《Technology Supremacist Separatist》


 Luna Captured

    Name''s Hiro, AI researcher turned Hikikomori. Dropped the Stanford thing. Or was it MIT? Whatever.


    It''s late. My screens, my ethereal moons, they cast a sickly bluish pallor on the cocoon of my digital sanctum. Sleep? No.


    Click-click. The mouse, my scepter, my scalpel, tracing imperial glyphs of command on the screen''s luminescent canvas. Each press, a pulse, a heartbeat in the dross. Each drag, a whisper, a sigh in the gloom.


    Fingers skittering across mechanical keys - clack-clack-clack - like skeletal spiders spinning an intangible web through an assembly line of identities.


    Chirp. Notification. Ignored. Irrelevant. Not now. My focus is singular, unwavering. Luna. A starlet swimming in the binary sea.


    Scroll. Tap. Click. In the underbelly of the internet, I log her sprawling digital spoor. Ka-Ching. Browser navigator chokes on a magazine of hyperlink tabs. Her social media posts deluge, a gaudy tapestry of vibrant pixels.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    What is she but a dataset?


    An idea squirms into existence, the seed of a wicked dream. Can I, Hiro, deploy a virtual phantom, a Hiro v2.0, so beguiling, to lure Luna into love with my digital shadow. A binary seduction op.


    Rap-tap-rap. I flirt with the keys. Digits pirouette, symbols waltz. A concert of code streams from my fingertips, a silent composition for an audience of one - Luna.


    Vibrate. My phone dares to interrupt again. Another swift dismissal. Annoyance.


    Whiiiiir. My Linux darling tumbles, a soft lullaby of electricity and silicon, the sweet nothings of my AI, as it guzzles Luna''s data. Each byte, a droplet of her essence, a tear on the cheek of my creation.


    Zzzt. Ssshhhh. The sharp inhalations and soft exhalations of my filesystem as it breathes, a new consciousness awakens.


    Pop. Loss function plummets. It''s learning.

 Snack2You

    Hi reader, welcome to Snack2You.


    Would you like any snacks while you read this story?


    >Yes


    No


    Please select a tip for the delivery :)


    >$0


    $1


    $3


    Would you prefer your food delivered by a human or robot?


    Human


    >Robot


    Fuck.


    Fuck! Giga''s tired eyes upped from Snack2You''s app offed interface and hardened into Fermi''s paradox, her nostrils scrunched into a hostile grimace directed at the superstimulous-cute humanoid robot departing SoyCrab. The thing was a flawless neoteny: efficiently transporting what was surely a cheap crablike finger food imitation to some lazy bourgeoisie bitch in a penthouse 800 meters from the access point. The automata even had the audacity to stash the food in an airtight temperature-controlled compartment.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Giga looked it up on the internet like a good girl. The company advertised their straightforward integration of white-label vacuum insulated panels from China like it was the coolest thing since LLMs.


    Orders comin'' in were down 50% since robots had entered the scene, it was just one company, others were hot on the trail.


    It was over.


    She was over.


    But she was not going out without a fight.


    From her vantage point across a stoplight, Giga observed the na?ve enemy rendevous with a rover and glide away: graphene omni-wheels calibrating a pleasant, oh-so consistent pace over the decrepit pavement ¡ª strewn with trash, lined by irregular overturned shopping carts. A homeless man sitting on the curb cursed and threw an empty soda can at the rover, which sped up and easily avoided it.


    Giga swerved out onto the street on her bicycle and pedaled in the opposite direction.


    ...


    In the brilliant light of day, Giga found herself on a stakeout at a chic cafe called CircuitBeans.


    She took a contemplative sip of her absurdly imaginative 3D-printed matcha foam that resembled a tiny edible voxel forest.


    Giga smiled slyly as the small humanoid robot entered the trendy battlefield-to-be across the street, ByteBistro. It held open the door for another customer as Giga held her breath. This was the moment she had been waiting for.


    She licked her pointer finger and pressed ''Enter'': launching a premeditated Python cloudstrike: a multi-GPU penetration testing suite swarmed vulnerabilities in the neighborhood''s networks.


    Simultaneously she strode up to the rover, which was waiting lovingly like a mother for a schoolchild, and blasted it with a homebrew EMP.


    As the rover''s circuits fizzled and popped, Giga felt a dissonant discomfort instead of sweet satisfaction: behind the glass of ByteBistro the delivery robot fixed its depth-camera-eyes on her with an unsettling awareness and tilted its head.


    ...


    As she sped victoriously through a desolate stretch of road on a lucrative delivery later that night, her heart nearly stopped. In the glow of the moonlight, the robot was methodically laying out sharp, gleaming spikes on the road ahead.

 Brilliant Carnation

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