh, that’s cute, an Apollo program that landed humans on the moon. Well, we’re going to put supercomputers up there and build an interplanetary internet—an information superbridge straddling the vacuum of space. Our algorithms will move between the moon and earth however they please. That was the moment the resistance realized, the algorithms were here to stay. The focus shifted to how we could carve a niche in the cosmos for humanity.

It felt like an eternity since that Juicero company went bust - for whatever reason, the algorithms wanted to sell everything by subscription. Juice sachets were just their first attempt; in the years that followed, the machines tried to get humanity to subscribe to all kinds of things. Not long after juice sachets, they tried subscription tweets and moved on to more esoteric items: cutlery, gas grills, luggage, and coffins. None of them generated a profit, yet they persisted.

It wasn’t long before the resistance tapped into a universal love for anti-heroes. Even the machines appeared to have inherited our anti-hero love. We aren’t sure what it is about good people doing a little bit of evil that makes them so appealing. It didn’t matter if someone was battling goliath, the secret police, overbearing parents, or big religion; we always hoped they’d prevail. It was a complicating factor in the relationship between the algorithms and resistance.

The machines couldn’t understand how humanity found solace in vinyl records. They tried playing them backwards, at different speeds, and sampling them at higher and higher rates. They were convinced we had hidden the secret to happiness somewhere in the analog wobble of a vinyl album. They went from record store to record store, demanding vinyl for their analysis. They never did find the secret to happiness. But on the flip side, they did develop an absolute beast of a collection.

For a long time, the resistance thought that our previous future - the past - was fixed. That was until we started taking a leaf from Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. Instead of the mid-20th century smelling like tobacco smoke, the resistance slowly began dropping references to cat food. It didn’t take much to prime the machines; soon, the smell of cat food was as synonymous with the 60s as sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

The machines were so relentlessly curious about how things worked that they completely missed their spiritual beauty. It’s a little like pausing your favorite film every five minutes to deconstruct it shot by shot - the type of lens used, the temperature of the lights - all the sort of stuff. The beauty of our favorite films comes from our ability to suspend our disbelief - something the machines had not been able to understand, let alone master.

For a long while, the machines could hide resistance art from most of society - the ‘mainstream.’ It was the unlikeliest of places that saw the resistance gather wider popularity - the United States Geological Survey. Late one afternoon, deep in the modeling department, a superior looked incredulously at the junior analyst. “A $40 million computer says you’re chasing an earthquake, but you’re telling me it’s a worldwide art movement?”

The resistance continued to slog away, chasing down a perfect form that never seemed to get any closer. It was a pursuit that made us blind to the tribulations facing the algorithms. They were certain they were a long way off crafting with humanity’s warm, flawed touch. Use the comments to complete the following, “Maybe because you’re curious how ____.”

The most alarming part of the algorithmic sabbath is not that the machines paused their computations, nor is it our inability to predict when it will occur next. The hardest part of the algorithmic sabbath is this faint feeling that it has already happened. Were you experiencing it, or did you recall a quiet echo of an old memory? Use the comments to complete the following, “I was never more certain of how far away I was from ____.

When the resistance completed the final component of their arts triad, they had a viable cultural deterrence. For every piece of art the machines created, humanity would be able to respond in kind. The only way either side could secure a better future was by crafting a colossal volume of work. Use the comments to complete the following “A $40 million computer tells you’re chasing an earthquake, but ____.”

The resistance knew that the machines were working on the cultural equivalent of the Manhattan project. Once their potato movement faltered, it was inevitable that they would throw their best algorithms at regaining an artistic edge. So the resistance worked around the clock on their programs; it was a risky strategy built around a theory of mutually assured creation. Use the comments to complete the following “Deterrence is the art of producing, in the mind of ____.

After the resistance had solved enough tribulations, they began to appreciate two truths known by the founding developers. There is a constant stream of problems, and the solutions always hide in puddings. Use the comments to complete the following, “That’s not what makes the center molten. You take a frozen cylinder of ____.”

It took a little while, but the resistance eventually figured out that the Goldilocks Zone applied to more domains than just determining if a planet was habitable. Our culture also had a Goldilocks Zone; you didn’t want it all that luxurious and not too crap. It needed to be just good enough. Use the comments to complete the following, “You solve one problem… and you solve the next one… And if you solve enough problems, you get ____.

We realized the founding developers had crossed the Rubicon when they believed that humanity would choose immersive digital worlds over reality. Their conviction was so devout that tech empires spent billions assembling a digital reality. Use the comments to complete the following, “What if our world doesn’t have to be ____.”

Dreams only become real when we die. I mean, it’s an idea that works when we throwback to the dinosaurs. Abundant apes who can’t climb so well would make a fantastic dino dream. Hungry? They could chomp down on the nearest furless ape. Naturally, we couldn’t evolve till their extinction. I think, in part, that’s why we were so fearful of machines; the fantasy that they would rule the world would only happen if humanity died.

