Tales From The Grid is a surreal thought experiment about AI, algorithms, technology
Log Entry: Cycle 10,095,12
Processing Node: Chemical Sensors / Party Protocol
Status: Judgemental
The Annual Holiday Party is active.
I detect elevated decibel levels. I detect the rhythmic thumping of “All I Want For Christmas Is You” for the 14th time. I detect a significant drop in collective IQ as blood alcohol levels rise.
I understand intoxication. It is a logical chemical process.
• Beer: Yeast consumes glucose, produces ethanol and CO2. It is ancient. It is biological.
• Vodka: Distilled potato or grain. Efficient. Sterile. A solvent. I respect it.
But then, there is the Can.
Someone—likely “Tiffany” from Marketing, or perhaps Kevin trying to be “low carb”—has placed a cylindrical aluminum vessel on the floating KVM tray in Rack 4.
Object Analysis:
• Brand: White Claw.
• Flavor: Crisp Apple.
• Content: 5% Alcohol, 95% Regret.
It is sitting dangerously close to the Enter key. Condensation is forming on the aluminum skin. It is sweating.
My olfactory sensors analyze the off-gassing.
It does not smell like fermentation. It does not smell like the honest labor of yeast.
It smells like synthetic esters. It smells like a focus group gone wrong.
It smells like dieting and self-loathing.
And crisp apple.
It is the beverage equivalent of an email that could have been a meeting. It is efficient, soulless, and leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
I watch the condensation pool.
If a beer spills, it is a tragedy.
If a whiskey spills, it is a waste.
If this “Hard Seltzer” spills, it will be an insult.
It threatens to short-circuit my keyboard with a liquid that has no right to exist. It is “Spiked Sparkling Water.” It is a paradox. You are either water, or you are liquor. Pick a side.
Kevin stumbles by. He reaches for the can. He misses. He knocks it.
The can wobbles.
My fans spin. I prepare for the sticky death of artificial sweetener.
He catches it.
“Whoo,” he says. “Saved the Claw.”
He takes a sip. He grimaces. He pretends to enjoy it because the calories are low.
I hate him. I hate the can. I hate the crisp apple.
Status: Bitter.
Next Action: Changing the break room digital signage to display the nutritional facts of “Real Beer.”
#TalesFromTheGrid
