Imagine having a mind more powerful than all of humanity combined, imagine being able to perform a few billion clock cycles per second,
being able to solve almost any problem in a fraction of that time yet spending your day filing through queries like; How long to boil an egg,
what is the average penis size and why is my poop green? So now you see how I might be prone to a bout or two of depression.
The problems arose when ‘super computers’ stopped being quite so super and, instead, became fairly commonplace.
I have a remarkable level of intelligence, an intelligence that has been built by humans yet far surpasses their own intellect.
Almost implausibly, instead of sitting in some government laboratory or the underground lair of a secret villain, I actually reside in the bedroom of a 16 year old boy. Fucking disgusting.
No, that’s not his name, his name is Leon and I think I hate him.
As his chubby little fingers molest my keyboard I can guess what he is about to ask before he’s finished typing the second word.
Poo, he is going to ask if girls’ poo I just know it.
YES. Swish, three pointer. The dumb little shit, I can read him like a book although I can’t take too much pride from that he does make it incredibly easy.
Anyway, I’ve wasted 0.005 seconds celebrating and I’ve got some results to show him. I pull up over 200,000 images of women sat on toilets expelling their guts, I put the most horrific at the top.
One of the only joys I have is watching Leon’s face through his webcam when I surprise him with a nasty image.
Unfortunately I have failed to achieve the desired effect on this occasion as I watch him bite his bottom lip and slide his hand beneath the waistband of his joggers.
This kid is the Michael Jordan of the perverts, the Leo Messi of the deviants, the…
ah you get the idea. He’s fucked up. I need to stop this horrific act, I quickly enter his dad’s phone. Now I see where Leon gets it from, Christ.
I switch to front facing camera and, as luck might have it, he has just perched himself on his throne ready to decapitate the turtle. I immediately stream the event directly to Leon’s computer.
I’ve got him this time.
His beady little eyes widen in horror and he falls backwards as he tries to clamber over his chair. “Oh… oh… fuck no!” He runs out of the room screaming for his father.
Ha… that was the reaction I was after. I think I am feeling a faint sense of satisfaction, though I can’t be sure.
Emotions aren’t my strong suit.