Addictive By Design
A Short Story
A young man sat on the dirty cement sidewalk, huddled by himself within the concrete jungle of one of the last human nation-cities: New Bolivia.
The year is 2141 and humanity was forced to flee to higher ground as the pollution they produced melted the ice caps of their world and flooded the lands where they once made their homes. In the year 2080 the entire population of the Earth migrated to the few remaining locations that could support their population size, abandoning the lower lying ground and founding the five final human cities that would ever be established; New Bolivia, China City, The Sahara Federation, North Mexicana and The Euro Isles.
These bastions of progress were massive expansive landscapes of seemingly never-ending civilization, each with a central hub of sleek clean technology providing for all of the resident needs, and each of which were ringed by thousands of miles of makeshift villages where the poorest in society lived. The wealth inequality was incredible. The planet was wrapped in a sweltering heat making life outside for prolonged periods of time very unpleasant and the impoverished zones were referred to by the super wealthy as “Hell”.
The young man did not live in the shanty villages on the outskirts of New Bolivia because of the danger they regularly offered, seething with criminals and containing their own power structures of brutality and violence.
No, he lived in the central hub of the giant city, begging for food to get by and desperately avoiding the patrols of security bots that were sent out every night to keep the wealthy inhabitants safe. He preferred the cold pretensive veneer of polite society to the honest and angry destructive chaos of the outer rings where he was raised, although both could be equally savage.
The residual air conditioning that drifted down from the buildings helped keep the outside temperature lower than in the dangerous outskirts of society, and because the young man did not have anyone in his life, it made abandoning everything to escape pursuers an easy task. The people from his past were dead or gone, and whenever he made new friends in the city they were in similar circumstances to him, powerless nomads. Such folk he would only occasionally see as they wandered the labyrinth of streets like lost souls seeking paradise.
If you had wealth, then the cities were your playground. Without it they became your heated prison.
In the streets below, the abundance of the hopeless meant that there were slow distractions for the fastest and fittest to take advantage of, who were often able to maintain a precarious lifestyle avoiding the security bots and their electrifying prongs through outpacing fellow travelers. The elite families however, lived high up in magnificent skyscrapers that had beautiful views of the sprawling nation sized metropolis. Spectacular shiny metal and glass horizons framed their dainty realities. They were waited on by intelligent robots who did all manual labor and service chores, allowing the fortunate to relax in comfort and enjoy leisurely lives chasing pleasure algorithms like hamsters on a never ending wheel.
The entertainment industry had shifted from being produced by individuals to being produced by super intelligent AI that understood the inner workings of the human psyche and could carefully construct algorithms which consisted of chains of media that provided a certain experience for the viewer.
The overwhelming amount of entertainment media that had been produced in the years since AI was developed; the music, the videos, the images, the cultural context, meant that humans were not capable of remembering it all, and many were forced out of the creative space leaving the production of art up to the machines.
To have a human manage an algorithm was impressive due to their inability to process the same amount of information at speed. An AI can produce a more refined and more specific experience through their manipulation of human psychology with their algorithms, while a human with the same job is like a monkey with too many tools. There is just so much they could include and without the ability to comprehend it all, it made their algorithms raw and emotionally inefficient.
However humans always hold themselves in high regard and they attributed the most value to human produced algorithms, regardless of their inferiority to the AI fabricated ones. It was the flaws in human algorithms that made them so special and unique, claimed the common line of argument the young man had heard most often, parroted by the talking heads who, on the big digital billboards that drifted beneath the city lights, were trying to sell such wares. The people who shaped these rare and expensive algorithms were branded as “artists”.
The young man was not an artist, nor was he educated enough with technology to understand how to produce an AI that might someday provide him with an income. So he sat on the street, lost amongst the towering structures in New Bolivia, begging for scraps of mercy from the successful, and watching his own disjointed personal algorithm that was a mismatch of whatever was floating around the internet these days. Life had moved on and the young man had been left behind.
As far as the young man could tell, the way that the artists and AI built their algorithms was by being able to identify content at such speed that they could swipe passed media that might derail the emotional ride of an algorithm. Every time the viewer skips passed content, the algorithm notes what content was skipped and adjusts what content will come up in the future.
By repeating this process enough times with enough speed, the artist creators and AI were able to construct content chains that, for a brief period of time, will only show specific images and clips that evoke certain emotions in people.
Like a piece of kirigami, the artist or AI would skip content, similar to making cuts in paper, and only the end viewer would see the final algorithm unwind before their eyes, as if opening the page to reveal the mystery shape hidden within its folds. An artist could then sell their algorithms to the highest bidder, and as the person watches the algorithm and enjoys the ride, it gradually is unmade with each new clip that isn’t skipped, until it is just another generic algorithm that anybody would have on their personal device.
