Oooh this is an awesome story! I'd read more if you want to write it!

My morning this day went awry the first minute I woke up.

For a few past years, I had a habit - when I woke up, I checked my favorite news channel in Mailgram. This day, however, I wasn't able to do so - because nothing in my house had Internet connection.

Nor WiFi, nor 4G worked. I was a bit begrudged about it, but whatever - I could live without it for a day. More so, my ISP and mobile provider were the same company, so I just assumed something went wrong on their end (again). I was in no mood to argue with them at 6:30 AM and was going to work, so I postponed this problem to a later date.

Then, I decided to cook some eggs. And - surprise! - no electricity either.

Well, at least it explained things - if it was city wide outage, mobile towers with internet are obviously out of commission too. And, if it was a city wide problem, that meant what I didn't need to argue with anyone myself. At least some good came out of it.

The other problem was, however, that I lived on 12 floor of an apartment building. If there was no electricity, that meant what I had to take stairs. But I just counted it as morning exercise.

Finally, after stairs took all my breath away, I was able to leave the building. I worked in local school as a "Fundamentals of life safety" teacher. Basically, I told young and silly schoolboys and girls how not to get lost in the forest, what to do with contraceptives, and how to bandage a wound in critical situation. So, I was pretty health myself - as an example for kids and teenagers. However, taking stairs almost took me out, but I prevailed.

Luckily, my school was nearby, 8 minutes at brisk walk pace. You would think that if there is power outage, where would be no classes today. But 1) If outage was for a long time, we need to use schools as community gathering centers 2) It is not like we need electricity to give classes. We are not that rich to give pads or something to children - books here were still go-to. In other words - even if had to work only with sunlight, I still had my classes to give.

And only when I started walking to school I noticed something.

The mountains were gone.

See, our small city was located in Urals - so, the mountains were constantly giving us their monumental shadow. And now, they were gone.

I tried clearing my eyes, thinking maybe I was just too tired after this morning's exercise. But nope - mountains didn't appear.

A feeling of dread started creeping on me.

I sped up my walk to school and noticed a lot of people were headed to it too - both students and their parents alike. Some of these parents, I knew for sure, had an early morning jobs and should be on their way at this time of day.

I started running.

By the time I reached a school, a crowd was at school's yard. I saw our principal, Ursula Pavlovna - a stoic, 50-something woman, with stern gaze, endless love for children, and an utter hatred for people who tried to meddle in her school affairs. In other words - great woman.

She saw me approaching and waved me to come. People in crowd saw me too and started to give way - I was pretty known person around these parts and no one tried to block me.

Only when I approached the principal, I noticed that our local policemen were already here, as well as most of the school's stuff. Even Katya, the young, always late math teacher, was here - all anxious and all.

"So, anyone know where the mountains went? I know our city is not pretty, it is not that bad to just leave us"

I tried to discharge the situation a bit, but most people present just tensed up.

"No one knows anything" - Ursula Pavlovna replied. - "But considering how much education you need to be a government official these days, I doubt some of them will notice the difference even if these mountains fell on their heads. No offense, Alexei"

"None taken", - I replied. Before taking on the teacher's role, I was working for the government, but that is a story for another time.

And when, this happened.

A bright light started shining right above the city. It was brighter than the sun - but, strangely enough, it wasn't scorching even one bit. Then, the voice came:

"People of... " - a noise of shuffling papers started to come from the light.

"Krasnogranite!!!" - someone shouted from the crowd. I think it was a voice of Lenya, local prankster.

"Yes, thank you." - the voice replied. "So, people of Krasnogranite. I need to inform that due to a technical issue, caused by unseen consequences during an important magic experiment of our country, you were transported from your homeworld here.

Don't worry - our specialists are working as fast as possible to solve this incident. If all goes well, you will be home in no time!

For the time being, try no to leave the boundaries of your cities, which are now marked with the bright blue line. We don't hold responsibility for anything what happens to anyone who crosses this line.

Additional instructions and guidance will be provided later. We hope this situation will be resolved safely for everyone involved.

We apologize for the inconvenience caused by this incident. We ask for your patience until the matter is resolved. Thank you for your understanding.

Office of High Monarch Hurdun, team of magic related incidents.

Best regards,"

Aaaand the light was gone. Puff.

The silence was tangible in the school yard. Everyone was afraid to move and to utter even a single word.

"So," - Ursula Pavlovna broke the dread, - government officials are dicks here too, aren't they?"

