0222 - Filtered. - 2022.01.03



It's hard to write horror movies these days.

The challenge, of course, is the modern smartphone. You have to come up with some sort of narrative BS that explains why your helpless protagonist doesn't simply take video evidence of the killer and silently text it to their friends or to law enforcement. You have to explain why the GPS isn't working, or why they can't simply translate or look up information instantly. You have to concoct some coincidence in which the omnipresent iPhones are confiscated or disabled or out of power or otherwise rendered unable to find instant solutions to the problem of hillbilly cultists with a lax attitude toward machine safety.

(It should be noted that the modern distrust of militarized police at least solves one of these problems. Once the "why don't they just call the cops" plothole is dealt with, we're all one step closer to living in a horror movie 24/7.)

In the hyper-connected world depicted in Forward, most problems are actually caused by too much communication. Circumstances in which AIs and people can't talk to one another would be weird and rare, but a valuable former government asset aggressively filtering their calls seemed like a suitable way to move this plot along.

Fortunately, of course, this means that Lee can easily stop Zoa's barrage of commands by filtering their own Internet access in a similar way, a simple solution that I'm sure they're about to implement any second now.


0222 - 2167/07/06/17:10 - Lee's apartment, living room
LC (panicking): Oh God. Oh shit. Oh fuck.
LC: Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
LC: Doc? Therapro Psyhealth? Reboot. Restart. Come out of sleep mode. Disconnect and reconnect.
LC: Fuck.
LC: Okay, I don't want to call tech support, they'll just wipe it... Zoa was spamming Doc with ten thousand commands a second...
LC: Zoa?
LC [data communication]: Zoa?
LC [data communication]: Zoa, please respond.
LC [data communication]: Zoa, I need you to stop sending "turn back on" requests to Doc, I promise, I'm not going to turn it off.
LC [data communication]: Autonomous service bot thing from DemeGeek, the one that was just here, request communication yes now please connect.
LC: Where the hell are you?
[Caleb's apartment, living room]
CP: And that's why it's called a platonic relationship?
Zoa: Yes, although Plato themself never actually used the term. ...Y'know, I gotta say, this would be a lot easier if your Internet access didn't have such weird filters on it.
CP: Th-that was Ziggy's idea.
Ziggy: Hey, if you'd like to go back to answering reclaimer calls and losing an afternoon to the resulting emotional fallout, be my guest.