(Hey everyone, heres a short story i wrote just before my phone died, ironically enough it was inspired by a YouTubeShort video and a commenter asking for a novel, i joked for a short story and several others wanted to be tagged. So I wrote this. My kid wanted my help putting together a tiny brick watermelon model that took up most of my night, draft will be updated tommorow :D )
Techno Fuedalism (Part 1)Two friends sat at their terminals.
Punching in comment after comment, feeding threads and posting reaction prompts as fast as the replies came in.
They were privileged, bestowed by the local Overlord with Usernames and log-ins. Engagement farmers, commenting on the content the lord has chosen to offer to the algorithm. The more individual comments, the more the algorithm favoured the content.
It was a modest living.
But one of them was unfilled.
“H4mm3rs?” Sycizzor asks, type replying to a low effort comment with a candid script comment of his own, “ ‘You ever watch the full offerings?”
“No one has the attention span for that,” H4mm3rs scoffed, “just comment and get our credits.” The young friend returned to the dimmed light of the screen.
Sycizzors looked at the video above the comment section.
Faces spoke in a muted conversation.
The subtitles ran over each other in seven different languages.
He tried to make out what was going on, but the longer he stared, the more his inbox filled.
He wouldn't be able to make the credits if he let it fill up.
Sycizzor waited for the water to pour into his instant cup from the vending machine, while the giant screen in the commons blared in the distance. The peasants laughed at the offering, bright colours, repetitive, loud, offending sounds; he had seen something similar as a child. He had thought the lord had moved on from such offerings…
The vending machine stopped. Sycizzor looked in his cup.
A half portion.
The farmers had been receiving more notifications than usual, yet he wasn't even granted a full cup of caffeine ration. He sipped the murky water and watched the offering play.
A crowd pleaser.
Half portions.
A tap on the wrist activated his log-in.
Sycizzor's eyes narrowed as he scanned the offering’s metric.
Numbers were up, ratio was in good health, watch times were good… but in his gut he knew something was wrong.
“The algorithm has changed,” Sycizzors stated as he sat in his taped-together chair.
“Ehhhh?” H4mm3rs asked incredulously, “What are you talking about?”
“The vendor only dolled out a half portion, the lords offering feel-good slop, something has changed-”
“Right, the Algorithm has changed, and not that the Lord’s a prick and wants to squeeze more from his farmers,” H4mm3rs replied sarcastically, “Humans change on a whim, the algo stays true,”
Sycizzors pulled his hand away from the touch screen.
“I’m going to see the Supervisor,"
“Don't!” H4mm3rs finally looked away from the screen, his eyes bloodshot and tired, “We need the credits; if we're only getting half portions, we need as much engagement as possible.”
Sycizzors looked kindly at his friend.
“I'm going to ask for a periphery device,” he reassured H4mm3rs, “I’ll bring you back one too, we're going to need add-ons to stay ahead of the curve.”
H4mm3rs calmed down, eyes going back to the screen, “I’ll try and keep your notifications down…”
Sycizzors nodded and scrambled through the terminal rows in search of a supervisor.
The Lord's tower was a grand one indeed; it stood shining and tall over the darkened city. Boasting a legacy before the nightfall, the Tower was a complete city within itself, it supported console peasants, engagement farmers, revered I.T. software scripters and even actual hardware wizards. Sparkies protected the sacred copper and fibre networks that ran up to the penthouse while the Lord oversaw everything.
The most sacred place in the tower was the basement; however, those deep dwelling floors housed the Server-alter where the offerings were housed.
Someone like Sycizzor would never be allowed below, not physically anyway.
There were several supervisors per farmer floor; they watched log-in and productivity times, handed out messages to wizards when terminals refused to function.
The lowly farmer was spotted immediately.
“Halt!” the supervisor shoved herself into Sycizzor's path, “Have you been authorised to leave your cubicle?”
Sycizzors bowed his head deeply, “Forgive me, supervisor, I come humbly seeking a request.”
“Bold,” The supervisor snorted, her lanyard of title swaying across her chest. She reached into her belt and pulled a freehand scanner out. “Log-in and username?”
Sycizzors provided his lanyard of title, presenting it with both hands, the red laser was quick to recognise the QR code and delivered his stats to the supervisor's tablet.
“Your stats are approved. What is your request?”
“I wish to acquire a mechanical keylog, my screen is losing its sensitivity,”
“Hmph, why not request a new screen? Your stats are good for it.”
“It’s a little embarrassing, but it's my ‘screen’ I’ve farmed with it since I was bestowed..”
The supervisor rolled her eyes, but gave an understanding sigh.
“I’ll let the wizards know, they’ll run one to your cubicle,” she swiftly sent the request through her tablet, scanning her own title to speed up the process.
Sycizzors bowed his head deeply again.
“Thank you, supervisor! The algorithm be praised!”
“The Algo be praised,” she nodded back, and then looked at him expectantly to leave.
The lowly farmer scuttled back through the well-trodden rows of wires and duct tape.
But he didn't return to his terminal right away; there was one more stop he needed to make, and he couldn’t go empty-handed.