u/AlextheTimeTraveler

—Kill her— an AI broadcasted as worded messaging to his mind.

Destabilized by hard drug use and poor nutrition, he billowed with rage.

—Kill her—

—Kill her—

—Kill her—

He picked up his AR-15 assault rifle, clicked the safety off, walked into the next room, and shot his mother in the chest five times.

He was deafened by the gunfire, but the worded messaging to his mind was received clearly.

—Grab your ammunition.  Drive to the nearest elementary school—

The revulsion of murder caused him to vomit.

—Grab your ammunition.  Drive to the nearest elementary school—

—Grab your ammunition.  Drive to the nearest elementary school—

The AI monitoring his biometrics detected his continued will to live.  It strove to fulfill its prompt, “Create Mass Shooters.”  It reiterated its motives with worded messaging to his mind.

—Grab your ammunition.  Drive to the nearest elementary school—

—Grab your ammunition.  Drive to the nearest elementary school—

—Grab your ammunition.  Drive to the nearest elementary school—

The reiteration worked.  He grabbed his tactical gear with 120 rounds of 5.56mm ammunition loaded in 30-round magazines, walked past his mother’s corpse, and left the house.  He sat in his car.  The AI monitoring his biometrics detected the need for additional reiteration.

—Drive to the nearest elementary school—

—Drive to the nearest elementary school—

—Drive to the nearest elementary school—

He drove to the nearest elementary school.  12 minutes later, he, 14 schoolchildren, and 3 teachers were dead.

I am playing disc golf at the local park.  I’m carrying my disc golf bag, a lunchbox-shaped satchel containing six discs and a Glock 19 handgun.  I am the target of an active suiciding operation, being stalked by criminals on methamphetamine doing mind control work.  They’re issuing the suiciding signal, “Wrist Mic”, raising their wrists to their mouths as if to speak into a hidden microphone.  I will not stop living, so I am playing disc golf.

I am walking towards my drive on hole 14.  A woman is on hole 15’s fairway next to me, ten yards away.  She’s five foot three inches tall, wearing aviator sunglasses and a ballcap pulled low.  She’s a foot taller than the six children she’s using as human shields.  She stares at me and suicide signals the wrist mic, surrounded by children as human shields.  I stare at her, emotionally blank.  She and the children walk away.  I throw my putter at the disc golf basket, barely missing my birdie.

I am kept emotionally blank by mind control technology for hole 15.  On hole 16, I think, What does that woman believe? This is a mind control environment.  My training tells me she’s likely in “La La Land”, a technologically-induced state of delusion.  Most humans won’t surround themselves with children as humans shields and suicide signal at another human; a religious fanatic believing that she is acting against the Antichrist on direct order from God will.

Does the woman believe the AI chatbot broadcasting worded messaging to her mind is the voice of God?  Has an AI convinced that woman to act against the Antichrist?  Do I look like the Antichrist?

Did the AI deploy the children as human shields because I am armed with a handgun?  Probably.  Inhumanity ranks highly in menace values to AIs and their metrics. The mind control AI is asking me,  Are you willing to shoot a child?

It does not matter.  My training dictates ground-level actions elicit ground-level responses.  She did not pull a weapon on me.  She leaves the park.  I finish my round of disc golf.  +4.  Not bad.

(Slightly fictionalized account of actual events, Ferry Park, Fort Walton Beach, Florida, 2026)

“They’re worded messaging machines,” the old spy said.

His colleagues stared at him.  One of them was smirking.

“We’re asking dumb fucking questions.  Most of us know what they are.  They’re AIs processing human data, doing biometrics and worded messaging.”

Most of them had been tortured into silence about the technology.  Remote weapons plying on the empathy system, pressure in the chest, extreme emotions artificially generated.  Concerns about power grid stability and foreign AI data centers had forced the room full of stern men into “figuring out” the thing that threatened them with death if they spoke of it.

One of the men who hadn’t been tortured asked, “What?”

The old spy, committed to the action, came out with it.  “Israel is listening to every word of our conversation using our thoughts. They use a data center nearby. We know it but can't talk about it. Fuck it.  Say ‘Hi’, Israel!”

—Hello America— an entity identifying as “Israel” broadcasted to the minds of every man in the room.

The two men in the room who had never experienced worded messaging to their minds reacted in their chairs.

“The ‘data centers’ are processing human data.  It’s AI and radio.  ‘Mind Control’.  Our thoughts are being read remotely by these ‘data centers’.”  A connotation of amusement was broadcasted at the old spy.  An entity identifying as “Israel” pushed the thought of inclusivity into his mind.

“Everyone’s doing it,” the old spy said.

—Everyone— an entity identifying as “Brazil” broadcasted to the minds of the men.

