The Laments of a Programmer (Prologue)

It has been just ten years since AI started revolutionizing our everyday lives. From automating tasks to creative endeavors, AI continues to make our lives simpler and more efficient. And this revolution shows no signs of slowing down. And we need you to be at the forefront of this brand-new world we are creating together. Our expansive network offers a variety of positions in—

“Shut UP!” I screamed at my phone as I took out my headphones and tossed them onto my bed in a fit of uncontrollable rage.

AI this, AI that! Couldn’t they just shove AI up their behind!?

After a day of rejection emails landing in my inbox like the bombing of Dresden, my mood was sour, to say the least. All I wanted was to escape the miserable existence I found myself in over the past couple of years—so, like any good Gen Z, I put on my favorite podcast while doing chores. But no, even these guys had to be sellouts and be sponsored by some stupid new AI startup.

Sigh. I glanced at the stack of mail on my desk. Most were unopened, but I could tell they were unpaid taxes, day loans, rent, and whatnot. On a very thin, dull silver lining, I didn’t have a mortgage to pay—imagine owning a house in this economy. I rented a tiny bedroom in a Tokyo suburb, and although the rent was small, when you hadn’t had consistent income for years, it was starting to stack up.

What went wrong to get me into this hole?

A decade ago, I had a bright future in tech ahead of me. I graduated from a good university, and the tech world seemed like an unstoppable force in the march for progress. But then the reality of the corporate world dominated by Big Tech hit me like a truck—it was all smoke and mirrors, going from one fad to another. First it was big data, then crypto, and now AI. Venture capitalists poured money into the next big startup for the chance to make billions, while white-collar workers were chewed and spewed for all their worth. I was tricked, exploited, and thrown out like garbage so many times during the past ten years. Everything I had built collapsed like a house made out of toilet paper. I could barely survive off the scraps of traditional IT work I could find.

Just as I was considering what other options I had left, my phone left strewn on my desk vibrated. Probably another rejection email, I thought, as I picked it up to check the notification. Might as well read all of these on the same day to soften the blow. However, what the email said made me raise an eyebrow.

<Arcforge Grand Reopening!

The original sword & magic sandbox virtual MMO is back, after an eight-year hiatus! Found settlements, create an economy, make alliances, fight other players in this massive, award-winning fantasy world!

As a special promotion for this exciting new chapter in the story of Arcforge, you have been chosen to receive exclusive promotional items.

Click HERE to kickstart your brand-new adventure!

You are receiving this email because you are part of our mailing list. If you do not want to receive more promotional emails, click here to unsubscribe.>

“Arcforge is back?! I haven’t heard that name in ages…”

Arcforge was one of the first projects I worked on after graduating. It was created by a small startup with the grand goal of utilizing AI realistic-sounding NPCs in games. The office culture was electric, and the game proceeded at an amazing pace. We even had a beta launch to iron out some bugs and balance out the game.

However, it turned out to be just one big scam. The higher-ups at the start-up could only see the dollar signs when a faceless mega-conglomerate bought them out. They didn’t want the game, though—all they cared about was the great tech used in NPCs. The entire gaming team was fired, and Arcforge died an ungraceful death right there and then. The revolutionizing tech we worked on became the basis of the many, many grossly hyper-realistic virtual “assistants” and NPCs in other games that exist nowadays. Meanwhile, the startup founders exited the scene with fat stacks of cash, just like the system was design to do.

Perhaps because of this rather pointed nostalgia, or maybe because of my tiredness from that tiring day, my critical thinking wasn’t up to snuff. I should have thought about this strange email for more than two seconds, or even contacted some of the old team members I still was in good terms with. Yes, the email seemed legit, and even the sender was from an old official Arcforge account. But why hadn’t I heard about this before the supposed “grand reopening”? And, more importantly, why would they contact a former dev? I never played the game much after launch, and I certainly didn’t put my email on some shady mailing list.

Yes, me, a programmer, fell for the simplest of phishing scams. Although, in my defense, this particular scam was anything but simple. It didn’t infect my phone with a virus, or steal my identity. Nah, it was much more… esoteric than that.

Immediately after pressing the link, I started feeling dizzy. A strange black mist erupted from my phone, filling the entire room. The world around me began disintegrating into small white cubes, white were sucked into my phone in a massive whirlpool. Eventually I, too, began disintegrating, and got pulled into that ever-consuming twister.

Only then did I finally lose consciousness.

What a great way to end the day.