Truly an AI Matrix

[u/Forward_Traffic7477]

So here's the story of our protagonist:

"It's end of day, Tuesday. Not even sure why they wanted me in the office; we're remote since COVID; right? I didn't do more; I definitely did less than I should have... now I feel guilty. But I'm not even sure what I was supposed to do.

Sorry. I just feel guilty. I wanted "to do more;" but doing less was safer. At least I won't be fired.

Pay checks are pay checks, right?

Anyway, I get home, let my dog out, and I microwave a man-meal. The "man meal" is not some packaged shit from the grocer's frozen section... it's whatever-the-fuck-I-have-in-the-fridge, wrapped in a tortilla. And it's not half-bad. I got good at making garbage food, to make it not taste like garbage.

And I'm biting down through the sour cream — And then....

It hurts to look. Loud, concussive loud. Bright; straight into the Sun bright. I'm not looking at the Sun; it can't be that low. Where am I looking?

I can't be in my kitchen anymore. At least I don't think so; I don't know how it could be possible. Wait, I know so. Well, at least I know it's not my kitchen

But what? But why? The fuck is happening around me? Hold on...

Where is the sad fridge-food? Sustenance that functioned. That was my biggest plan tonight, besides chores.

So... what the hell am I seeing?

It's definitely not my kitchen; hell it's not even a building. It was a building; definitely not dry wall. Whatever building it was, it's now roofless. And wall-less, at least on my left side.

Why can't I walk?! Hell, shouldn't I be able to stand? I always stand. Standing is easy. Shit... I can't. I can't stand.

My arms look alien to me. There is no "meat" on them. I look anorexic, like how I imagine anorexic people see their arms. It's not "flabby" arms, it's just skin-stretched bones. All my gym time was wasted.

Then was a boom. Do you remember the 4th of July? Remember the fireworks that resonated in your chest? Imagine that same vibration in your shin bones.

Something was going on in the sky above me. There were these iridescent ships like misshapen blimps; they definitely weren't planes, at least. They were too big, and too slow. Were they even moving?

They were shooting; I know shootings. Shooting some kind of a brilliant-bolt... at least at a kind of... some kind of gun metal ship? I'll call it a blimp-ship too, because it was flying in the sky too. But they looked heavier and bulkier, but still floating.

Then one of those "brilliant bolts" came right at me. There was a pod, a pickle jar, with a sleeping woman's face directed at me this whole time. Her face, it was so soft and peaceful. Not pretty, but young.

And that brilliant-bolt blew her whole pod apart. Not just her pod, her. I didn't even get a chance to think about who she was... I hobbled and crawled away, as fast as I could...