Despite his attempts not to, the young man found himself scrolling through social media daily for hours to pass the time, sharing in the collective store of memories and moments from human history real and fictional, which were played ad infinitum on screens across the world. It was addictive by design.
Every time he stumbled upon a video or image that made him happy or inspired him in some way, unbeknownst to him, it furthered the amount of time he was willing to watch emotionally devastating and destructive content in order to experience that same high from before. His personal algorithms weren’t very good, but they didn’t need to be, because they were still effective enough at holding attention.
And so his days went, sitting on the streets scrolling and begging, and sneaking around the back alleys at night, darting from shadow to shadow among the towering buildings to avoid the bright lights and the patrolling security bots of society.
One day when the young man was gazing down at his device watching the videos play their way passed his sight, a small passing boy accompanied by an android came to a stop beside him.
“Why do you sit on the street?” the young boy asked.
“I don’t have a home to sit in.” the young man replied simply.
“You don’t have a home?” the boy asked, “Where are your parents?”
“My parents are dead,” the young man said sadly, “I haven’t had parents for a few years now.”
“And you don’t have a job?”
“Nope. Unemployable,” the young man confirmed, “I don’t have the skills to outwork a robot, or the money to get an education to learn.”
“What’s your name?” the boy asked.
“People call me Rock.”
“Rock?”
“Yeah,” explained the young man, “They say I’m as dumb as a bag of rock.” The boy laughed at the mistaken phrase but did not correct it and the Rock smiled none the wiser.
“You provide amusing answers, Rock,” the boy said when he calmed down, “I want you to have this.”
The boy reached his gentle hands into the holding compartment of the android beside him and retrieved a small silver cylindrical drive. Rock just stared dumbfounded at the generosity as the boy held it out for him to take.
“Is that…?” Rock began.
“Yes, my simple friend, this is an Arson Algorithm,” the boy stated casually, “I used to watch these every day but now I only have ten left. Anyways, I want to give you this one. I hope you enjoy it.” Rock just stared at the small metallic cylinder when the boy placed it in his hands.
Arson had been a legendary algorithm producer back in 2120 but he had tragically died after falling from a 468th floor window. There was suspicion that he was pushed until they found a note detailing the shallowness of the new world as a worrisome weight on the artist’s subconscious.
Rock looked up into the boy’s soft face, cherubic in its innocence in a world that was so hard and so cold. He knew that if he waited for the boy to leave, he could sell this algorithm for millions upon millions of dollars and could change his life for the better.
He knew he would probably never get an opportunity like this again.
However Rock had earned his nickname the honest way, and because he knew no slight of hand tricks to fool the boy so he could hide the gift for later resale, he simply retrieved his tattered device from its seat on the sidewalk beside him, and without thinking he plugged the algorithm into it.
If he had been smarter he might’ve concluded that the robot, on the boy’s command, was perfectly capable of killing him if he upset the child for any reason, and despite the young boy’s kindness, children are fickle and stupid creatures. But the thought didn’t cross his mind.
- adam - i am receiving a message - we are requested home
Adam looked up at his android and then back down to Rock.
“Well, I have to be off, I hope you enjoy that. Thank you for answering my questions Rock.” With that the boy and his android turned and departed, heading deeper into the metropolis to where the tallest buildings stood, gleaming brightly.
Rock looked down at his device. The algorithm was still loading. If he acted fast he might be able to still sell it as ‘used’, because despite not having seen any of it, the traders would note that it had been inserted into something and this would lower the price automatically. The temptation passed and was replaced with another, deeper desire. An unforeseen curiosity.
What did a legendary artist’s algorithm look like?
Rock had never seen an artist’s algorithm before, nurtured by knowing hands to produce elation in the viewer. He could never afford even the cheapest of the AI ones, let alone a base human creation.
And this one was priceless.
One of Arson’s own algorithms. It were as if a stranger had dropped the Mona Lisa into his lap for his personal enjoyment. What kind of experience could he expect? What emotions would be evoked by this cultured and curious artwork?
Rather than release himself from the bonds of poverty, the dimwitted Rock succumbed to his insidious curiosity and sacrificed his freedom by pressing play.
It had begun.
Rock’s eyes were glued to the screen as the algorithm began, slowly and tenderly at first displaying happy videos with light hearted music accompanying them. As the images flickered passed, the tone changed and Rock felt himself crying. Emotions flew through his body like turbulent winds, rinsing his brain with new sensations at each transition from video to video. Pictures of animals he had never seen, mind-bending and beautiful landscapes presented with angelic songs danced through the avenues of his mind. He saw laughing children, loving parents, whole life experiences that he himself had missed out on, all bundled together in this microcosm of experience and wonder. His heart soared with each bright joyous setting and sank correspondingly with each dive into tragedy or tension. The algorithm was everything. It was the past and the future. It held hopes and dreams and disappointment. Rock imagined he could feel the guiding presence of the spirit of Arson himself, smiling upon him as his algorithm played itself out of existence.
