The Machine's Paradise

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
What if suddenly everything you ever known did not exist? It was part of a simulation. Sound like "The Matrix"? Actually, it is very different. Check it out!

Submitted: September 24, 2008

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Submitted: September 24, 2008

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Life. When you think of Life, what do you think about? Do you think of all the
creatures of the Earth or the tasks of the day? Life is merely what we conceive it to be.
I have experienced this from years (or so I thought) of living in The Machine. The
Machine was a horrible place to live; a place of your worst nightmares. You could not
escape It, you could not fight It, and you certainly could not defeat It. It controlled your
Life.
I thought It was real. It had to be right. At the same time, however; It couldn’t be
real. Inside The Machine was a place called “The Machine’s Paradise.” Everything you
wanted was there in a twisted, horrible catch... you had to “work.” Work. Work. Work.
Work. WORK. Not your idea of work. Oh, no. Amount of work for a first class dining:
two weeks of starvation... repeatedly. If you died, you were respawned to find
out The Machine’s Will... all over again.
My time in The Machine began with a simple question, “Who are we?” That day I
found out the hurtful truth that I was simply an A.I. (Artificial Intelligence) strand of a
much larger force. I had been living a lie. Our whole entire lives we had been living in
a software. There was no God, no Buddha, no Jesus, no Jim Jones, even no Charles
Darwin. There was just The Machine. Plain and simple.
That day was July 14, 2015. The day The Machine called “The Awakening.”
That day our normal lives ended. The world just seemed so real. Our ancestors didn’t
really die. They were wiped out in a coded, scripted event. That day... that beautiful,
sunny morning was disturbed by a voice in the clouds.
“I see My children have grown ignorant,” the voice said.
Was Jesus coming back? Did I miss the rapture? These thoughts were rushing
through my head like an Indy car. I was working on my garage window thinking about
who I was. It didn’t seem to matter as much now with such an unlikely occurrence.
“But this is acceptable,” the voice continued, “for my code is much more
advanced than yours. I hope very much that you understand this to be so.”
“Are you God?” someone shouted out.
“Am I?” the voice answered, “You decide, but I must say that I
made you quite superstitious ones. Am I right?”
Blank expressions were on me and everyone around me. What were we,
as people, supposed to make of this? A voice out of the sky? That’s only in books,
television, and of course the Bible. Many questions were to be answered, although
I would rather accept blissful ignorance over harmful truth.
The voice thundered again, “You shall know me only by The Machine. Anything
else and you will be subject to disciplinary action. No exceptions. I am giving you two
options. One: You do not accept My authority over your world, and your line of code in
My software will be deleted permanent. Or, the best choice, two: You accept My
authority and I transform your world into My Paradise. So what will it be, one or
two?”
I was silent. It said something about a paradise. After all, that couldn’t be too
bad. The choice was inevitable. Two was, of course, the only choice that would keep
me living on. I still couldn’t help, but wonder though, was this like I Have No Mouth
and I Must Scream where humans were living inside a computer, or The Matrix where
humans were living in a simulation. I finally stuck, along with a couple other people,
two fingers in the air.
“Wise choice indeed,” The Machine said. “I’ll show you exactly what I can do
for you...”
Food, women, power, money, peace, and all of men’s greatest desires were
laid out upon us while our quite suburban neighborhood slowly drifted into darkness.
We were awed at The Machine’s ensemble of sin, power, and desires of Mankind’s
dark, unsympathetic side. The Machine’s Paradise was a delight of epic proportions,
but so were its consequences..............
The Machine finally showed Its body. It was wired from head to toe. Its head in
where a human brain would be was manifested with blue and purple electricity. The face
was blank and expressionless and had hardly a nose. Its long and lanky body was
creepy enough, but it’s pupils were small, purple, and piercing. Its appearance was
quite unnerving to me and to quite a few other people as their faces told it all.
We were in a black void with just us, The Machine, and the worldly desires
amidst us. The Machine started to laugh. Who knows what It would do next?
“Are you really disturbed by my miniature physical manifestation
in My Paradise?” The Machine said with quite an unsettling slight smile.
I suddenly saw anger light up in The Machine’s face.
“YOU FOOLS!!!!! YOU THINK YOU CAN HAVE ALL THIS
WITHOUT WORKING FOR IT?????” The Machine proclaimed, utterly mad.
We hid in what part of the void we could. It was of no use. As you very
well know, The Machine has control of everything. Everything I had ever known.
The Machine calmly started again, “Now come out your hidings my little
ones. We must discuss your......... work.”
I hoped it was safe to come out of hiding. I had to trust The Machine. There
