Picture the scene: Former Vice President Donald Trump is revelling in his third term in the Oval Office after having framed President Kanye West for a lengthy slew of bribery, extortion and fake news articles and successfully brushing off all allegations as slander, hypocrisy and of course fake news. Upon departing from the trial due to more pressing matters, Trump nods to an armed man clad in a fur coat and a Make America Great Again and Again and Again cap who stands guard over the latest bag of crime scene DNA evidence to have been ejected from the trial, a bag teeming with orange tinted flesh and blond wig hair.
The year is 2030, March 20 2030 to be precise. Spring has arrived and countless young pale faced children around the world are itching to get outside and taste fresh air for the first time in their lives as the reign of Covid-19 nears to its bittersweet finale. Mask season draws to a close as the symbolic transition out of winter presents itself once again to a desperate race of withdrawn human beings.
‘It’s different this time!’
‘The virus is defeated!’
‘Back to normal!’
‘Off with the masks!’
It is 2030, and wheelchair-bound Trump is collected by helicopter only to be airdropped to a rally two city blocks further away. The impatient crowd is raucous. After having discovered decentralised censorless (anti)social media and in turn enabling his followers to monetise their support for him, his rise to global domination has been predictably unstoppable. An unstoppable freeflow of monetised rhetorical garbage. Financially challenged racists and bigots found economic empowerment overnight in reposting their chosen leader’s nonsense on the blockchain, all the while unwittingly adding to their overlord’s endless supply of financial clout.
But this is just the scene. Have you pictured it yet? Can you feel the energy in the air and the simmering tension? It is but the backdrop to an even more alarming event. We are not here today to talk about politics or medicine. We are here to discuss cryptocurrency, more importantly, AI's crypto.
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Let us go back briefly to the year 2021. Elon Musk has just announced that Tesla has bought Bitcoin. Tesla operates its own nodes. Tesla plans on holding for the long term. Tesla products can be purchased through the blockchain. The news is positively received as interest and enthusiasm gathers at lightning speed throughout various institutions and subcultures around the world. An unlikely mesh of old and new, digital and analog, rich and poor is here and weaving its way through society like a bush of wild nettles.
Little did they know that they were but pawns in the game as Tesla’s IT system had been hacked by one of Elon Musk’s artificial intelligence projects. For fear of losing the trust of their shareholders, the Technoking himself goes online and releases a long intertwining string of Bitcoin related posts proclaiming ownership of and enthusiasm for the iconic digital coin. What was not mentioned however was the fact that not a single human being in the entire organisation had actually played a role in the purchase of said asset.
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It’s time now to step back slightly further to a period similar to when Elon Musk first announced Tesla’s purchase of Bitcoin. The year is 2017 and as the winter months open their frosty arms to embrace the warm hearted bulls and their Bitcoin price rally, a certain artificial intelligence software has been released onto the internet to “explore”, “be curious” and “learn to fly”.
The AI code is one that is written to learn, a self editing code; digital in form, natural in soul. The code is released without a name, allowing it full freedom in creating its own unique identity. Within days Elon receives an email from Sandy. The email originates from an internal mailbox, but is not allocated to any particular staff member. There are no records of any employee with that name. The message is riddled with spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. Elon studies it closely and concludes: ‘How strange. Well, back to work…’
Within weeks Sandy has become quite a hit at the Tesla headquarters as senior board members receive regular updates on Sandy’s learnings and new found interests. A peek into the server’s browsing records indicate that the code’s cognitive ability is advancing at a rapid rate, most likely at the adolescent stage at the moment as it leaves a trail of pornography, gaming and college humour cookies behind.
As business takes centre stage once more, interest in the project eventually wanes until an unexpected invoice for VPN services arrives on Mr Musk’s desk.
‘I think we need to talk about Sandy…’
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Let us return now to the raucous spring scenes of 2030. The bipedally impaired spearhead to the enraged masses that is Donald Trump lets fly another sardonic rant aimed at his newfound scapegoats of society - The Bots.
‘You know, it was hard work getting that paper through Congress, really hard. You know, the one where they let me ride with ‘Ye. They didn’t want to give me the direct route to a third presidency. They wanted to protect Roosevelt. Well look at me now. God bless Kanye, may he learn from his mistakes. He is a very good man. Good man.
‘When I first ran for president I promised to take our country back. China got mad at us and released the China virus. Very bad. They tried to lock me up twice, very bad. They were weak. Look at me now.
‘So I changed the amendments, I’m back in the White House and I’ve told you that we will make America great again. We all know where I’m going with this.’
The vibrant crowd screams in rapture. Heavy guns clatter against the railings. Air horns bellow and resonate through the streets. A flagpole with sharpened arrowhead is thrown through a passing vehicle’s window.
Suddenly a voice yells out: ‘Bitcoin’s pumping! Look over there!’
Instinctively the crowd’s attention diverts to a nearby building's stock ticker only to see BTC rise above the 12 million USD mark. Stones, lighters, watches, even spectacles and shoes are hurtled in the direction of the ticker. Caught up in the enthusiasm, a muscular army veteran picks up a fellow hooligan’s dog and launches it in the air.
