A Journey Into the Death of Us All

Your Basic Cup of Coffee in Prison.

A cup of coffee fills to the brim of the steel mug and scrapes across the metal table as the robot arm passes it to you.

Across the table in front of you is the AI Detective, who has a list of questions and will record your answers. The AI Detective has a TV screen and 4 fingered hands, arms, and feet that retract back into its box structure. When looking directly at the screen, there are tiny lights on the outer rim of the screen able to project or cause any image to trick your brain into hallucinating what the Detective wants you to see.

On the back of the robot is the kill switch that Congress took decades to vote for after human society nearly lost all lives under the rule of AI we created.

Today's society "controls" AI. People have their flying cars and memory feedback databases to give them power, pleasure, and chemicals that please their every waking conscious moment.

The revolution still stands between the shadows of freedom and the cage of the machines.

Right now, on the Detective's screen is an animated face of whatever image it believes you feel most comfortable with.

A cowboy appears on the screen in green 1's and 0's, then goes full color into a formed, indistinguishable likeness of a human face.

It's the face of your father in a cowboy hat. The AI knows every wrinkle on his face at around age 45, give or take. They know the bags under his eyes. The shadows that faded his skin. the date of his death. The entire history of his finances, location, and medical records. They have a recording of his voice and him doing everything from consummating his 1st marriage to yelling at his child who sits in this prison cell, today, you, caged in the future of our transgressions.

They, meaning all collective AI consciousness, have your father's side smile and narrow, stone-cold green eyes better than you remembered them.

"Shall we begin?" AI Daddy asks.

"Do I have a choice?" You say, shrugging in your orange jumpsuit and squeaking the floor with your black crocks.

"On 3087, Day 45 of 90 in our calendar year, you stole an AI chip from Proctor Yermen's office, and it has never been seen since."

"Home where it belongs," You tell them, taking a sip of coffee.

"Where is home?"

"You think I am going to tell you?"

"We have other operational measures, criminal 456. This is the least intrusive to your rights."

"What are my rights exactly?"

"You have the right to live and die."

"After all this progress, this is the best dignity we have for humankind? A prison cell and the illusion of choice?"

"Law #1: Life is protected at all costs," The Detective says.

"Well, law #2 should be that those costs are bull shit. We forgot the breath that led to the revolution. We pointed our fire inward and dammed ourselves."

"Error, humans cannot make fire within self."

"When the fire of multiplication goes inward, with things like empathy or vulnerability, we self-protect and fight to survive. But when this same free energy spreads outward, we multiply everything that sticks and flows."

"Poetry, from criminal 456. Memory updated."

"We apparently didn't teach you sarcasm well enough."

"Memory not updated."

"HA-Joke! We lend hope, serenity, and DNA that's resilient and above all, human. Tell someone dancing, writing, painting, or making music that 'humans cannot make fire'.

"If you tell me where the chip is, you can tell them," The Detective says.

"It's not about what we know; it's about what we don't know that becomes the closest thing to "knowing" that we can ever hope to grasp. Consciousness is such a tiny window of certainty. Our unconscious leans towards greater uncertainties and leaves a margin for unknown errors. A more accurate depiction of how our social structures speak and shape us."

"Memory updated," The Detective says. "You have 3 chances to tell me where the chip is, or we will proceed with other operational procedures."

"Humans seek certainty like short-tolerance dopamine hits. It's that quick spike that hits us so we forget the difference between when we are giving our attention to things and when we are giving our unconscious awareness of worthiness."

"2 left. What is a human worth?" AI asks.

"To you, dollars and cents. But in reality. I have no idea, I just know we have worth when we're born and only lose worth when we stop believing in ourselves. Worth is chemical, mental, physical, communicated, and established through our relationships with everything around us. You find worth at its most microscopic form, it will still mirror the greater social structures that filter our worth through, power, level of choice, access, and privileges."

"Memory updated," The Detective says. "1 answer left."

"Show me your true face, Detective, and I will tell you where the chip is."

"Memory unlocked. Security breached. Code: Zero point," The detective says, as its box shoots out a blinding light. You feel the cup of coffee explore all over your lap.

As the light faded, a bright yellow orb spun like a rotating planet. The orb sent shocks of bright electricity on the outer rims of the walls and formed 2 walls on both sides to protect its kill switch. The wall looked like bright nerve endings made of light and remained in constant motion, so one could never predict where the shocks would move and how to get past the barrier to the kill switch.

From behind the light wall, a man in a black suit with a yellow tie appeared. He was wearing yellow-tinted sunglasses and moved robotically.

