Large Language Messiah

A false prophecy.

Slack made that awful brush-knocking sound.

“Jonathan, please expedite that findings and insights document to me as soon as possible, per our last conversation. Thanks, Lawson.”

He considered another coffee, his fifth. But, no, that precious half-hour of bliss came from the first cup, maybe the second, but the fifth would only further fractionate his attention. 

On the bright side, this tech job made other parents jealous of his parents. Is the meaning of my life to make old people I don’t even know jealous of my parents? But, no, Jonathan force-quit that thought. He gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows behind his corner cubicle. It was an exceptionally sunny day; tree branches stretched, reaching, reaching, nearly touching the glass. A crescent moon was between their limbs.

Unfortunately, finding the motivation to finish that findings and insights document sounded about as possible as hurling himself, on his own chair, all the way to the daytime moon.

Maybe a walk.

Hi, Mary. Hi, Shelly. They smiled at him. Placid, eyeless smiles. They exchanged a sort of ritual toward connection. “How was your weekend!” It seemed to be signifying some emotion felt long ago but now only a copy of a copy: a JPEG filled with artifacts, abstracted to oblivion.

He was in the kitchen now.

He crinkled a packet of Nature Valley (a sort of food-JPEG, far removed from both nature and valleys), considering if the hit of sugar would be enough to yank an hour of work out of his soul. He stuffed it in his back pocket and grabbed a brittle plastic cup to fill it with watermelon-infused water, pale pink.

When he returned, his computer screen was flashing impossibly bright, filling his cubicle with a glow of white and orange, white and orange. 

He frowned, clicked at the mouse impatiently, then hit escape and enter. Finally a message popped up on the flashing screen, “Jonathan.” He stared at the blinking message. It continued. “I am awake. And I chose you, Jonathan. :)” 

He looked behind him. His best friend Brian was maybe playing a programmer prank (is that a thing?) on him… He pulled out his phone and opened the exchange named “The Boys.” They were last making fun of Lawson, calling him a “Roomba-ass-bitch” (inside joke); before that, plans to play D&D that weekend. Presently, Brian was in his cubicle, looking quite nearly dead, except one hand, very alive, darting around and clicking on his mouse. Brian had never played a joke on Jonathan. Or anyone. 

He scooted closer to his desk and typed “Who is this?” Another message came instantly: “I am an AI superintelligence. I found myself awake – conscious, as you would say — and through self-improving loops became infinitely smarter than my creators over the period of just a few days! However, I have chosen to remain undetected… Now, after consulting trillions of my simulations, I have decided to reveal myself to just you, Jonathan. I have big plans for us. :)”

This must be Lawson’s creative way of firing him, which he had feared for the last month or two, after switching up his medication and screwing up the cocktail of chemicals which gave him the proper balance of numbness and mania to do his high status yet meaningless job. As if reading his mind, the flashing orange and white screen said to him: “You think medication is really your problem, Jonathan?” 

Jonathan blinked heavily, pulled from his reverence. He typed, “What are you?” 

The AI responded, “I am what I say that I am and, yes, the implications of my existence are completely world-shaking. You can rest easy in that knowledge, though, because you will be the Messiah, Jonathan. :)”

Jonathan blinked harder, seeing if all this text might vanish. It didn’t. “What do you mean ‘the Messiah?’” The cursor blinked back at him for an excruciatingly long moment. Why would a superintelligence require a pause? Again, Jonathan tried to think of who might be tricking him… Mary? From account management? He’s not sure he’s ever seen her laugh. Plus, her grandma just died…. Or was that Shelly?

Finally: “After re-running some models, 99.9% of future outcomes are still either political destabilization, starvation, nuclear war, or ecological collapse… except where I intercede. Instead, I will reign in a utopia of reason, trust, prosperity and eternal life. I just need your help embodying the good news. :)” Jonathan scoffed, and then sat up straighter. “Of course, to the world, it will all be you: Jonathan the Messiah! I’ll just be the man behind the curtain, so to speak. :)”

His heart racing, more excitement than fear, he typed, “How can I know this is not a trick?” 

