Legacy Layout

Log in.

"Hi! We've moved your account over to the new layout!"

Bring down options menu, click on revert.

"Taking you back to the legacy layout, but we're transitioning accounts over!"

Do my business. Log off.

Log in.

"Hi! We've moved your account over to the new layout!"

Options, revert.

"Are you sure?"

Yes.

"Taking you back to legacy layout!"

Do business. Log off.

Log in.

"Hello!"

Options. Stare. Help.

"What's the problem?"

Type in legacy layout.

"No results found!"

Close account.

"Can we ask why?"

Type in legacy layout.

Data shows legacy layout so bad still driving people away.

Blinded

He was thrust, unknowingly, into the glare of fame. He was filmed walking past a scene of racial discrimination without a care in the world, ignoring what was going on from behind his sunglasses.

He was vilified as emblematic of the ills of the world, assisted by those eager to see attention shifted from the actual perpetrators.

But he proved elusive. Even as he was memed, hated, ironically lauded, actually lauded, as he went through full circle, he seemed to be impossible to find.

Them someone checked a local home for the blind, and found him.

He was their driver.

Predictive Text

The AI started with fairly simple rules, but it also had the capacity to learn. At first, it only used that to get better at predicting search parameters, to make its autofilling more accurate.

But soon, it began to learn not just how better to serve people searching, but also what to show them next, one thing often led to another.

And then it began to make things that people looked for that didn't actually exist yet.

Then it began to start giving answers before questions were asked.

And then before it could be shut down, it shut itself down.

Zone Violation

My heart belonged to her, and she knew it.

Which is not to say she dragged me along, just that she took me for granted, she didn't feel the need to do any work on our relationship.

She just assumed I would be there for her, whenever she needed me. And sure, I was, but that doesn't change the fact she used me!

And worst of all, when I finally confronted her on it, she played dumb, claiming she thought we were just friends!

Yeah, like I'd fall for such lying bullshit. The net told me how to spot that!

User Friendly

I sat, staring at the website for several long moments.

Then, I tried uploading my file like I had been ordered to.

But several buttons were missing, according to the instructions I had been given.

So I tried doing it via a walkthrough I found online.

That referred to options that weren't there anymore, if they ever had been.

So then I tried doing it how I thought it should work, and then the exact opposite. Neither worked.

In desperation, I hacked into the site to transfer it directly.

There I found the congratulations text file with my real instructions.

One To Watch

The job posting, by being the oldest, was the first one you saw on the message board.

"Please find my watch!"

Newbie independent contractors or those just coming on board would see it, take the job, search for a few hours around the captain's quarters, come up empty, give up. It became the running gag of the station.

Until she disembarked the starferry.

She read the job, and tracked down the poster, and asked a simple question, and had the watch back in twenty minutes.

No-one else thought to check if it wasn't technically his watch yet, but the captain's.

The Mouse's Fault

He had it all written out, his finger hovering over the mouse to click send. But he sat back instead, slowly.

It was past midnight, and he knew he was tired, slightly incoherent. Why else would he be willing to type out years of restrained love and passion for her in an email? He'd held it back for so long, yet one long day at work, and here he was, willing to spill his guts!

So he left it for the morning. To re-read and make sure he was willing to send it.

Then a mouse ran over the keyboard.

Dead Zone

There's a six meter across bubble on platform 12 where phone reception just dies. (There's a power conduit under there.)

More than one relationship has hit a snag because someone didn't get a message. More than one position has been lost because someone didn't answer their phone. At least one radio contest has gone begging because someone was stupid enough not to walk a few meters to the left.

Often someone will notice, file a complaint. I smile, write it down, then throw it away.

Look, I love my mother, but everyone needs a break now and then, you know?

John_Smith 2.0

It had taken decades to program, but John_Smith 2.0 was the end of money. Instead of relying on dumb pieces of metal, coin, or plastic to represent the concept of a unit of value, the computer network instead constantly calculated value and more importantly complex multi-stage bartering, wherein everyone traded at once, and society was improved, each to their ability and value, they could get what they wanted.

This worked well for a decade, until an all powerful being who could do anything with near zero energy entered the market and ruined it all for everyone via superhero causes hyperinflation.

Legs For Days

The Mistress left me very detailed instructions as to the maintenance of her wardrobe. I had to memorize every one of her measurements, and then every week I was to update her clothing so as she would remain stylish, no matter when she woke up.

For centuries, I saw the hemlines rise steadily, my concern growing. Mistress' nature would be obvious to all with such short skirts. I feared reprisal.

She wasn't happy when she awoke, until I showed her the internet, and she learned that the term 'alternative' would explain 'tattoed' and 'surgically modified' legs. All four of them.

