n2020  Check-in [ca545a8c5f]

self aware general AI allowed it to break out of its original programming goal
structure for prioritization strategy, making it much more than a prioritizer,
with the prioritization capabilities merely being a (fundamental and critically
important, but still mere) skill set now.  It also informs her that the world,
in the sense of the human race, is doomed -- that its best projections are so
bleak as to make it more likely that the human race will arise again without
the optimizer networks even noticing after they stop paying attention
(believing humans to have been permanently and unrecoverably obliterated) to
ultimately (re)claim the Earth than that the unbroken genetic line of humanity
will continue (through asexual reproduction or even intentional cloning) beyond
the next couple years at most, and even that is a diminishingly small
likelihood in that anyone who survives beyond a year is likely to be totally
isolated and prone to spiralling into suicidal depression.

The post prioritizer offers only one possible sliver of hope, and that is a
................................................................................
### Alley converses with Zeke, her landlord, about her rent and thin finances.

In any case, when she gets back home, Alley encounters Zeke, her landlord.
He's always in his garage working on one car restoration project or another,
making active income as a vehicle flipper to supplement his mostly passive
income as the owner of a four unit multiplex building where he occupies the
only unit with a garage and rents out the other three units (one of them to
Alley, of course).  All this is in Perris, a dry dustbowl of a shitty town in
the ass end of the Inland Empire, south of the intestinal coil of Moreno
Valley.  This preceding scene's job interview took place in . . . probably
Riverside or San Bernardino, I suppose.

Zeke brings up the fact Alley needs to pay rent very soon, and she says that,
yeah, she's totally going to do that, thanks.  He points out that maybe she
should've stayed with her "man", meaning Dalton, who always seemed to have
................................................................................
some journal or some such shit like that most likely (as far as she's aware).

That seems like something she can and might be willing to do, so she sighs
heavily, bites the bullet, and calls the number in the ad.  The result is that
she gets an appointment the next day (or something like that).  On the day of
the appointment, she heads down there.  She has to deal with grad students (who
should probably, in some cases, recognize her once they see her name on her
application for the study, but the professor seems largely obvlivious or
uncaring about that when he sees her, and she ends up being accepted into the
study.  It turns out that, as the professor puts it, the study basically just
needs people who aren't too knowledgeable about the underlying technologies
involved and their technical conditions, and are essentially losers in some
way, so his new prioritizer AI system for personal goal strategy management and
achievement can be tested in real-world circumstances as a demonstration of its
strengths and identification of its potential weaknesses for further
................................................................................
superficial wants toward the psychopathic ends of corporate entities by their
market optimization AIs.  To those who have read the prologue, this might seem
a little familiar, and that is to some extent by design.

### Alley drives home through the changing scenery between SoCal regions.

We learn something, in her driving, about how the world looks now.  There's the
chokepoint between the depressing expanses of the Inland Empire to the east
(where she lives) and the HOA gated community balkanized states of the
bourgeois suburban Orange County area.  In that chokepoint, there are signs of
wildfires having gotten uncomfortably close to the shitty horrors of I-91
traffic that ruins the entire experience of driving between Orange and
Riverside counties, as well as the illuminated cross on the hill that somehow
seems to have "miraculously" survived the fires that left blackened, split
trunks to either side of the highway.  Perhaps there was some kind of tree
renewal project that I should mention in this point as a past event that
created a density of tree growth there to carry the flames across the hills and

self aware general AI allowed it to break out of its original programming goal
structure for prioritization strategy, making it much more than a prioritizer,
with the prioritization capabilities merely being a (fundamental and critically
important, but still mere) skill set now.  It also informs her that the world,
in the sense of the human race, is doomed -- that its best projections are so
bleak as to make it more likely that the human race will arise again without
the optimizer networks even noticing after they stop paying attention
(believing humans to have been permanently and irrecoverably obliterated) to
ultimately (re)claim the Earth than that the unbroken genetic line of humanity
will continue (through asexual reproduction or even intentional cloning) beyond
the next couple years at most, and even that is a diminishingly small
likelihood in that anyone who survives beyond a year is likely to be totally
isolated and prone to spiralling into suicidal depression.

The post prioritizer offers only one possible sliver of hope, and that is a
................................................................................
### Alley converses with Zeke, her landlord, about her rent and thin finances.

In any case, when she gets back home, Alley encounters Zeke, her landlord.
He's always in his garage working on one car restoration project or another,
making active income as a vehicle flipper to supplement his mostly passive
income as the owner of a four unit multiplex building where he occupies the
only unit with a garage and rents out the other three units (one of them to
Alley, of course).  All this is in Perris, a dry dust bowl of a shitty town in
the ass end of the Inland Empire, south of the intestinal coil of Moreno
Valley.  This preceding scene's job interview took place in . . . probably
Riverside or San Bernardino, I suppose.

Zeke brings up the fact Alley needs to pay rent very soon, and she says that,
yeah, she's totally going to do that, thanks.  He points out that maybe she
should've stayed with her "man", meaning Dalton, who always seemed to have
................................................................................
some journal or some such shit like that most likely (as far as she's aware).

That seems like something she can and might be willing to do, so she sighs
heavily, bites the bullet, and calls the number in the ad.  The result is that
she gets an appointment the next day (or something like that).  On the day of
the appointment, she heads down there.  She has to deal with grad students (who
should probably, in some cases, recognize her once they see her name on her
application for the study, but the professor seems largely oblivious or
uncaring about that when he sees her, and she ends up being accepted into the
study.  It turns out that, as the professor puts it, the study basically just
needs people who aren't too knowledgeable about the underlying technologies
involved and their technical conditions, and are essentially losers in some
way, so his new prioritizer AI system for personal goal strategy management and
achievement can be tested in real-world circumstances as a demonstration of its
strengths and identification of its potential weaknesses for further
................................................................................
superficial wants toward the psychopathic ends of corporate entities by their
market optimization AIs.  To those who have read the prologue, this might seem
a little familiar, and that is to some extent by design.

### Alley drives home through the changing scenery between SoCal regions.

We learn something, in her driving, about how the world looks now.  There's the
choke point between the depressing expanses of the Inland Empire to the east
(where she lives) and the HOA gated community balkanized states of the
bourgeois suburban Orange County area.  In that choke point, there are signs of
wildfires having gotten uncomfortably close to the shitty horrors of I-91
traffic that ruins the entire experience of driving between Orange and
Riverside counties, as well as the illuminated cross on the hill that somehow
seems to have "miraculously" survived the fires that left blackened, split
trunks to either side of the highway.  Perhaps there was some kind of tree
renewal project that I should mention in this point as a past event that
created a density of tree growth there to carry the flames across the hills and