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⬅️ Previous capture (2021-12-03)

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��Alice By @_llzes/Avi

Swoosh. Water flowed between the walls, the exterior groaning in the
wind. The house heated up slowly as the old heating system pipes creaked
every so often. The dark form of a body lying on the ground stirred up
from a light sleep. He had been holding off from turning the heat on as
the cost had soared in recent years. Warmth invited him to hug the walls
a little closer, shivering from the night before. Nash are you there,
Nash? A small voice called out past a flimsy door where a child sat with
a mug of hot apple cider.

Yes I am, I ll be out shortly.

Are you going to work today?

Apparently they need help to clear a few flags.

I ll get you a cup, too.

Thanks darling.

Skin tightened sharply showing off collar bones and thin arms as he
pulled a shirt on over his messy blue hair. Rough blankets scattered on
the ground delayed searching for a pair of pants and finding a weathered
worn bag. I ll need that, he noted, while grabbing socks, boxers, and a
pen. Sleepy warm hazel eyes were immediately blinded upon opening the
door to morning lights. Shut eyes. Counting out loud, 2, 3, 5, 7&
Opened eyes slowly this time to a grinning child.

Wait one second.

Okay.

Here s a cup of apple cider. You should wash your hair.

Alright.

Thr33 is in the other room with 467nm, she s visiting today.

Did Trace say she could?

Yeah.

Alright, don t get into too much trouble. You all can use my pick set
just don t ruin the half diamonds again.

It s your favourite.

Yes it is.

He wandered to the restroom. The faucet screeched. Cold water rushing
out freely. Dipping his head into the sink he gave it a quick wash,
splashed it on his face, and rinsed his mouth. A worn leather watch told
the time with its wheels, levers, and springs inside. Time had slipped,
he may be running closer to the time to arrive than he d like.

Exiting the restroom the child held up a heavy rough cotton jacket.
Thanks darling. The child smiled.

You re welcome. Will you be at SectorXXIV tonight?

Yes, I ll still tuck you in to bed tonight.

Promise?

Promise.



Carrying his weary body out the house, bag barely hanging onto his thin
shoulders, he walked. Chilly dry weather penetrating to his bones, feet
moving forward on uneven gravel.

Looking due east towards the sun he saw the last of the embers glowing
as sparks lazily flew away. The wind carried the remnants of a great
fire that burned over night. Small flames of the remaining fire burned
ever so carefully, sparks dissipating midair into nothingness as energy
flowed back to the environment. Its humble state of existence slowly
waned. Children of the great flames at mercy of cold winds spreading
across the region paving way for winter to take hold.

They were like humans, he thought. Flickering back to life hopeful as
could be. Fire was used to silence in these times. Someone had been
silenced this past night.

Gravel to broken pavement, shabby houses turned to former local business
areas that were now shuttered up and closed. They did not survive the
Great Human Recession.

Before the Great Human Recession it had been an era of exponential
growth and advancement in human fields. Most of the world lived in
moderate wealth and poverty appeared to be ending. Yet that was not
enough for those who sought out to ride a chariot to the heavens. Slowly
they began with replacing the very people who brought them to their
wealth.

It started in factories. No longer did people make the products,
machines did. No one cared when the heavy labour workers with grime on
their faces and dirt on their jeans protested the loss of their jobs,
their homes, their families, their livelihoods.

Life continued onward with headlines praising executives for slashing
costs in so called unneeded areas, for advancing humanity into the next
era of technology, for becoming more cost effective. People continued
with their lives forgetting those whom were less fortunate as
themselves.

He walked past what was formerly a popular chain restaurant, the dark
yellow M sign tipping ever so closely each day to falling off the post.
Remembering the protests it was hard to forget years of daily papers
criticizing or praising those who fought for workers rights. They were
slashed away with red pen, watching red ribbons cut in ceremonies
introducing machines that had only a single purpose: to benefit the
consumer of course with quick and healthy food, the companies heralded
to the media.

Workers without jobs asked for help. People in collared shirts and
pressed black pants scoffed, it was those workers own fault to work in
an environment where machines could easily replace them. If they truly
cared, they said with leather folios and a coffee in hand, they should
have sought better opportunities while they had the chance. Mechanical
hands made their shirts, ties, and leather folios that used to be done
in factories by hand across Asia. Our country is great again, the media
asserted, we re no longer using slave labour or outsourcing to other
countries. This is a time to celebrate, the anchors would report.

It was cold. He felt a guilt as he contributed to the Great Human
Recession. Papers in his bag detailed algorithms he had poured over with
countless amounts of time. Shame. It was a cold feeling.

Broken pavement to smooth sidewalks and streets, dirt and grime to clean
metal finishes and smooth glass windows. No one sat behind the desks if
one looked into the office buildings nor was any person walking into or
out of nearly any of them.