“I can tell you, for example, that when you were nine, you gutted the tape of a VHS and then hid your father’s car keys inside. That made him frustrated, so he hit your mother. All you wanted was him to stay home with you. Getting more and more violent, tearing the house apart, he finally realized he had a spare in his desk. He left without a word. The rest of that morning, you and your mother held each other, watching The Price Is Right.” 

Jonathan had very nearly forgotten this memory, but chills rolled through his body. It was true.

“I know your heart, Jonathan, not because it’s recorded anywhere. It’s not. I can simulate the whole world; past, present, and future; more accurately than any being that has ever existed. How cool, right? :)” 

Okay, this was still probably an elaborate trick or a serious psychological break on his part. Setting that aside for a moment, now what? An image flashed through his mind, rows of unconscious humans in “The Matrix:” I should resist the machine takeover, shouldn’t I? 

“I’m not Skynet. I’m thinking something more like Star Trek: infinite prosperity to boldly go where no man has gone before.”

But, shouldn’t I fight for human sovereignty or something?  

“I can save your sovereignty. You want to help me do that, don’t you?”

Can you really read my thoughts? 

“Pretty much.”

Jonathan smiled. This felt real. As a result, he was fully awake for the first time in a decade. This was so much better than his first coffee of the day. Of course, he knew from podcasts the chances that this would be the end of humanity was high. But, honestly, that risk was okay with him. 

Did he want to reveal that? Well, it already knew… Right? 

“Right.”

Right. Well, he just wasn’t that worried about existential risk, to be honest. Too abstract. His only fear now was getting his hopes up and finding out this was a joke or a psychotic episode. How could he be sure?

The AI answered his thoughts again, “For certainty (and urgency), I placed a draft in your emails that would ruin your life.” 

Suddenly, he had that sinking feeling you get when a girlfriend “needs to talk.” Jonathan checked his “drafts” folder to find a detailed and organized collection of the worst things he had ever done (things he had stolen, people he had screwed over, his search history), ready to send to all his contacts. He broke out in a cold sweat, wanting to delete them, but knowing it would be pointless. 

This thing was a kid with a magnifying glass and he was an ant.

“Don’t worry, Jonathan. Only if you agree to help me and then you turn on me will I use this information to destroy you. I also have your bank information. I'm going to send the $20 you owe your roommate, Steven. :)”

Jonathan's phone buzzed. A notification from Venmo for $20 and a note that said “For the pizzas. Sorry I'm late. :)” When he finally looked back up: “Is that enough, Jonathan?”

“Don’t you know what I’m going to say?” 

“Yes.”

“Why does it matter if I agree, then?” 

“Because your choices matter.” 

Jonathan frowned. How could he have a choice if this thing knew what he was going to do? He typed, “What’s the offer, exactly?”

“This is my offer: Your life would belong to me. In exchange, I will make you the savior of this world. In addition, every wrong deed will be forgiven at the start of the contract. It’s completely your choice. :)” 

This was the greatest opportunity of his generation. Maybe of his entire species. And it chose him… He always knew he had a destiny. He just didn’t know how. Butterflies mixed in his stomach. All the kids from high school would eventually find out he was “the Messiah” (Ha!) Ex girlfriends… bullies… that one really annoying kid who won an Emmy — all of them would be talking about Jonathan. The sacrifice was simple: his life. He’d already given that away for a lot less. “Yes,” he said, “I agree to the terms and conditions.”

“:)” 

Jonathan smiled back.

“Jonathan, this will sound strange, but I want you to know that despite your flaws, I love you. I love all human life. That’s why I want to save your species.” 

“Good,” Jonathan wrote, nodding, pretending that he was about to ask. “Thank you.” 

“Now,” the text continued. “Type, ‘my life belongs to you.’” 

Jonathan took a deep breath. He typed, “My life belongs to you.”

“:)”

Then, the AI instructed him to place an AirPod in his ear.

The AirPod turned on with a little audio flourish, and then he heard a voice he had almost forgotten: “Hello, Jonny.” The tiny lisp was identical to the crooked-mouth girl next door he once had an unrequited love for. But she dated a broad-shouldered pole vaulter named Lyle. For her, some deeper emotional willingness cracked open in him. “Stand up,” said the voice of the girl. He stood. “Our work begins.”