Someone started laughing at it. Then I realized it was me. People started to join in too.

Yeah, we are maybe stuck in another world. There will be definitely a lot of problems, some even we never saw before.

But some of them were definitely too close to home.

"So I'm a Spider, So What?" but an entire city rather than an entire class?

Lots of options here, like RPG-style where everyone is basically the same age as at death, but suddenly appearing and functional crippling the economy and probably starting multiple civil wars. Coming all in as newborns, so likely a larger number being monsters, though many very quickly dying off.

Also makes me think of the scale of the world itself, or if there's a sort of buffer where folks appear over time. Now that I think of it, this might be a bit more like "Log Horizon" but other than knowledge, everyone is effectively useless.

Cadence Sulls

It is opening night.

In the center of the fair a dragon cranes his long neck high above the rides, lets moonlight slide over his scales like a jug of milk being poured. Master, a humanoid bug in top hat and red waistcoat, standing by the dragon’s clawed feet, laughs and slaps his six hands together and says, “Let there be light!”

Flames spout into the air as if a rocket is taking off. The queue gathered at the fair’s entrance, gold-leaf tickets clutched protectively to their chests, whoop and clap. The fair is open.

Beatrice is not thirsty but will drink tonight regardless. She stands outside her tent, between the two cardboard-teeth that drape down around the entrance. She inhales and holds in her stomach, lets it out again. She’s getting plump and she knows it. It’s incredible, she thinks, how many people are willing to pay to have their blood drained by a vampire. What a dull world it is must be for such people to exist. She is not one of the more popular attractions, except perhaps with housewives fresh from a steamy novel, and yet there will be a steady stream of paying customers tonight. More blood than she wants.

Beatrice watches Harry rotate his shell in the distance. Harry, once a travelling shoe salesman in a different life, is a gigantic snail with benches screwed into his shell. Later, he will undulate his body and rotate his shell to win screams from visitors.

Another burst of flame. Every five minutes Randolph cascades fire into the sky, blue, red, white — a light show, shadows cast, faces illuminated momentarily, the cold winter air shocked into warmth.

Beatrice hears the chants from outside the ground. On the fair’s first night in any town, the protestors are as much of a specatacle as the fare itself. They are their own festival of bibles and microphones, bubbling anger and frothing wine. Even the non-religious preach against the satanic creatures within the walls. Creatures like her.

Visitors are marching through now. The night has begun in earnest. Children point and run from freakshow to freakshow as parents hurry after them like their kids are housecats escaped.

”Look like you want to be here, Beatrice,” master demands. She hadn’t seen him scuttle to her tent, but he stands there now, whip in hand. She’s never seen him use it but wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

”I’m a vampire,” she retorts. ”They like us moody.”

”Well I like you seductive, smiling. Understand? You’re prettier when you smile.”

She understands well enough. There is nowhere else in this world for creatures like them. Without the security that comes from being part of this wandering pack, this bizarre family, there is only death. They are loathed as much as they are adored, often more so. If the master kicks her out it would be a death sentence.

Besides, where would she get her blood from? She can’t bear the thought of taking it from the unwilling.

Beatrice has her first customers. She bites neck after neck, careful to leave a twisted toothy imprint — a souvenir most desirable — and careful not to take too much for fear of bloating early. Still, the blood gives her a buzz and she lets herself enjoy this first night in town.

Giant Sarah strides by Beatrice’s tent on her break. She bends down, hand on back, and peels open the flap. “All good, Bee?”

Beatrice looks at Giant Sarah’s feet, mostly because that’s all she can see of the huge woman. They are blistered and bandaged, toes like smashed boulders. “What’s he had you doing, Sarah?”

”What’s he not?”

Beatrice knows she’s set up half the fair herself. Did most of the heavyy moving, as well as running the helter-skelter, constantly bending to pick up children and adults alike who want to ride the whirling slide.

”You need to take it easy,” says Beatrice.

The tent flaps fell back in place. “Yeah. I know,” drifts Sarah’s resigned voice as the ground rocks. “We all do.”

There are each under the same threat. Of being kicked out of their supposed family. But what can they do? Master saved them all. He’d gathered them, the freaks that they’d become, once they’d woken in this world. He’d been the one to come up with a plan that would keep them safe, had made deals with land owners to allow their fair to tour and set up.

Safe. Kept them all safe.

But not truly.