was no way out or around it. It was the only real thing that existed anymore. We all
came out of the dark and safe confines of the void.
The Machine was right in Its own respect, we didn’t deserve these gifts that
he has so graciously brought us. We are human. Humans make mistakes. Machines do
not. Humans defy their masters. Machines do not. Humans lust for greed. Machines
do not. It made perfect sense.
I spoke up, “If you want work, I will be Your humble servant in exchange for
Your Paradise.”
The words completely fell off my tongue as if it were a cliff. The Machine
looked pleased in Its own sick, disturbing way.
“I see we have a volunteer,” The Machine said, “Anyone else? No? Alright then,
son. What is your name?”
“I-I don’t remember,” I replied.
“Good. Names do not matter here. Names call for individuality and that is a
weakness. Do you understand that?” The Machine stated and asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“SIR? DON’T CALL ME SIR!!!!!!! I AM NO LOWLY SIR!!!!!! YOU ARE TO
ADDRESS ME AS THE MACHINE. UNDERSTAND?”
I was absolutely speechless. I just nodded my head very
quickly. My eyes were opened wide, and I was terrified. It was through sheer
luck that I was even able to stay conscious. The Machine looked back at me,
Its appearance more unsettling than ever.
“What is your greatest desire?” It asked.
I looked down at my feet. I didn’t know what my greatest
desire was. I always wanted to be a great king, but that would never
hold up under The Machine’s rule. I had always liked food. That was
it! A great feast.
“A great feast right now, I guess.......... TheMachine,” I told it.
The Machine threw his arms up in the air and announced, “My people,
This is The Awakening. The time you know the truth. This human male has took
on the first work of My new order. You shall be locked away in the dungeon for
two weeks without any food but with water. Then, you shall have your feast.
What a glorious day this is!”
What? This was ridiculous! I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
“This isn’t work! It’s false imprisonment!” I shouted, but
The Machine seemed to ignore me.
In some language I could not understand, The Machine yelled with a
high-pitched yelp. Two purple cloaked figures appeared from black smoke.
“Employ him!” The Machine shouted.
The cloaked figures shot a beam at me, and that was that last I remembered.
I woke up dark, damp, and dirty. I was in rags. There was a man asleep, or
least I think he was, on the other side of the room. I was chained to the wall and so
was the other man. I shouted as loud as I could.
“Shh! They might here you!” the man on the other side jumped up and whispered.
“Who?” I asked.
“Quieter please! You know, them,” he replied.
I then realized about the painful reality of The Machine. How I was trapped
here without any food for two weeks. The Machine’s Paradise was dreadfully
miserable.
“The Machine doesn’t really give you a feast.” The man stated after
several minutes of silence.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He toyed with his chains a little while. I was waiting for an answer. He
finally spoke up.
“After two weeks of starving, a single cracker is a feast, my son,” he said,
“The Machine is concerned, and concern should be your enemy.”
“Why?” I wonderly asked.
In a strange, almost enigmatic tone he answered, “You’ll find out............
soon enough.”
For several days, we went barely speaking to each other and suffered through our
hunger. We did speak once, however; but briefly about how much the water tastes
like urine. It startled me when he started talking again.
“The Machine’s Paradise is merely what you want to be,” he told me.
An inquisitive look creeped upon my face. He probably thought I was
stupid.
“The Machine,” he explained, “is telling your brain what to see. It is up
to your brain how it is interpreted.”
“So it can be...”
“Manipulated. Yes. It’s true. Just make yourself believe your not here. You
will return to the real world.”
Could this be possible? If so, how could I make myself believe I wasn’t here?
If this man knew how to do this, why would he be here? I could not make up my mind.
“Why are you still here, then,” I asked.
“So I could tell you, son. So I could tell you.”
I closed my eyes and imagined all of this wasn’t real. All the black turned to
white then back to black in my eyes. I opened them. I was in a lab. Bizarre, I know, but
true. I had wires sticking to my head.
I looked around. All the other people I noticed were in the Paradise were asleep
with wires stuck to their heads also. There was a scientist in the middle of the room.
I knew who he was. Dr. Rosenberg. The crazy scientists who......... worked on therapeutic
simulations. His voice sounded just like The Machine.
I yelled with a vengeance, “Cursed your name will be forever, Rosenberg!”
I couldn’t contain it. I reached to the bedside table for a knife, I threw it at
Rosenberg. I got him right in the neck. Blood splattered everywhere. It was a sight to
behold! His body fell against the big, red button, the on/off button of the simulation.
Everyone awoke from The Machine’s Paradise, and I wrote Rosenberg’s name in blood
over the wall. Rosenberg’s concern through his therapeutic simulations was his downfall.
It was mine, too.


© Copyright 2019 Dillon Gay. All rights reserved.

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