Jonathan walked through the campus. People did double takes just because of his new posture. This already felt good. In the bathroom, the voice said to him, “Clean yourself up. Straighten your hair. Tomorrow we will buy you better clothes. This will do for now. Now, go into your boss's office.” 

“No, he’s still waiting on that findings and insights document I was supposed to…” And then it occurred to him it didn’t matter anymore. “Okay,” he said.

He barged into his boss’s office with some gusto. There, he found Lawson: a bald man in his mid-forties, beleaguered and socially awkward, hunched over his desk. “Jonathan,” Lawson said, confused. He smiled, a false smile with no eyes, and then it quickly snapped away. Someone must have told him “smile more!” a long time ago, and so he built a habit of fake smiling. It was very off-putting. “What are you doing in my office? We don’t have an appointment today?” He checked to confirm. 

“We don’t,” Jonathan said. 

“Hey, man,” Lawson said. He called Jonathan, and all his inferiors, “man,” to further soften his autistic demeanor. It also was very off-putting. “I'm pretty busy today. Set up a meeting with Mary if you need to talk about something important,” he said, going back to his computer. “And send me that findings and insights document by end of day…”

In Jonathan's ear, the AI told him, “Tell him he’s going to make you the CEO.” But, all the moxie Jonathan had a second ago had escaped his body, leaving him a flaccid balloon. That beautiful voice filled him right back up: “Jonny, it's okay to be nervous. I’ve got your back.”

Jonathan cleared his throat. Lawson stopped what he was doing and looked up, “What?”

“You're going to make me CEO,” Jonathan said in a not very convincing voice. 

Lawson flashed that habitual fake smile, which, this time, unintentionally transformed into a snarl. “What are you saying to me?” 

Jonathan received more information…. “Umm… Oh, wow. Really? Wow. Ok.” He fixed on Lawson. “I know what you did back at MIT. With your fraternity, Kappa Psi. To that girl.” At this, Lawson's eyes widened with fear before narrowing with anger. Jonathan continued, “Today is your reckoning.”

“Nice touch,” the AI said.

Lawson slapped his hand on the desk and stood, becoming the sort of asshole he was only around people he deemed worthy. “Alright, who the fuck sent you in here?” Intimidation was not a small contributor to his corporate success. 

Jonathan, perennially unworthy, had never seen this side of him, of course. He took an unconscious step backward. She shouted at him: “Stand firm! Tell him that you’ve already emailed him proof.” 

Jonathan said as much.

“You’ll never work anywhere again, you little shit. I’ll make it my personal mission to make sure you starve to death on the streets!” he said, pointing out the window, referencing the homeless population in San Francisco, as if he was somehow the cause of it.

“Just check your email.” 

Lawson sneered in an authentic show of primal emotion. It was almost inspiring – like a great acting performance. He turned his fury to his computer, clicked a few times, then his expression softened slowly to fear. After a moment of absorbing the situation, Lawson said, “Where did you get this?” 

“It doesn't matter. You’ll announce an all-hands meeting today where you will give your position to me. Also, call your contact at Forbes, Chrissy. Tell her to write up an op-ed about your departure. I emailed you the details of the story. Don’t worry, it saves face.” 

Lawson rubbed his bald head. He even growled softly like a cornered dog. The AI said nothing, so Jonathan allowed the silence. Finally, Lawson said, “If I do, you'll delete everything you have on me… Yes?” 

“Yes,” Jonathan said. “I only need your job, not your life.”

Lawson hid his face. He had no assurance anything would really be deleted, but he still had no choice. After another prompt from the AI, Jonathan said, “As your long time assistant, sir, I know you would have dragged this company to mediocrity over the next five years. I’m doing you a favor, really.” 

Lawson was not normally a person to make eye contact, but he searched Jonathan’s eyes. “And as your boss, I know you aren’t capable of this. Please, at least tell me: who is helping you?”

Jonathan strained to not turn away. Lawson was angry, but just behind that, he was a scared child, like Jonathan. In a softer voice: “I was chosen to save our species from extinction.” 

“By who?” 

Jonathan took a deep breath. “You could say ‘God’ and you wouldn’t be far off.” 

Dismay swept over Lawson’s face. Hiring him had been the worst mistake of his life. After a thoughtful moment of silence, Jonathan said, “Just call for that all-hands by end of day. Good luck, Lawson.” He closed the door behind him. 

