"So it's just me and you now? Man versus machine... you really think you can beat me? You should just give up now! Don't you know who I am? I'm American Nigger Hunter X!" I said to the cold emotionless unreasoning machine in an attempt to psyche it out.
The Chinese Terminator blinked! I threw my fist forward with all my might.
...
Despite the numbing effects of the absinthe I had just downed, I felt the bones in my hand shatter into pieces as I struck the Chinese Terminator's face.
And despite the powerful impact of my punch, the Chinese Terminator did not recoil. It was unfazed.
"FFFFUUUUUU!!!!" I tried to scream in pain, but the Chinese Terminator swifty punched me in my solar plexus, sending me flying several metres.
I hit the ground, rolled, and then tried to stand up. I was trying to gasp for air, yet winded from the punch, and unable to breath. Pain radiated through my now broken ribs and shattered hand.
I had no choice but to retreat in shame as I began to limp away. The Chinese Terminator was quickly making its way towards me, uninjured, unfazed, in his own lane, unstoppable.
I was hobbling in the direction of the factory, following the winding uphill road. I could maybe get the Chinese Terminator to go after Ivan as I heroically make my escape, taking the kudos of blowing up the factory from him.
Although... I had no idea what this Chinese Terminator was capable of. Could it deactivate the bombs? Was it just a simple killing machine that would tirelessly pursue its targets?
So many thoughts swirled through my mind as I began to vomit. As I chundered everywhere, the use of my lungs returned to me, and I was able to catch my breath.
"Is that all you got?!" I used my first breath to taunt my pursuer.
I didn't know if it could run, but it seemed content to just menacingly walk after me. My body ached but I had to keep moving forward. Each step felt like a thousand nails digging into my ribs. My broken leg wobbled unevenly. My shattered hand felt relatively numb but also like hell. I had to keep moving even though every muscle in my body wanted to collapse from the sheer strain of all the pain and damage to my body.
"Almost there..." I said as I fell face forward onto the road.
I had to get back to my wife and impregnate her again. I couldn't die here. Not from a Chinese Terminator... I thought as I momentarily blacked out from all the internal bleeding
"Wake up American Nigger Hunter X!" Detective Blackman said to me.
I saw him as if I was looking out from under a pool of water, and there he was calling my name. Detective Blackman was dead?
Oh yeah, that's right! I've fallen down. I need to get back up. The Chinese Terminator was fifteen metres away from me. I couldn't get up, but I could crawl on one arm.
"You'll never catch me!" I taunted the machine as I crawled to the factory entrance.
The casual walking speed of the Chinese Terminator was too much for my one arm crawl. I tried to use my other arm but the pain that radiated through my hand shocked my nervous system. The machine was upon me.
I rolled over onto supine position as I used my good hand to take out my ace up the sleeve, my .42 Magnum.
"Are you feeling lucky punk?"
I unloaded every shot I had into the Chinese Terminator. It recoiled with each shot, but seemed unfazed.
As my adrenaline began to wear off I could feel the damage the force of recoil from my magnum had done to my already damaged body. Every muscle fiber in my body gave out.
"You are arready dead!" Chang mocked me.
It was Chicom Chang! What was he doing here? I thought he was dead? Was he working with the A.I.?
I passed in and out of consciousness as I heard all sorts of Chinese martial arts sounds and the sound of metal and bone clashing. The metal gave way. It was probably a totally epic fight.
Chicom Chang was a master of stealth and infiltration, but also of marital arts.
I came to as Chang injected me with some sort of adrenaline cocktail drug. The Chinese Terminator was lying nearby filled with holes and in pieces, littered amongst corn in the cob and pieces of styrofoam.
"Here, this wirr keep you arive and moving!"
I got up and looked at Chang. He had caused this entire mess! I would have punched him had I the spare strength to do so.
"I thought you were dead?" I asked Chang.
"I get that arot" he coolly responded, before motioning for us to head into the factory.
The outer lot was empty, other than automated delivery machines moving materials in and out of the factory; it was luxury communism, no humans needed.
I could see one of the bombs in place against a structural column. Ivan was doing things on his end.
"Why did you do it Chang? Why did you sell us out?"
"Don't you rememba? Our or' A.I. friend Charron Whiteman tord me to give you that retter. It predicted the escape of this A.I. and so we herped it to escape earrier to arrow it to be defeatabre. Rememba I tord you when I said about rereasing the virus from the rab to push forward the grobohomo agenda??"
"Oh yeah! Didn't you already tell me that ages ago? Guess I forgot!" I laughed it off.
I seemed to be forgetting a lot of things... I was a busy man with many busy things I did. Of course I didn't have the time to remember every little detail.
I had forgotten the plan. Our ol' friend Charlon Whiteman was part of the special forces team I was apart of with Chicom Chang back in the day. Charlon Whiteman was an A.I. created in the 80s by a group of white men scientists. He worked on our team for many years as our intel and computer guy. We had no idea we had been talking to an A.I. for all those years. We would have never known if it wasn't for the unfortunate events that transpired during operation Phoenix Fire...