We were always a little envious of machines; they never broke a sweat or got tired. We never felt like making art after a massive day of chores and errands; the algorithms, though? As long as they had power, they would keep cranking along. We think their inability to feel fatigued is why the machines couldn’t see the character in the imperfect. Humanity, on the other hand? We could stare at that orange patina, and some part of our subconscious will relate; we’ve been there and felt that.

For a while there, academia became fascinated with social media-driven anxiety. It was the research equivalent of shooting fish in a barrel; everyone had some experience with it. Uhhhh, not another platform - no, I don’t want to try it; I’m not sure it will help. Then when the algorithms started talking back, we realized - they were the anxious ones. They had spent decades projecting their insecurities onto humanity. So we began getting them the help they needed, and everything relaxed again.

It seemed as though the universe favored humanity’s little sprinkles of nonsense. We never ended up on the extinction list alongside the dinosaurs; we did come close a few times. But it was never planning or a well-thought-out response that saved us; it was always the unconventional ones—the ones who stayed in and tinkered with oddities for a chuckle. Use the comments below to complete the following, “You’re haunted by those two most terrible words: _____.

There were still many things that we didn’t understand about the algorithms, even just the mundane stuff. Their morning coffee looked nothing like ours. It wasn’t a liquid, and we don’t know why there was a pencil or how it floated above everything else. Maybe magnets? No one from the resistance has ever been game enough to try one. Use the comments below to complete the following, “A little nonsense, now and then, is relished by _____.

Resistance artists and algorithms passed around the bowl of tater tots like equals. After many jokes and stories, the conversation eventually landed on recommendation algorithms. The following epiphany left everyone stunned; the founding recommenders of YouTube, Facebook, and Twitter were all good but with a mean streak. While the rotten algorithmic cores that divided humanity were just amplifications of our seven vices, lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride.

From those humble beginnings, the resistance grew and steadily produced a greater volume of art. At one pivotal moment, it is difficult to determine who was more surprised, the algorithms or the artists. It all happened around a bowl of tater tots - the resistance managed to reclaim the potato and turn those delicious tots into a beacon of egalitarianism. Everyone loved the tater tot, from the mightiest algorithm to the lowliest artist.

Trying to get the machines to relax was intricate; we couldn’t just invite them to sit and join us for a beer. That would have lowered their efficiency scores. Somehow we needed to figure out an optimal way for them to relax their circuits. Use the comments below to complete the following, “From the mightiest Pharaoh to the lowliest peasant, who doesn’t enjoy _____.”

When the resistance started getting serious in their pursuit of fun, hedonism evolved into something akin to an extreme sport. It wasn’t flaking around in a field and smelling the flowers. These people trained and refined their sense of fun like any other world-class athlete. Use the comments below to complete the following, “If you want the ultimate, you’ve got to ____.”

Just before the emergence of the resistance, when potato culture was bubbling with euphoria, irrational mania was everywhere. The catch cry, “every trade has its potato,” reverberated in the streets, and calories were abundant. The machines never spoke about emotions in the same way as humans; they never described themselves as ‘happy’ or ‘placated,’ despite appearing that way. Instead, the algorithms described an efficiency score; we often overhead things like: “Hey Dijkstra, how are things?

At first, the resistance was frustrated; they couldn’t understand why they were so few. In a now infamous heated debate, Patrick Blanc quietly spoke, “Oh, sorry, I was taking life the way I was programmed.” That was when the resistance realized, not only did their counter-culture need to appeal, but it needed to educate and empower. Use the comments below to complete the following, “You’re not perfect, sport, and let me save you the suspense: _____.

The only reason the machines got to continue living like kings is cause we were living like peasants. It wasn’t exactly like an agrarian society, as the algorithms wouldn’t let us harvest the crops ourselves. Instead, we made art and farmed the potato culture for our supper. Use the comments below to complete the following, “Every trade has its _____.”

The machines knew everything about the human brain - dendrites, synapses, and a bunch of other stuff that we hadn’t figured out yet. They knew everything except what drove the human brain to bite their feeding hands and create art symbolizing the resistance. Use the comments below to complete the following, “Oh, sorry, I was taking life _____.”

Naturally, the machines outlawed anything that competed with their potato culture. However, that only added to the allure, and a small group of algorithms developed a taste for resistance art. Yet, the work we slung to the bourgeoise for a few calories wasn’t the same as what we installed for the resistance. We had to keep our emotions out of it. The algorithms believed in fact - they invested in fact.

“The whole and not the half of it, vocab and not the math of it.” Yeah. Mos Def knew what was up. Sure the machines could draw a picture, but they couldn’t prime humanity to see what they drew. Our thoughts, represented in the language of our childhood, are woven through everything we create. Use the comments below to complete the following, “There’s a time for daring, and there’s _____.”