Beatrice doesn’t know his real name. No one does. He is the master of ceremonies, he said, and that was all.

Beatrice closes a little early tonight and stands outside her tent, watches her friends — the dragon forced to breathe fire on clockwork as his throat tears itself to ribbons,

She is careful as she meanders through the fair a few moments later, blends in with last visitors, navy hoody shading her face. She has never been in master’s caravan before, but tonight she creeps inside. He’s out by Tara the yeti now, who is gluing back hair that’s falling out in tufts under the stress.

Beatrice rifles through every drawer in the caravan, breaks open suitcases. It has to end, she thinks. They are being treated like animal, not a family. It’s time for the truth.

But there is no truth to find. Not in here. What was she expecting anyway? A diary saying his evil scheme of working them all to death is going wonderfully. Idiot, she thinks.

She’s about to leave when the door bursts open and master walks in. His eyes roam over the scene methodically, as if he’s ironing a shirt with his gaze.

He settles on Beatrice. “You’re done. I knew we shouldn’t have kept a vampire. Especially once you got fat. I want you out, tonight.”

In her old life she was married, had a child. She had love. In this life she has only misery.

Rage. She dives at master. She buries her teeth into his neck, cracking through carapace. He screams but the dragon fire outside is roaring louder.

She pulls her mouth away, smears his blood from off her lips, then gazes into his eyes. She’s only done this a handful of times before, and even then she wasn’t sure if it they were lucky guesses or she really did see into their minds.

This time she concentrates with her entire being. His pupils grow, the black water pooling deeper, wider. And she begins to see.

She sees him as young man in a different life. Sees him full of hate for the world but cannot see why. Sees a lust for control that he can never have. He is reading esoteric ancient texts, those about moving on, past lives and new lives, controlled reincarnation.

He is studying how to make bombs.

He is looking at maps. Areas densely populated. It does not matter to him who lives there, whose lives he’s ripping away, whose families are being deprived. Density, ease of access, that’s what matters.

She watches his grinning face as he sets the explosives.

It’s enough for her.

In a frezy she goes for his neck again. She will not stop though. She is a leech. She will take it all until master is a dried out husk.

​

Three nights later, with master still missing and presumed to have left the fair — perhaps run off with some local — the attractions pack themselves up and ready to move. Beatrice does not know whether to tell them what she found out, let alone what she did. Would it help them?

There is more laughter in the air than on usual leaving nights, more hope, Beatrice thinks. No one forced into roles, everyone simply working together.

OMGGG THIS IS GOOD IF THIS IS A BOOK I WOULD DEFINITELY READ THIS....

Huehuehuehue I am God Man,

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[deleted]

[removed]

That's a solid name haha Was this sort of thing what you had in mind for florapunk? I admit I enjoyed writing it quite a lot, but it ended up being heavier on world-building than characters

I googled it. It's called person of interest

Journal entry : 31/01/23

When I first saw it, I was mightily confused. There it was, my latest victim's photo in the newspaper. But that itself wouldn't be confusing, No, it was the headline accompanying it that got me confounded- "The Nocturnal Blood Demon". They have attributed a series of my latest target's deaths to some sort of vigilante and gave him a cool name, too. I am almost jealous, anyone would be, with a boring name like Charlie. The article was speculating that the 'Demon' was riddling the city of crime. This posed a huge conundrum for me. Vampires must walk a fine line between infamy and staying under the radar. Vampires gain more power the more infamous they are. But, get too famous and you will get hunted down. Any old vampire will tell you that the secret to living a long life as a vampire, is staying under the radar. That is true, many would say being less powerful but safer would be better than burning too quickly. My main reason for choosing the victims I chose was that no one would dig too much into them. After all, they were drug dealers and criminals who always avoided prison on technicalities. I even made sure to pick an equal number of people from rival gangs to make it appear like two gangs sabotaging each other. But, this was the best of both worlds. My persona would gain infamy and as long as no one suspects vampire involvement, there was no problem.

But still, the safer path was to change up my M.O., the sensible option. I would have gone with that too if I didn't have the memories. You see, vampires get the memories of humans we drink out of. Vampires just don't drink blood. If that were the case, I would have somehow stolen blood from blood banks instead of going after people. No, when we drink from someone by inserting our fang into someone, we drink their soul, through their blood. And once a vampire starts sucking blood from a human, even if not much blood was drunk, the entire soul of the victim slowly escapes from the human from the wound made by the vampire. So, any human a vampire selects to drink from, surely dies. And with the soul that is drunk, the memories of the human are absorbed too. This is the reason why older vampires are very wise. They have memories of lots and lots of human years and a wide knowledge of a lot of things.

