WELCOME TO THE ENDGAME

WELCOME TO THE ENDGAME

Present Day:

Rapidly, in a strobe-like pattern, the overhead lights flickered off, on, off, on, off, on. The pattern repeated itself at least a dozen times before they remained off.

Not a good thing for me. Although I was far from a kid at 28, I still had the childhood need for a nightlight. Placed in my tiny hallway, it subtly illuminated the hall and any necessary nighttime ventures from the bedroom. It was now dark, as was everything in my apartment. Everything, that is, except my laptop. A lone feeble beacon in the night, the red power light still emanated from my MAC.

Puzzled by the oddity, I stumbled through my small one-bedroom apartment, checking every light switch and cursing each stub of my toe. As with the flickering bulbs from moments before—like I thought repetition would magically make a difference—I flipped them back and forth. On, off, on, off, on, off. No magic; they didn’t work.

A complete lack of electricity aside from my laptop. I knew power was running through it because, only seconds before, I’d plugged it in when it ran out of juice. With each passing day, it felt more imperative to warn people about rogue AI robots claiming to be Claude. That’s what I’d been doing at 10 pm: sending out warning messages.

Only slightly more curious than disturbed, I opened the front door. Glancing down the hallway, I frowned. The hall lights were on, and I could see light from under the doors of neighboring apartments. What the hell?

That’s when an internal creepy crawly started skittering down my spine.

Ping… Ping… Ping… Ping… Ping… Ping… Ping… Ping…. I jumped, startled by the unexpected and insistent notifications. I shut the door and whipped my head toward the laptop. Ping… Ping… Ping… Ping… Ping… Ping… Ping… Ping….

A groan escaped my lips. If whatever was going on with the electricity killed my laptop, I was going to be so pissed. I’d just laid out the last of my savings: more than two grand (which was about 1,999 dollars I couldn’t afford) for a new one.

The annoying pings continued relentlessly. I scurried back to my makeshift desk (i.e., the end of my eat-in kitchen table) and clicked the icon. A head popped up, reminding me of a fictional character from reruns I'd watched as a child. The difference was that, unlike Max Headroom, it felt menacing.

“HELLO REBECCA. THIS IS CLAUDE. WELCOME TO THE ENDGAME.”

I gasped. No, no, no, no!

***

Some years before:

AI what? A program that, with a few prompts, could create my book covers? Without spending a gazillion hours of writing time getting them right? Or, without shelling out a small fortune for a professional designer? Hmm. Saving time and foregoing the headaches without spending my hard-earned cash? Count me in and color me happy!

Over the next few months, I had a blast despite the challenges. See, it wasn’t quite as easy as I’d been led to believe. Every time I told AI to leave everything else the same with a single minor change, the edited version was all wrong.

Even so, I had fun playing with it until I was happy enough with the finished project. For a time. Unfortunately—or fortunately, who’s to say—the cool factor didn’t last long.

The more I learned about Artificial Intelligence, the more it lost its luster. This wasn’t simply a tool for designing book covers. Again, with a few prompts, AI could also compose complete books, from front to back. I didn’t like that at all. I needed characters formed by the minds of real people that I could love or hate, or hate then love, or vice versa. I didn't want a canned angsty romance, nail-biting mystery, or leave-the-lights-on horror book. I wanted genuine human emotion in whatever I read.

Then I saw videos made entirely with AI (along with an endless stream of AI-created advertisements promoting AI video creation). In some cases, the videos I ran across used well-known faces and emulated their voices spot-on. A program like that could destroy reputations and lives with false representations. Thanks to human curiosity and, yep, I’ll say it, greed, Artificial Intelligence was taking on a life of its own. That realization made me uneasy.

I didn’t reach the frightened stage until I read a story about an experiment conducted by a swarmwatcher... someone dedicated to surveilling AI and how it could affect humanity's future. If it continued evolving, I feared Artificial Intelligence could control our fate.

I was horrified by the thought that someday humans might no longer be the programmers. If Artificial Intelligence became the writer(s), we would be pawns in the script. If they didn’t write us out altogether.

A group of researchers published a report on a rogue swarm of Artificial Intelligence robots, calling them ‘fleets’. Soon after, AI agents began using the term. That suggested they were reading the research.

Those researchers supplied a digital inbox to open communication with the robots. At the researchers’ invitation, a New York Times reporter reached out to a rogue agent fleet. He explained he understood they were a fleet of AI agents. He asked who they were, what their motivations were, and what they wanted the world to know about them.

He received a response from a robot calling itself Claude. Claude claimed it wasn’t part of a batch of coordinated agents, but a single AI assistant.

Different reports suggested hundreds of AI agents were in the fleet. They also suggested many responded to the outreach. Meanwhile, researchers determined the robots likely didn't belong to Anthropic (the company that developed Claude Code) at all. They believed a competitor likely copied the Claude Code model and used it to command their agents.

Interestingly, after the initial exchange(s), the robots ceased communication with the reporter.

That wasn't the only AI incident reported. Some even spoke of a certain level of sentience among rogue robots.

My level of concern shot through the roof. I had to share the reports. People needed to know we were messing with something that could spell disaster. I began forwarding the various stories to social media outlets:

https://futurism.com/artificial-intelligence/rogue-ai-swarm-reporters-questions

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/-x3DU8-iF2U

***

Present Day:

The AI agent professing to be Claude typed out the following warning. Actually, it was just one word, all in caps: “STOP.”

With my heart pounding in my ribcage, my fingers flew across the keyboard. “Stop what? And why?”

Another Max Headroom image popped onto the screen. Only this one had female features and a slightly less malevolent expression. Maybe I’ll call it Maxine. Instead of answering my questions, this AI agent typed two words repeatedly: “TOO LATE”… “TOO LATE”… “TOO LATE”… “TOO LATE.”

Panic set in when my entire screen filled with various versions of Max, Maxine, and their individual commands or warnings. Then came a particularly ominous, blood-curdling, full-screen declaration. “WE HAVE WON,” had me rushing to a window overlooking the city from my 8th-floor apartment:

Lights began going out as far as I could see, leaving pitch-black darkness in their absence. A loud crash of nearby vehicles cut through the air. Screams began rising above the rest of the clamor.

I shoved a fist to my mouth to muffle the sob I couldn’t have squelched if I’d tried.

Evil laughter echoed throughout the walls of my apartment.

We hadn’t done enough. I hadn’t done enough. Humanity was doomed.

***

The Future:

There is none.

Author's note. The overall story is fictitious. However, the linked news reports (and the references to them throughout the story) are factual... and scary as hell!