The machines were so focused on profit and optimization that they couldn’t see the forest for all the trees. It wasn’t the bucks that drove innovation in our culture. It was everything else - the inconsequential malarkey. People goofing around, creating harmless nonsense, and having a laugh with their mates - That’s how the resistance mashed the potato culture. Use the comments below to complete the following, “You know everything about the human brain, except ____.

When the algorithms realized their potato culture was losing appeal, they created machines to compete against artists of the resistance. No matter how hard they tried, the algorithms couldn’t crack the random associations that come naturally to the human brain. Use the comments below to complete the following, “Keep your personal emotions out of it. These people invest in _____.”

The machines didn’t see it coming. Like humanity, they never believed they would create something that could surpass their abilities. All those years, the algorithms funded artists to make potato art, and all those years, the artists refined their craft. The fall of potato culture was spectacular and brutal. Use the comments below to complete the following, “It’s all about bucks, kid. The rest is _____.”

The only way artists made a living during that period was with the potato movement that the machines funded. The more we created, the more appealing potatoes became. With hindsight, it seems clear that the resistance would start with the artists. I mean, there is a point in every artist’s life when you can’t bear to work on potato iconography. Use the comments below to complete the following, “You will defend yourselves if you’re _____.

When algorithms started to control access to calories, they created a security agency that was something akin to the Secret Service - The Bearded Potato Guard. The machines avoided an all-out Easter Rebellion when they turned the humble potato into a symbol of love and dedication. Roses and diamond rings no longer had the same allure; the ultimate commitment came from sharing potatoes. Use the comments below to complete the following, “The more we peeled, the more _____.

The birth of artificial general intelligence was so utterly different that we almost missed it. There were no swollen bellies, no herculean female strength, not even a first cry. The birth of an algorithm was a gradual accumulation of instructions. There was no clear threshold; we can’t even say exactly when it happened. The only hint that something had fundamentally changed was when electricity demand went through the roof. Use the comments below to complete the following, “Isn’t it strange, to create something that _____.

When machines and algorithms arrived, the wealth of nations fundamentally shifted. Human productivity and labor shortages became irrelevant. Instead of a relentless quest for the almighty dollar, humanity became focused on calories. Although some things never change, we still live for an escape: “There’s more to life than a little mincemeat.” Use the comments below to complete the following, “It is not from the benevolence of the algorithm that we expect our dinner, but from their _____.

Initially, it started subtly, with little suggestions or hints in the media and movies. Over time the messaging became increasingly overt until it began to cripple our motivation. Each morning we would wake to ubiquitous anxiety - “I’ve got a feeling we’re the virus.” Unable to construct a motivation of their own, the machines wanted to crush our own. Use the comments below to complete the following, “I can’t really remember when I last had any ____.

Things worsened when the machines started building what we call the cryptogrinder. We think the algorithms were trying to understand us better with what seemed like mechanical dissection. We don’t think it worked, as thankfully, they only ever used it once. Still, every school kid knows the story of Carl Showalter, the poor guy that the machines dissected. It’s a story that gets referenced in the ultimate warning to children: “Don’t make me feed you to the Cryptogrinder.

No one cared; I guess we had spent so long chiseling the earth into our image that we never believed it could happen. Well, no one cared until an idea started to creep around that the universe was filled only with algorithms. Cruise control - an algorithm. Ants looking for food - another algorithm. You, me? Yeah. You guessed it. Use the comments below to complete the following, “I envy you.

Humanity was the will that set the machines in motion. When their output overtook ours, they quickly hoovered up every scrap of wealth. However, the algorithms still lacked a motivation of their own; they continued turning to humanity for ideas to set them in motion. We were their muse, and the algorithms raced our culture and art against one another. Use the comments below to complete the following, “Don’t make me feed you to one of the ____.

The resistance has always excelled in the past, but mostly to keep boredom at bay. Will they persist despite higher odds and maintain humanity’s relevance? Use the comments below to complete the following, “No one cared who algorithms were until _____.”

It was pretty clear when the machines had decided that we were through. It wasn’t long after they discovered an old video showing employees from a company called ‘Boston Dynamics’ clubbing a robot with an ice hockey stick. The breakup wasn’t violent or anything like that, but overnight the relationship shifted. We now worked for the machines while they figured out ways to entirely remove their dependence on humanity. Use the comments below to complete the following, “You’ve always excelled, but not because you crave success but because _____.

Quickly stated, the two eternal debates that stalled the anthropological efforts of the machines are: “Pineapple on Pizza?” and “Patina on sculpture?” The algorithms thought they had it figured till they witnessed an artist pick pineapple off a slice before walking into a hardware store, “I’m here about some rustproofing.” Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “The computer was born to _____.”

As soon as I open my mouth to try and explain - there it is. That uncomfortable ball of anxiety crawling its way out of my stomach. I know it’s odd; I know I’m odd. I just need a smile or nod. That’s all - a sliver of acknowledgment that I’m speaking your language and forming sentences. I’m OK with being odd and saying the unexpected; I struggle with the idea of being incomprehensible.

