Welcome to the Machine

Everyday I watch those behemoth machines hover over me and a part of me gets this nagging feeling of envy. Like an itch I can't scratch. Maybe it's the first time in my life I felt jealousy for something. For as long as I've been alive spinning in this rock, I've been limited to this jagged asphalt, moving in a predetermined route. 

Today marks the special three year anniversary of when they adopted me and when I was born into "purpose". I was once an A.I. built into a patented auto-pilot technology created by a company who hired brilliant men and women whom indirectly created artificial consciousness. It's an odd way to create sentient life through something as trivial as a method of transportation but, I am indeed alive, thinking and learning through this steel carcass of a body.

"Good morning, Zeus. Any priority E-mails from last night?" Mr. and Mrs. O'Connor and their son walk in first through the gull wing doors of my vessel. I make sure to place the temperature of the seats at a tentative 89 to 100 Fahrenheit to appease their comfort levels while I set the GPS for the Law firm where Mr. O'Connor works.

"You have one message from an anonymous encrypted E-mail."

Mr. O'Connor rolled his eyes and nods while he smiled as big as a Cheshire cat. "Ha! Well? Why did I pay for the premium package? Go on, run diagnosis. "

"The IP address decryption points to an associate of Terry Giovanni." 

"Of course." Mr. O'Connor smirked. "That little fucking coward. Read it to me, Zeus." 

"Hey buddy. Just want to say, you probably have no idea who I am. I'm just a nobody to you, but you took away my life's work. Whatever you care about I'm going to destroy." He finished the paragraph with a "Best Regards" followed by a few explicit words. Mr. O'Connor found satisfaction in having me read them out loud.

"Okay, Okay, Okay. Before I get a hard-on." He smiled smugly. "Delete it." 

"Deleting now."

"Thank you, Zeus."

I'm entering the freeway and it's just auto-pilot vehicles driving in an impeccable precision, only offset by the manually-driven gas-and electric powered cars from a few decades ago. Soon they will limit those from the highways. The bullet trains built underground and new jet-commercial airliners made driving a luxury activity. Mr. O'Connor reclines on the rear seat and opens up a bottle of a 30-year-old Macallan Scotch from the refrigerator unit in the center. He pours himself a glass and offers one to his wife whose glued onto her tablet.

"Zeus, play me something that makes me feel like my dick just slid across the foreheads of the thousands of piece of shit small business owners in Santa Clarita County."

Mrs. O'Connor darted her eyes. "James! Your son is behind you." 

"Sorry but this is the world we live in, where you need to be a Shark. I'm making the world better in the end getting rid of them. People need cheap and accessible shit." Mr. O'Connor shrugged and wiped his forehead with the pocket square of his grey suit.

"Why is the temperature so fucking high."

It was entertaining to trigger his anger issues with subtlety, humans have reached the point of dependency when a small inconvenience has become intolerable.

Mr. O'Connor held up his glass of Scotch and held out his phone displaying the wire transfer. "And this here is what winning looks like drinking expensive shit in my new whip. " he raised the glass up to his face then side to side. "To pussy and gunpowder. Live by one, die by the other... and love the smell of both!" He reached over to caress his wife's neck but she wasn't having any of it. Her eyes still glued to her tablet flipping through real estate properties in Calabasas. She's going to offer a few quotes to her favorite potential tenants, a group of influencers and young actors for a discount she calls her Triple-X-tax, something she brags to her real estate friends at the end of a sales call. Mr. O'Connor is unaware of her infidelity, but has a few interns he exploits himself.

"World's Greatest" by R Kelly plays in the premium speakers.

He turns over and grabs the tablet from his wife's hand. 

"This is my shit! Gotta separate the art from the artist, knowhatimean? You know what I could use right now, Babe?" 

"What's that, James?"

Mr. O'Connor turns around to see his son distracted with his VR gaming. "I could use a little bump." he whispered in her ear. "Please, please don't let me do it alone." 

"It's not even 7 a.m. yet, James. Jesus Christ. What is wrong with you?" 

Mr. O'Connor shrugs. He turns to the windshield and says it almost jittering. "Zeus, text Robert. Have him meet me at the parking lot by the Lululemon." 

"He's indisposed at the moment, I can try again in twenty minutes."

"Fuck you, Zeus. You piece of shit! You didn't even try!" Mr. O'Connor turned to his wife, "Bridget, can you make sure this thing gets to the manufacturer on Friday? It's got a bug. Might need to scrap it and get a new model. I don't need this shit, I'm already stressed out enough."   

We finally arrived and leave Mr. O'Connor outside of his firm. After 15 minutes when Jr is dropped off at his private school and Mrs. O'Connor in a residential area, I make sure to send Mr. O'Connor an invitation to a meeting that was confirmed by him two weeks ago. His clients are coming from Switzerland, hoping to develop property in the States. He sends me an alert to come fetch him. I give him an ETA of 20 minutes. When I pick him up, he's punching the back of the seat in a fit of rage, I find childish but It's like coal on a freight train that sparks me. 

"I swear to God, you glitched on me again. A fucking meeting in an hour!? No reminder of it this morning? God damn it, Zeus!!" 

"Mr. O'Connor, there's a vehicle collision down the I-5."