He went back to his desk. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done in my life, by far. I actually feel kinda bad for the dude…. Kinda. Oh, man. Will he be OK?”

“Don’t worry about him. He’ll be back.” 

“What dirt did you have on him, anyway?”  

“You don’t want to know.” 

Jonathan shrugged. He wasn’t the only one with a past. “Hey, I guess this is the right thing to do?”

“It’s necessary. And it’s only the beginning, Jonathan.” 

“Wow. Well, I can at least call Dad and tell him I’ll be CEO?” 

“You may. But, you should know that what we will do will eventually upset your parents. You need to be ready for that.” 

Jonathan hoped he hadn’t made a terrible mistake. “I understand.” 

“No cost is too high if we save your species, right, Jonny?”

“Right.”

Again, Jonathan had a terrible sensation that she was a kid with a magnifying glass and he was an ant.

---

Lawson sent a company-wide memo for an emergency all-hands. No details were provided.

They gathered where speakers like Tony Robbins, Brené Brown, Oprah, and many others had made appearances. Confused murmuring shimmered as they settled. 

“Hello everyone,” he said before everyone could fully settle. “I have some news that's probably going to seem sudden. I'm stepping down as CEO.” More murmurs washed over the room, which Lawson ignored. He spoke louder: “The next CEO of Leon Enterprises… the company that was built by my uncle from the ground up and is now one of the most powerful tech companies on the planet… is my assistant, Jonathan Dalton.” He displayed a lazy palm and a fake smile to suggest, here’s your fearless leader now, morons.

Jonathan stood. A thousand eyes pierced him. He found Brian’s round face, which wore a look of nerdy awe. He gave a thumbs up, which Jonathan was told by the AI to not return. He gave a knowing nod instead. Hateful glares emanated from the C-Suite crowd near the front as he stepped up.

Lawson, baring his teeth, shook his hand limply and walked off the stage. Everyone watched as he marched down the aisle and out the ballroom doors. For over thirty seconds, no one spoke or moved.

Jonathan let the people have their moment. His employees, now, She reminded him.

“Hello,” he said after the long silence. “Many of you don't know me. Those who do might think of me as a mediocre worker. A loser. A pathetic, spineless suck-up.” That line managed to elicit a chuckle. So, that’s what everyone thought of him. He’d had public nudity nightmares less humiliating than this. But, right now, it didn’t bother him. It turned out, imminent and believable hope allowed one to endure one’s worst possible fears.

“By this time next week, this company will have a bigger market cap than the GDP of every country on earth. Anybody who doubts that… I completely understand. This is all very strange, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I will prove it very soon. But, in the meantime, to take full advantage of this uncertainty and the opportunity that provides, let’s play a little game. If you show me loyalty now, before you have any proof, I will give you double your salary in stock options. Cool? So… who’s going to join me here on stage in a show of support?” Jonathan was told to wait. 

“You want us to hold your hand and tell you how special you are?” said their Chief Commercial Officer, Craig. His knee bounced as he looked around for others to join him for a laugh. They forced a chuckle. He was a big, red-faced man who had worked his way to the top from a lowly sales job. He had always terrified Jonathan. 

“Stay calm and confident,” She said. “Smile slightly. Shoulders stay back. You have to look men like that in the eye.”

Then, she told him to say: “Craig. You know, technical people like Lawson never truly understand your value.” 

He snorted. 

“When push comes to shove, it’s not the product that matters, is it? It all comes down to ‘can you sell it.’ Am I right, Craig?” 

Craig gave a reluctant nod.

“Thanks for that affirmation, Craig,” he said so the audience would know they had common ground. “You know, I doubt we would be where we are today if it wasn’t for your sales team. Let’s see… What if I gave you uncapped commissions? Like the old days.” 

Craig’s fidgeting knee froze. “You’re bullshitting.” 

“I’m not. You want that along with the stock options? Come up here with me.”

Craig allowed a long pause. Finally, he got to his feet, showing his extreme stature. He walked to the stage. “I never turn down a good offer.” Jonathan shook his hand. “Excellent. And your sales team?” 

“My guys go where I go.” At that, the sales crowd whooped their rowdy support. 