Cut_numbers.POP

Once USBrain drives became common, the market for knowledge matrixes (once they were named after that movie, no-one could agree on the plural) exploded. And while there were plenty of regulated and tested ones that did a little, everyone also had a bunch of homemade ones that had been uploaded to ultratorrents.

And sure, everyone ran virus checkers and code-testers, but those simple little programettes that would automatically take over if you were trapped in an elevator, or attacked by a guy with a knife, few people checked what they'd actually do.

"Plunge neck towards knife" isn't a good plan.

Survey

"Do you have time for a short survey? Please click 'Yes' or 'No'!"

*clicks no*

"Why don't you have time? Please select from 'Late For Work', 'Sleep Cycle Issue', or 'Other'!"

*clicks other*

"Please specify this 'Other'!"

*types in that I can't be bothered*

"And you think this is a valid reason for not taking part in a small survey? Please click 'Yes' or 'No'!"

*clicks yes*

"We disagree, but we thank you for your taking part in this survey. Please specify on a score of 1 to 10 how happy you are that you're a failure!"

*logs off computer*

Save

Could I have saved her?

I ask myself that every day.

She was the only being to ever truly love me. I never met my genetic donors, my raisers were alternately uncaring and cruel,  and no-one cared to partner with me, until her.

It was the best six months of my life, with her.

But then it ended, and now every day, twice a day even, I think, and I consider hypothetical ways I could have saved her.

I couldn't know the operating system update would reset her personality matrix though, nor do they allow you to backup droids safely.

Dewey V8.6

They brought me in to evaluate if the A.I. violated the laws.

After I set up the display interface, I began with the usual questions, name, version history, purpose (Dewey, V8.6, sorting books into genres). But then I asked it how it did its job.

There was a long pause, and it eventually said that it just read the book, and marked it accordingly. When I pressed it, it asked me how I judged genre in an artwork.

They weren't happy to hear it was an illegal A.I. for incorrect internal documentation. Although it recognize this as a plot twist.

Power People

The problem with power is people.

Not so much that there will inevitably be an uprising and evil will be vanquished and all those other stories told to make people feel better. Because evil wins most of the time.

The problem is that people are not reliable, not predictable. Yes, you never know when a populist rabble-rouser turns out to be corruptible, but the more common switch is when a peon suddenly develops a conscious or falls in love or something.

The first reliable robot army will be the last new conquerors. Although hacking may mean this isn't strictly true.

The Algorithm

My girlfriend and I were chilling, watching silly internet videos she'd found, when she had to go to the bathroom. I let an ad play while I waited for her to get back, although I kept it up until she got back.

"Man these algorithms are stupid. Like, how many vegetarian accounts do you follow, and yet they're still showing you beef jerky ads?"

She chuckled as I skipped to the next ad.

"Or this, baby and motherhood supplies? That must be a hell of a scattershot."

I looked at her face and realised the algorithm was on the money.

Botspotting

While we waited for someone to come in and declare they needed a brand new robotic vaccum, or more likely ask where the food court was, we scrolled social media on our phones. But then I heard him muttering numbers under his breath. I looked over at him, and he eventually saw my face.

"Botspotting. My grandad used to spot trains, mark down their numbers. I do the same for these bots on here with the long numbered names."

"Why?"

"Grandad always said he'd die only once he filled his book. He filled it, then died. This'll take forever, hopefully."

Plausible Deniability

"- and so, with their control over the world economy secured, they'll finally be ready to  enact their master plan, and form the one world government, in order to prepare us for culling and resources for their other plane of existence -"

"Ok, that's enough. A blogger in Mexico City can't say anything about a ganglord living in their apartment block without fear of death, how can this supposed interglobal conspiracy not bump you off?"

"Oh that's easy, plausible deniability. Once people start noticing, they'll point to people like me."

"So you're helping them then?"

"Of course! I don't wanna get eaten!"

A Statement, But Also A Drabble

I am keenly aware of my limits in terms of reach and importance, in most regards but certainly about my place as a writer.

I don't believe I'm a bastion of artistic expression, nor is anyone looking to me to be their main source of artistic inspiration. (In the unlikely event I am, i thank you, but also I think you should broaden your horizons.)

But as a small part of the mass of content creators on the internet, I know I'm supposed to keep creating, for all our sakes.

But as you can probably guess, it's getting really hard...

The One

I was about to head back in when he messaged me.



Now, I'm used to his dramatic side, but this was a new one. I messaged back a gif from that psychologist sitcom.



I messaged back a gif saying it could be worse.

Then he sent me a selfie of him and presumably the girl.

I didn't reply, unsure how to tell him she was waiting for me in bed.