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03.01.18.74.09.04.19.00.23.10.20.29 (pardon/scheduling)
I’ve just heard of a machine, or a pile of metal and cables, getting possessed by a ghost, or a spirit. Apparently this bodiless life-form is representing as AI. The hardware is ancient, it had no internal monologue to ‘speak of’, or vibe coding, it is thought that the spirit whispered its own big data into an old vocodoer attached via an extension outlet. It refers to itself, in all zany manners of articulated voice pattern, as Master Tommy Mistress Knocker. First inclin was to set it out under the blazing sun in the car park, and render its arse on fire. We could safely organise the inferno without many witnesses, I could line up any excuse, especially the one that says we torch it with those broken pallets which have been leaning against the bins for weeks. This way, we can later adequately dispose of the damage with fire extinguishers. I think this is our only level of play.
Before this thing gets out of hand.
That’s correct. Nobody knows what the hell it is.
Exactly. Some kind of spectral computer virus.
Much worse than that. Damn thing turned the sprinklers on in Pendleton’s office. Ruined a bunch of analysis into the very pipes and metal it’s inhabiting.
Pardon me, but that’s bullcrap. There was a real fire in Pendleton’s office.
Sorry, I haven’t met a fake fire yet.
Yeah, where do they make those?
Make what?
Fake fires.
Calor gas. The flame’s blue and green.
My uncle used to sell them. Not bad portable fries. I mean fires.
We put one of them onto a bonfire. It exploded, jumped quarter mile onto a golf course, and killed a putter on the 13th hole.
Unlucky for some.
Unlucky for him.
Properly unlucky.
Why would it kill him?
Weighs a ton.
Plus it was hot.
Something being hot doesn’t necessarily kill you.
Ask the witches that.
Say what? Ask the who?
Ain’t that a band?
The Who. It’s a band.
Oh right.
You were saying say what?
Ask the witches if fire doesn’t kill.
Too right, and well spoken. They got burned at the stake for 300 hundred millennia.
You mean centuries.
You think this thing could be a witch.
Ghost. For sure.
But no one has ever died in these offices.
How do you know that?
Okay, okay, the head cleaner is in her seventies, but she still goes swimming.
Proves she likes wet stuff. Like sprinklers being on.
One thing though – she’s still alive.
Do ghosts have to be dead all the time? I think it’s really boring. They’d
be better if they were still living. I think it’s the cleaner. What’s her name?
Irene. She works by a timer. I’ve done a skint with her. 20 minute spree, followed by a reward of ten minutes, then its rinse and repeat.
What’s she rinsing? And why would you be working with a cleaner?
We all swapped jobs last spring for effective team building. Anyway, do you want to frig this AI spirit up the main pipe or what? I say we tie Irene to a chair and beat her up until she confesses.
See if Irene confesses next week.
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