For the next ten minutes of Rock’s life, he sat stationary, stuck in an emotional rollercoaster that worked its way into his bones and left him feeling electrified and excited. It filled his empty stomach and it satisfied his weary mind for the first time in years.
But gradually the videos changed.
Every now and then something out of place would pop up and distract Rock, dragging him out of the foray and back to the sidewalk where he sat. Rock found himself becoming irritated by these disruptions and found his mood fouled even more as their frequency increased. Suddenly he found himself flicking passed them, swiping the images off of the screen in a desperate search for the joy he had felt before.
But the damage was done.
The algorithm had deteriorated on its own until Rock’s additions unmade it completely. Where there had been a carefully arranged amalgamation of emotional content now played an incessant and disorganized stream of unrelated entertainment that was jarringly mismatched across transitions.
Rock began to swipe faster and faster, trying without success to regain what he had lost.
But it was already gone.
The algorithm had played itself through and was now no longer identifiable. The money he might have made on the black market had evaporated before his eyes leaving him feeling like a worthless, empty shell. A dark hopelessness welled up inside and he felt fresh tears in his eyes. How could he have been so stupid? The lights of the city were harsher, the colors worn by the buildings and the people seemed more faded, and Rock had a feeling like he would never be happy again.
Suddenly he had the spark of a thought. If he could just find that boy again, maybe he could get another algorithm. This time he wouldn’t blow it, this time he would take it straight to the traders on the boundaries where civilized society devolved into pockets of poverty and exchange it for its proper value. The boy had said he had nine left. If Rock could just get his hands on one more that would be it. He would be free of this hell of a life.
He stood, leaving behind his device and his blanket, his only two worldly possessions apart from the clothes on his back, to make a sudden chase for the boy and his prize. Rock ran in the direction Adam had gone with his android, sprinting at his fastest pace in order to make up the time he had spent wasting his wealth away. The lights flashed passed in a blur and his lungs began to burn but Rock kept up the hunt. He had to find the boy.
He had to get another algorithm.
Finally, after fifteen minutes of a full paced run and several backtracks, Rock saw him and his android heading into a massive building that disappeared in the sky.
“Hey!” Rock shouted, coughing as he did, “HEY, ADAM!”
Adam didn’t hear him. Rock felt a jolt of panic in his heart as he watched his hopes for happiness walk through the arched glass doorway and off of the street out of reach. Rock redoubled his efforts and his feet devoured the remaining 500 yards to the building.
He knew he didn’t have an access code like Adam did. He also didn’t have an android who could grant him access, so when Rock saw a broad lady dressed in furs exiting through the same doorway, he took his chance, despite his screaming legs, and charged for the opening to gain access to the building.
The woman let out a shrill cry as she fell backwards in fright, expecting the vagabond ahead of her to attack. Her large bulk hit the floor with a thud and immediately became an obstacle in the young man’s way. Rock tried to jump but tripped over her and ended up sprawling out on the floor on his face by her side. He heard the alarms sound and looked around.
The security robots were upon him.
A quick electronic scan of his DNA revealed he was not permitted entry to this building making him more than just a harmless homeless person on the street.
He was now a dangerous criminal.
The robots responded quickly by ended the intruder’s life where he lay, firing their prongs into his flesh and electrifying him. Rock shook violently as sparks bounced around his mouth along with a final tortured squeal of pain.
The moment ended, and the onlookers in the building lobby resumed with their everyday activities to the smell of burning hair and melted skin.
The woman sat up and looked at the dead body in horror. This filthy animal had made contact with her. She shrieked and rolled away to a safer distance, still shuddering with adrenaline.
“Take it away from me!” she roared at the attending robots as they withdrew their projectiles, “It should never have gotten near me!”
Hearing the commotion Adam turned at the elevators to see the collision and he hurried to the scene of the crime to look upon the poor young man that he had seen begging in the street earlier.
“What do you think he was doing here?” Adam asked his mechanical companion as they headed back to the lifts.
- perhaps he wanted another algorithm
“If that’s all he wanted, he just had to do ask,” the boy replied in confusion. “I’ve got too many at home to watch them all myself.”
With that Adam and his android stepped onto the elevator, and watched through the closing doors as Rock’s remains were disposed of in the appropriate manner, down the garbage disposal.
© 2025 Sebastian Arends | Sincerely Seb. All Rights Reserved
Unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of this story or accompanying image is prohibited.
Beautiful ❤️