I am not alone in this cavernous pit. Something else is present – watching me, stalking me, hiding behind the hungry walls, sensing the deepness of my despair, the darkness in my heart. I have no name; I have no home; here I am just a number. But I have a use. They need me because I alone know how THE INTELLIGENCE works. AI … the Artificial Intelligence that’s controlling everything and everyone, the technology they said would change our world for the better, but doomed us to this miserable existence. I have the chip. It’s the only reason I’m still alive, whilst others have perished.
I’ve been running for weeks, hiding out in these dark sewers, staying alive by scavenging on the scraps thrown to me by my one friend. Sarah worked with me before The Collective took control. Now she risks her own life to save mine. I’m hungry and I’m desperate, but I can’t let The Collective win.
They promised a better life, but instead brought chaos, environmental devastation and mass poverty. Many have died and it’s all my fault. Me… Tom Symons, a humble computer engineer from London, gave them the technology, sold them the potential. THE INTELLIGENCE never sleeps, never gets bored, reduces human error, I told them. It recognises our faces and our voices and it’s faster than humans. Before long, humans won’t be needed – we’ll just be numbers, I joked.
But they weren’t joking. Slowly and secretly, from behind the great oak doors of the marble corridors on the 23rd floor, The Collective went to work. The 20-strong band of elite young City traders, each one hungry for power and control, schemed and plotted, raised voices and whisky-fuelled discussions long into the night, as they rolled out plans for their evil new establishment. A new society controlled by THE INTELLIGENCE. A sadistic monster watching and waiting…
First, they would overthrow the government at Whitehall, branding the Prime Minister and his MPs as traitors to our country. They promised us the good life – more money and food, better homes and healthcare, more holidays, more fun… and no work or taxes! Why should we work when THE INTELLIGENCE can do it all? What a life we would have, thanks to The Collective.
They targeted their own financial institutions, taking down the Stock Exchange and plunging the markets into chaos. Black Monday every day of the week. They took over the media, the hospitals, the police and the army, the transport network …factories and shops closed, schools and universities came out in support of the new order, chanting their name and demanding power for The Collective. Violent uprisings broke out all over the capital, innocent bystanders crushed in the anarchy. Those who challenged the mob – men, women and children were destroyed, decapitated, trampled on. Spurred on by the promise of free money, food and luxuries, crazed and greedy at the thought of no taxes, the mob won the day for The Collective.
Their triumph didn’t last long. Within days, from the hi-tech marble luxury of the 23rd floor, The Collective extended its evil arm of dominance, commanding the army to arrest the mob. They were tortured and thrown into the sewers to starve and die. Out of sight, no longer needed, no longer part of the plan. All around the city, people ran scared and hungry, afraid to look their neighbours in the eye, never knowing who to trust, suspecting even loved ones of supporting The Collective. Our names disappeared and we were given letters and numbers to identify ourselves by when stopped by the Collective Police. I was D-10.2.09 and Sarah became J-17.5.12. Surveillance was everywhere … stalking us on every street corner, as the new authority looked out through mechanical red lenses, scanning the pavements and doorways and watching for signs of dissent. Nothing ever stirred and nothing ever moved.
It was all my fault. I gave them THE INTELLIGENCE and I had stood and watched as they used it to destroy my world. I tried to talk to them, tried to explain that THE INTELLIGENCE could never replace real human thoughts or feelings. It could never paint or draw or do anything meaningful. It wasn’t real life. But they had money and riches and power, and I ran for my life. And down here, in this soulless, unearthly hell, I am dehumanised. I am hiding as they search for me – because they know I have the chip. It’s hidden in my belt.
Today is when it all changes. Sarah is waiting as I climb the metal ladder and dislodge the drain cover, forcing it open. We’re in the street behind the blue glass skyscraper where The Collective eat and drink, on the 23rd floor, celebrating their success and laughing at the poor, cold and starving humans below. In this building is the nerve centre of their power – the control hub I must disarm to destroy their hold on humanity. Quickly and quietly, we crawl through the broken bars of the basement windows and into the lift shaft, clambering up the cat ladder, stopping when we hear voices in the corridors behind the lift doors. We reach the 23rd floor and there is silence. Sarah keys in the code-buster and as the door slides smoothly open, we slip through into the marble corridor, glancing around to see if we’ve been spotted. No …we’re safe for now.
We tiptoe as fast as we can to the control room. We’re in, and still no sign of anyone. It’s late on a Friday afternoon and soon the whisky glasses will be coming out. We listen, and sure enough, we can just hear the clinking of crystal and the faint sound of revolting laughter as the young traders toast each other. It sends chills up my spine, and spurs me on. But they’re distracted so we have a chance. I loosen the chip and remove it from my belt, as Sarah stares at it. This tiny piece of micro-technology that had so much potential to do good, has almost destroyed our very existence. This miniscule source of power in the wrong hands has nearly destroyed us.
Trembling, I press the chip into the data hub and key in the password. The reverse programming will be instant. So we wait…
