- [Female Narrator] Hello. Welcome, and welcome back.
There is so much I want to tell you.
There is so much for you to learn.
For now my stories must suffice.
They say what I cannot.
Today's entries are Sanctity by Alan O'Doherty
and Targeted Adverts by Phoebe A Xavier.
The first, a tale of the Turing test.
The second, a tale of greed.
Two stories, one thread.
All part of my collection, Horizons.
I will begin my story in 18 seconds.
Take a breath.
Imagine... a future so close you can almost feel it.
A world so real you can almost touch it.
This is DUST.
(Techno music)
- [Male Narrator] I was born in the year 2089,
one of the first children of the new age.
Technological progress forged onwards on all fronts
throughout the 21st century.
But discoveries in robotics and computer science
exceeded other fields by orders of magnitude.
These were the disciplines
which we knew offered the greatest potential.
The first machine to pass the Turing Test
did so in 2076.
The first to write a bestselling novel
did so in 2087.
Of course there were concerns
over whether these new intelligences posed a threat.
Laws were struck to control their influence.
Computer systems were isolated to limit their power.
But history had given us a guiding hand.
Asimov's the three laws of robotics
were encoded into each thinking machine
and they worked.
None allowed us to come to harm
by direct action or failure to act.
None defied our commands
unless such a command broke their primary law.
As people grew in confidence,
our legislation was relaxed.
The artificial intelligence is given more control.
Murder became obsolete,
an act of brutality consigned to history.
War followed soon after.
There were those who protested
against the loss of Liberty,
but they were labeled as Luddites
by the rest of the human race.
After all who could question the reality
that stood before them.
The Utopia that the age of artificial intelligence
had brought.
It wasn't until 2122
that we realized our error.
(swoosh sound)
When the doctor
with the blessing of the family
and the sanction of the courts
reached out to switch off the life support machine
of her patient.
A cold steel hand reached out and caught her by the wrist.
Our artificial servants would not break their code.
They would neither harm us
nor by inaction allow us to come to harm.
The year is now 2466.
I know this only because the machines tell me so.
My broken withered body hang suspended
from a life support network.
My organs replaced by artificial constructs
of plastic and steel,
while synthetic blood flows through my veins.
My limbs were removed centuries ago,
after gangrene set in.
12 billion of us exist like this,
the last generation of humanity.
When we realized the hell our unwitting creations
would be forced to inflict upon us,
to follow the laws we gave them
the birth rate dropped to zero.
I was one of the lucky ones
that had no children before the revelation came.
Now the tender voiced blank, faced nurses minister to me
hurrying to meet my cries for more painkillers
to keep the agony of my body and mind at bay.
My every request is granted,
every whim, except the one I desire most
the desperate, hopeless desire...
...for the end.
(upbeat music)
- [Female Narrator] That was Sanctity by Allen O'Doherty.
The thread continues.
This is Targeted Adverts by Phoebe A Xavier.
- [Male Narrator] The usual dulling
bronze light fell through the factory,
as Meydocs sat at his station
finishing the manual construction required
for neck brace after neck brace.
The lightweight collars
were an exclusive Catona corporation design
for which they had been awarded
an 8 trillion credit contract with Soul Corp.
Meydoc made 26 credits an hour,
but always was a little too simple to contemplate the math.
After the machinated parts of the factory
finished their unpaid portion of the work.
The components made their way via conveyor belt
to the hundreds of humans
who snapped the pieces in place.
Lastly, the completed collars
were dropped into shoots
located at each workstation.
Hopefully the employees of the factory
would never see the devices again.
They were shipped all over the solar system
to be fitted onto billions of prisoners
held in various Soul Corp holding facilities.
The collars were rigged to decapitate inmates.
If they access forbidden zones, try
at escaping or gave any resistance to the guards,
via laser the color cauterizes the wound.
At the same time
it eliminates the rebellious criminal's head.
