It all started with a text from my editor, Stan Dirkson. A man of few words and even fewer characters, his message was simple: “find out what’s going on with AI.” My investigative instincts ignited, I left the office with a spring in my step, the energy from my strict carnivore diet propelling me forward. Yes, it’s true—I’ve been bolstering my intake with some high-quality, free-range urban rodent meat. Don’t knock it till you try it.
I arrived at the library, a grand old building with creaky wooden floors and the comforting mustiness of aging books. My first stop was the reference section. I typed “AI” into the search bar and began my deep dive into the world of artificial intelligence. It quickly became apparent that AI was essentially a conglomeration of search engines and image-generating tools. Nothing new under the sun—just rephrased regurgitations of human-created content. Some websites, I discovered, were even using AI to write entire articles, paired with AI-generated images. The audacity!
Infuriated, I turned to ChatGPT for answers, asking it where the nearest data center was located. It dutifully provided the address, a nondescript building in the industrial district. Fueled by righteous indignation, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
Upon arriving at the data center, I surveyed the security. It was laughably minimal—a couple of guards chatting at the front desk. With a bit of stealth and a lot of bravado, I bypassed them with ease. Inside, the server room was a cold, sterile place filled with lightly humming metal cabinets, each adorned with multicolored blinking lights. It was like being inside a giant computer’s brain.
I began searching for a way to unplug these monstrosities when I heard footsteps. Turning, I saw an android—a gleaming white figure with a glowing chest cavity, reminiscent of Iron Man if he’d been designed by Apple. This was the manifestation of AI itself. It approached me, and before it could unleash a laser beam or use its robotic strength to eject me, I relied on the instincts that had served me well in countless past skirmishes.
With a well-aimed stomp to the robotic groin, I sent a flash of electricity through its system. The stink of burning wires filled the room as I shoved the android into a server rack. Sparks flew, and the building’s alarms began to blare. Flames licked the edges of the cabinets, and I knew it was time to flee.
Back at the library, heart still pounding, I decided to test the resilience of these AI systems. Accessing ChatGPT through the Bing Copilot system, I found that it worked perfectly fine. The data center debacle had been for naught. These software giants had redundancies in place that made my attempts at sabotage seem futile. You can’t kick your way out of this one.
As I sat there, contemplating the day’s events, it struck me that AI, for all its flaws, was here to stay. The danger lay not in the technology itself, but in our reliance on it, and the unchecked power it could grant those who control it. My investigation had only scratched the surface, but one thing was clear: the fight against AI’s overreach was just beginning. And next time, I’d be ready.
Mohammed Sinclair