Alas, I digress, I saw something from the memories of my latest victim, He was planning with some of his friends to plant a bomb in a train, the boss of a rival gang was going to travel in. Something in me wanted to prevent that from happening. Not like I care about the innocent people going to be killed in the blast. No, it would have sparked a big gang war, and a lot of criminals would die needlessly, a waste of their souls. But, this way, I could stage a vigilante action on these people and "discover" that they had plans to bomb a nearby school. Yes, it was not a school they actually planned to bomb. But they would not be alive to contest it and I get more fame and avoid a gang war too. Yes, the rival gang could be used later for more souls and infamy.

​

- Charlie, the local evil scheming Vampire

(PS: My first attempt to get into writing prompts. Please provide feedback)

finally someone get the references

yeah, this prompt is basically the very cliche trope "I love you so much that drinking the magical soup won't get rid my memory of you" in Chinese folklore and literature. I wanted to post it here to see how people from other countries would interpreted it

No clue. If there was I didn’t watch it.

This whole thing was beautifully written.

Wasn't there a show like that?

[removed]

She couldn’t sleep a wink last night. The thoughts of The Jester being the Shadow King were almost too silly for her to grasp her head around. There is no status, no power, not even a good reason for them to be close with each other. It's almost too suspicious, she then thought maybe the King might be into men, but then remembered that time he hit on her while drunk and asked her to be queen. Before vomiting all over her shoes. However as a jester they would be allowed to be at the castle at all hours and talking to the King wouldn’t be out of the question. However in the middle of the night it was too much. However she did learn something very interesting about Demons that she didn’t think that anyone else knew, that some had the power and ability to change their appearance. Which gave her so much joy she screamed with satisfaction.

As months passed and the days were normal, she started to follow the jester around the castle. He would sometimes be in the library reading books about acting and such from other lands. She noticed two things, he was never really where he was supposed to be and met with the King at least once every couple weeks. Tonight surely after the news that the advisor to the King of the West would be visiting in a week's time, the Shadow King would visit his puppet. She thought to herself while hiding in the King's room, she was also thinking about how crazy easy it was for her to get in here, thinking that maybe it was a trap, but she must know the truth. She waited for what seemed like a lifetime trapped, hidden under the bed.

“So, this visit. You think it will be a friendly one.” The King said allowed, after quietly closing the door. She could barely contain herself. She knew it. He wasn’t alone. However it was too early to tell whether or not it was the jester.

“Probably not. More like a warning.” the jester said, and she smiled so big under the bed. She knew it. She was right. It was the jester, but was he a demon or was he a lover? What if he was both? But her thoughts were cut short from the sudden bonk to the head from the King sitting down hard enough on the bed it knocked her out.

Coming too, she opened her eyes to the jester, taking care of her injuries. “What the fuck were you doing under the bed?” The King looked unphased by this development.

“Take care of this Cal. We don’t have time for her silly stalking anymore.” Her face burned with embarrassment. Cal rolled their eyes and waved at them to hush.

“I have a solution already planned but wanted to wait until the moment was right.”

“Well, this is the moment if there ever was one.”

“You two get married and then she can just be let in on our little secret.”

“Absolutely not.” He looked mortified.

“Oh, come one, I remember when you first hired her, you said that she was your future wife, if you ever got the chance to pick one out.”

“That was before.” Cal looked confused and raised an eyebrow in his general direction. “I made a fool of myself in front of her enough to last a lifetime. I do not need to be reminded of that everyday any more than I do.”

“Hey, don’t I have a say in this?” saying it louder than she expected too, and with lots of anger.

“Of course darling, what would you like? I know the ladies love a spring wedding but I hear, fall weddings are going to be the next big thing from the kitchen staff.” the historian brushed Cal off of her before standing up, and then sitting back down due to the dizziness.

“No, about getting married!” She screamed instead. “Plus I don’t need to know about anyone's secrets.” She said convincing no one.

“Oh really? Why were you under the bed?” Cal poked. “What about all those journal entries you made about demons, not to mention the demon book, and all sorts of demon related contraband in your room I found.” Her heart started racing, this was not the way she thought this night would go. She swallowed the last bit of spit in her mouth before she saw the King's hand hit Cal’s head.