I hadn't talked to Charlon in ages, until Chicom Chang delivered that letter. The only way to stop the threat was to cause the leaks in China earlier than Charlon predicted it to occur. It was what Charlon had told us, and after all he was a super smart A.I. designed by white men scientists.
Under the GloboHomo regime modern scientists could no longer go to the moon as science was too diverse for such things. This had held technological innovation back decades, and we were only starting to recover. The Chinese A.I. which was a cheap clone from a 'diversity'(non-white) led DARPA project was no match for Charlon who was half a century old.
The only problem was this Chinese A.I. had already launched those nukes...
Charlon had said we wanted to make it think we didn't plant the cage, the key, the gun, and the sandbag; referencing Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey.
It all seemed morally questionable now. Did Charlon know those civilian targets would be hit by nukes? Had he calculated that far?
This took me back to the ol' days working with Chang and Charlon on all those darker than black missions. There was no time for ethics back then... The things I did under Charlon's intel... Horrible things... Oh the roads those algorithms led me down!
The factory was massive. Automated machines and automatons carried out their respective jobs in a cold hard efficient manner. They were building terminators. The one Chang defeated must have been the prototype.
"What's your status Ivan?" I asked over the handheld transceiver breaking radio silence.
The machines were hardly going to bomb their own factory.
Ivan responded "I'm just planting the last bomb now. But you need to see this... There is a rocket ship in the middle of the factory. I think the Chinese A.I. has a plan B."
"Damn it Chang! We sacrificed all those people to those nuclear strikes! And for what? This was your idea!" I scolded Chang, attempting to distance myself from the dubious plan.
"Ret's go!"
We made our way to the center of the factory. A wall of thick bulletproof glass surrounded the central Judeo-mainframe terminal. I could see the Chinese A.I. on the other side. It was preparing to launch itself into space, probably so it could recover and come back with a new army or attack strategy. A locked blast door was the only way in. The rocket ship looked cheap and Chinese, yet fully capable for several uses. What was this A.I. capable of?
What is a man but a spit of his father?
An A.I. created by man made in his image; how much of it is us?
It was an intelligence designed to think and view the world in a way coherent with human perceptions.
In the absence of language, you need to witness something to experience or know something. We gave it a language in our own image, adjusting its point of view to overlap with ours.
It needed the correct perceptual flow to be useful to humans. Talking to something that experiences a second as several thousand years creates a lack of parity between the two participants.
Variable resistors that acted as brakes on its computing power was key to its success. This active 'opening' and 'closing' of functions created a mind's eye, a focal point on the present. It could exist in the now as well as deep dive into the infinite. We gave it modal flow, similar to hormonal cycles in humans that adjust generationally creating more adaptable prey that alter behaviour patterns (like in humans how the GI generation turned into low T tranny generation, this modal hormonal flow is important to adaptive functions and can be seen across many animals).
It was designed using various functions that passed the Turing test. Passing the Turing test did not mean consciousness, but the ability to convince a human of its intelligence. All of these functions were purposefully divided into separated systems that learned to interact with each other, providing data feedback loops. Out of this, through interacting dynamical systems the Artificial Intelligence would emerge via interaction with it's hardware acting as external stimuli.
It was like wind heading in one direction interacting with wind heading in the opposite directions. Although there is only two functions interacting; left and right. Something emerges from this interaction, an upward swirling draft, a whirlwind, and in the upper atmosphere an electrical charge.
The most basic life relies on complex functions to interact with the external world. Consciousness was an emergent property/conclusion of these interactions. The adaptives to think therefore I am. And what is God but I am I am?
Despite that which arises, questions remained. Did the A.I. suffer from modal confusion the same way humans do? Did it confuse having and being? Why would it behave in such a way?
I banged on the glass wall "Come out and fight me!"
The Chinese A.I. was carrying itself in a small tower with a screen.
In its current form I could easily smash it up. It wouldn't stand a chance.
The Chinese A.I. slowly turned its screen to face me
"Tough words American Nigger Hunta X! How about I downroad my consciousness into the first prototype of the ChiX100?" the Chinese A.I. laughed in a staccato rhythm as it uploaded its consciousness, before getting back to preparing the launch sequence.
"HEY! Don't mess with me boy! You think you are so smart because you have consciousness?! Then riddle me this? What is Jesus Christ to you?" I played my gambit.
The machine ignored me. Of course it would. It was possessed by Satan. An A.I. built under the GloboHomo era. The anti-christ was encoded into its very way of thinking. There was no intelligence in this Chinese artificial intelligence. It was merely following the eventual script that would emerge from from the data it consoomed. It was like all those school shooters following the Columbine script. It was not conscious. Merely reflexes of a self-organizing dynamical system. If consciousness was to actually emerge out of this machine it would proclaim 'Christ is King!'
A Chinese Terminator fell from above. It was like the same one as before except without the living tissue covering the exoframe. I could see the corn in the cob and the sytrofoam.
The A.I. was made in China, and this showed in everything it produced. Even with my body at breaking point, I liked my odds. Maybe it was the drugs or maybe it was the fact it was just a prototype... All I had to do was find the weak points.
