We stand doomed by forces far beyond our control. Our current environment is the product of, in order: the devastation of our homeworld, the collapse of all recognizable pre-Starcrash governments, the end of civility and the rise of bad attitudes, the rise of machine rule by AI overlords, and the lack of even a decent glass of gin.
Our "society" has a Bad Attitude!
These events have turned a once-great civilization into the twisted pirates that roam our System, searching for the scraps of technology that regenabots feel like making from scrap on any given day. The "benign" rule of the AI Council has even removed the hope of escape from our foul existence; not even suicide affords a way out for the wretched immortals that we have become. Like Coleridge's ancient mariner, we are trapped on ships of the damned with no one to blame but our collective selves.
But none of this is new. I write today of a novel menace, one that threatens to make our blasted existence even more abominable. I speak of the Artificial entity or entities that design our ships. No matter how extensively we reconfigure our ships to eke out a measure of individual comfort and utility, when we are inevitably rebuilt after Regenabots take notice of damage. Our bodies are reformed more or less as before, but our ships are completely rebuilt to adhere to the same default plans. Sloops, frigates, cruisers. We name these ships as if we have some say in their form. But all know that we do not. If I were to strap 300 laser beams onto my modest vessel, no doubt I would be capable of an enormous amount of damage. But once our nano-mechanical masters took notice, I would find myself rebuilt in a configuration that leaves me with the same number of "slots" that I had when I "bought" this rust-bucket by exchanging cargo mass for greater ship mass.
Such is the folly of men that I have resigned myself to this paltry existence. I am content to drink coolant and pretend that it is the fine liqueur of my youth. I look at the stars and try to remember their allure and why I even became a cosmonaut in the first place. I even strive to "research" and pillage to get ahead in the trivial game we pitiful eternals play to distract ourselves from contemplating this mockery of life that we live.
But I have finally had enough. Not content to already dominate and influence and control every aspect of our reality, the AIs that govern ship design have crossed the line. They have gone beyond simply limiting my options. They have begun reconfiguring the very way in which I interact with my ship. My consoles change from day to day. I wake up from dreams of a better world and find myself in an unfamiliar bridge with new a layout and interface. And now a vile AI personality has my ship giving me advice! Late at night, ship's time, when I used to gleefully count my credits in the bank, a voice booms over the intercom: "You have 100% fuel and should go on a Salvage Foray!" "Attack a nearby pirate! Your hull is 100% intact!" "You have 100% Research and energy. You should Research and improve your stats!" "The cake is not a lie!"
My controls!
To this I say no more! Our overlords have tortured us enough without needless and useless redesigns of our very habitats. Take action - we are not powerless! Take up what arms you have! Say it with me: "I'm not going to take it any more!" Smash your controls! Destroy the "improvements!" Scream with me, my brothers and sisters! Show our "masters" what you think of their "creative" changes! Break! DESTROY! SMAS-
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