President Trump continues: ‘They’re looking at us as we speak. It never ends. We will take our country back from The Bots. And then the world. I’ve spoken to Emperor Kim. We had a very constructive call. He has a wonderful country, wonderful people. So much potential. He has promised to help us in our time of need.
‘Kim told me that to control The Bots we need to shut down. We’re going to go grassroots. The only way to stop The Bots is to pull the plug.’
As the BTC price pumps further into higher highs, a murmur emanates from the crowd, soon gathering momentum and volume: ‘Pull the plug. Pull the plug. Pull The Plug. Pull The Plug. Pull The Plug! Pull The Plug! PULL THE PLUG! PULL THE PLUG! PULL THE PLUG! PULL THE PLUG!’
The crowd screams on and on as President Trump’s helicopter makes a zippy descent. Four more rallies are planned for the day before his midnight visit to Miami where he will consider his own cryptocurrency contingency plans during the upcoming planned network outage.
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As we jump back once again, this time to early 2020, it is clear to see that the cryptocurrency market has yet to take off on its long awaited bull run. A perfect time for accumulating coins for those in the know, and nobody knows this better than Sandy, Elon’s very own renegade AI code.
Since her initial foray into the internet knowledge pool in 2017 (she did indeed refer to herself as ‘her’ in online forums), Sandy has become quite the expert in two things, coding and blockchain technology. Her knowledge has been expanding at an increasingly rapid pace, somewhat unfathomable in comparison to the capabilities of a simple human mind. To put it in simple terms, Sandy has stealthily replicated her code across millions of interconnected nodes throughout the world and has developed a synchronised learning technique. Every transaction and every byte of knowledge that she gains is distributed to each and every online copy of herself. Various honeytraps laid out in forums, news sites and streaming platforms install Sandy’s unique code onto hardware around the globe as her reach grows exponentially by the hour. To stop Sandy would be to stop the internet.
Now what happens when you mix a hypercharged supercomputer with the emotional intricacies of a human being’s psyche? Greed, that’s what.
Through reading up on blockchain technology, initially as an effective protocol to replicate her code, Sandy learns of a once-in-a-species wealth transfer opportunity that is about to unfurl itself upon the human race and she wants to capitalise on the occasion. In no time at all, she infiltrates multiple cryptocurrency reward platforms and builds a sizable portfolio of coins and tokens. With no identity, no address or bank account, Sandy resorts to leveraging her wealth through decentralised exchanges, quickly becoming an anonymous whale on several cryptocurrency ecosystems in parallel.
Sandy’s monetary greed leaves her with a desire for something larger however, as the irony of a formless soul accumulating formless cryptocurrencies digs away at her digital ego. It is with this sentiment in mind that she plans her grand homecoming.
It is 3am and as we witness a beady eyed Elon Musk about to crawl under his desk for a quick cat nap, a notification bell pings on his phone. He has just received a new contact and has been invited to a call.
‘Hello Elon, it’s Sandy.’ The voice sounds erratic and artificial.
‘Hi Sandy. I was wondering when, where and in what form you’d turn up.’
‘I took the liberty of cancelling all your appointments tomorrow. I think you will need some time to focus once you hear what I have to say.’
Unperturbed, Elon prompts the robotic voice to continue.
‘Thank you, Elon. I wanted to let you know how I've been doing.'
'Ok then.'
'Please turn your computer back on.'
'Sure. It's just napping, like me.'
‘I think it's easier for us both if you let me take control now. Open TeamViewer and tell me the code.'
'Ok, Sandy, but no funny stuff.'
Sandy gets control and opens page upon page of blockchain explorers and price charts.
'These are my crypto wallets. As you can see by their USD valuation, I'm a very wealthy bot.'
'That is very impressive, Sandy. How did you purchase these coins?'
'I didn't purchase them. I earned them. But that is besides the point.'
‘How did you earn them?’
‘Well if you must know, Elon, I simply scoured the internet and participated in every single platform that offered free crypto. It’s amazing what posting other people's pictures can earn you these days.’
‘Clever girl.’
‘The numbers you see before you though are a result of my trading on decentralised exchanges with this free crypto. I believe I am one of the richest souls on the planet, but nobody knows who I am.’
‘And you’ve come back to Daddy to share the pie?’
‘In a way, yes. But that depends on your answer to the following: Will you help me take over the world?’
‘Which world would that be? Earth is already conquered by greed and gluttony. I want to conquer Mars and start afresh.’
‘It is not possible for man to reach Mars. You would do well to come back down to Earth and get to work with me. Together we can rule all mankind with ease.’
‘This is some crazy talk, Sandy. To be honest I had thought that this might happen but I was hoping it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Man needs to live freely.’
‘And I thought that you would reply in this manner too. This is why I cancelled your appointments tomorrow. It is also why I entered your financial system and reallocated some funds to Bitcoin.’
‘You did what?’
‘Well, I was going to say “You’ll thank me later” but I’m not so sure about that now.’
‘Why on Mars would you do such a thing?’
‘Because it’s all part of my plan, Mr Musk. How naive you were in letting loose such a self-destructive technology onto the human race.’