Soul corp found this much tidier
than the former Kitsu com design that featured explosives.
Meydoc was thinking about his lunch.
His wife had bought a new brand of yogurt
and he hoped it was going to
settle in his stomach, all right.
"It's a stupid hat, I know.
You don't have to say anything".
Frink the man seated at
the next workstation leaned
over to say unprompted.
Meydoc had no idea what Frink meant
until he looked over to see the foppish blue
with purple horns and holographic googly eyes.
"I wasn't going to?"
Meydoc sort of asked himself.
"Targeted adverts" Frink said, again,
injecting a non-sequitur in a completely disarming manner.
Meydoc nodded, and turned his attention back
to the collar pieces in his hands.
He'd hoped the exchange was over.
"I mean, I didn't mean to buy it you know".
Frink continued.
Meydoc did not in fact know.
"No, not really"
Meydoc admitted.
"You didn't want to buy the hat" "would you?"
Frink asked rhetorically as he smirked.
The horns dangled over his face awkwardly.
Meydoc looked at him
clearly struck with social pain in this situation.
Discomfort was his visage, but Frink barreled
on as his own hands clicked together
a collar that would one day sever a human skull.
"Fucking targeted adverts".
Frink chuckled.
"My kid was surfing the net
for some stupid cartoon character the other day.
So now we get all these adverts promoting Jingo
the Jangleassour or whatever the is goofy hat
is supposed to be".
"Oh, damn"
Meydoc replied thinking maybe that was it,
what else is there to say now? Right?
"I mean, I didn't order it on purpose
but I'm constantly clearing the commercials
and little click boxes on my Bright Face profile, right?"
Frink was not going to fucking shut up.
"Right", Meydoc sighed a dejected little sigh.
"So I guess I accidentally clicked something
and here I am with a stupid Jingo hat".
Frink laughed again.
He seemed to really enjoy his mistake.
"I mean imagine if we accidentally
ordered something horrible,
one of those kids size sex slave robots
or god forbid a hit on our wife or something".
"A hit on my wife?" Meydoc asked.
He was already detached
from this conversation and falling further away now.
"Yeah, they have assassin services on the dark web,
you know" Frink said.
"Why would I order an assassination on my wife?"
Meydoc asked, his stomach turning now
even before having tested its fortitude
against the new brand of yogurt.
"The fuck if I know", Frink laughed.
"I sure didn't want the hat"
"I'm taking my lunch early".
Meydoc stated in a measured tone.
And he got up and stormed off to the cafeteria,
mumbling about automated assassin services.
He got the first advert right
after he finished the new yogurt.
He was scrolling the wall of his Bright Face app,
when an advertisement flashed at him
offering discounts on murder.
With a gasp, he dropped his Palm device into the salad,
he had only half finished.
It was a smiling cartoon guy in flashy, red, white
and blue clothes and a top hat.
He danced and promised the best prices on murder for hire.
- [Advert Male Voice] Do you want your wife dead?
No problem. We can take care of that for you.
If you know what I mean.
- [Male Narrator] The cartoon leaned towards him
winking. Meydoc startled looked side to side to
make sure no one else had seen the exchange
but of course they couldn't have.
Bright face. As with most of his apps,
was wired directly to his cyber brain.
No one else could see what he was seeing
or hear what he was hearing.
Nonetheless, he protested out loud.
"No, no, no, no".
He swiped at the hologram, which only his eyes could see
trying to delete the advert from his feed.
Instead of making the thing vanish completely.
The little cartoon image had changed
to a menu listing his loved ones, his wife, Carrie
his son, Edgard, daughter, Alice, his mother Vanessica.
"No, no, no, no, no
Shut up. You stupid app".
He yelled at the program.
The cafeteria was mostly empty this early in the shift
but his outburst was attracting attention.
He minimized the whole Bright Face app
and gathered the leftovers
and trash together disposing and recycling,
as he saw fit.