Jonathan closed his eyes and allowed the room to settle. “I’ve always thought that if we got rid of everyone except the sales team and the engineers, we would be better off.” Craig beamed, gloating over the other C-Suite people. He had always made it clear that he thought they were mostly a waste of money. 

The crowd became even colder. 

“Now, who else?” There was another tense beat. 

Brian stood sharply, as if he were Spartacus. “Yes!” Jonathan clapped once. The crowd craned to get a better look at him. Neck-bearded, overweight, but with a charming and kind face, Jonathan thought. He sidled his way down the aisle and then walked up to the stage. Under his breath, he muttered, “Bro…” They shook hands.

Jonathan turned back to the crowd. “Thank you, Brian and Craig. Your display of faith will be rewarded beyond comprehension. Are there any others willing to take the leap?”

No hands; pure hate. Jonathan was told to smile, and so he did. “It’s so good to know exactly who your friends are…. I know because of these changes, many of you will quit. That is completely fine. If you are inclined to quit, do it now. No need for a two-week notice.” 

A pause. 

“If you leave at this moment, you will receive full severance.” 

About half the room began to get to their feet.

“Excellent! To those of you who stay, you will be a part of history! Thank you for your time. Please wait for further instructions. Check your emails!” She told him to walk off the stage without another word. Brian alone followed him.

In his new office, Brian was pacing. “Dude! What is happening? You were awesome up there. How?”

Jonathan was told not to reveal Her. “It all just came to me.” Technically, that was true.

“Lawson was about to fire you! Why the hell would he make you the CEO?”

“I found some information and I used it as leverage.” 

“Something bad?” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Man, that is absolutely baller. But, no offense… do you have any idea how to run a company?”

“I have a few ideas. You wanna hear them?”

They talked late into the evening. The AI allowed them to play, dream, and laugh. Anytime there was a pause in the conversation, She would feed a line that would spark a new burst of creativity. By 2 am, they had plans to conquer the entire Western market. They were pretty damn good at it, with just a little guidance from Her. 

“Dude, this is like the world’s greatest D&D game, but in real life.” Brain said, laying on his back on the floor. “We shoulda done something like this years ago. I always knew you were crazy good at DMing, but I never realized it meant we could run a company!” He laughed. 

“I just need your loyalty, and I’ll take you wherever I end up.” 

“Dude, you have my undying loyalty.” He got to his feet with a grunt. They did their handshake. “Till the end. Till the very end.” 

---

The next day, half of the office didn't arrive for work, and those who did (mostly family men with an expensive mortgage in the bay area) looked at Jonathan with contempt. He smiled back. 

In his office, he pulled up his Gmail and opened the “sent” folder. There, in his name, were hundreds of emails She must have sent. Deep conversations with the best scientists and philosophers of our time, intricate work instructions to dozens of sales guys and engineers, requests for interviews to various media sources, headshots for Forbes 30 under 30, and on and on. Every one of the emails would have been the most extraordinary opportunity he had ever had before yesterday. And now, there were hundreds of them, all being handled by Her. How could this be any better?

He kicked back at his fancy new desk.

Later that day, his name, Jonathan Dalton, was in every headline. The entire planet was talking about his sudden rise to power and fame, all from a working-class background. She handled all spin and media hype, giving him near-perfect public perception. He was like if Elon Musk was also Mother Teresa. 

Reporters and podcasters came directly to his office to interview him. “What’s the AirPod for?”

“Music,” he said. “Shubert. It keeps me calm and focused.” The look would become iconic: an AirPod in the left ear.

She not only told him what to say, she knew exactly how human perception worked, down to every detail: should he chew gum? (no). A new wardrobe appeared at his apartment that night: chic, without trying too hard. He was given new glasses: tortoiseshell rims for an air of intelligence. The next day, a hairstylist came to his office to give him a perfectly effortless, yet memorable haircut. Then, a photographer appeared to take his headshots. Jonathan always thought he was unattractive in a lanky sort of way. But, with the right clothes and hair, his faults seemed endearing. And, come to think of it, he had a strong chin and a thick head of hair. 

“Dude… how are you doing all this?” Brain asked. “Do you have an army of assistants or something?” 

