GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: The Algorithm’s Final Trick
The Algorithm’s Final Trick
Rob used to be normal—at least, as normal as a guy who vaped bubblegum-flavored smoke and owned a "Live, Laugh, Lift" poster could be. His diet was 70% energy drinks, 20% Taco Bell, and 10% the free samples at Costco. Life was fine. Then the Algorithm happened.
It started with quirky conspiracy videos. Harmless stuff. "The moon is a hologram," "Tom Hanks was two raccoons in a trench coat," "Your microwave is a government informant." He chuckled, shared a few ironically, and moved on. But the more he saw the videos the more they burrowed into his brain. What if Reptilian shapeshifting aliens really did run Hollywood, he wondered.
But then things started getting really fuckin’ weird. His best friend Greg? Fully converted to Flat Earth. “Dude, airlines literally curve their flight paths to hide the truth. They don’t want you to know. It’s all about control, man. They want us stupid.” Greg whispered over bottomless wings. He tried to scoff at the scientific heresy spouted by his longtime friend but his brain just kept getting more and more tired.
Rob tried to resist. But doomscrolling was easier than doing his taxes and he could only jerk off so many times in one day without rug burning his Johnson. Each swipe dragged him deeper. The videos got angrier. The ads got personal.
“Feeling lost? Maybe you should try losing yourself.”
“End it all today—your friends will say you were a free thinker.”
”Do you jerk off more than four times a day? If so you may want to kill yourself.”
“SuicidePill™—Now in Sour Apple!”
He laughed. Then he refreshed his feed. Then again. And again. Then—he wasn’t laughing. His brain got heaver. Or lighter, he couldn’t tell.
That night, Rob stood on his balcony, phone in hand. The Algorithm had won. He was nothing but a statistic. He jumped.
Darkness.
Then—beep.
He woke up. He wasn’t in heaven. He wasn’t even in hell. He could his reflection. He was in a fucking jar. Floating. Tubes everywhere. A phone, strapped to his glass tomb. He looked out through the bubbles and watched the screen flicker:
"Welcome to the Metaverse Beta Test. Please accept new Terms & Conditions to continue."
Rob screamed in gurgling terror. He felt his vocal cords dangle pitifully like his kicking legs learning to swim in Greg’s above ground pool when he was five.
A notification popped up on the phone and a voice beckoned from somewhere beyond his pickled nightmarish reality.
"Your reaction was loved by 3.2 million users. The Algorithm is happy. Would you like to go LIVE and reach 6.4 million users?"
Art and story by Hal Hefner.
Produced by Catmonkey Studio