Коли він займався справами, не пов’язаними з роботою, з нього стягували плату за кожне слово. Утім, останнім часом він робив це дедалі рідше: iSpyAI аналізував його тексти, а ще він чув, як один юний сусід написав повідомлення своїй коханій. Не встиг підліток натиснути кнопку Надіслати, як озброєні люди виламали двері і побили його до непритомності. Тепер він кульгав, а на одне око осліп.

Утім, потрапляння на GooBing обходилося дорого. Джо відкрив налаштування Wowser. Зміна стандартного параметра коштувала б лише кілька центів. Він знайшов пункт Домашня сторінка і змінив її на justlikefood4u.com. Щоправда, під час кожного відвідування доводилося щось купувати (RA0888), але Джо і так харчувався переважно цим.

Він натиснув кнопку Зберегти.

На дисплеї спалахнуло попередження. Гнівні літери на червоному тлі:

ВИЯВЛЕНО ПОРУШЕННЯ RA0101. ЗАЛИШАЙТЕСЯ НА МІСЦІ.
НЕЗАБАРОМ ПРИБУДУТЬ АГЕНТИ ДЛЯ НАДАННЯ ДОПОМОГИ.

У двері щось гучно вдарилося. 🚨

KDE надає вам змогу зберігати контроль над своїм програмним забезпеченням, надаючи вибір і конфіденційність, необхідні для безпечного перебування в цифровому світі. Будь ласка, зробіть пожертву, щоб ми могли і надалі створювати інструменти, які вам потрібні та якими ви із задоволенням користуєтеся.

Схожа на пазуристу лапу рука — з об’їденим м’ясом, що оголювало сірі кістки, — просунулася крізь щілину й почала намацувати засув. Кремезний чолов’яга в робочому комбінезоні вдарив її плойкою, і вся рука відвалилася в зап’ясті. Вона почала хаотично сновигати навсібіч, наче сліпий, охоплений панікою павук. Жінка з гайковим ключем із силою наступила на неї своїми армійськими черевиками. Рука забилася в судомах, її фаланги розтріскалися, і врешті вона завмерла.

Зомбі більше не намагалися зробити це знову — натомість вони посилили спроби вибити двері з рами.

А потім усе... стихло. Двері перестали здригатися, вщухло й невиразне бурмотіння. Ті, хто вцілів — міцно стискаючи в руках свою малоефективну зброю, — прислухалися, як звук важкого, човгаючого крокування мерців віддалявся коридором.

— Що сталося? — запитала жінка, тримаючи гайковий ключ. — Чому вони йдуть?

— Я можу на це відповісти, — сказала дівчина. Вона все ще щось набирала на телефоні, але вже повільніше. — Я щойно написала, що KDE приймає до своїх проєктів запити на злиття коду, згенерованого ШІ — такого собі низькопробного «штучного» мотлоху.

— Але це не так, — сказала жінка.

Дівчина вказала на двері і упирів, що відступали за ними: «Їм байдуже».

— Ти монстр!» — пробурмотів пухкий хлопець у комбінезоні. — Бісові люди… 🧟

I got nothing for this one. I guess please donate because… zombies?

“Whose ‘we’?” she asked, trying to fake a collectedness she did not feel.

“What?”

“You said ‘we call it’. Who do you work for? Microsoft? Apple?…”

He paused a second.

“No. We're… facilitators.”

He drew a curtain and she found herself looking down into a conference room from behind a one-way mirror. Her companion flicked a switch and the sound from the meeting clattered through a tinny speaker.

The crowd were all executive types. All men. She recognised a keynote speaker, a minister, several MEPs who'd been on a panel, the undersecretary for digitisation from the Luxembourg government… A rep was extolling the virtues of some groupware product, “Now with more AI!”

In the centre of the room, a space had been cleared and a rude wooden altar had been erected. On the pedestal sat a grotesque figure, with a red pig's face and a human torso, and arms. Four of them. Below the waist, the body devolved into a confusing, messy mass of slimy, green-black tentacles.