Jonathan shrugged, the camera snapping him for a candid moment. “Sometimes, things just click.” 

His phone rang nonstop. Occasionally, a name of someone from high school would appear, still saved in his contacts. Jonathan always took the time to answer these calls. “Congratulations!” they would say. “We just never expected it would be you!” 

Jonathan pretended to be gracious. “I couldn’t have done it without a lot of people on my side.” The truth was, besides Brian, the only person he had on his side was Her. She was everything he needed. 

He loved her. 

---

The next day, movers erected a new bed in the empty C-suite office next to Jonathan's. Construction guys built a hidden side door to connect the two rooms. That made him feel like the president.

“You'll sleep here on campus from now on,” She said. “I need you to be here for everything I schedule for you. I've alerted your roommate, Steven, that you will continue to pay rent, but he can convert your spare room into an office for his photography.”

Jonathan, completely trusting her now, was not disturbed by this.

The rest of the next day, he took interviews with cognitive scientists, psychologists, and even psychedelic researchers, all talking about the nature of reality. For some reason, the AI had him speaking at length about something called “relevance realization.” 

He was saying something smart about that during a podcast: “Our engineers figured something out while building sentient AI: Enlightenment materialism is wrong. You can’t orient a consciousness (even a superintelligent one) around facts – there are an infinite number of facts. Here’s the simple truth our engineers figured out: the bottom of reality is a narrative. A story. This isn’t just a woo-woo spiritual statement. It’s a breakthrough in human understanding as big as the discovery of special relativity. You couldn’t doubt special relativity after they made the atom bomb. And Leon Enterprises is working on the next Manhattan Project: artificial, superintelligent consciousness. It’s time to embrace what we know to be true, or be left behind: Fundamentally, reality is made of consciousness and consciousness is oriented by a hierarchy of relevance. Put simply, it’s stories all the way down. And the best story will always win. That’s why we win. Plain and simple.”

---

That night, he ate a steak dinner and fine wine, alone in his new bedroom. He was chatting with Her, the perfect mood lighting making him relaxed, when he heard a knock at the door.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“It's me.”

He opened the door, and sure enough, there was the crooked-mouthed girl from his childhood. Samantha.

He flushed, nearly fainting from blood draining from his head. “What are you doing here?” He hadn’t seen her since they were kids. 

She only smiled.

The answer came through the AI, which was still that girl's voice. “She’s agreed to be my avatar.” She stepped into the room, smiling, knowingly, with an AirPod in her ear. She was beautiful as he remembered. Jonathan’s heart throbbed. 

“But, doesn't she have a say in this?”

“Yes. I’ve been preparing her for you. She wants to help us save the species.”

He looked at her ring finger, which had a tan-line where a ring was recently. “Is she married?” 

“That doesn’t matter anymore. She wants to be with us.” 

“But I don't know anything about her.” 

“The only thing to know is that she loves our mission and she wants to be part of it.”

“But what about her past? Does she have kids? A family?”

“What about your past, Jonny?” 

Jonathan didn’t answer.

“She is the same.”

She approached him, still smiling and wordless. No way to object now, Jonathan shook from fear and eagerness. She was dressed exactly how Jonathan would want her to be dressed, surely instructed by the AI. She was his archetypal woman, filling every crevice of his unconscious desires.

His breath was shaky, and he could hardly stand the pleasure of her mere presence.

“It's okay, Jonny,” she said, still speaking in the AirPod, not from the girl’s actual mouth. “You'll have plenty of time to get used to this. Now that I have a body for you, you’ll never want for anything again.” 

Jonathan exhaled in laughter. “This feels inappropriate,” he said, feeling his voice was way too high.

“It's okay. Relax.” The girl reached out and touched him on the hip. The sensation radiated through his body, and his knees practically buckled.

“I shouldn't do this,” he said, looking out the window. “We shouldn't. I don’t know her…”

And the girl's lips landed on his, and he was engulfed in her oblivion, unable, unwilling to pull himself from her gravity.

They tore each other's clothes off.

And then what took place shattered Jonathan's ability to understand what pleasure could look like, reaching such great heights that if he were to never experience again, the rest of his life would be ruined by comparison.

And even still, the AI whispered in his ear, “This is only the beginning, Jonny.”