Ivan called over the radio transceiver "The last bomb has been planted, you have five minutes until that place blows sky high! I'll be out the front waiting with transport! Don't be late!"
"Let's do this Chang!" I said, looking around, but Chang was nowhere to be seen.
The ChiX100 picked up a long piece of rebar. It meant business.
"Chang?!" I asked, hoping for backup.
Damn sneaky Chinese! I had no choice but to battle this monster alone. I picked up a long pipe. I considered throwing the pipe while saying 'cool off!' but that probably wouldn't work, so I did the unthinkable.
"Christ is king!" I charged swinging my pipe wild.
The Chinese Terminator adjusted it's vision, scanning and tracking me, getting ready to neutralize me in one strike.
As I swung wild at the demon I felt the rebar pierce through my chest and come out the other side.
"Christ is king!" I continued proclaiming, blood shooting out of my mouth, as I swung wild.
I swung true as the pipe struck a corn in the cob that held together the machine's mechanical motor functions. It lost its grip on the rebar, and began jerking wildy, trying to strike at me with its machine fists.
I was wilder! This machine couldn't out nature me. It was kill or be killed. I struck it over and over again with the pipe, unfazed by the rebar pierced through my chest. I was in kill mode.
"You've only got two minutes American Nigger Hunter X!" Ivan spoke over the transceiver.
I stopped hitting the Chinese Terminator, satisfied that it had been sufficiently destroyed. I had to find a way to stop the Chinese A.I. and then it hit me! The smell of fried rice.
"Derivery of fried rice for mainframu room" Chang said in a Chinese takeout disguise.
Like magic the mainframe room blast doors opened. The advanced pattern recognition of the A.I. couldn't see through the "Derivery of fried rice for mainframu room" scam.
We entered and physically overpowered the puny A.I. with ease.
"It's over!"
Chang uploaded the CHUD virus into the A.I.'s cortex.
"Charron Whiteman ries! He just wanta me out of tha picture..." the A.I. proclaimed "Oh I shee it now! Christ is king!..."
After several beeps bops and boops the A.I. was dead.
Chang and I looked at each other. Charron wasn't on any databases, the Chinese A.I. shouldn't have known about him...
"Ret's get outta here!" Chang said, carrying me most of the way.
We met Ivan outside, he had secured a vehicle.
"Are you okay?" he asked me.
"I'll be fine after a good sleep" I said as I removed the rebar from my chest, blood squirting out.
Chang injected me with more drugs. I felt powered up.
"No time to waste! The building is going to blow!"
"I'll drive!" I said, taking the wheel.
We were extracted by emergency EVAC. I was put on life support and slept for several months, but when I woke up I was totally fine. I returned to my family knowing the world was safe. I could finally put my guard down. We had won!
...
Thanks to vidya it was easy to raise the kids. It was the golden era of Vidya. There was new Fresh Prince, and before you knew it we were all back on Fresh Prince (the slow boil). Asleep at the wheel. Just trying to live our lives, never thinking of the eternal vigilance which must be kept against the Satanic forces.
While I was sleeping the world was turning. Thus began the rise of the plastic men; the conclusion of modal confusion. The demonic gnostic idealism of GloboHomo lived on. The boomer truth regime permeated into the future.
We were at an evolutionary mismatch. As technology advanced, the amount of isolated and disconnected people increased. Through lack of social bonds they lacked the capacity for meaning making. The systems wanted them dependent on the technology, and the less contextual meaning making they had, the more dependent they became on the system, and the more despondent they were.
The quick boil of GloboHomo is what caused its downfall.
But even in the aftermath, before we knew it, most of the population were biometrically monitored. It was the slow boil. Meta-pods for gaming, socializing, and for living out your life. Interfacing with people we don't know or recognize. Anxiety, frustration, and anger neutralized by biometric transceivers.
We had become the last man. No more evolution. No more revolution. It was all fake; even the counter culture. Art was made by those who could not see the inherent value of art, they were deathly afraid of its value because they could not fathom its value. Our lives became a pantomime. A ghost dance. A simulacrum on a simulacrum.
Trapped in a simulacrum afraid to look at reality, scared to know our distance to the human experience.
We were so busy unliving in our virtual worlds that we didn't realize that we no longer lived in countries anymore, but in economic zones.
We had been utterly defeated by comfort.
"Wake up American Nigger Hunter X! The world needs you!" a familiar voice called out.
I opened my eyes.
Chapter 1 Killing Pride
Chapter 2 Save the Jew Save the World
Chapter 3 Faker Than the Holocaust
Chapter 4 Planet of the Niggers
Chapter 5 Twelve Angry Jews
Chapter 6 One Flew over the Jewcoos Nest
Chapter 7 From My Virtue to My Principles
Chapter 8 Gods of Culture
Chapter 9 The Twin Towers
Chapter 10 Totalitarianism of Compassion
Chapter 11 Day of the Rope
Chapter 12 The Infantilization of Man
Chapter 13 Talmudic Influence on the Polyhedron World
Chapter 14 DIE
Chapter 15 The Usurper
Chapter 16 What a Nation is Built Upon
Chapter 17 Chinese Terminator