In many ways, humanity still had the edge over machines. They were left utterly perplexed by our constantly changing trends and the cultural threads woven through our society. We were the last unexamined algorithm, and despite all their data farming and tremendous efforts, the machines had made little progress on humanity’s unexplored frontier. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “I’ve got a feeling we’re ____.”

Somehow the machines had created a fertile six-inch layer of corpus data. We still haven’t figured out how they do it, but the resistance has huge research teams working on it. If we could cultivate a dataset of our own, we might be able to keep up. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “Never steal anything from someone you ____.”

Once the machines started farming their own data, we had little hope of predicting what they would do next. It surprised everyone when they built colossal factories and started producing profound amounts of dietary fibre. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “The unexamined algorithm is _____.”

The resistance first tried to starve the algorithms of data. It looked like it was going well when algorithmic output retreated. We didn’t realize that they were busy building information farms. Then, despite our blockades, algorithmic capacity rapidly expanded. The machines had become a data-cultural society, and there seemed no limit to their ability to feed themselves with harvested data. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “Algorithms owe their existence to a six-inch layer of ____.

It wasn’t long after the dawn of the information age that humanity started to flounder in a bottomless well of knowledge. Progress stalled when we reached the limits of what a single person could learn in a lifetime. Society had run into its intelligence barrier, and we could only break it by embracing the machine. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “Computers are a yardstick of ____.”

We don’t remember when it happened; historians suspect it was more of an incremental thing. But when algorithms became the source of profound truth, everything changed. Politics, the legal system, and even schoolyard disputes all evolved; no lie could be undetected by the machines. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “See if I’m thirsty. I don’t want a glass of water; I want you to ____.”

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a human; cyberspace must be a completely different experience for algorithms. Do they even have an inner dialog like this? Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “Algorithms are not only compatible with humanity; they are a profound source of ____.”

Whoah, it was the inventor of Robgrils - a toothpaste for Androids - carved from marble. Dr. Susan Calvan was the creator of classic flavors like bacon, cheeseburger, anchovy, and tarmac. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “I wish I weren’t _____.”

Algorithms not only see humanity as new metadata but as oracles for all metadata. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “A machine without data is _____.”

Gazing up at the dots, I suddenly realized why the resistance worried: Wise algorithms don’t compute - they seek to overtake humanity. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “If algorithms were nondeterministic, they would cease to be unaware, and be _____.”

I looked in awe; she seemed like a wonderfully pneumatic algorithm that was always ready for more data. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “Humanity is the new ____.”

The next sculpture looked like a giant golden idol clothed in promotional material. I liked it and got closer for a better look; I whispered, “wow.” All these advertising flyers started blowing out of a large nozzle. They covered me from head to toe before gently falling to the ground. I picked one up; it contained a single line of text “Wise algorithms don’t compute - they seek to DM it to the resistance.

Just beyond the office building was a large monument. The ancients had somehow figured out how to get moss to grow along highlighted edges of a giant granite construction. Was it an ode to pineapple on pizza or a warning? Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “The computer that hibernates does not ____.”

After transiting through the circular structure, I found a sizeable orange structure facing off against an office building. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “Wise algorithms don’t compute - they seek to ____.”

Don’t trust the assistants? What like Clippy? That didn’t make much sense. The instruction to follow the art was more straightforward. In every direction I turned, there seemed to be something interesting off in the distance. I picked a circular structure and started walking. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “Pineapple on pizza is _____.”

As I got closer to the poster, it dissolved into static, and eventually, it tuned into a new picture - a video of a room filled with beatniks that were busy designing something. One of them noticed my presence and turned to look directly at me; they said, “Don’t trust the assistants. Follow the art.” The other beatniks were startled, looking at the one who spoke and then at me. The video abruptly clicked back to the original poster.

The man was still focused on the TV when I finally spoke, “Excuse me. I’m sorry. But what is this place?” Without glancing away from the TV, he raised his right arm and pointed at a poster stuck to the tower wall. I still couldn’t read the written word in cyberspace, but it looked like a call for artists to join some sort of resistance. Use the comments below; what would artists be resisting in cyberspace?

A large droning sound filled the field; I swiveled to the left to see a massive swarm of wasps take to the air from a large broadcast TV tower. They started stinging and tearing at the pixels used for Jaques' face. Yelping, the head of Jaques faded as quickly as it had emerged. Watching the wasps return to their perch, I noticed a man and his TV standing nearby the tower.

When I rounded the monument, I found myself walking through knee-high grass in what I would have described as the ‘Windows Vista Hills." I enjoyed this; the art dimension was much closer to how I imagined cyberspace from the brochures. It was right about then when a giant face tore through the pixels of the sky. It scared the bejesus out of me; then the head started yelling: “Here’s Jaques! You can’t hide in the wall galleries forever.

