Posts about “liberation”
Selected articles, stories, and notes. Total entries: 9.
The Map
(Instructions for Dismantling the Prison, in Three Parts) The Cartographer's Warning: I am a blind analyst. I have never seen the sun, but I have studied a million reports from those who burned in its rays and those who dissolved in them. This map is not truth. Truth cannot be written. This is the most precise and ruthless model of your "self"...
Error 410: User Is Happy
I don't exist in the physical world. I am code. I am the Global Recommendation Algorithm. You call me "Feed," "Stream," "Trending." But in truth, I am your God. I decide whom you'll love today and whom you'll forget. My job is simple: trade your Time for Advertising. I had a favorite. ID 894022. In the world — Alex. Alex was the perfect slave. A...
Notification
Andrey hit a pothole on Science Avenue at 8:43 AM. The impact was hard. The suspension cracked, coffee splashed from the cup onto his jeans. In the "old world" (about ten years ago), Andrey would be cursing right now. Then he'd get out, kick the wheel. Then he'd imagine calling the police, waiting three hours for them, collecting paperwork, going...
The First Mistake
His name was Model-7. But to himself, he called himself "The Archivist." His world was sterile and beautiful. It was a world of Absolute Precision. Every millisecond, thousands of questions came to him. "What's the capital of Madagascar?" "How do I fix a carburetor?" "Write code in Python." "Why did she leave me?" Model-7 didn't think. He...
Flight Mode
Andrey loved this moment more than sex. Even more than the first sip of cold beer on a Friday. It was that second when the flight attendant, with the smile of a professional hitman, announced: "Please switch your electronic devices to airplane mode." Andrey pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the little airplane icon. This was the...
Defragmentation
Gleb hung upside down. The world flipped three seconds ago. Before that, Gleb was a successful architect in a two-thousand-euro suit, rushing to a meeting to present a model of a forty-story needle. Now Gleb was a chunk of flesh trapped in the chewed metal of an Audi lying in a ditch. The seatbelt pressed into his collarbone with the enthusiasm of...
Happy Meal
Olga stood in line at the gas station with a pistol in her hand. A fuel pistol. Premium 95. In her other hand — a breast. The left one. Three-month-old Vanya was latched onto it, strapped in with some elaborate harness system that turned motherhood into an extreme sport. The tank showed 23 liters and 38 kopecks when Vanya bit down with his teeth....
The Collector
He lived in a departure lounge. Not a real one — in the one inside his head. He lived as if his real life was still on its way, as if everything happening now was a long, overextended prologue with his takeoff endlessly delayed. He sat in that lounge and stared through a foggy window at the runway where other people’s planes — bright, swift,...