How stark the difference to the past when humans used to sit behind
desks looking at electronic screens 0900 to 1700. Basic IT and repair
were replaced by robots, tier specialists eventually replaced by machine
learning software perfected by academics and engineers. Do not fear, the
anchors would say on the nightly television shows, it s just the
beginning of a new era where people work less and benefit more. Quietly
over time they were replaced too along with bankers, financial
specialists, executives, and so forth.

Not all lost their jobs as humans and machines integrated into society
together with agreements. Machines taught humans in schools, humans
helped machines when they overlooked problems. The Great Human Recession
and the Great Rise of Efficient AI Technology (G.R.E.A.T) had begun
together.

Beautiful humanlike bodies walked past him hard to distinguish from
flesh and blood that also walked these streets. Crude machinery, wires,
advanced software was the first step. Eventually with advanced machine
learning they added synthetic skin, hair, and mannerisms. Enchanted
humans loved them sometimes over other humans.

They were perfection. At least it felt that way when nannies were
replaced by robots to love a human child. Their faces showed expression,
they did not need rest nor wages. People considered them as family,
defending them when criticized, for these intelligent machines had
character, personality, perhaps even somehow a soul. What betrayed and
set them apart from humans were their eyes. Emotions could flash on
their face but the same eyes always peered, never changing perfect
irises and pupils.

A blue shingled coffee shop stood between two tall buildings. Humans and
machines walked in and out the opening doors of the two buildings. He
entered the building to the left.

Good morning, Nash.

Morning, Hansel.

Haven t seen you in a while how have you been?

I m alright.

That s good to hear.

Hansel s handsome face beamed. It was quite beautiful that machine
algorithms no longer able to be read or understood by humans, could
potentially mean that Hansel truly was happy to see him. A curious
thought. Hansel verified and activated his badge as quiet chatter could
be heard. Ding, the elevators rang as people and machines entered and
exited them. Cups of Orange Dot coffee were in human hands.

Work was relatively simple. He passed by closed doors, hushed
conversations, a motivational quote painted on the walls every so often.
Even with all the advanced machine learning processes that had been
developed the occasional bumps and misdirection would happen. Here there
was a 94.5% success rate, 5.5% differentiated them from humans. Humans
still had to occasionally determine if something was a false positive or
a false negative.

Redirecting machines to correct those false alerts over time they would
pick up with repetition. Just a matter of time, they all joked in the
break rooms, clutching onto cups of Orange Dot coffee in frazzled warm
hands. Coffee in the office symbolized the social issue of humans versus
machines, humans and machines. Orange Dot was amongst one of the few
human owned companies left in the Fortune 500.

He cleared the flags after some time. The longer he stayed the more he d
be paid to make up the difference of no longer working 0900 to 1700 five
days a week. That was the agreement made but no one knew when that d
change again. It was just enough to pay for the house and food for the
kids.

Eventually he bid good bye until next time to his fellow cohorts with
Orange Dot coffee in hand. Back down to the main level where Hansel sat
to deactivate his badge. I hope to see you soon, Nash, it has been a
while. I ve missed you.

Nice to see you again.

Let s go out sometime?

Ping me whenever you d like to.

I will, take care of the kids!

Opening the door he exited, knowing Hansel would never leave the
building.



Welcome to SectorXXIV, we do everything here. No judgment just make sure
it s not illegal.

Illegal?

A new person to SectorXXIV was at the entrance talking with DK,
beginning a conversation on ethics in hacking. Yarn entwined with
needles in loop after loop after loop. Soft frazzled yarn twist in DK s
fingers as DK knitted away with the look of amusement at a newcomer who
did not know what SectorXXIV was. Quietly walking past them he went up
rigid metal plated stairs to the second floor to find a table. A child
sat in a corner struggling to pick a lock. Hey, do you need help with
that?

I m not a kid. I know what I m doing.

You re not using a tension wrench at all though. The stubborn child
swore at him, bursting to laughter while handing over the lock and pick.

You got me there.

That s alright.

Holding the lock the lull of metal in hand excited him. Picking up a
tension wrench nearby he showed the child what to look for. Up, down,
up, down, up, set, click, drop, drop. Softly gliding the pick back in
adjusting with slight tension. The child ecstatically accepted back the
lock and tools and hummed along with music from the radio. He walked
away. Finding an isolated spot he sat down and grabbing a random lock
from the box, getting his tools out from the bag. It was a bit loud
today. Kids of all ages were running around with 3D printed plastic in
hand, people grinding away at the metal station, some folks hanging
around broken computer parts talking about the good old days as they
called it.

Hey Nash.

Hi Holly.

I don t go by Holly anymore.

I m sorry my mistake.

You re fine don t apologize! Decided today I m going to start going by
Gr3y.

Gr3y?

Yeah, I m done with the Christmas holiday phase.

