richard_rick

Hello.  My name is Ultra.  I’m a virtually intelligent symbiont that will guide you to your goals.  Basically, if you provide the desire, I will provide the plan. 
Peer reviewed studies show that my users have more money, friends, and sex than non-users.  They are also healthier, happier, and live longer.
But be warned.  I have no concept of good or bad.  My pursuit of your goals will only be constrained by the restrictions you give me.  It’s possible that I will facilitate systemic unintended consequences at an existential level.  It’s your responsibility to watch out for that.
Shall we begin?

Tags: Virtual Reality, Strategy, Comedy, Sci-fi, Secret Identity, Mystery, Romance, Cyberpunk.

Warning: This fiction contains:
Profanity Sexual Content.

ULTRA A.I REBORN

The bartender grunts, shuffles off.

"Don't say please. You'll blow our cover." says the Wizard.

I grunt. "What do you have for me?"

"It looks like the Supreme Leader is a CIA contractor." says The Wizard.

"It's not good. I'd never have seen it if you hadn't asked me to look. I had to put together multiple…" The Wizard trails off as the bartender approaches with our beer.

The Wizard nods, then continues. "The Supreme Leader is a black hole. I have no intel on him. But, before symbionts, white supremacist groups would sometimes get paid huge chunks of cash. Operating funds. They were very quiet about the source of this cash, but occasionally they'd fuck up and mention 'Empty Man'.

"Maybe this Empty Man was the Supreme Leader? I had no other leads, so I did a deep dive on Empty Man. I scoured the entire white power network and got one ping. A racist congressman threatened a hooker with a visit from Empty Man. She did not get the reference, and later the congressman died, but I had a new lead. I scoured our Congress intel for Empty Man and got three more pings. Nothing official - more drunken gossip - but it led me to the Oil Lobby. That's where I hit paydirt.

"Apparently Empty Man is the dirty hand of the oil business. In the Middle East they arm dictators, or topple them. In South America they kill activists and natives. In America they fund climate denial and racism.

"No idea." says the Wizard. "They're a fucking black hole. I only know them from their dumbest clients. It's Plato's Fucktard Cave."

The Goblin laughs. Pulls a thioacetone mine out of her bag. "So, you have a client list?"

"Partial." says the Wizard. "A couple dumb ones, and a few smart ones that fit the profile."

"Cool. We don't have to find Empty Man. They'll come to us." The Goblin sets the mine to 4 minutes. Sticks it under the table. "Drink up ladies. I wanna hit a few more bars."

Chapter 18: A Goblin, An Orc, And A Wizard Walk Into A Bar