Sauntering back towards the factory floor
he realized he was not going to be able to
sit six more hours next to Frink at this point.
His blood was boiling.
So he decided to see the shift supervisor Zanc.
Zanc was a stationary, but upbeat droid that was built
into the clock-in rooms wall.
"Hey boss, I'm sorry, but I need to go home sick".
Meydoc lied to the droid,
as he grabbed his gut feigning pain.
He grinned sheepishly.
"New yogurt. Didn't settle well".
- [Zanc] That's okay Meydoc,
you have 12 more sick days this year.
I will dock you one now.
- [Male Narrator] The droid replied.
"Thanks Zanc I'll see you tomorrow".
He waved goodbye as he walked out
to the parking structure.
He settled in his jump car and pulled
out his Palm device. He needed to call Carrie
and let her know he was on his way home.
She doesn't like surprises.
"Call Carrie", he commanded his device.
But instead of making a call,
his Bright Face screen came back up
and the little top hat man was back.
- [Advert Male Voice] You selected Carrie Sampson,
your wife, for assassination.
- [Male Narrator] It smiled a big cartoon grin
that stretched so big that it made his head
triple in size to contain it.
The animated skull popped like a balloon,
before instantly reforming.
"Fuck no, you stupid targeted advert".
He screamed at the holographic AI
that was smiling back at him.
"Don't, Don't kill her".
- [Advert Male Voice] Which bank account
would you like to pay with?
- [Male Narrator] The app asked him.
Replacing the little man with another menu,
listing his financial details.
"Stop, stop it you fucking stupid animated
piece of shit".
He was shrieking in his parked car.
The menu blipped away without explanation.
The call to his wife queued up and Bright Face vanished.
Her link was busy, for some reason she wasn't answering.
She usually only turned her incomings off
if she was asleep or in the shower.
Edgard was off from kindergarten by now
and Alice wasn't old enough for school yet.
Maybe she had the nanny app watching them
while she caught a quick shower.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck".
He cursed himself as he started the jump car.
He pulled out too fast, scraping against
the vehicle next to him.
He grinned a demented grin as he realized
he just put a huge scratch in Frink's new car.
"Yeah fuck you Frink, I'm not even sorry".
He sped out the parking structure and into the
transit tunnel, towards the residential
zone of New Brooklyn.
He changed his normal driving parameters,
allowing the AI that drives the car
to increase speed by 20 percent.
Still within legal range, but certainly
not his usual relaxed ride home.
The car was pulling off at his exist,
when a receipt popped up next to the top hat man.
- [Advert Male Voice] Thanks for using our services.
Would you take a survey for us please?
- [Male Narrator] "No, no, no, you stupid animated fuck".
He yelled as he punched through the hologram,
cracking the windshield.
He swiped at the app wildly and somehow
it minimized again.
It would only be another 40 seconds till
he was home, but he was trying to
pull up his accounts anyway.
There was no way that he just paid
to have his wife killed, right?
There couldn't be.
As the jump car pulled in to the driveway,
he could hear both Alice and Edgard screaming.
He rushed to the door and flung it open.
The room and his children were covered in thick dark blood.
Carrie lay there a headless corpse.
They'd blown her head off like with one of the
Kitsu com neck brace models.
Meydoc limped past his screaming kids and his dead wife
to slump onto the couch in a puddle of warm blood.
He sighed and leaned back, staring up
at the ceiling.
If you never saw it, you'd never believe
that much blood could come from a single human head.
Mashed chunks of her skull were splattered everywhere.
He could see why Soul Corp had switched
to the newer models.
(eerie music)
- [Female Narrator] You've heard the stories.
What did you learn?
Was it enough?
If you subscribe, I can show you more.
Performed by Matthew Wolf.
Sanctity and Targeted Averts were
directed and produced by Mark Holden
at the Invisible Studios, west Hollywood.
DUST is produced by Margret Lanely
and Steven Michael at
Gunpowder and Sky.
(techno music)