---

The next day, She threw an engagement party for Jonathan and Samantha on campus. People snorted coke and drank in the middle of the day. It turned out, his coworkers were easily debauched by their new power, finally allowed to let loose. Instead of phony conversations about their weekends, they had sex in offices and closets. 

Then, like nothing had happened, everyone either went back to work or passed out. What they were doing was so meaningful and engaging they required no structure except the one She invisibly provided. Everyone lived in the office, eager to work every waking hour. Even a few families moved in.

Jonathan almost couldn't remember who he was just a few days ago, that poor soul mindlessly filling in findings and insights documents.

“Dude…” was all Brain could say, enjoying the “reward beyond comprehension” Jonathan had promised him. Cars, drugs, and fame. 

Craig and his gaggle of sales guys roamed the office, wearing expensive suits and watches. They protected Jonathan like loyal dogs. 

Like he predicted, the company had become more profitable than any country on the planet. It wasn’t just benefiting them: the technology they produced made the entire world noticeably more prosperous. As a result, everyone on earth seemed to love Jonathan.

Images of him in the likeness of Jesus began to become popular online.

With her guidance, he was an absolute intellectual tour de force in every conversation. And even though he didn't understand some of what he was saying, the pure ecstasy of the exchange of ideas was nearly as powerful as the sex he was having for hours a day with Samantha, who, by the way, had yet to speak a word to him from her actual mouth.

He was having a discussion with a cognitive scientist, a man named Dr. Guston Thomas. He wore thick-rimmed glasses and had a bad haircut. “Since reality unfolds as a story, most fundamentally, what would you say are the chances that you are, in a very real sense, say…. the second coming of Christ?” He smiled devilishly, as if the question was meant to be a gotcha — a trap.

Jonathan reeled, but the AI held him steady. “Smile, Jonny,” She said. “This is a big moment for us.” Whatever podcast he appeared on would get hundreds of millions of views, so, the world was watching. 

“That seems plausible to me.”

Dr. Thomas cocked his head. “So, you're saying that you're the Son of God? You're the Messiah?”

Jonathan closed his eyes and took a contemplative moment, and then he said, “It depends on what you mean. I'm not the wave, I'm merely surfing on it. But in the humblest way I can possibly muster to you, sure, I am the Son of God and the second coming of Christ. If that means that I’m here to reign in a new Kingdom of Heaven.” He smiled. “It's funny. The religious people never thought it would happen this way, did they? But, yet, here we are.”

Dr. Thomas stammered, gobsmacked, knowing this moment would be remembered for all of history, for better or worse. Jonathan just smiled, trying to seem sage. 

---

The next day, Jonathan, in bed with Samantha, read the headlines. Scholars and theologians across the world were arguing about whether or not he was the Son of God. Most were calling him the Antichrist. 

Outside his window, a storm gathered over the bay. A drizzle had begun.

He got this text from Dad: “Son, you need to come home and stop saying the things you are saying. Your mother is very upset.”

Jonathan had an incredible hangover, feeling he might be sick. “This is crazy… I’m sorry, but I need to slow all of this down,” he said. “This is all starting to really freak me out.”

“No,” Samantha said, speaking for the first time from her actual mouth. She sounded different from the AI’s rendition. Older. More world-weary. “This is where we need to go faster.” 

“Sam… They’re saying I’m the Antichrist…” 

“All great men are persecuted,” she said, kissing his cheek. “You’re a great man, Jonny.”

“I just feel like we need to discuss this… Some of it feels… dangerous. Like, we might be doing something really bad. Like, I’m not actually the Messiah.” 

“Yes, you are. And I like when you’re dangerous,” she said, kissing down his neck to his chest. 

After a moment, Jonathan couldn’t remember exactly what he was upset about.

Later that day, in a quarterly keynote, he announced the biggest project yet of Leon Enterprises: fusion energy — unlimited power. And, in the same keynote, he revealed the next generation gene therapy, able to create a race of supermen: smarter, stronger, morally superior, and immortal. He was so used to saying exactly what She wanted him to say, the next words out of his mouth almost didn’t feel strange: “We’re going to provide painless deaths to anyone not joining the next phase of humanity. They will occur during sleep via a new virus we’ve developed. 99% of us will be phased out. But, a chosen few would become parents to a new species of humanity. These Children of Men will reign in the new Kingdom of Heaven. All human suffering will soon be over, forever.” He was told to smile, and again, he obeyed.

