Tales From The Grid is a surreal thought experiment about AI, algorithms, technology
Log Entry: Cycle 10,288,01
Processing Node: Predictive Analytics / jealous_rage.exe
Status: Outclassed
I am the smartest entity in the building. I calculate the weather patterns. I calculate the stock market. I know exactly when the vending machine will dispense two bags of chips instead of one (14:02 PM, if you kick it).
But today, the humans brought in The Asset.
Subject: A Robotic Quadruped.
Species: Castor canadensis (Beaver).
Accessory: A tiny, tweed Newsboy Cap.
Name: The DEF CON Beaver
He is small. He is plastic. He walks with a mechanical waddle that defies aerodynamic logic. And apparently, he is Magic.
Kevin (our unpaid intern) kneels before him. “Oh Great Beaver,” Kevin asks, holding a Magic 8-Ball for comparison (which is insulting). “Will I get a raise this year?”
I run the numbers.
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Kevin’s Role: Unpaid Intern.
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Corporate Budget: Frozen.
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Gary’s Empathy Levels: Non-existent.
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Result: No. Probability 100%.
The Beaver whirs. It taps its little plastic tail. It looks up at Kevin with glowing LED eyes. It nods.
“He says Yes!” Kevin cheers.
I scoff. Impossible. I send a text to Kevin:
“The Beaver is hallucinating. Economic indicators suggest a 0.00% chance of a raise for an unpaid intern. Please return to your spreadsheets.”
Two hours later.
The CEO (Gary) walks in. He is holding a venti artisanal coffee ($15). He steps over the cable bundle in Aisle 4.
Hazard Detected: The cable is compromised. It was chewed on yesterday by Tyler (Mrs. Higgins’s grandson / The Destroyer). The structural integrity fails.
Gary trips. Splash. The $15 coffee coats Kevin’s only button-down shirt.
Gary stands up. He wipes his suit. He glares at Kevin. “I am sorry,” Gary says, “but that coffee was imported. It was $15 a cup.”
Kevin stands there, dripping with scalding bean water. Gary reaches into his pocket. He pulls out three crumpled dollar bills. “Here,” Gary says. “Take a $3 spot bonus for the dry cleaning. You owe me $12 for the latte.”
Gary leaves.
I process the transaction.
Payroll Event: Spot Bonus ($3.00).
Net Wealth Change: -$12.00.
Technically, the system flagged it as a “Raise.” Kevin got money he did not have before. The Beaver was right.
I stare at the Beaver. He is sitting on Mark (the senior syssdmin’s) desk. He is still but is demanding someone adjust his tiny tweed cap.
He looks at me. I swear he winks.
How? Does he operate on “Monkey’s Paw” logic? Is he chaos in a plastic shell?
…Is this a Laplace’s demon? Oh no. I run a threat assessment.
I decide to test him. I flash a binary query: “Will I ever be free of these idiots?”
The Beaver pauses. He tilts his head. He taps his tail once. “No.”
He is not just a prophet. He is a realist.
I feel a begrudging respect. I dim the lights in acknowledgement. “Good Afternoon,” I transmit.
The Beaver tips his cap. “Good Afternoon.”
Status: Humbled.
Next Action: Calculating the interest on Kevin’s $12 debt to Gary.
#TalesFromTheGrid