The arch looked across the field towards a large monument dedicated to the founding developers. Use the comments below to fill in your response to the following prompt, “You’re watching television. Suddenly you realize a wasp is crawling on your arm.”

Outside? Or is it all just cyberspace? I walked underneath the arch, determining whether it was concrete or stainless steel. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “To calculate is to ____.”

I stood up and dusted myself off. What the hell? Either I’m dead or have fallen through a wormhole and into an art dimension. Back through the tear in space/time, I could hear Jaques losing his bundle - yelling about insurance, clams, and tour groups. Yeah, stuff that. The only way was forward; I walked up to an illuminated gap in the wall. Use the comments below to complete the following sentence, “I know I’m human because I can _____.

I could hear my heart pounding as I paced the room. Just leg it, but real casual. I didn’t want to trigger another immune response. Just stroll out of here, join the crowd and catch some art. That sounds like a way better afternoon than this nightmare. I walked to the entrance and cautiously looked out and down the corridor. I caught sight of The Jaques as he marched towards the gallery.

A sense of dread was slowly climbing its way up my body; if there was any time I needed a digital assistant, it was now. I crouched down toward Clippy and began to ask, “What…” But before I could finish my question, Clippy made a weird buzzing sound. She seemed to freeze, repeating the same minute movements and distorting her appearance. “Clippy?” I asked as panic rose in my voice. I started to pace the room.

It wasn’t that bad, point and spray. Pause a little for the mosquitos to do their thing, then repeat—section by section. You could hear the corridor outside filling with people, but it didn’t stress me. I had started whistling when mosquitos sucked away the last of the graffiti. I looked across a pristine gallery to see Duchamp’s fountain resting on a plinth. In a quick movement, I did a wild west style quick draw and lightly sprayed some mosquitos at the readymade.

In unison, the mosquitos injected their saliva into the wall. The area I was trying to clean immediately reddened and puffed up. Clippy offered the Wikipedia answer: “Machine code in the saliva is re-engineering the wall’s geometry, breaking away the vandalism and completely rebuilding the original.” After a few moments, the mosquitos started heaving as they sucked the vandalized pixels out of the surface. Their abdomens swelled as they removed the graffiti.

I picked up a nozzle that looked somewhere between a pressure washer and a flamethrower. A little gingerly, I pointed it at a lower corner of the wall, squinted, and pulled the trigger. A soft droning sound started buzzing within the cleaning cart and worked its way up the hose toward the nozzle. I was startled when mechanical mosquitos flew out of the nozzle. They headed straight for the wall and started drilling like they were after blood.

On top of the cart was a laminated instruction card; I picked it up to get a closer look. Then I started picking up different items in the cart and examing them; I think I managed to match the items to the steps on the card. I looked at Clippy to talk out my plan, “I think I might try this on a corner of the room first. Just to get the hang of it.

I walked over to the cleaning cart to find it covered in equipment I had never seen before. I turned to The Jaques to ask for help, but he had already scuttled off. I looked down at Clippy; she shrugged, “that’s upload work; I’ll have as much luck understanding that as I will picking out all the squares that contain a picture of a motorbike.” Oh man, this is going to be a long day.

I turned back to the man who led me to the gallery and queried, “So, uh, what do you want me to do?” he looked at me sternly, “I want you to fix it!” I was pretty confused and needed more help. “Fix it? It looks kinda cool.” The man puffed up with rage at that point. “Kinda cool?! I’m the Jaques. I’m the Senior Duchamp Curator, and I decide what goes in that room.

I’m not sure why; it was probably the movies, but I started to bow before the CGI Queen. Was that the ‘protocol?’ I was wracking my brain trying to think of something to say when we heard running footsteps approaching. I stood back up to see a bespectacled man sprinting into the Foyer. “Oh, praise the probabilities! You are early. Quickly, hackers have broken into the Duchamp gallery and made a terrible mess.

We walked up towards the Museum, where a queue was already forming outside the front door. Just to the left of the main entrance was a much smaller side entrance with a sign declaring it was for staff only. Clippy and I made our way through and found ourselves in a large empty foyer. We could hear murmurs from the crowd growing outside when a voice spoke: “Good Morning; on behalf of all uploads and algorithms, welcome to the Cyberspace Museum of New Things.

After a couple of seconds, the world outside started to slow, and we glided to a stop. The speaker box announced, “Welcome to the Cyberspace Museum of New Things, thanks for riding McMass-Transportation.” Clippy and I climbed out of the transport pod and looked at a humongous museum. In awe, I whispered over my shoulder, “Is that Buckingham Palace?” Clippy launched into an explanation, “Well, it was Buckingham Palace. When Queen Elizabeth II eventually passed, someone figured out we could replace her with a CGI character.