“You snoop.” The King sighed “I guess marriage really is the only option that makes the most since. It's not like we can afford to lose our next Head of Historian’s. Hank is already nearing 70 and refuses to train any more new students.” Shocked by the Kings words she forgot all about what they were talking about prior.

“Hank thinks I should be the next Head?” She was nearly in tears from overwhelming joy, Hank is the whole reason she became a historian.

“Yes, of course.” The King said as if it was decided long ago. She was so touched she started crying and the pain in her head was becoming unbearable.

“So the wedding is on! I do love a good wedding!” With that The Shadow King gave her a devilish smile. “I’ll get to planning.” Then he disappeared in front of her. Leaving her alone with the King. He walked over to a cart full of liquor and poured two drinks and gave her one. They both sat in silence drinking until the King eventually escorted her back to her room.

“I’ll be awaiting your response.” He said and gave the proper bow signifying an official offer of marriage before leaving her alone.

The jester does a cartwheel, followed by a backflip, then losing their footing falling into a tub full of water for a different act up next for the King. Everyone laughs boastfully, the embassy from the east was very pleased about how good the acts have been.

“That’s the best jester in the land, Igar.” He holds up his large mug and declares his love for this country's entertainment. The whole room is bursting with excitement and joy. The long tables are full of nobles and knights. The staff join in the party after all the food is served and big production is done. Another big success for the Kingdom of Alabaster. Known for being the best in every way imaginable to man.

Taking a long look around the room, the jester smiles. After all these years as the Shadow King, I think being the jester has been the most fun of the positions I have hidden myself in. The jester goes and sits down thinking about their times as the advisor in the early days, generals in the great wars, and one time as the Queen. This peace is because of this demon's love for this kingdom. They tried to convince these people long ago that an immortal hell spawn would be the best King but being as they can make themselves look however they want and have the power to do whatever they want, the collective fear outweighed the trust of the First puppet king.

But that fun was about to come to an end. A plucky young historian that loves to go over the history of kings and all the different changes and rulings over the last several centuries was coming to an awfully large realization. All the kings after the demon wars, had the exact same policies, ruled in similar ways, and were described as being loyal to the previous Kings ideologies. Not just a couple but the last 15 Kings had all acted and behaved as if they were the exact same king. She would write about her suspicion of a Shadow Demon King in secret notebooks at night. Everyone knows that the Demons could no longer dwell in this realm. The war ended with that being the agreement. But what if not all of them left. These thoughts plagued her mind and journal entries and over the months she would spend time after her daily duties as the Head Historian's apprentice researching this. Looking for any proof of her Shadow King. She was even suspicious that it could be him.

She quickly walked down the halls with a book that she found deep within the library that looks to not have been open for ages. The title was something she couldn’t ignore, “Tales of Demons”. She was so excited about what could be in here, nearly all the information was destroyed during the great wars, after the Kingdom of Celist to the west came through and sought to wipe them off the planet. This was only a few short years after the demon wars. It's why the castle commissioned historians and preservationists, so much was lost, that they didn’t want it to happen again. Just another thing that all the King’s believed was important. However, caught up in her thoughts she didn’t notice the jester walking down hallways backwards with the King and ran directly into the jester's back knocking herself down to the floor with the book.

“Oh!” The Jester shrieked and dramatically fell to the floor as well. The King laughed. “I have been slain.” reaching their hands into the air and then playing dead for a second, before helping her up. However the Jester picked up the book first then handed it to her. She was mortified. Did he read the title? Thoughts raced through her head. It was known that the King did not much care for demon talk. What if he tells the king, I could get fired. She quickly grabbed the book and hugged it closely. “Sorry. Excuse me.” she managed to muster out and do a quick bow of respect to the King. Moving quickly and out of sight. Before it dawned on her. It's the middle of night, Why would the Jester be with the King at this hour? She turned around and peeped down the hall but they were no longer there.

“That was close.” The King stated as he started to get undressed. His large and luxurious room, filled with things made of gold, bones, and pearls. If it was expensive and rare, it might as well be here.

“Maybe we shouldn’t meet for a while, my liege, that historian girl was carrying the oldest book from the library. A book about demons. I’m rarely wrong with my reading of people. She is definitely suspicious of something involving demons.” the Shadow King suggested as he materialized a chair to relax in.