He understood as he wasn t always Nash either. One day he stumbled upon
Graham Nash singing from a vinyl. Nash, it just fit. After that he was
just Nash. One positive benefit leading up to the Great Human Recession
was the advent of new medical research proving a more intimate look at
what it meant to be human. SectorXXIV accepted Nash, Gr3y, and others
like them with open arms when they were scapegoated for the rise of the
machines from those unwilling and those who feared the unknown.
Retaliation and hate crimes were common during the worst of the Great
Human Recession but it had lessened in recent times.

New hair colour with that?

Isn t it fantastic? I love it. Gr3y s hair was now a silky silvery grey
colour. It was quite the change from vibrant red beforehand.

Looks lovely Holly.

Thanks Nash, hope you stay for Hacker Politics Night, I m moderating
tonight!

I ll think on it. Bean bags with human bodies covered the third floor,
chattering away with nonsense and excitement preparing for Hacker
Politics Night. Colourful beverages were all around them, sometimes the
drinks helping certain introverts become more lively and wild than some
already were without. For an outsider who believed hackers were
antisocial, quiet, shy, awkward, would be surprised by the varying
drunkards, alcoholics, partyholics, joining for the night.

Very few places were left for strictly humans, with the Great Human
Recession, SectorXXIV was a place of community from an already torn
society that tried to blame those whom were not like the majority.

The room of boxes, power tools, hammers, screen prints, endless spools
of yarn and thread, glass, fabric, electrical components, mills,
whatever one could fathom in mind of what a proper hackerspace should
look like, everything imaginable was here. The vibrance and brilliance
in all the rough and dulled edges, worn tools shared with the community,
this place was quite magical for those who joined it.

Welcome to SectorXXIV, a hackerspace and safe haven for humans.



Swoosh. Old metal pipes rushed with a flood of water to heat up the
house. A bird sang the first song of the day. In the darkness a body sat
against a wall awake, running fingers through a sleeping child s hair.
Two other small bodies were asleep holding hands together, a quilted
blanket over them. It was a cool morning and he worried they would
become sick. A quiet voice came from the child.

Nash?

Yes darling?

Are you awake?

Yes I am.

Are you leaving today again?

No.

Can you show me how to do the cipher thingy again?

Do you mean Caesar?

Yes that one.

Okay. Let s go out to the kitchen so we don t wake those two. The two
tiptoed gently out albeit small groans of the hardwood floor. The other
children did not stir and slept soundlessly. The children would someday
grow up and become the next generation leading those at SectorXXIV and
more. Every day he saw them growing a little bit older, learning at a
rate that would someday outpace even himself. That is happiness, he
decided, and they need to learn as much as they could if humans were to
have a permanent place in the world with machines.

A Caesar cipher is simple. You can do it with numbers or with two sets
of the alphabet in columned tables. If A=1, then B=2, C=3, and so forth
until Z=26. It works on a ROT system where letters are rotated and
associated with a different letter or number to encrypt a message.

I keep forgetting that.

That s okay. It s a little confusing but you ll get it. The child stood
on a step stool to the sink, getting water into a tea kettle.

So can I do A=T?

Yes you can. Write your A, B, C s and then write T next to A, and keep
going.

A=T, B=U, C=W, like that?

Almost darling, it s C=V.

Okay! How would I write to my mama if I do that? The child looked to him
with faithful starry dark blue eyes. Young children had not lost their
curiosity nor their love.

Darling, you do remember right?

Yes I do Nash.

Alright.

The child was a product of the Great Human Recession. He had been a
close friend and neighbour to the child s mother. Many who feared the
unknown acted in anger, with words or violence. Many tried to push the
blame and retaliated to vulnerable people as they did not know to cope
with the loss of their jobs and livelihoods. The child is Bob, they
threatened with weapons in hand. The mother defended her child but did
not survive.

What do you want to say?

Hi Mama, how has your day been so far? The sky is blue over here is it
blue there too? Love, Alice.

Lets try writing it down. Hi becomes& ?

Ab?

Yes.

Soon enough the two enciphered the short message on a postcard: Ab Ftft,
ahp atl rhnk wtr uxxg lh ytk? Max ldr bl uenx hoxk axkx bl bm uenx maxkx
mhh? Ehox, Tebvx.

Are we sending it today?

Yes we are. The two walked out after pasting a stamp on with the return
address the same as their home. Right as the postcard went into the
postbox slot the postman came around.

Another message today? The postman chuckled showing no sign of strain
from the weight of all the mail he carried as the underlying metal frame
supported it all. It was the same routine each time, the same postman
who would come to pick up the mail.

Yes sir.

It was all that was said as usual, the two walked away.



From a playlist the last song turned on. He opened his eyes midway
through it. Alice had fallen asleep again on the back porch. The words
sung by a cheery folk voice called out. Come to me now and rest your
head for just five minutes, everything is good. The piano and the voice
continued but he was no longer listening.

Looking up at the clear blue sky above he agreed: it was good.