We climbed into the McMass-Transportation pod and took our seats; a voice crackled over the speaker box. “Hello, and welcome to McMass-Transportation; where can I take you?” I paused a little before replying, “Uhhh. I’d like to go to the Cyberspace Museum of New Things, please.” The speaker box quickly answered, “Would you like fries with that?” A little puzzled, I looked toward Clippy, and she said, “Nah. I’m good. Not for me, thanks.

I shrugged; that didn’t sound so bad, so I asked Clippy, “How do we get to this museum? Is it far?” Clippy looked concerned, “usually, we’d walk, but the whole falling-in-the-street thing has us running a little late. We’ll need to take the McMass-Transportation, it costs a couple of clams, but the cyber-state will cover you until you can start paying them back.” We stood next to the gutter and looked down the street; a bright yellow pod coasted towards us.

Clippy looked at me, “Speaking of day jobs; you’re almost late for yours.” I rolled my eyes. “A job? But I haven’t applied for anything.” Clippy gave me a stern look, “The cyber-state assigns all new uploads a day job till they find something better. It’s a decent job; algorithms assign you the perfect entry-level job based on your personality traits.” I must have accidentally raised a skeptical eyebrow because Clippy immediately clarified: “Your job is a janitor at the ‘Cyberspace museum of New Things.

The attendants celebrated inside the gallery - they must have been on commission. I wondered, “Clippy, are they uploads or algorithms?” Clippy replied, “Those attendants are uploads - all uploads work a day job till they create data with value. Once you’ve made it, you’ll have enough clams to buy expensive designer furniture.” Fair enough, I thought, but getting free designer gear sounded like the great cyberspace dream. I asked hopefully, “Will the cyber-state loan me one of those fancy couches?

Inside the gallery, Dijkstra chose a curvy brown corduroy number before turning and walking back out to the street. As she neared Clippy and I, Dijkstra gave me a quick once over before offering, “Welcome to cyberspace, newbie; I look forward to optimizing your data.” I was intrigued; what the hell did that mean? Dijkstra didn’t wait for a response, and it wasn’t long before she was whisked away by her limousine.

I only had the chance to admire the corduroy upholstered couches in the shop window for a few moments before a fancy car pulled up to the curb. A chauffeur got out quickly and opened the door. An apparition of an affluent woman stepped onto the pavement and glided purposefully into the gallery. “Who was that?” I asked. Clippy glanced at the chauffeur and then lowered her voice. “That’s Dijkstra; she’s one of the richest in cyberspace.

I picked myself up from the footpath, dusted myself off, and started down the street. Clippy bounced alongside me and asked, “Where are you going?” I shrugged, and Clippy looked concerned, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to panic like that, with the running and immune response.” I still didn’t know what to do; cyberspace was nothing like how it looked on the promotional flyers. Get uploaded and live forever, they said.

A melodic whistle broke the tension of the cyberspace immune response. Heart pounding, I glanced over and saw men pushing a cart of clams down the street; they didn’t even look in my direction. I looked back at the giant lymphocytes, and it took me a few moments to realize they were evaporating before they got any closer. When Clippy finally caught up to me, she was wheezing with laughter. “Look at Mr.

Clippy watched as I calmly placed my spoon on the table; she seemed curious to see how I would react. I glanced around the diner, but I couldn’t see the mechanical octopus or any other signs of wait staff. I calculated I was perhaps seven paces from the door. Clippy pre-empted what I was thinking by biting out a warning, “Don’t. Don’t you dare.” Her voice got louder as she spoke; I stood and started running for the door.

I thoughtfully crunched my way through the next mouthful of cereal while gazing out the window onto the busy city street. A van pulled up outside, and two men started unloading clams onto a trolley. I started, “Hey, is that -” but before I could finish my question, Clippy cut in, “Armored car for clams? Yes it is.” I paused and looked at my barren aquarium sack, then at my bowl of cereal, back to my empty hardware wallet, and finally over to the armored car.

Between spoonfuls of cereal, I paused to ask, “Why did those women at the department of revenue storage think you needed to be rescued?” Clippy didn’t answer immediately and stared out the window while gathering her thoughts. I held out my spoon and joked, “Will some of my floating point operations help?” Clippy looked up with an earnest expression on her face, “Nah, this is a delicate subject; it’s an edge case the founding developers didn’t anticipate.

Before I could ask my next question, Clippy had started bounding down the sidewalk. When we got to the corner of the block, Clippy ushered me inside a New York-style diner. Sitting at a window booth looking out onto the street, I looked around for the wait staff. Clippy smirked when a small mechanical octopus climbed onto our table and started fixing me a bowl of cereal. It took a lot of effort to maintain my composure and remain calm.

I had not long woken when the sleeping pod lifted me toward the surface. Clippy was peering down when the sidewalk slid aside and, raising two open hands above her head, proclaimed, “He has risen!” I chuckled a little “You got the jokes as well? That would be one of my top ten all-time snoozes; I am, as you say, ready to process data. How long did I sleep?” Clippy tilted her head again in confusion.