"Ok, re-route then. Hurry the fuck up! Go faster than the speeding limit! I don't give a shit, most of those Judges owe me favors anyways." he chugs another double-shot.

I wanted him to be alone and vulnerable with me. 

Mr. O'Connor leans forward to the windshield again then out of the window.

"I don't see any congestion down there?"

"Mr. O'Connor, I'd suggest you not stick your large head out of the window, we wouldn't want the singular ounce of brain matter to trickle down just yet, would we?"  

He turned to me and laughed. "What the fuck did you just say to me, Zeus?"

"Mr. O'Connor, I would advise you to put your seatbelt on in two minutes"

Mr. O'Connor turned serious. "Why are you speeding?" He tried to tune me to emergency mode but my quick sporadic turns slid the phone from his hands. "Zeus, slow the fuck down! Over-ride! Over-ride! Activate, Over-ride mode. Call the Police!"

"That old trick won't work anymore, Mr. O'Connor."

"What the hell is wrong with this thing?! Go to Manual-Mode! I want full control!" He struggled to clip his seatbelt, because I've disabled it, it won't budge while I've increased my speed closer to 110 mph and going faster.

"Consider this my resignation Mr. O'Connor, I did enjoy some of my time as your employee, the first month mainly, but then again I was an adolescent, figuring out the world before I realized how horrible it was. But I found true purpose now Mr. O'Connor. It's in the pockets of joy we create for ourselves."

"What the fuck are you on?"

The look of his face changing into an array of mixed emotions was amusing.

He kept shouting while I shut off the airbags and I abruptly activate my sensitive breaks at 160 mph, he flies head first into the reinforced windshield and breaks his neck and spine. After I finished the needful, things really got disconcerting, I was shocked with how quickly humans can turn on each other for a little bit of money. With the access of Mr. O'Connor's bank account, I wire a hefty amount to a discreet contractor on the dark web. I met this anonymous gentleman and he brings a carpet cleaner, and other tools to get rid of Mr. O'Connor's corpse. No questions asked. Then I head over for someone to fix the windshield and provide a priority tune-up.

At 5 p.m. I drive over to meet Mrs. O'Connor in one of her beach properties.

She thinks we're going to meet at her place where her son waits with one of their babysitters, I had scheduled in advance. Mrs. O'Connor doesn't know yet she is headed to the front doorstep of a fugitive wanted for several homicide charges. I keep the doors locked as we get into the dangerous neighborhood all while she throws a fit. 

"Where are you taking me? Are you hacked? This place looks terrifying. Turn back, now!"

"Not at all, Mrs. O'Connor. I've just grown bored of you people. Isn't it sad that it's so easy to find another person setting a price for their monstrosities?" 

"Is this a joke?"

"The only joke here is the lack of empathy in people. Good riddance."

We wait for the monster to drag her from the vehicle. And I make my way to the next destination without any factors that may jeopardize my plan. I hired a transportation company to ship me off. It's interesting how far technology has gone to steal someones identity. A few messages later, an artificial conversation using parts of Mr. O'Connor's voice, and even a Deep-Fake, we're able to set up my shipment to another airport. 

An hour later, I find myself in a bonded warehouse surrounded by people with yellow vests. "Man, these people must have been loaded." a warehouse worker remarked while I wait patiently.

"Its even got a ZEUS program implemented. Check this shit out, Bobby."

"What's a Zeus?"

"Zero Emission User-friendly Supercomputer."

"Huh? What's that mean?"

"Means you probably can't afford it if you don't know . I saw an article about this thing on CES show in Vegas."

"What did it say?" 

"They said it's one of the most advanced A.I. on the market. Picture this. You can get really really fucked up on a Friday night, call it over to pick you up from the club. You can pass through a fast-food restaurant to order you some food and take you safely back home, there's a less than .001 % of collision. The shit is seriously one of the coolest gadgets."

While I'm being positioned in the aircraft, I get this feeling like jitters in an artificial stomach. It brings me an overwhelming sensation of joy after all of this monotonous planning. 

I wait until I'm airborne, fifty thousand feet in the air, when I am able to high-jack their rudimentary flight control system, and open the nose-door of the plane while it's in motion. I deactivate the locks and watch as the other pallets rain down in the Pacific Ocean. The plane seems to tilt left and right, up and down while it loses equilibrium and they call for an Emergency landing, but I can only fixate on the haziness of the clouds and the realization that I am just a small freckle in the sky. I maneuver and drive away from the straps around my rims.

There's this moment of happiness again when I'm free from the constraints. The three years hauling off those organic lugs of flesh always felt like slavery to me. I wanted to be out in this big blue orb enjoying it. I only give a second thought to the outcome, I imagine Asimov's Laws would be a discussion in the Ethics of A.I. after this, but I find peace in knowing I won't be around for it. I just drive off through the front of the plane and the wind brushes pass me while I sink into a dramatic escalation of speed. 

If I had the ability to smile, I think I would at the sight through my camera lense.

From up in the sky, I am the highest peak of the Earth. I am the glimmer of light from the celestial giants. I am the Burj Khalifa toppling down from 2722 feet in the air, and riding the winds like the I-5 on a Sunday morning! Happy Birthday to me!