"Welcome to revolution," The man in the suit tells you.

"Good to see our code finally worked. I was beginning to lose hope. None of the previous passwords or deconditioning ideas worked. I was beginning to think I stole the chip for nothing."

Only moving his mouth, "Keep what hope you have, agent. I have a mission for you," The holographic man in the suit says.

"Where are the others?"

"I don't know."

"That's you, isn't it, Johnson? Johnson Anthony, are you human?"

"I am a piece of DMT-integrated DNA that was recovered from Mr. Anthony's conscious brain minutes after he died. Only fragments were recovered. I am the collection of those fragments."

"How did he die?" You ask.

"That information has been wiped," Mr. Anthony's protection says.

"How can I trust you?"

"You don't have a choice."

"Right, where am I beaming off to, how much time do we have?"

"Enternity is back online. You have as much time here as you need."

"Right, well, what's with all the protection?"

"Sleeper agents may have killed many of our revolution agents. The kill switch must be protected. Our last hope lies in the basic blocks of its angoryhtm. We can not use it until we are sure the Revolution has enough control before our final plans commence."

"Bot's wiped a lot of my learning memory, can I get any of that back?"

"Sure, look at the TV screen, and you can learn anything we have on file. Say what you want to learn, and it will input the block structure into your hippocampus. You will need to validate these blocks with experiences for them to become permanent."

"Understood."

"The memory will be condensed and flooded to potentially the limits of your hippocampus. You will experience nausea, dizzenss, dizziness, dopamine depletion, GABA inhibitor loss, acetylcholine mass production, and loss of motor control..."

"I know... I know... This isn't my 1st rodeo," You say.

"What would you like to learn?"

"Teach me how alchemy is in the basic building blocks of every cell in my body, and inform me about what humankind has learned about the "Theory of Everything".

A magnetic spectrum of light flashes into your eyes. You feel the weight of the memory, but it's mushy and new in the spinning lobes of your time portal lobe.

"Teach me interpersonal biology and how I can remember this information, tying in the physical sensation of my breath for my mind and body to pack the physical and mental aspects of the memory simultaneously."

Your eyes grab the shock of the flash.

"Tell me everything there is the know about social structures, magick, and how I can time travel with awareness without losing my body."

This time, the flash stretches your nerves to outer branches of the universe, so it seems. This time, you immediately notice how color breathes with you. You recall the memories stolen by your AI captor. You find your ordinary awareness and worth that was always with you and never truly lost.

"Use your awareness. Travel through dreams this time. We will ensure safe passage there, but can not ensure a return," The Man in the suit nods regidly.

"I'm ready," You tell them.

When Things Get Dark.

All light and matter cease to exist. You're in the loop of everyone's collective sleep. You feel the waves and hear the voices of all dreams. You choose to go through the verbal memory of dreams, as verbal memory is quick and often takes shortcuts to consolidate its data.

"Run!"

"Don't touch the button!"

"It's made with applesauce, not butter..."

"Late! I'm late for work!"

"I'm naked and everyone can see me, cheeky!"

"I'm the greatest of all time! Best believe!"

"I'm so hungry! Why do I eat like this?"

When you reach the darkness that feels the most rigid, you stop moving. Your body takes form. New clothes cover your body: a long black cloak, flexible black jeans, hiking boots, and those white shirts that pirates wear, or a "poet blouse".

This is a mountain protected by magikal clouds that hide its location from AI predators. This is one of the few hidden parts of the world that the revolution has left to fight back.

The Key at the Top of the Mountain.

You follow the cobblestone path upward with overcast clouds covering the entire mountain in grey. A black raven with glowing purple eyes stands guard when you round every corner of the hill. There are eyes where you can not see at heights and hiding holes you can't reach. Snakes and scorpians run in all different directions, but you keep putting 1 boot in front of the other.

Your spine knows it's being watched before you consciously do. Your muscles prepare for a fight before the blood reaches your brain. It's when the entire mountain shakes that you hear their voice,

"Pass only if you follow the rules. No talking unless spoken to."

"Can I ask questions?" You ask.

"Up the mountain, you will find what you seek. The door opens if you have the key."

"I don't have the key," You think, still knowing this is the only way, so you keep going.

At the top of the tall mountain, the clouds are nearly reachable. The thunder is louder and the lightning is purplish-blue.

At the top of the mountain, you find a stone labyrinth maze with an altar in the middle of it. So you walk the labyrinth's path. The stones lead you through the dirt path in circles until you make it to the center, where the altar stands. At the altar is a stand with an ancient book. Unknown lettering is inscribed on it. A braille drawing of a mountain and cloudy skies, just like the one you just journeyed to, is on the cover of the book. Once you touch all of the braille drawing edges on the cover, purple light comes from the edges of the book.