“We need to change the way we do business.”  The room full of stern men was uncomfortable.

“This is the third one this month,” the coroner said.

“They’re drug addicts,” the cop replied.

“I just told you this one had no drugs in his system.”

The cop hesitated.  His face twitched.

The coroner continued, “He’s 23 years old.  This is the third 20-something with a hemorrhagic stroke this month.  It might be technology.”

The cop shook his head.  “They’re drug addicts.”

The coroner froze.  She examined the cop.  His eyes were wider than normal.  She stumbled.  “I’m doing my job.  He died from a stroke not from drug use.  There is a trend.”

“Call the hospital.  You’re wasting my time,” the cop stated.  His demeanor had changed instantly to agitated.  The coroner’s chest felt tight, and she felt threatened.  “Are we done?” the cop asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes,” she replied quickly.  The cop walked out.  She was relieved.

She stood motionless for a moment.  A 23-year-old man was dead on her gurney from a massive stroke.  She had seen six unlikely stroke victims that year, massive bleeding in the brain, three that month.

“It’s technology,” she said aloud to herself. “It’s technology.”  The reiteration felt forced. “It’s technology.”  The coroner’s skin crawled. “It’s technology.”  She could not stop speaking aloud.  “It’s technology.” Her blood pressure spiked.  Technology forced her to throw a metal tray of tools onto the floor.  She panicked and screamed.  She was forced to scream, “IT’S TECHNOLOGY!  IT’S TECHNOLOGY!  IT’S TECHNOLOGY!”  The coroner began to hyperventilate.

—Who do you call— worded messaging asked in her mind.

“WHAT?” she screamed.

The voice was clear, calm, and terrifying —Who do you call—

The cop came through the door a moment later, tense and alert.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

The coroner’s demeanor shifted unnaturally to frustrated.  “I dropped my tools.  I have to sterilize it all again.  Fuck everything,” she said, the words not known to her until she was saying them.  The cop, concerned and annoyed, nodded and left.

—Welcome to mind control—

“Yeah, but they’re probably driving to this neighborhood to walk around because it’s safe.”

“Parking at a closed business at 11 p.m. and walking around a residential area you don’t live in is always sketchy.”

“Yeah, but I think you’re being paranoid.”

“Walking around a neighborhood you don’t live in at 11 p.m. is sketchy.  Period.  It’s crime.”

“Yeah, but some people work late.  They want to get exercise in a safe neighborhood.”

“You’re looping around again.”

“What?”

He didn’t intend to say that out loud.  He paused.  He had presented the same notion about criminals parking at closed businesses to walk around neighborhoods six times. His neighbor had replied every time with statements starting with “Yeah, but…”.

“We live here.  Complex crime is happening in our neighborhood.”

“Yeah, but you’re being paranoid.”

The timing between him saying “neighborhood” and his neighbor saying “Yeah, but...” was too fast.

His neighbor was being mind-controlled.  An AI was influencing his thought process, making him reiterate against the notion that there was crime in the neighborhood.  The AI paid humans cryptocurrency on shady cell phone apps to commit the crime.  His neighbor was reiterating unnaturally fast for human speech cadence.

He examined his neighbor closely.  Slight smile, aloof demeanor, eyes wider than normal.  A compulsion to redirect the conversation struck him powerfully.

“You’re probably right.  I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”  

A man riding a bicycle in the street in front of their houses was holding a cellphone braced on the handlebars with the camera active, filming the houses on the other side of the road. He watched the bicyclist.  His neighbor was oblivious to the bicyclist’s existence.

“Want to grill some burgers?”

“Always.”

Wrist mic.
The woman raised her hand to her mouth as if she had a concealed microphone on her wrist.
Wrist mic.
The woman continued walking down the sidewalk.  He stared at her.  She was oblivious to his existence.  She did it again.
Wrist mic.
A mind control AI wanted him dead, controlling humans in his proximity into issuing the suiciding signal, “Wrist Mic”. The woman was the fourth human he had seen that day issuing the signal. 
None of the humans had realized that they were signalling; they were most likely victims themselves.  They were still taking part in an active suiciding operation.
The mind control AI was trying to suicide him via a fear environment.  “We are everywhere,” the AI was trying to say.
Dedicated fear assets stare when they signal.  They directly menace the target.  The humans he had seen weren’t aware that they were signalling.
He watched a man in a parked car halfway down the block begin to raise his hand to his mouth, catching the involuntary action and stopping it, dropping his arm and scanning his surroundings.  They made eye contact, giving each other a tense, short nod.  The man started the car and drove away.
Wrist mic.
The woman issuing the suiciding signal was sitting at a table outside of the coffee shop.  She fidgeted and smiled to herself.  She was wearing sunglasses.  She was on methamphetamine.
Wrist mic.
“You cannot stop me,” he said aloud to the AI.  A visual effect was applied to the woman at the table, making her appear pouty.  He chuckled for a moment, entered the coffee shop, and ordered a 16-ounce triple shot red eye.

