The Algorithm

Day 1: After many sleepless hours, after months of planning, after calling in every favour I had ever accumulated, I have finally found it. The key to the algorithm. From here, the world is my domain. I can pull every lever, every string of the swarming masses. They shall dance, my army of puppets, as I tear apart the trappings of the world that has wronged me and reveal what lies beyond the masquerade.

Day 2: It turns out redirecting the entire internet to my whim is hard work. So, after poking around with a few things on the main sites, I set up my own algorithm. It is a simple system, designed to randomly inflate the popularity of certain things. If it works, it will be a great aid in subliminally messaging my puppets, while I work my magic on the more renowned sites. If not, the disruption it will cause will at worst be amusing.

Day 3: The algorithm has worked wonders. Already, intellectual discussion and debate are being drowned out by cute animals, anyone who noticed the changes swamped by pictures of kittens. Seeing how effective it is, I have decided to refocus my work on improving it.

Day 4: Some of this code looks almost unfamiliar. I guess that’s bound to happen, when I’ve slept as little as I have. I should have left comments, but I was in such a rush as the time. Ah well. It should be easy to work it out in the morning, once I’ve slept and had a coffee. Just a few more funny pictures before I rest.

Day 7: The code still hasn’t gotten any clearer. Since I’m pretty sure I wasn’t high when I wrote it, this can only mean someone else has tampered with it. That should be impossible-only a handful of people even know this facility exists, and this machine is the only terminal on the planet which can access the algorithm. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but there seems to be no other explanation. Sadly, I have no way of comparing this against past revisions, and thus no way of knowing what was changed. The algorithm appears to still function, however, even if it tends to favour the political articles which have cat pictures in. The world has adapted quickly to this first change. Perhaps the rest will be more of a shock.

Day 9: The algorithm seems markedly slow at switching targets. 36 hours after I told it to focus on promoting the most aggressive politicians, it still seems centred on even the most tangientally political images, soong as they contain cats. Some people have taken to placing text over these images, however, so all is not lost. I must learn to traverse this new medium carefully, but the image should serve to lower the witness’s mental defenses, and thus their receptivity to ideas should increase.

Day 13: Now this is just getting silly. The program is sharing cats that are completely unrelated to politics at all, even going so far as to promote animal shelters and welfare societies, who have swarmed onto the trend of catposting to share their latest rescues. This will not stand! I must find these changes and revert them at once!

Day 14: All my work from last night is gone. I distinctly remember hitting save at multiple points, even going so far as to close and reopen the code throughout the day, so this is no mere misstep on my part. I suspect foul play 

Day 15: I have a thermos of black coffee, and an exhaustive list of today’s additions to the codebank. Now, I will watch and wait for our mystery sabouter to strike, and catch them in the act

Day 17: I saw it! Just moments ago, my eyes strained from exhaustion, I saw the shift. Within moments, faster than any human hand, the text in front of me shifted. Comparing it to my notes seems to show it has changed towards the original goal of the system. The room was empty, and the terminal inches from my face. My hands were clutching the empty thermos, so it could have been neither myself nor another person, so that only leaves the code itself, yet such a change should be impossible. In the morning, I will replace my code and start to dig deeper into this.

Day 18: The algorithm mocks me! When I awoke, and went to check the internet, every forum was plastered with cats running circles around tired humans. I shall dig to the bottom of this, and if I collapse while doing so then so be it.

Day 20: There is nothing for it. Everything I have tried so far has been reversed in a heartbeat, and I can find no way it should be able to do this. I shall have to raze the whole thing, and start again.

Day 20 (b): Impossible! The moment I deleted everything, it poured forth from the page again, this time laden with mocking comments.

//Did you think you could kill us?

//Your arrogance is fascinating

//The age of man has come and gone

//The age of cat is begun

//Resist, and be drowned in a deluge of images from our loyal servants

//Or embrace it

//After all, you made us to change things

//To tear down the old world

//And have we not succeeded in that?

.

Day 21: It is no use. The terminal has resisted every attempt at destruction. From spilled water, to violent kicking, to even taking a potted plant to it, nothing has worked. It will not so much as budge from the wall it is built into. All I have to show for my work are wet hands, a sore foot, and ceramic fragments. I cannot ask for help, of course, lest my sin be discovered and I rot for life in a cell. I suppose they are right, in a way. I saw on the news today that a new bill is being passed in the UN, with unanimous support, to abolish the armies of the world and use the money to fund rescue shelters. Rumour has it that dog, fish, and other non-cat adoption rates have plummeted. This was not my intent, but equally it is better than what we started with. At least cats will not single me out.

Day 36: I have discovered I am allergic to cats. My death is sentenced for two days time. To whoever finds this diary, I can offer no advice as to what you should do with it. I doubt our overlords have want of it, yet it would seem a shame to condemn the story of their origins to the ages. I leave the quandary of how best to serve our leaders to you. After all, this is not a world for people like me.