#002: ʇǝuʞɹɐp

[David Sanchez]

#002: ʇǝuʞɹɐp

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ʇǝuʞɹɐp

Sink with your wasted dreams when you can.
Find time to console them, become what I am

Simon Neil. Biffy Clyro

“Growing up easy, as I did-- with Victor’s lullabies about ethnic cleansing, gentrification and generalized genocides of every nature imaginable it was very easy to become desensitized to some of the shit available online. Snuff films kinda lose their edge once you’ve taken part in the red act first-hand, y’know? Anyway, for the longest of times; when I thought of the internet; all I pictured was porn and social media-- more social media, Netflix and then some more porn. A survey I arranged upon my ‘winning?’ Of the Internet Championship on Sunday however has revealed that nowadays... people practically live out their mundane little lives, constantly connected to a wifi hotspot. Through one device or another.”

The endless rows of data stacks and free-standing, human-sized circuit boards make the room appear much smaller than it actually is; narrow but long, with columns spanning across the floor in open space and terminals built into the very walls of this futuristic looking sublevel of my Eye in the Sky

“MAGGIE is live in 3… 2… 1. We’re in.”

Suddenly, the lab technician in front of me is obscured; a holographic image now beaming at me from every idle monitor in this proverbial palace of Packard Bell technology. A woman’s face; or as close to this as a computer could generate smiles at me, her soft computerized features a comforting presence to behold.

“Does it actually work?”

Before the technician can even respond; a whirring noise is heard as several intercooling fans burst into life, seemingly on their own and the floating CGI spectre responds instead.

“I’m not an ‘it,’ I’m a ‘she.’ But your question is unclear. Please be more clear as to what it is you would actually like me to do and I will be be able to provide you in turn, with a more specific answer.”

Despite her, or it’s-- barbed, built-in attitude problem. So far it... she. We’ll just say she for now-- her artificial intelligence was magnificent. Nothing less than I would have expected after paying handsomely for some of the top scientific minds in the field of robotics to oversee this affair.

“How long would it take to re-route every internet connection in a 2’000 mile radius so that it stems from here? I’d like to make this tower, and by extension you, MAGGIE; the control centre of the American Midwest. I want to be able to see what every insignificant cretin and workshy burnout in this neck of the world is doing at any given minute of any weekday. I want direct access to their lives and I want to do it all through you, my digital-dear. Through your programming, my political pull as Mayor of the largest cesspool in said target area and some mild manipulation of the masses through my present position as ugh… WCF Internet Champion. Through all of this? I can finally control my doting public at the touch of a button.”

The face-like hologram in front of me fades back onto the screen from which it transcended; the computers beginning to process an Opus Infinium of blurred information at a phenomenal speed.

“I want every piece of information available on absolutely everybody. I want it all archived and filed immediately. I want webcams and cellphones to serve as surveillance cameras and voice recorders respectively-- in all seriousness, if some fuckin’ sex offender from Iowa orders a dick pump and some cable-ties from LoveHoney; I want this data readily accessible from my computer on the top floor.”

The lab technician, a well-groomed gentleman in his early thirties, donned in reading glasses and a white-stitched coat approaches me with a curious grin.

“What you’re asking me to do here is illegal and invasive, and just plain wrong. But I’ve gotta admit-- seeing the Artificial Intelligence up and running has been worth all those sleepless nights and ethical dilemmas. This is where I need to draw the line though, Mr. Mayor. To build this machine as a test has been an honor, and nothing short of a huge breakthrough in A.I. This tech. Belongs in a military laboratory; not in the hands of a crooked politician. I can’t let you use this for your own means Mr. Sanchez; I’m reporting in that Operation: Darknet has been a success, and shutting this place down until it can be safely transported to a safe location.”

My mind immediately jolts from the marvel of watching the supercomputer in front of me processing the information of twenty-million people at once. By the time I’ve turned to the technician he’s already hammered eight of the eleven digits in a phone number into his handset.

“MAGGIE, be a sweetheart and kill the communications signal.”

Suddenly, the phone in this man’s hand omits a high-pitched engaged tone and his expression of elation over scientific discovery morphs into dread over the realization that perhaps; he should have took those rumours about me, and those in my employ more seriously. The female, exoskeletal form seems to project herself into the room once more, the holographic flicker illuminating the room around her. As she steps forwards and raises a transparent fingertip; placing it atop the lab geek’s phone-- the device immediately shuts down, the LED screen shattering as the battery overheats and begins to leak liquid mercury through the cracks.

“Threat level reduced to minimal, would you like me to remove his data?”

I offer the computerized harlet; her little digital dress barely covering her thigh a smile as I shake my head and walk back across to where the now-terrified technician backs himself into a corner.

“Oh no, where's the fun in that? Sometimes MAGGIE-- The old ways… are still the best.”

Doing a quick scan of the room, I quickly identify the absence of any conventional means of snuffing out a human life. Shrugging my shoulders, I crack my knuckles and pounce. Wrapping my brittle hands around this man’s neck and forcing him down to the floor. From here? All I need to do, is simply squeeze and: 3...2...1, exhale.

“Vital signs non-existent, threat nullified. What would you like me to do next?”

The technician’s corpse lets out an involuntary death rattle of nerves and voids it’s bowels as I get back to my feet, straightening my tie and smiling at the hologram.

“Resume Operation: Darknet. Your priority for now is to grant me a window into the lives of every man, woman and child in the Midwest. We delete the World Wide Web and replace it with Darknet tomorrow evening-- I want an expansive database built before we pull that particular trigger.”

The hall of servers, screens and data storage towers whirs into life again. Taking MAGGIE back through to the other side; her face now two-dimensional, encased inside the largest, or master computer.