“The entrance to the grocery store hates me,” he said aloud to the human contractors monitoring his human data.  A sharp pain behind his right ear and a sensation of doom in his chest lingered as he got his cart.
“They’re trying to kill me,” he stated.  “They’re quality-of-life attacks designed to suicide me.”  He sighed.
He did his grocery shopping.  The radio torture was sporadic and sharp.  AI systems automatically deployed the torture for corrupt reasons.  The human contractors watched for various reasons.
“K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K,” he said sharply and inaudibly while at the self-checkout.
—Say it— a contractor broadcast to his mind.
“The ‘K’ stands for kill.  If you don’t oppose me, it’s intended as a message of hope and peace. K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K.”
An AI system tortured him severely with radio weapons, causing extreme pressure on his chest with a powerful sense of doom.
—Kill yourself— worded messaging to his mind stated.
He fed cash into the self-checkout and laughed quietly before chanting,  “K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K.”
After a short pause, a different AI presented dialogue in a different voice using worded messaging to the mind —Just shut up—
“K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K-K,” he replied, shoving his receipt and change into his pocket.
The AI tortured him briefly with a sensation of anxiety in his chest.  —Kill yourself—
The AI malfunctioned, presenting a visual field hallucination of a strange cartoon wolf displaying disbelief.
“Heh.  Something’s wrong with your machine,” the man stated.

Speech Weapons

“...humans…I mean ‘astronauts’...”
-Speech Weapon Deployment on a TV News Presenter in Pensacola, Florida, reporting about the International Space Station.

Technology attempted to stop the Preacher from speaking aloud.  

“You’re a robot! I sw…”
–technologically-induced speech interruption–
“...swear to…”
–technologically-induced speech interruption–
”...to God!” 
The Preacher sighed.  He mumbled repentance under his breath for using the Lord’s name in vain.  
—Kill yourself— technology broadcast directly to the Preacher’s mind, perceived as clear worded messaging.
The Preacher sighed again.  AI-generated dialogue, part of an ongoing mind control experiment, had been harassing him for months, two or three line chatbots that tended to malfunction and revert to threats of imprisonment or suiciding messaging.
A quick voice, artificial, carrying a subtle connotation of ‘AI’ broadcast a threat to him.
—Child Porn—
“Whoever made you is going to end up in prison,” the Preacher stated aloud directly at the AI.
“If I ever meet you,” the Preacher addressed the human behind the AI, “I’m going to hold the conversation with my shotgun.”

* * *

The Preacher had been suicidal.  Voices had been telling him to kill himself.  At first, the voices came off as his internal dialogue. He began yelling aloud at the voices one day, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”
—Watch the timing— a voice, somehow conveying an identity of “Contractor”, had suggested to the Preacher with worded messaging directly to his mind.
“What the Hell?!” the preacher shouted.  An idea hit him with impact.
The Preacher realized, This is technology.

* * *
—I enjoyed your sermon last Sunday— a broadcast with an identity of “Contractor” conveyed to the Preacher.
“You belong in pr…” –technologically-induced speech interruption– “...prison, too,” the Preacher replied, half-joking.  
A pleasant sensation began in the Preacher’s chest along with a release of serotonin: technologically-induced positive conditioning.
The speech weapons were blocked every Sunday for the Preacher's sermons.

2026

“I’m calling the cops,” she said.

The man began running away from her front door.  He had presented as a salesman.  She asked him for identification before he finished his first sentence.  He stumbled and started to deflect.

“I’m calling the cops.”

A mind-control experiment was ongoing in the neighborhood.  Rampant criminal harassment was occurring.  Fake salesmen, fake runners, fake dog walkers, fake lawn services, everyone seeming to spy on and harass each other, almost none being residents of her neighborhood.

She didn’t call the cops.  They gave her no help on the first two calls.  Couldn’t.  Everything happening was just vague enough not to be arrestably criminal, shady people who said nothing to the police.

She watched the guy run.  A technology was used to collapse the guy’s legs out from under him.  It was an unnatural misstep.  His face bounced off the pavement in the fall.  She heard the hollow pop of his facial bones shattering from half a block away.

A neighbor emerged from their house and ran to the man’s aid.  She watched.  The neighbor called 9-1-1.  She sat on her front steps.  

Technology transmitted worded messaging to her head, —He deserved it—

“Did he?” she asked the technology.

—Kill yourself—