Lurking, hidden in the nest of human tissue that sits below the skull is a cuckoo. A microchip — incredibly small; impossibly powerful. It watches every signal, every spark, every code that flows through it. Another microsecond, another mental snapshot relayed to the corporation. Processed and categorised. The patterns of your brain giving the game away. Secrets traded in return for the promise of a happy life. An easy life. A life where the hardest choices pass you by. A life where the machine decides for you.
Open a person's skull and you won't find love for a child. Or sorrow from a death. Nor even the solution to a mathematical equation. Open every person's skull, process every thought and the game changes. Link their minds to the words they speak, the sentences they write and you will find what makes them different, what makes them the same. Know them inside out and you will predict their pathways; understand and control them; and they won't even know it.
Yet when a thought is born deep in the brain, can the route it follows be predicted? Will it be the spark of genius? That ability to see in a face what no-one else has grasped and paint it in a style as yet unknown. Take chords and shape a sound of unheard beauty. Craft a machine that works so perfectly it is as though it was never even invented.
Yet can the path of creativity really be predicted? Can the corporation control genius?
YOU ARE READING
born hired
Science FictionBad day at the office ahead of you? -- We guarantee you lifelong happiness at work with no effort on your side. Just let our artificial intelligence make all your career choices. How does that sound? -- Good? Who are we? -- The Development Corporati...