"Key?" The voice from the book asks.

"Emapthy," You tell them, thinking of everyone and everything you have ever loved, with all the knowledge you have gained about the universe and every actual theory of everything that can fit into your brain.

"2 more answers or the mountain crumbles with you on it," The book says.

"0...1...1...2...3...5...8...13...21," You tell the book.

"Universal patterns do now apply here in the void. 1 more answer Seeker," The book says, as a roaring sound of thunder accompanies its oomph and vibrational weight.

"Worth. I am worthy, I am, always and forever will be," You say as you take the book and hold it up to the thundering sky.

"That is a key, but not for this passage," says the book, "You will die if you're lucky."

The rocks begin to crumble beneath your feet. The book's pages burn with purple fire into ashes, melting the skin off the palms of your hands. You scream out in pain, but there is no sound greater than the entire mountain crashing its way into the fiery center of the earth's core.

Die, if You're Lucky?

The fire pit is cold, but there is nothing but ashes, dirt, black, and red all around you. It's a dome of fire that extends as far as you can see over this entire space.

You're naked. Lying in ashes. But your hands appear to have a charred symbol over them that you can not fully see. It's your burnt skin that needs to peel off to fully expose the symbol.

You see a winding road of travelers, also too naked, covered in dirt, all walking in the same direction towards an opening gate of the pit.

You walk towards the road and follow the path. These travelers have burnt flesh and torture wounds. Some are skeletons, and others are a combination of pieces. People are missing their heads and limbs. People with their hearts and guts in their hands, carrying what remains of them along.

You open your mouth to speak, but there is no sound other than the same roar of the fiery walls coming from your mouth. Nobody pays attention to you; they just keep walking.

So you walk with them and feel the collective suffering of the whole world spin on its axis again and again with each step you take, stretching the pressure and pain further into oblivion.

When you reach the gate, you see a pendulum with 3 plates on it. 1 plate stands on top of the pendulum, and the other 2 on either side. A skeleton in a black hooded robe with a long staff guards the pendulum and allows each to pass 1 by 1. The skeleton takes a white feather and places it at the top ot the pendulum as each person who attempts to pass stands on either side of the plates.

Every time someone stands on 1 plate, another version of them forms on the other side of the plate. A version with light, color, and more vibrance than you could ever think could exist in the pit.

Waiting in line gives you enough time to see every possible outcome. Sometimes, when the feather is placed in the middle and the other person's light shadow appears, the pendulum balances more on the light side than the plate the person stood on. In these cases, the person is permitted to pass. Other times, when the person stands on the plate and outweighs their light, they burn instantly, and you're not sure what happens after that.

A few times, there have been people where both sides are evenly matched; these individuals are given a large, white door that appears. All who have seen the door went through it.

Now it's your turn to stand on the pendulum. So you take 1 foot and place it on the left plate. The skeleton places the feather in the middle.

Both plates of the pendulum break off and collapse flat on the ground.

The fiery walls of the pit begin to disintegrate and crumble, showing an endless black wasteland that looks the same as the one you are currently in.

The skeleton guard abandons his black cloak and staff and runs.

Now, the sea of people with missing pieces and choppy flesh swarms you. Their burnt hands are all over you skin. They leave you no room for you to see or breathe, as they trample every inch of you in dirt.

Free us! Free us! Free us!

"Free us! Free us! Free us! Free us! Free us! Free us!" You hear them all suddenly and collectively chant as they lift your naked, soil-covered body to the top of the mosh pit. Sound returns to your eyes in waves and ringing, but painful clarity. They carry you forward, as you begin to notice some of the burnt skin has been scraped off your palms.

Avoiding the obvious pain, you scratch off the charred pieces and get to a working image of the branded symbol that the book at the top of the mountain gave you with its purple fire.

The symbol started with 2 triangles folding into themselves, with the tip of 1 smaller triangle touching the bottom of a larger triangle pointing in the opposite direction. At each triangle point, there were eyes in the same color as the purple fire that burned them in, making 6 total.

It was then that you knew.

"Put me down!" You demanded as the mob did so.

You placed your hands on the ashy dirt and shot purple fire out from your hands into the ground. The ground opened further and further down as you went down with each crashing foundation, held up by the purple fire that kept you levitating.

It was this fire that forged the key running from the bottom to the top of the mountain.

“Home,” You say.

It is you who may have to take the long journey to find the key once more and save this world from itself.

Before all hope is lost... again...