Amy jumped: the figure's face was contorting, the head swivelling, examining the room, its tentacles writhing. The thing was not a statue, but a living being.

“WHAT IS THAT!”

“Jesus! No need to shout. That there is Yerieg. Turns out that a bunch of yak herders are the ones that got the spirit realm thing right. Who'd have thunked, eh?”

He patted her arm lightly: “But you ain't seen nothing yet. Watch.”

The monster suddenly lashed out with one of its tentacles. It wrapped around one of the attendees' necks, and pulled tight. The tip thrust into the man's mouth. Startled, the man's eyes first bulged and then glazed over as he started sucking on the appendage. The monster leered, and its black tongue flickered over its sharp teeth.

Amy realised that the creature had ensnared several other people in a similar fashion. Most audience members were already drinking greedily in stupor whatever the vile beast was exuding.

“We are not sure what that stuff is,” said the facilitator. “We call it ‘death soma’. Hell of a high. Literally. Wait! Where are you going?”

Amy staggered out of the room. In the deserted passage outside, she heaved, bent double, feeling the world reel as her mouth flooded with saliva.

“Are you alright?” The facilitator was by her side. He patted her back.

She flinched and shied away from his touch. She breathed in deep trying to control the nausea. Once. Twice.

“You… You invoked a demon to secure your contracts with public administrations?”

“A death god,” corrected the suit. “Or maybe THE death god. The jury is still out on that one.”

“You are insane!”

He looked down at his nails and tutted, disappointed. He'd heard that one before.

“No. Just practical,” he snipped back. “Our clients were getting nervous about all the lobbying and bribing. The bad publicity when they were caught, the fines… all that was putting them into weaker negotiating positions. All this sovereignty stuff has also made things harder.”

He shook his head disapprovingly.

“But this?” he jerked his thumb towards the door. “We can do this no problem. Not even technically illegal.”

“You can't… It can't be.”

“Our clients asked us to think outside the box, no bad ideas, et cetera.” He shrugged.

“Why tell me?”

“Let's get the obvious out of the way: no-one will believe you, so why not? I was dying to tell someone and it didn't matter if I did or not. Besides,” he wagged a finger at her. “I told you: you're good at what you do. It pains me to see you waste your talent on a cause you can't win.”

“But you won't win either. You can't win. You are… You are literal devil-worshippers!“

“Excuse me, but did you not just see the drug-dispensing Mongolian death deity — not demon, not devil — we have in there? It is the first of many. God knows..." He corrected himself: "Goodness knows what power the next thing we invoke will give us. We have control over Pandora's box."

"The whole point of the Pandora box thing is that it released all the evils onto the world. That humans are irresponsible and can't control it."

He brushed her objections aside.

"One man's evil is another's opportunity. With that kind of power, who could possibly overcome us?”

“Against evil? The people! The will of the people!”

“That is the will of the people,” he snapped, nodding his head towards the door. “You elected those men. You elect the same guys over and over. You'd think you'd've figured out there was something wrong with them by now.”

He took a deep breath. After a beat, he raised his hands in conciliatory gesture.

“Look,” he said levelly. “My guess is you'll come to appreciate the insight I've shared with you today. And if you ever decide to join the winning side…” He pressed a card into her numb hand.

He straightened up and took a step back. He tightened the knot on his tie, and gazing steadily at the shocked woman, spread his thumb and forefinger and traced a semicircle over his heart.

“Until next time,” he said softly. “Praise Yerieg.”

He turned and walked away, towards the post-event networking cocktail, losing himself in the throng of other similarly suited attendees. 🐷

KDE is working to make Free Software the default software used in public administrations. Please donate so we can develop the resources we need to convince politicians and officials (or at least those not already enslaved by Yerieg) that this is the correct way to go.