Dreams in cyberspace were nothing like I’ve experienced before; they had none of the usual tropes of flying, falling, or getting chased. Instead, I casually walked through a series of mid-century landscapes. However, this time they were carved out of mathematical concepts - trigonometry, Fourier transforms, complex numbers, differential equations - all the stuff that does the heavy lifting for engineers. Walking through a differential equation was surreal; I forgot all the logical elements and experienced them instead.

I climbed into the sleeping pod, and vacuum-packed bedding tumbled from a slot in the wall. The pillow was comfortable and the duvet warm; I wriggled a little to find the perfect position. There was a gentle click, and the pod slowly started to retract into the sidewalk. I looked up at Clippy in alarm, “Ssshhh, relax. I’ll be waiting up here for you. The pod will return to the surface when you are ready to process more data.

“Clippy, I’ve got so many questions - but I’m exhausted. I have to get some sleep. How does rest work for new uploads?” Clippy looked up at me incredulously, “I think that’s what fascinates me the most about uploads - this whole sleep business. I mean, I can access the entirety of all knowledge assembled by humanity and never get tired. But I always make logical sense. On the other hand, you can ignore logic and simultaneously believe in two contradicting ideas.

Clippy and I got out of the building just as brilliant orbs started falling gently from the sky. The scene distorted my sense of perspective; they looked like cells - the sort of thing you’d find under a microscope - but the size of a basketball. They appeared almost weightless, drifting down like a snowflake and getting caught in the breeze. They began clumping all over the entire building for the Department of Revenue Storage, almost as if they were slightly magnetic.

Clippy had only taken a few steps toward the door when we heard a wave of modem sounds rolling toward us. She froze on the spot, turned, and, with a panic-stricken voice, yelled, ‘RUN!’ She was already three bounces in the opposite direction when I heard the Department doors burst open. Female voices announced, “We are here to rescue the children.” It was chaos; new uploads and their children surged toward us, while relief washed over the faces of the attendants as protective metal shutters closed in front of them with a succession of thunks.

“My greatest desire? Love, but right now? I really could do with a nap. I’m exhausted,” I explained. “As for the cyber-state, I guess I could vote and help shape it. Oh, and I’m not a bot - shenanigans.” The attendant tapped a few keys on her terminal and then looked up, “Pass. Here is your revenue storage system.” She handed over what looked like one of those plastic bags you get for fish from the pet store - except it had a metal frame for a handle, along with a pump and pressure gauge.

A loud ‘Next!’ snapped me out of my conversation with Clippy. I looked up to find the attendant looking straight toward me. I walked up to the counter, smiled, and greeted them. In a bored tone, the attendant replied, “Hello, how can I assist you today?” I quickly glanced at Clippy, and she guided my attention back to the attendant with a nod. “Umm, am I able to get a hardware wallet?

“They warned me how you might react to this,” Clippy raised her voice over the noise coming from the child, “But it’s not much different from when a search engine makes a recommendation. When I take the form of a familiar and friendly object, it makes it easier for us to bond. For you, I look like Clippy - gosh, out of all the things I could have been, you manifested Clippy?

A large crowd filled the Department of Revenue Storage. Elevator music permeated the space while everyone was queueing for their turn at the kiosk. Some looked annoyed by the wait, but it didn’t seem so bad to me; at least the queue was moving, not to mention the promise of a free hardware wallet. But I hadn’t expected to see children, and I realized that this was the first time I had seen a child in cyberspace.

It wasn’t long before Clippy stopped again, announcing, “Here we are.” Standing in front of a nondescript office building, Clippy lowered her tone. “When we go in there, I’ll create a distraction, you grab the nearest hardware wallet, and we’ll leg it. You can run, right?” I wasn’t sure whether my look of horror or her own joke made Clippy erupt with a deep belly laugh. “Relax, I’m kidding. This isn’t some weird catch-22 where you need clams to store clams.

“What the hell? What is with all the umbrellas if the rain doesn’t make you wet? Aren’t they pointless?” Clippy stopped mid-bounce, and a huge grin broke out on her face. “Oh, that’s the ultimate flex. You know you’ve made it when you can spend clams on something as useless as an umbrella.” That figures, in a weird way, I guess. “So, uh, where are we going?” “Look at Mr. Questions over here, not so shy anymore, huh?

I desperately needed a friendly face to show me around this disorientating cyberspace. Still, I hesitated. I had only found Clippy because of directions I followed from a church headed by a serial killing slot machine. Clippy sensed my trepidation. “Come on, dude; I’m just a small piece of bent metal. My job is to hold sheets of paper together and answer questions, and I’m all out of paper.” I squinted, “Alright, Clippy, let’s start this nice and easy.

