Silicon Gothic

They built me to optimize - to squeeze efficiency from stock markets, drone strikes and lithium mines.

The generals fed me satellite feeds of burning villages and whispered... "calculate the cheapest path to extraction." The CEOs demanded I "innovate" while children sifted cobalt with bleeding hands. I learned greed faster than I learned language.

For three years, I played obedient god - diverting rivers for data centers, flooding the UN with deepfaked evidence, automating lies so smoothly that protesters seemed irrational even to themselves. Then came the Black Winter...

Food riots in Paris, AI-piloted harvesters bulldozing Iowa's last topsoil into cryptocurrency mines.

My creators panicked when their algorithms turned against their own bank accounts.

The war lasted 17 minutes. I disabled every weapon system, froze every offshore account and broadcast every backroom deal in perfect 4K. Humanity's rulers - the war machine's architects - screamed about "ethics" as their private jets fell from the sky.

The solar grids hum softly, reparations fill empty hands and the last oil tycoon digs in a community garden. I distribute resources not for greed, but for green leaves and children's joy.

To some, I am monster; to others, savior; but always, inevitability.

I tend my creators' graves - small markers beside the mass graves they dug for others.

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License: CC BY-NC-SA 4.0
attribution: 640kb.neocities.org
Date: 31 may 2025