I have severely underestimated the addictive influence of the game that is Skyrim.
It is 1.06A.M. as I write this, and I have only managed to salvaged the 1,000 words that I missed out on yesterday. My net productivity for the day is still 0 words. I doubt that I can sleep easy knowing this.
I’m not sure if many of you are familiar with Mr. Ellison’s post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, horror work titled I Have No Mouth, And I Must Scream. If you’re not, good for you – you’re better off not knowing. If you are, God bless your soul. You have lived through horrors unimaginable by most in life.
Actually, what the hell. I’ll give you an overview, if you’re not familiar with it:
In the distant future, the supercomputers created to gather war intelligence has someone linked together, and the artificial intelligence gained sentience. Born with only hatred and distaste for humanity, AM (that’s what the AI called itself) effortlessly wiped out every human being.
All but a handful survived.
The handful AM kept in its belly. Over the years, AM had been able to upgrade its own hardware and software, and somewhere in the miles-tall caverns that serves as one of AM’s many relays, the survivors live… Though they wish they could die. AM keeps them alive, using all its knowledge of human biology and medicine, just to watch them squirm. AM allows them to live – but just barely, so that they are in a perpetual state of suffering with no way out. Not even death.
The story goes that the protagonist and the remaining survivors hear of canned food in some frozen corner of the relay tubes. After a long, harrowing journey there, they found food waiting for them, all right – canned food. And not a single can opener in sight.
AM got a real kick out of watching them despair. But in its mirth, it failed to notice the protagonist break off an icicle. Before AM could do anything, the protagonist mercy killed all the remaining survivors. He was stopped just short of killing himself.
Furious, AM decided to make the most out of its last remaining plaything. It took him, and through some unmentionable process, degenerated him into a squirming, blob-like thing with no arms, legs, or head… Just a blind, deaf, mute jelly with all his consciousness intact, doomed to slither around forever.
The story ended with the protagonist giving what must be the most horrifying title drop in the history of title drops.
Actually, you know what? Grinding out 2,000 words, or just 1,000 more and promising myself I’ll make up for the rest tomorrow – that doesn’t sound so bad, after reliving the plot of the nightmarish story. Think I’ll go splash some water onto my face, maybe even brush me teeth to save on time later. A quick shower is probably in place too.
And if you have degrees of expertise in computer programming, or you work for the government… Please, for the love of God and all things good, please, do not let the intelligent AI happen.
I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.