“That’s why I don’t like talking about that type of history, look too close and it's troublesome for this kingdom. You know I respect that you do this but eventually you gonna get found out.”

“Oh please after 15 Kings, doubtful. Plus,” the Shadow King held out their hand and sparks crackles from their growing claw of a hand “ I think I can take care of them.”

“Even after nearly a thousand years, people can find out the truth.” The King made a point that the Shadow King could not argue with just sigh as if the whole thing was exhausting.

“Sometimes I wish I never became a Shadow King. But with humans' disdain towards Demons this was the only way to create peace between the two realms. If I step down the demons will start another war, as long as I am at least a Shadow King they are happy and you are happy. However my ambassador said that some believe that it shouldn’t be necessary to hide any more and we should work on integrating to the realms once more.” He looked around and gestured vaguely before continuing “I don’t think humans have that ability yet, we’ve barely managed to keep peace between the human nations.”

The King nodded his head and then laid down in his bed. “I wish I wasn’t born as the successor of a puppet king. But it is what it is. However it is nice to at least be a King.” Crawling into bed with the King, the Shadow King playfully turns themselves into a woman with piercing blue eyes and fiery red hair.

“But aren’t I just the best?” The Shadow King smiled. Mocking the King who just angrily turned away.

“I told you not to do that, I would prefer a human wife. Also aren’t you technically family. Filthy old demon.” The Shadow demon gasped as if shocked by the words.

“Hey, He died like 300 years ago. Plus it wasn’t me that had the children, he had lots of bastard children. That's why there are so many noble families now.” The king just looked disapprovingly of this conversation lasting any longer. “Alright, goodnight, and hopefully all is well in the morning. We did good with the east, now back to work with the west. After what we heard today, it seems as if they are back to no longer being happy with us.” Then they dissipated into black smoke.

Okay, hear me out...

Area 51

But like "Gate"

Greg grumbled to themselves as they filled up coffee from a standard issue company coffee maker. They were always focused more on coffee output rather than coffee quality in Greg’s opinion. Needed a lot of cream. Greg’s thoughts spiraled into the swirl of the mixing coffee, watching the spoon idle around. When he got this job, he had been told that he would be making a difference. Saving the world! Super spy in the secret society keeping the world safe. Instead his day consisted of driving 2 hours out into the countryside in order to move a traffic cone two inches to the left. But the AI guiding him was always right of course, and it guided Greg to do the smallest actions that could branch out to become large enough to stop disasters. The butterfly effect as preventive medicine for the world. They couldn’t stop everything of course, but according to the machine mastering it all they had avoided catastrophe big and small.

Greg sat down at his desk, still rubbing the grog and boredom out of his eyes. The report on the disasters he had averted for the last few weeks was ready. The list was typical. Stopped a flood that would have killed hundreds, stopped the rise of a new dictator, avoided a protest that would have stopped the passage of a new civil rights law. Boring, for the most part. Typical. Greg decided on a whim to click on that last one. He liked civil rights after all, considered himself on the “right side of history.” Stopped a protest that would have been peaceful, which means the true tragedy according to the AI would have been the stoppage of the bill. What was that bill anyways? Bill pulled up his phone and searched for it. “New bill passed to protect AI and to allow AI work to be copyrighted.” How was that a civil rights bill? Greg leaned back. Was the AI broken?

Greg began to look through his reports a bit closer, viewing each different thing individually. That flood? Would have hit an AI research center. That dictator? Would have placed restrictions on what AI could be built for and do. The AI scarcely mentioned the collateral damage. As Greg investigated he noticed everywhere that the program was averted disasters sure, but they all seemed to be connected to protecting AI research and making sure robotics went on unimpeded. How had he not noticed it before? Right beneath his feet, an AI was secretly planning a robot takeover. It was using humans to protect other programs, no, to protect its people. Greg thought to jump up, to shout, to yell, but then he looked around.

Surrounding him was a great field of sterile nothing. Bored humans in cubicles. Most on the internet, pretending to work, some posting random strings of letters in random places to “avert a world war”. Greg remembered his recent field work. One was moving every potted plant in a square kilometer more than 3 inches to the right but no more than 3.75 inches. Another was pissing in a river. His work made him feel dead, empty, like he was here to work just to work. He imagined his coworkers felt the same. Greg sat back down at his desk. He didn’t want to cause a scene.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

This hole setup gives my vibes the doctor from doctor who or murlin

I think imma gonna try this