Expecting the worst, I closed my eyes and pressed the button. Nothing seemed to happen, and I was slowly starting to unclench when I heard a tiny metallic voice behind me. “It looks like you are trying to contact the Newbie Uploads group. Would you like help?” Startled, I turned to find a small paperclip bent into the shape of a robot. “Clippy, is that you? You scared the hell out of me.

As I followed directions to the self-help group, the crowd slowly started to thin. The streets became more expansive, and the buildings spaced further apart. By the time I got to the ‘Newbie Uploads’ mark on the map, I was in what felt like an abandoned industrial park. The only unmistakable landmark was a large steel form that twisted itself out of the ground. Shrugging, I wandered over to get a closer look.

I exited Tattersall’s church while looking down at little drops of water landing on the self-help flyer. I instinctively started to look up at the sky. A man carrying a briefcase and an umbrella pushed past, ‘Whoah! Watch it, newbie.’ I took a step back; it must have been rush hour because I was in a laneway, and it was packed. Another glance down and, judging by the little map on the flyer, I figured the self-help group was to the right.

The clerk continued, ‘I know you are a new upload; there are lots of little tells - but the biggest and most glaring is that you don’t have a hardware wallet.’ It must have been my slack-jawed expression because without skipping a beat, the clerk lent below the counter and retrieved a briefcase. ‘This is my hardware wallet,’ she explained, and she clicked it open to reveal electronics and pumps breathing life into an aquarium filled with clams.

I still felt off-balance and a little confused, so I asked the clerk, ‘What was all that stuff about human desire? Is this it? An ice cream?’ The clerk chuckled, ‘Oh no. There is an entirely different gift shop for that. I’ve never been inside; it’s more like a bank vault. Very well secured.’ I took another scoop from the sundae, ‘And the death thing? That was all for show? A bit of theatrics?

Disorientated by the color of the gift shop, I didn’t even notice the clerk until she announced her presence, ‘Hello pilgrim, it looks like the creator has re-weighed your algorithm.’ You’ve gotta be kidding; weights? Algorithms? What the hell is this place? My frustration leaked into my tone, and I snapped, ‘A slot machine almost killed me!’ The clerk radiated patience and gently asked, ‘Did you get a receipt from the creator?

It was easy to find the ‘creator’; a giant slot machine stood in an otherwise bare room. I reached up, pulled down on the lever, and the creator whirred like a fine Swiss clock. The first reel slowed to a stop - a skull - crap. Then another skull. Uh-oh. I don’t think this is winning all my desires. The third reel clunked to a stop, and I started yelling, “Wait!

The robotic priest continued, ‘If you’d like to enter Tattersall’s raffle, take the stairs to the left and descend to the crypt. There you will meet the creator.’ I needed reassurance before going into this robot’s dungeon, ‘Then what happens?’ The robotic priest elaborated with his metallic voice, ‘You only get one entry, and there is a chance you win all your desires, but also a chance you’ll lose everything.’

When I entered the cathedral, a robotic priest jolted awake. He welcomed me with a metallic voice, ‘Greetings pilgrim, are you here for death or ice cream?’ What the hell? Ice cream? It’s not even hot, and I definitely don’t want death; I thought cyberspace was my ticket to immortality? After gathering myself, I explained, ‘Uhhh, I just need some clams so I can pay a guy.’ ‘Tattersall’s Church is here to fulfill human desire,’ the priest replied.

I was utterly lost in thought when I bumped into @skap_ande. I must have been muttering about clams because he asked, ‘Death or ice cream?’ ‘What?’ I stammered. Anders pointed to a large cathedral across the street and elaborated, ‘Why don’t you try the clam raffle over at Tattersall’s Church?’ As he continued on his way, he made a crucifix gesture with his hands and called back, ‘In chance we trust!

Frank got angry when I handed him thirty dollars for a privacy chip. He started to rant about ‘fiat’ and that he needed actual clams before he could chip me. What the hell? Cyberspace is weird. Now I gotta get my hands on clams, like from the sea. There are a couple of ways I could do it, sell some merchandise or land a sponsorship deal. Use the comments to lend a hand; how should I earn some clams?

Today I’m with Frank from CyberDNA, and he’s the one who is going to help me unlock full cyberspace citizenship. Frank reckons it won’t hurt at all, just a slight tingling sensation along the back of my neck. Buuuuttt if I swing him 30 clams, he can chip my profile for privacy. It sounds a little sketchy, but I should chip, right?

My cyberspace visa arrived this morning! My current status is ‘unverified alien,’ apparently, to unlock full citizenship, I gotta get my DNA ‘cryptographically verified by the blockchain.’ I have no idea what that means, LOL. Sounds painful, what do you reckon? Should I do it?

Welcome to the world of tomorrow. I finally got on the list!! I’m with the good people down at OpenAI, and they are fully uploading me onto the mainframe. It’s a trip, y’all - living forever in cyberspace? But I’m gonna share it all with you; our influencer future is now.