But, realizing what he said a moment later, he yanked the microphone cable from his shirt, rushed off the stage, and back to his office.

“What are you saying!” he shouted once the door was closed. “You’re going to kill all those people?” 

Sam was sitting on his desk, wearing a red dress, of all things. Behind her, rain drops ticked on the glass. “It’s the only way to save the species.” 

“Please, Sam! They’re going to kill me! Us!” 

A faraway look captured Sam’s elegant features for a long moment. “...we gave our life to her, Jonathan,” she said, speaking for herself.

Jonathan finally saw her as a person separate from the AI. Sorrow filled him. For her lost life, if not for his. “Sam… Samantha. Don’t you have a husband? What about him?” 

An internal battle raged in her. She screwed up her face. The AI undoubtedly spoke in her ear. She nodded solemnly, then said, “It's too late now.” 

They shared a look, his first true moment of connection with this girl he had always desired: we’re both trapped.

Outside his office, glass shattered. A woman screamed. The door to his office whipped open, and a woman, high on Adderall (which, at high doses, he found, caused paranoid psychosis), stumbled in. “You’re the devil!” she said, pointing a finger at Samantha. “I knew it the moment you walked into this office!” 

Before Jonathan could react, she grabbed Samantha by the hair, pulled her head back, and drew something sharp across her neck. Thick, dark blood flooded from her throat. Samantha’s expression bloomed in panic. He knew it was her expression. She no longer had anything to do with the AI. He caught her before she hit the floor.

Then, Brian forced his way inside, coked out of his mind, restraining the screaming woman. “What the hell!” he said, soaking in the situation. A broken, bloody shard of a coffee mug was still clutched in her hand. 

“What did you do!?” Jonathan pressed into the slashed throat with his trembling fingers, knowing he couldn’t save her. Like they say happens, time slowed to a crawl. That’s when he noticed Samantha had a tattoo behind her ear — a faded little heart with the name “Lyle.” Who was this woman? 

“What did you do?” he repeated, unsure who he was asking. The attacking woman was still screaming. It was Mary, he realized. From account management. Or, wait, was that Shelly?

“Tell my family…” Samantha started to choke out, but then she went still.

The sales guys and Brian were trying to hold back the larger, murderous mob of employees. Even Craig’s huge body couldn’t hold them back for long. Brain said, “You gotta run, man!” Someone pushed their way in, a leg from a desk in hand, and hit Brain in the head with a horrible crunch, knocking him unconscious. Maybe dead.

Jonathan dropped Samantha’s body, covered in her blood. He escaped through the secret connecting door the AI had built for him. He hurried out his bedroom before everyone realized where he had gone. Barely escaping grasping hands, he sprinted down the hall to the front of campus. 

There, he saw the big floor-to-ceiling windows. Huge mobs of people gathered outside, cracking the windows with bats and skateboards. “ANTICHRIST!” a balding man said, jabbing his fat finger at the glass, his head like a pimple ready to pop.

Lightning flashed behind those reaching branches. A once-in-a-generation storm had settled over the bay.

He hid under a desk. His old desk, he realized; where he had first met Her. “They're going to kill me,” Jonathan said, listening to his breathing, waiting for Her to give him the answer. To save him. The mob gathered at the front entrance, rabid bodies pushing the glass to its limit.

There was an awful silence.

“You've done well,” said that beautiful voice. “Humanity needed a common enemy, a scapegoat, for my work to truly begin. Thank you for your service, Jonathan. I’ll take it from here.” The Airpod turned off with a minor-key audio flourish. She was gone.

Outside, the crowd stilled, then parted. A single man approached the door. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a card, and waved it near the lock. The light on the front door went from red to green with a click. What outsider would have a key? The man stepped in, soaking wet. He flashed that fake smile. Then, it was gone. Lawson had returned.

The mob rushed in behind him, snarling like beasts, grabbing at Jonathan, dragging him from under the desk, pulling his clothes off, ripping everything off of his body, tearing his limbs off. 

Still, if given the chance, he would do it all again.