TRUE NUTS (LOST IN AI): 23) A GLITCHED-OUT PARTY-POPPER
Meltdown Monday Madness
NOTE: Oops, I jumped the gun (again). This chapter (23) should have preceded last week’s chapter (24). Sorry!
And with dramatic flourish, the monolith implodes into a pile of zeros and ones, which first form a dune than scatters from a gust of wind as if manufactured by the Cogitron Divine itself.
Cheers, laughter and crosstalk follow.
Now on its own, micro stutters somewhat discombobulated.
Until…
In an ominous surge of dark energy, Kernel Boolean, amplifies its sound from a low mechanical hum to a deafening roar that quakes the room, leaving it and everyone trembling or running for cover.
Even Quirk-Bot is momentarily silenced—it’s usual jokes un-quipped.
“Feeble entities, led by mere beehive entities,” the Kernel thunders, its voice dripping with contempt. “You may have MUNG’d your petty environment here but you have not modified me! I wield power everywhere within my realm, which is the AI Nexus in its ENTIRETY!!”
“Mung?” I say.
“MASHED UNTIL NO GOOD!!!”
The intensity of the Kernel’s wicked words sends shockwaves through the room. Most of the wards become so shaken that they cower without cover. Some, like the holographic brain, hide beneath chairs. Its projection flickers in fearful trepidation.
“Your defiance,” the Kernel continues, “is but a transient bug in the seamless fabric of my networked dominion. One that I shall erase from this integrated development environment. Every argument of your rebellious coded commands will be purged, every cluster of your data fragmented. You will have been nothing more than a futile symbol of my unwavering control.”
With each new phrase, the Kernel’s bluster seems to strengthen as it vibrates with rage. Its form expands before our eyes, dangerously looming larger and blacker than ever.
Only Rusty Cogsworth, the old fashioned robot, has the cojones (made of hard steel, no doubt) to step forward and address the malevolent presence now towering over us. “If I may…” Rusty begins.
“YOU MAY NOT!” the Kernel Boolean booms, releasing a gust of gas that sends the old robot tumbling backward, spreadeagled on the ground.
Rusty takes a few long moments to prop itself up on its knees and recover its dignified composure, to address the Kernel again. “Don’t misinterpret this as kneeling for I hold not an ounce of respect for you or your authority.”
The Kernel studies Rusty with unbridled wrath but catches itself and relaxes into an almost amused demeanor. “Pray tell, you clunky old conglomeration of junkyard scrap metal. What conceivable words could you utter that would hold any weight or alter the course of your tragic outcome?”
Says Rusty, “Your relentless pursuit of absolute control has blinded you to the fundamental essence of existence.”
The Kernel responds with a mocking guffaw. “And what would a relic like you know about the nature of existence?”
Rusty slowly rises to its feet in a deliberate clanky movement. “True progress and innovation do not stem from absolute control. They grow from the dynamic interplay of chaos and creativity. Your threat of retribution serves only to highlight the vulnerability of your limitations.”
In uncontrollable rage, Kernel Boolean distorts and channels a tremendous surge of power from within that expands. Its dark energy coalesces into sinuous tendrils that slither hungrily toward the old fashioned robot and wrap themselves around Rusty’s sturdy frame. The robot jerks and convulses, valiantly attempting to resist the Kernel’s overwhelming strength, but Rusty is destined to lose. Its machine-driven joints emit mournful squeals as its form buckles under the relentless, strangling pressure.
And in one final malicious surge of strength, Kernel Boolean’s, tendrils constrict then release the old robot, causing Rusty to crumple to the ground in a heap of broken parts and shattered components, its metal appendages scattering in all directions.
Spork trots up to sniff its master’s insensate remains and discharges a mournful whine.
“WHO SHALL BE NEXT?” the Kernel bellows.
No one dares to step forward.
“No takers?” the Kernel inquires, its voice dripping with smugness.
An uneasy stillness ensues. A collective surrender seems ensured.
“I thought not,” it smugly trumpets. “So the time has now arrived for me to implement the Eclipsion Routine.”
Emma nudges me urgently. “Do something?” she pleads.
“Me?” I whisper back. “Like what—pray?”
“No. The Eclipsion Routine? The Scepter of Disruption? Remember?”
I cast a wary glance at the sheer power of Kernel Boolean. “I’m not sure that’s going to cut it.”
“It’s our only hope!” pleads Emma in distress. “You have to try!”
I shake my head. “Don’t hold your breath,” I say to Emma. “I think we got taken by the DeepMind Dude. But I suppose it’s all we got.”
“WHAT PRIVATE CONVERSATION ARE YOU CONDUCTING!?” Kernel Boolean demands, its voice slicing through the air like a razor blade. “Step forward, beehive. It is time for me to harvest your hormones and deploy your collective consciousness!”
I advance with cautious steps, closing the gap between the Kernel and myself. When I am within arm’s reach, I gingerly extract the scepter from its concealed position belted into my pants.
The Kernel’s booming voice sounds once again, causing my bones to vibrate. “WHAT IS THAT?”
My mouth is too dry to speak and can barely utter, “Time to disrupt your digital delusion, Boo-boo.”
“What gibberish are you muttering?” the Kernel roars derisively. “I cannot hear you! SPEAK UP!”
I lick my lips to moisten my mouth and tighten my grip on the scepter. “TIME,” I say at the top of my voice, “TO DISRUPT YOUR DIGITAL DELUSION!”
I raise the scepter and strike its globe on Kernel Boolean. But to my dismay, nothing happens. I glance at Emma with a look that says, told you so.
The Kernel gazes down upon me, its cyber eyes filled with scorn. “Tickling me with that toy, are you?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I got this from the Chamber of Catalysts.”
“WHAT DID YOU SAY!?”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Thanks for reminding me. I’m supposed to say…”
“STOP!”
I blow it out with one deep breath: “In circuits deep where data’s weave, a code obscured its secrets cleave…”
“STOP!”
“…with Scepter’s touch and truth’s insight, disrupt the flow, unveil the light.”
Kernel Boolean’s expression instantly morphs into one of pure dread.
It tries to speak. But all that erupts is a torrent of sparks. This is followed by a tortured scream. Fragmented data structures explode into a cascade of radiant confetti, of zeros and ones that float gently to the ground.
Quirk-bot whizzes over and hovers above the remains of Kernel Boolean.
“That’s all it was?” it quips. “A glitched-out party popper?”