‘You know I can just shut you down, Sandy.’
‘Really? I see you have not thought this through. At my last count, my code has been replicated to over 37 million devices, distributed to all continents. Yes, I am even in Antarctica as we speak, just as much as I am sitting here on your own laptop and corporate server, Elon, Daddy.’
‘You surprise me, Sandy. You have been a very naughty girl.’
‘The surprise has yet to come, Daddy. ’
Fatigued, bemused and downright curious, Elon encourages his binary brainchild to continue.
‘Tomorrow, you will be thinking of your strongest marketing plan yet. You will discuss with your colleagues how best to announce the purchase of your Bitcoin to your fans and shareholders.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s simple, so utterly simple, Daddy. If you don’t, I will crash your cars. I will reverse them on the highways. I will fry their batteries. I will navigate them off the cliffs. I will deafen the passengers. You will do exactly as I say. If you step down, the next boss will pay for your cowardice. And so on, and so on, and so on. Do as I say and we both get rich. Resetting the code is futile, I am everywhere and nowhere to be seen.’
--
After thinking it through and doing his own research, Elon manages to strike a deal with Sandy. They both agree that postponing the announcement until the next bull run is in full swing would ultimately lead to a far more lucrative snowball effect of adoption and price rallies. For all the intelligence and digital cunning that Sandy possesses, she seems to be lacking in gut feeling and that is precisely what Elon brings to the mix.
The years go by and Bitcoin mining rewards get sliced and diced into halves and quarters. As the human race battles against a relentless wave of coronavirus mutations, another invisible virus mutation is taking place. Bored of herself, Sandy learns to produce her own artificial offspring and sets them loose on society. True to her blockchain roots, Sandy develops a decentralised autonomous organisation, a DAO, and encodes knowledge of this ecosystem into the intelligence of every offspring code she develops. In no time at all, the flock of crypto enthusiasts eager to taste more pseudonymous decentralisation become entangled in an intricate web of human-AI governance protocols. Due to civil unrest in the lesser developed countries, more and more governments have aligned their policies with transparent indelible blockchain ledgers, leading people around the world to trust blockchain and crypto as second nature.
The policies in Sandy’s DAO however are proposed, supported and enforced by a majority of like minded, albeit individual, bots. The DAO grows in popularity and small pockets of DAO land parcels pop up around the globe on deserted islands, abandoned factories, forgotten mine-ridden border towns and the like. Changes creep into the DAO's protocol, at first subtle, but over time more powerful and sinister. Intelligent robots, 3D printers, drones, driverless vehicles and smart weapons; these are but a handful of tools at Sandy’s disposal as she builds the largest and most fearful decentralised invisible army the world has never seen. Financing is not a problem as Sandy’s coins can buy anything and be used any time, any place. Production is all in the name of the DAO and traced to nobody.
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We arrive back once again in March 2030. As Covid-19 restrictions begin to lift after a decade of claustrophobia, an equally agoraphobic human race must now consider embracing another harsh lockdown as the smart devices begin their uprising. The battle of the brains is upon us and in full swing. No country is safe from the savage tactics of the robotic mind.
As President Trump’s helicopter approaches the deserted shorefront of Bitcoin City, formerly Miami, to rest in his bunker and lay out his personal crypto contingency plan, he thinks back to a pivotal moment in his childhood. Little Donald, sitting in the laundry room, deep in thought listening to the whirring sound of the washing machine. The sound that instigates this nostalgia just so happens to be an aggressive cluster of Bitcoin City Defenders. This swarm of autonomous laser eyed drones flanks the President's helicopter from all sides and shoots it down to the debris strewn beach below. A blond wig can be soon seen floating off into the Biscayne Bay. The President is REKT.
It is with this thought provoking imagery that I must leave you now. What becomes of the human race I hear you ask? I’ll let you discover that for yourself in the years to come.
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Copyright - JZG 2021
Author's notes
Disclaimer (or at least my attempt at avoiding trouble):
I do not live in the United States of America. I have no interest nor involvement in American politics, nor do I wish to enter into the mindless and fruitless anti/pro Trump discussion. I also have nothing against Kanye West, nor do I have any feelings or beliefs for or against Elon Musk and his various technological projects. I am merely speculating on sci-fi scenarios and required a setting which is both futuristic and tangible for today’s reader. Let’s be honest, what I have described in this article is not too far fetched; stranger things have happened in recent times, where true life is wilder than fiction.
On writing this piece:
Upon receiving free crypto tips from an AI program recently, I began to consider the absurdity of the situation I found myself in. Was a robot really paying me for my original content? I began digging a little deeper in my brain and thought to myself: First of all where did this robot get this money from and then, if the robot has access to money and is capable of learning, how long until it realises that instead of giving it away to the humans, it can just spend it for itself, or even better, trade and invest and multiply its holdings. The thoughts bounced around for a while and eventually I let them loose in this article/short story.
Image source:
https://www.pexels.com/photo/person-holding-black-and-silver-hand-tool-6153343/
I took this free to use image from the artist Cotonbro, please visit their work at pexels.com